Johns left Marti at the gate of the Samphire property, cranked open his own sticking greeniron gates with Flair, parked in front of the House and marched up the steps to pace through his home.
Should he talk to Giniana about this? Probably, but he had no solid information that her father had been delinquent—Mas Filix might have made arrangements with the Druida City GuildHall or a bank.
An itch told him to contact her, anyway, and he put a scry through and reached her message cache, which made him think she might be working, again, sapping her resources. He didn't want to discuss her father with her in a series of messages. Better in person, but at least face-to-face in a scry. So Johns left a message for her to call regarding an important matter.
Now, should he scry or pay a personal visit to T'Spindle?
If Johns had wanted to speak with T'Spindle on his own behalf, he'd have made an appointment with the FirstFamily Lord's assistant, at the lord's convenience, shown up a little early, well-groomed and in his best clothes.
This wasn't for himself.
So scry the great man himself, ask to speak to him personally.
But Johns must ensure he made a good impression, because the guy produced plays and could shoot Johns's career to the top, if the GrandLord wanted. Definitely groom—waterfall and shave again—and dress in his best and most fashionable clothes. Also … Johns stared around his sitting room.
The FirstFamilies were that, First. Their ancestors had funded the starships and the journey from Earth to Celta. Had paid for the ships and the generational crew. The FirstFamily Lords and Ladies had purchased the right to sleep in cryonics tubes for the long trip. They'd also been the best in Flair on Earth, and had developed it since. They'd been the leaders from the moment they'd stepped onto the new planet's soil, four centuries and seven years ago.
But the St. Johnswort family had developed within the first century, as herbalists providing folk with mixtures, tinctures, potions. They’d become merchants. They’d claimed this land and built this big house at the turn of the second century. His family was old, too.
Even if he was the first actor, even if his family had declined in influence and wealth, he had the pedigree and blood of a long-established family, one respected by the FirstFamilies.
Show that.
After refreshing himself, he went through the house to the paneled ResidenceDen, pulled a little Flair from himself and the House to polish up the chamber.
Johns spent a few minutes choosing the best scrybowl and positioning it right, then he did a couple of mental exercises before circling his finger around the rim to initiate the call. The GrandLord's assistant answered and with a note of insistence, Johns requested to speak with T'Spindle.
The adjunct stared at Johns with cool and calculating eyes, as if the younger man knew who he was and judged exactly how necessary Johns believed talking to the FirstFamily GrandLord to be.
Johns stared back with his most impressive stone face.
A couple of seconds later, too quickly for Johns to huff out a relieved breath, T'Spindle looked at him, the lord's amiable mask in place. Being the most genial of the FirstFamily lords didn't mean the man wasn't dangerous.
Donning a smooth manner escaped Johns, because this was so important for Giniana. Mattered about his own career, too, but mostly Giniana.
"I'm scrying to speak to you about Giniana Filix," he said bluntly.
T'Spindle's brows went up and down, and he let his surprise show. "I know you've been seeing her."
Of course he did. Anytime Johns stepped foot on the estate T'Spindle would be notified.
Johns jerked a nod. He wanted to clear his throat but didn't, he did choose his words carefully. "I spoke with a Theatrical Guild rep today." A self-deprecating smile, as if it was primarily his own career he'd been concerned about. "And was asked about Giniana." Not a lie. "Our guild has no record of any gilt being transferred to it from the Chinju Theatrical Guild from Giniana's father, Mas Filix, after he arrived and took the job in Chinju." A good career move for the man, and Johns knew it had made Filix famous and wealthy, able to choose his roles.
"Are you saying," T'Spindle began carefully, "that Mas Filix never sent gilt to support his young daughter?" The lord's voice chilled and sliced his words.
Johns couldn't take a drink to soothe his dry throat. He didn't even have a tube of water on the desk, an oversight. "That is my understanding though Druida City GuildHall might have an account of such payments." He paused. "I am not in a position to request such records from the GuildHall."
"I understand." T'Spindle's lips thinned. "I will check into this. Thank you."
