Sons of Abraham: J-17's Trial Read Free Page B

which to choose, but the couple knew where they were heading. One of the advantages of having a Cyber with you was that you never had to ask for directions.
    The hallway ended at double wooden doors with blue and red stain glass windows. Unlike the front doors, the pair had to let themselves into the room that opened to an impossible large space, seemingly holding everything the Lord owned within this one confine. A fountain cascaded water down a crystal formation in the center of the room, the stone piece looking out of place amongst the entire clay tile. Sporadically around the room, colorful tiles offered a new perspective to the attire from the hallway. The tiles had different textures, one almost causing Calloway to trip over it when he stepped on it.
    “Are you dense?” a high-pitched voice squealed. “Stay to the clay. It even rhymes, just for your Neanderthal brain to remember it. Say it with me, stay to the clay.”
    Calloway turned towards the annoying voice, his casual stare melting away in anger. He always preferred to remain calm and cool in all situations, but he wouldn’t stand for anyone questioning his intelligence. The tenured agent hadn’t been on the planet long, but the arrogance of its people was clawing at a nerve.
    “Excuse me?” Calloway snarled, stalking towards the man. “Would you care to repeat that? My Neanderthal brain didn’t comprehend the first time.”
    The short, thinning haired man took a step back as Nathan closed in. The small man wore red-tinted glasses, void of any frame. Since poor vision was easily correct with minor surgery on most planets, Calloway knew that the glasses were for decoration only. He wore a silk robe, dark red with swirling black, same as the guards at the front entrance.
    “Stay to the clay?” the man repeated though all the confidence had long left his lungs.
    Calloway looked down at him, making it a point to lean in and invade the man’s personal space. One hand reached for the blue coat, pulling it back over his hip to expose the black pistol the lie holstered one his belt. The little man’s gray eyes locked onto the weapon, his thin rosy lips trembling as he tried to speak.
    “Perhaps I’ll make a phrase for you,” Nathan snarled. “Don’t piss off the guy with the gun. How does that sound to you?”
    “It…..it sounds quite proper,” the little man whimpered.
    “Are you sure?” Nathan asked, his finger unsnapping the strap over the holster. “It doesn’t rhyme. Think you can still remember it if it doesn’t rhyme?”
    “Enough!” a baritone voice filled the room. “Terrance, will you please offer my guest something to drink? They are on duty, so I wouldn’t bother with the wine.”
    Calloway snapped the strap back to the holster and slowly turned away from the man he now knew to be Terrance. His eyes stayed with the man, watching him scurry across the floor, his silk robes rippling behind him. He made for a tiny table, white with little roses etched on the sides, and poured two glasses of water with fruits that Nathan had never seen before. Terrance filled the second, then quickly turned and shuffled to the investigators. Nathan waited until the man swerved around the ‘special’ tiles before he waved him away with a sweeping hand.
    “No thank you,” he replied. “We’ll be just fine.”
    “Are you certain?” the baritone voice asked. “Kimyana fruit isn’t available on Earth. You’re passing on an opportunity to try something new Agent Calloway.”
    Nathan turned to face his host. Like Terrance, the man wore similar silk robes, but with thin golden strands trimming the edges. Unlike the man scurrying away from Nathan, Lord Elsmere was not tiny. He was tall, six foot four by Nathan’s estimate, though terribly thin. He was an older man, the once blonde hair turning white. His whitening hair was long, framing around one side of his face, furthest from the parting. A small patch of hair hung from the man’s chin, tied in