Deep Waters

tool, but he still fumbled a bit with it.
    "I lived in the House of Tal Kek Chara for five years. Now the House lives inside me." Hayden deftly dipped noodles into a clear broth and transferred them to his mouth. He chewed in silence for a while. "You did well in your training this afternoon."
    "It felt better. Smoother, somehow." Elias plunged noodles into his own bowl. He grimaced when broth splattered on the table. Until he had come to live with Hayden, he'd been addicted to hamburgers and pizza. Now the thought of eating meat made him queasy for some reason. "Do you think I'll ever be as good at Tal Kek Chara as you are?"
    "Yes. Better, probably. You've started your training at a younger age than I did, and your body responds well to the discipline. You have a natural talent, I think. And it helps that you're not walking around with an old bullet in your gut." Elias stared at him. Hayden made few references to his former life as a professional mercenary. "Yeah, I guess so."
    "But learning the exercises of Tal Kek Chara will not teach you what you need to know in order to be able to look into the pool and see truths."
    "If this is going to be another lecture on the subject of giving up my plans to get Dad's killer, you might as well forget it, Hayden. Someday I'm going to find out who sabotaged the Cessna. And when I do, I'll make sure the bastard pays."
    "A man cannot see truth clearly in water that is clouded with strong emotions. One day you will have to decide whether revenge is more important to you than owning your own soul."
    "I don't see why I can't have my revenge and still own my own soul."
    Hayden looked at him with ancient eyes. "I have great faith in you, Elias. You're smart, and you have power. You will eventually see clearly enough to find your true inner flow."
    He had finally seen the truth about revenge, Elias thought as he toweled off and reached for a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. But he could not yet see the truth about himself.
    He went into the kitchen to prepare his dinner. The routine brought back more memories of Hayden. This time he gently pushed them aside and lost himself in the creative process of cooking.
    Half an hour later he sat down on a cushion in front of the table. He surveyed the bowl of steamed rice, seaweed-flavored soup, and vegetable curry and realized that, for the first time in a long while, some part of him was not plotting vengeance or business strategy. No, for the first time since the funeral, he had a new goal.
    He wanted to go to bed with Charity Truitt.
    "It won't be simple or easy, Otis. I have a gut feeling that Charity is one of those very expensive women Hayden used to warn me about. He said that to lure one, a man had to be prepared to pay a very high price."
    "Heh, heh, heh."
    He'd have to get her attention with something costly, Elias thought. A piece of himself, no doubt.
    An expectant hush fell on the small crowd gathered at the end of the pier just as Charity set her herbed couscous and green lentil salad down on the picnic table. She tried without any success to squelch the tingle of anticipation that went through her. She didn't need the low, speculative mutters of those around her to know who had arrived.
    If someone hadn't chanced to look in his direction, though, no one would have heard Elias approach. His low, soft, well-worn boots made no sound on the pier timber. When he moved through the shadowed areas created by the walls of the various shops, it was difficult to make out his gliding form.
    Charity was intrigued by the sight of a covered bowl in his hands. His eyes met hers as if he had been waiting for her to notice him. He inclined his head a scarce fraction of an inch in greeting. Charity heard a small gasp. She was chagrined to realize that the per son sucking in air in such an inelegant manner was none other than herself.
    "There he is," Radiance Barker whispered in her high, sweet, breathy tones.
    Radiance, who in a former life had been named Rhonda, cultivated the feathery voice. It went with the rest of her, which Charity privately thought of as neo-hippie. Much to Radiance's everlasting regret, she was too young to have been a genuine flower child of the fabled sixties. She considered herself a spiritual descendent of the era, however, and dressed accordingly. Long loops of beads decorated the flowing, multipatterned dress she wore this evening. Her waist-length hair was trimmed with a flower-studded head band.
    "Something fishy