"Thank—" Johns began, but the lord waved the scry connection cut.
Whoosh. Johns actually heard the air compress from his lungs.
And he wondered if FirstFamily GrandLord T'Spindle knew about Thrisca and D'Willow's Healing process and why Giniana needed gilt, could use all the back gilt her father should have paid her over the years.
Johns yet sat collapsed in the rarely-used desk chair when T'Spindle scried him back and he had to look calm and collected again, drag up those acting skills.
The GrandLord appeared angry, but spoke smoothly and told Johns that no funds had been collected by the GuildHall on behalf of his daughter from Mas Filix after he'd abandoned his small family to pursue his career in Chinju.
And T'Spindle subtly indicated that he expected Johns to take care of the matter of contacting Mas Filix. Which left Johns stunned.
While he wrapped his mind around the notion, T'Spindle disconnected. But the FirstFamily Lord was right. Johns had made the matter his business. And he got the impression that following through on this matter would be like a test—an audition—for T'Spindle.
Johns glanced at the antique clock on the wall, figured the local time for the continent of Chinju, discovered all his muscles too tight. So he stood and ran through a modified fighter training kata, simple enough he wouldn't sweat in his good clothes, then scried the Theatrical Guild of Chinju.
Johns got the Actors' representative in Artisan City, Chinju, and stated he was calling on behalf of FirstFamily GrandLord T'Spindle with regard to Giniana Filix, daughter of Mas Filix. The rep stared at Johns. "Klay Saint Johnswort. I know of you. Saw your viz."
The one and only viz Johns had done, a cheap adventure flick.
"I'm sorry," Johns winced, tried an embarrassed smile.
"Huh. Guess it was you and not the writer or director who made the hero as nuanced as he was."
"I did what I could."
"Good job." And to John's surprise, the guy zipped him right through to Mas's perscry … and a recorded viz of the handsome actor requested the caller to leave a message and ended with a too-charming-for-Johns smile.
He didn't want to bring up Giniana, didn't want to talk too much and put the man off. So Johns left a brief message that he scried on behalf of T'Spindle, figured that would get Mas to call back. Johns also noted the time difference and stated he'd be working that night.
When he stood, he found himself sticky again, went to his suite to disrobe, and set his best clothes in the cleanser. Returning from another, more refreshing, waterfall, he dressed in lounge clothes.
Restless, he paced his suite. The notes of Amberose's story caught his eye. He wished he'd been assertive enough to ask her for a full manuscript. He picked it up, saw the description of the second male lead, which reminded him that he needed to scry Raz Cherry to thank him for the glider. Johns should also update Raz about what was going on with the script. He might be a good person to help turn up the missing manuscript.
Johns sat and picked up the story once again and got lost until his calendarsphere pinged that he must leave for Firewalker.
Giniana didn't contact him before he went on stage and his irritation sparked as he sensed she worked a regular shift at some HealingHall. Did she need more gilt?
He'd make sure she'd have enough, one way or another.
The next mor
ning at dawn, both he and Giniana slurped down nutrition drinks at his home before she jumped him for sex. Exacerbated nerves shimmered through her, radiating to him, not only along their bond but buzzing in the very atmosphere. Tomorrow Thrisca would be Healed or not.
And Johns figured out Giniana felt she must keep busy every minute of the day to stay sane. He tried to slow the sex down, to no avail, to get some real food into her, also futile.
After mating, he stroked her body in bed. He wanted to comfort and began in a soothing voice, "Let's talk about—"
She hopped out of the bed to land on her feet. "No." Flinging out her arm, finger-pointing at him, she snapped, "Don't you use that actor's voice on me! Don't you dare."
Jackknifing up, he said, "Hey, I've only been honest with you."
Sniffing, she flung out both arms and ordered, "Whirlwind spell."
"Just a minute," Johns protested. "Calm down." This time he did use an actor's voice, projected serenity that he didn't feel.
But her spell zoomed around her, dressing her in standard daytime Healer garb, flinging her previous clothes away, probably to land in her cottage. And the second the scouring wind stopped, she teleported away.
