Meet at the Putrid 'Roon, T'Ash said. The inn's sign said "The Pewter Celtaroon," but it wasn't called that.
Holly gagged but agreed.
Zanth hunts, too. T'Ash said, taking off at a hustle for the inn. He murmured a deverminizing spell as he went.
Before he'd gone a hundred meters, he was propositioned by two wenches; before he'd gone five hundred, he'd been in three scuffles, using blaser and broadsword, winning. It focused his concentration, and when he moved again, it was with the step and predatory grace of a Downwind tough, a man to fear.
Then word must have gotten out that T'Ash prowled the streets, looking for trouble, because when people saw him in the distance, they melted away. Even when he turned onto a busy street, an aisle was formed for his anticipated path. T'Ash kept smiling and the corridor widened.
T'Ash arrived at The Putrid 'Roon first. Stepping inside, he glanced around the dimly lit room and found no sign of Tinne. T'Ash formed an image of the main gauche, recalled the smoky quartz in the pommel, how it felt, its facets, and its resonance. With a short spell, he sent a high-pitched tone zinging through the building. A woman screeched, but no response came from the stone he had shaped and set in Tinne's weapon.
Zanth squawked, too. Not a nice sound.
"Sound of the smoky quartz in the main gauche."
Holm arrived. "Is that what it is?" His usual cheerful grin lopsided. Worry looked as if it lived under his skin.
Want meatroll.
T'Ash glared down at his Fam. "Haven't you had enough to eat this morning?"
Missed crunchies at FamWoman's.
T'Ash unbuckled his pouch and tossed a meatroll to Zanth before turning to Holm.
T'Ash gazed at his friend. "Did T'Holly tell you? I sensed Tinne. He's exhausted but unharmed."
Relief relaxed the lines around Holm's mouth. "Thank you." He reached out and gripped T'Ash's arm, hand to elbow. T'Ash returned the clasp.
Boy drugged.
"What?"
Slurping down the last shreds of furra meat, Zanth repeated, Warehouse fire. FogLeaf burned. Boy close. Found hole. Two others dead. Boy overdose FogLeaf.
T'Ash related the information to Holm. They both squatted down in front of the cat. Zanth licked his whiskers.
"Where is he?"
Hole too small for you. Can't get boy without much effort—one big machine or three great Flairs. Boy sleeps. His Passage delayed.
T'Ash parroted the words to Holly.
"Damn," Holm said.
"How long do you think he'll sleep?" asked T'Ash.
Don't know, ask Healer.
"Zanth says you need to consult a Healer on this."
Will guard. For price.
"Zanth says he'll guard Tinne, for a fee."
Sparks of anger lit Holm's eyes. He stared at the cat.
Zanth lifted a forepaw and licked it.
"You show me where he is and I'll set my own wards."
Stupid. Not Downwind. Boy safe as is. Hole too small except for other boys. FogLeaf too strong for animals.
Holm continued to grumble when T'Ash told him what Zanth had said. Both men wanted to see Tinne's hole, and a slinking Zanth led them. The men kept their weapons loose.
"By the Lady and Lord, what a stench!" Holm exclaimed.
T'Ash shrugged. Holm hadn't been spending much time near Zanth lately. The FogLeaf smelled potent and musky, but nothing like the dreadful stench of sewer rat or celtaroon.
They came to a deserted, ruined building that might once have been a warehouse. At the base was a small darkness indicating a hole.
"There's no way you can fit in that hole to look, T'Ash," Holm said, handing his weapons to T'Ash and trying to squirm under the collapsed beam only to get stuck around his shoulders.
T'Ash kept a wary eye out for Downwinders, but the area remained deserted. "Can you see him?"
Holm grunted. "Barely. He appears to be pale, with a minor wound or two, but healthy. His breathing is that of true sleep. Zanth is right, it's not restless Passage dreams. Damn. I don't like to think of his Passage stretching over another night or two."
"Can we bring him out of there?"
"I don't see how. I'm not sure enough of his health or the exact coordinates to 'port him out, and the building seems shaky—"
T'Ash studied it with an outreach of Flair. "I can shore the thing up, but if I do, the wreckage will be welded into solid lattice, and the only way Tinne will be able to get out is by himself."
Holm hesitated only an instant. "Do it." He took his weapons back.