He stalked from the bedroom to find a piece of papyrus of the script notes on the floor. Picking it up, he used it to soothe his own self. His obsession. One he could use to put hers out of his mind for a while.
Chapter 27
Just stepping into the Thespian Club to meet Raz Cherry lifted Johns's spirits. As usual he donned a slightly different aspect of his own persona to interact with his tribe. He'd scried Raz and asked his friendly rival to breakfast.
When Johns reached the dining room, he automatically chose the table where he and his friends usually sat, though he'd set his appointment with Raz for a different time.
Raz had been approached by Wattle at the same party Johns had, before the fight, but Johns didn't think his actor-friend had heard anything further about Amberose's script. And Johns could use another interested party to listen for more rumors about who might have purchased the original. Not to mention, Raz had a more sophisticated and noble manner than Johns, might interact with Amberose better, if Johns wanted to point him in that direction.
Perhaps Raz could convince the playwright to give up creative control, a remaining stumbling block to seeing the play come to life.
And Johns owed Raz big, too, for selling him the new glider at cost.
Johns rose when the man entered, followed by Raz’s obvious lover, GrandLady Del D'Elecampane, surprising Johns. They appeared happy, though Johns believed the woman knew they were HeartMates and Raz was in denial.
Johns accepted statements that Del could keep a confidence, and her compliments on his work soothed any annoyance away.
He shared information about the script, confirming its existence, that it had been given to Lily Fescue, Raz's current leading lady, and been stolen from her dressing room during the thefts at T'Spindle's theater.
Also Johns fibbed and stated he'd seen the script—he did know enough of the plot and the character arcs, had spent septhours with it enough to understand the story—and he wanted to hook Raz. Johns mixed in the truth that the two male roles had been written for him and Raz.
That did excite Raz. He knew as well as Johns that such a play could launch them into greatness. Johns noted Del D'Elecampane frowned. A cartographer, she spent her life on the road, away from cities, mapping the huge and unexplored planet. Probably not a city person, and the place to make acting career was Druida City.
Could be ructions ahead for those two, but not his problem.
He teased Raz, flirted with Del … was on a confident and cheerful roll until the damn FoxFam interrupted, and left drool and hair on him. Then Johns discovered the fox belonged to Del.
On the whole, the meeting didn't go as Johns had anticipated but hadn't devolved into complete disaster. He walked away with the knowledge that Raz was beginning to share Johns’s obsession with Amberose's script and a respect for GrandLady D'Elecampane, if not her Fam.
As he passed into the lobby, Lily Fescue nearly sprang from a chair and actually hurried to catch up with Johns as he proceeded toward the street.
She grabbed his arm and pulled him aside to stand in an alcove that also included a statue of a great actor who'd lived two centuries ago. Johns idly wondered if he'd ever have a statue here. That would be fabulous.
"Johns!" Lily hissed.
"Yeah?"
"What's going on with Amberose's script!"
Johns shrugged. "I contacted her. She said she got a new agent. Amberose will probably give the new guy a copy of the script."
Lily gasped. "BW won't be handling her?"
Johns figured Lily was calculating how much effort she'd made to cultivate that man, now wasted. Too bad for her. "No," Johns said.
Huffing a breath and tapping her foot, Lily said, "Have you heard anything about who bought the original?"
"Have you?"
"No." She frowned, then, as if she thought the expression might cause wrinkles, she smoothed out her face but continued to look as if she was thinking. "Wouldn't have been any producer, since she's still demanding artistic control?"
Johns shrugged.
"No producers. Maybe a woman, that was the latest rumor." Lily glanced up at him. "I saw you breakfasting with Raz and that creature he's hooked up with." Lily sniffed. As usual, she hadn't practiced her observational skills. Anyone with good Flair should recognize the couple's HeartMate status. "Did Raz, or even she, have any news of the script?"
"No," Johns replied.
Lily lowered her lashes and pouted. "You're not being much help to me, Johns, my boy."
Impassive face and a negligent shrug seemed to be called for, so he did.
One pointy-nailed finger poking too hard into his chest, Lily said softly, "And you're irritating me." A smile as sharp as her fingernail. "And I'm not very nice to those who irritate me."
He'd like to dismiss her with disdain, but never insulted people in the business, no matter how they exasperated him. "Feel free to take over the task," he said.
"Maybe I just will," she huffed and flounced away, but he understood the empty words. Woman said empty words, made empty threats.
As soon as he reached home, he scried Mas Filix in Chinju. The man answered, blinking morning sleep-fogged eyes a shade darker in amber than Giniana's, but set in the same bone structure.
Johns stared at the man revealed in the Flaired image comprised of tiny water beads hanging over the scrybowl. He'd had some face sculpting done, outrageously expensive, and looked strikingly handsome in a way Johns thought appealed more to the Chinju sensibilities than those of Cambria. Johns himself probably would have a harder time landing jobs there. Or perhaps be wildly successful as a contrast. But he could end up playing thugs for the rest of his life if he abandoned his lover, his property, his nascent House, and went to Chinju.
"Greetyou, MasterLevel Actor Filix." Johns dipped his head, apprentice to Master.
Giniana's father preened. "Yes?"
"I'm Klay Saint Johnswort—"
"I have heard of you. Calling to ask my advice about a career here in Chinju?" The man studied him, shook his head, angled his face so the light in his chamber highlighted his features. "I don't think you'd be successful here."
Another, accepting, dip of his head, Johns continued, "I'm scrying on behalf of FirstFamily GrandLord T'Spindle."
Mas's eyes lit. He straightened from casual slouch. "The producer? Wonderful to know he'd like me as a star—but I must regretfully refuse, my life is here—"
"There seems to be an accounting problem," Johns stated.
The ends of Mas's mouth turned down. "I never worked for T'Spindle."
"He's also your daughter's employer." Johns couldn't quite suppress his disapproval.
"I knew that! She's never contacted me since she's been an adult." Mas's bottom lip protruded, as if the guy calculated his daughter's age.<
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"It's regarding the financial support she should have received from you during her childhood."
"Huh?"
"The gilt you should have been paying to your wife to house and clothe and feed your child."
"I did pay it, to Verna."
"I hope you have receipts," Johns said lightly, "because your Theatrical Guild account there in Chinju, and here in Druida City, show no activity, no deposits from you or disbursements to an also unused account to Verna Filix with no notations that the support was for Giniana."
"The Druida City GuildHall accounting department—"
"Has no record of any transactions by you, either. As you might remember, FirstFamily Lords and Ladies have great influence here, and T'Spindle checked."
Johns let his expression fall into naturally stern lines, allowed a whip-thin of anger into his tones. "No records in the Guildhall or the Theatrical Guild of gilt you contributed to Giniana's upbringing. Not one silver sliver all of her life." Johns showed his teeth in a famous edged smile that cued villains that he was about to take a bite out of them.
Mas reared back, paled, recovered quickly. "There must be some confusion."
"I would say so, yes." Johns paused, angled his muscles, his body, his attitude to intimidate, made his voice softer to begin delivering the threats he'd reasoned might goad Mas Filix into the correct action. "We Celtans love our children. None should be in need if they have a capable parent." He dropped his tone to ice. "But you aren't capable, are you?"
"I … I—" Then Mas shut up before impulsive and unadvised words poured from his mouth.
Johns continued, "And Chinju's population is as sparse, planet wide, as here on Cambria. The Chinju people cherish children, too. I wonder what would happen to your career if your adoring public found out that you never supported your child?"
"I … no one would believe …"
"Furthermore, I know the Daisys, the primary newssheet people here in Druida City." Morifa Daisy, the sister to the present GraceLord, had continued to pursue Johns, flirting after the show in the green room, sending the occasional perscry he even less occasionally answered. "I believe the Daisys' newssheet is read by all the movers and shakers there in Artisan City?"
Script of the Heart Page 25