Trusting Holm to defend them, T'Ash shut his eyes and studied the angles of stone, timber, foamsteel, concrete until he knew the thing as a whole. With a short spell he molded all the pieces into a single structural unit. "Done." He opened his eyes. "By the way, T'Holly said Tinne's HouseRing couldn't be sensed."
Holm grunted again, brushing white plaster dust from his elegant clothing. Finally he looked up at T'Ash. "The stone is shattered and the metal broken. Only the Two know what happened. Tinne might have taken a blow on the ring, a blaser hilt could have done the damage."
Holm grinned at T'Ash. "We have a rule in our Family. Whoever ruins his ring must pay for a replacement, both for the crafting and the spell. I wager my brother will be coming to you in a few days for a new HouseRing, spending the last of his allowance."
"Allowance? He doesn't have an annual NobleGilt yet? He hasn't been confirmed as a noble? His Flair hasn't revealed itself?"
"Three potentials—fighting, of course."
"Of course."
"The second is cleansing and banishment of evil vibrations."
"Interesting."
"And animal training. He could be apprenticing with the Sallows at the same time as your Danith."
"Then I am glad he is still a boy and not a suave Holly."
Holm chuckled, then pinned his gaze on the small black entrance to Tinne's sanctuary. "I'd like to place a protection spell on this. You'd know how to camouflage it so it will go unnoticed amongst Downwinders. Will you help?"
"T'Holly pledged himself allies to T'Ash for three generations."
Holm's eyes widened, then he bowed formally. "As the second generation of the promise, I affirm that I honor it."
"Thank you. You provide the energy and strength for the spell, I'll weave it into a protection that no one will notice, and add an insinuation that the place should be avoided."
They clasped arms and each touched the outside edge of the building, completing a circuit of magic. They had used their Flair together before, outside rituals, and knew that their energies didn't mesh well. They layered the spell, first Holm, then T'Ash. With a final Word the hole seemed to disappear.
Zanth sniffed. Smells bad.
"Zanth says it smells bad."
Holly nodded. "And there's something about it… a touch of dread that the whole thing would collapse if someone got too close." He clapped T'Ash on the shoulder. "We did very well. I also left a message for Tinne."
Time to go. Men come.
"Zanth hears men coming."
Holm grimaced. "Far be it for me to contradict Zanth and his excellent hearing. I'd stay and fight, but I don't want to call attention to this area and Tinne's refuge. Shall I 'port us out of here?"
Zanth stepped away from them. Me go. Me have Plans.
"You have plans?" T'Ash asked.
"Plans?" echoed Holm.
Zanth lifted his nose in the air, twitched his tail insolently, then darted down the alley and out of sight.
The slurring words of loud, drunken men rose from a street away.
"Where to?" asked Holm.
T'Ash wanted to go to Danith's, but he didn't want Holly near her. He glanced at Bel. The sun brightened the early afternoon sky. He'd told her that he wouldn't return until the evening, and Danith needed to learn he would keep his promises, especially when it came to her and giving her a little time to understand her new circumstances.
"I feel like a swim," T
'Ash said. "My pool or yours?" Holly grimaced. "Yours is blue and beautiful, attached to your spacious conservatory at the back of your Residence. Mine is gray and dank in the T'Holly dungeon. What do you think? Yours. By the way, before we swim, we should make a report of Downwind conditions to the guardsmen and the NobleCouncil." With that, he whisked them away.
Danith stretched luxuriously, waking to Tansy's—Princess's—softly rumbling purr. She glanced at the clock. Mid-morning. She grinned. Last night she'd sent her resignation to the Cinque and Poppy collection box.
Welcome contentment filled her for the first time in days. She never had to work again! At least, not as an accounting clerk. She knew her Flair avocation could be just as demanding, more so in pulling strength and energy from her body and mind, but it would also be so rewarding. An Animal Healer.
The Animal Healer, she smugly thought. The only Animal Healer. Oh, yes. She was going to enjoy this.
She looked at the calendar. It was TwinMoonsday, tomorrow she would report to her apprentice appointments. Except for tidying her house and checking on the now-fat status of her bank account, she had nothing to do. She stretched, rolled to her stomach, repeated the motion and rolled back.
Ping!
Whir.
Urga, urga, urga, arrgh, ka-CHUNK.
Well, she did need to have her collection box chime fixed. Something tasteful and with a discreetly pleasant tone.
She walked into the mainspace and pulled the box from the wall. A stack of papyrus at least fifteen centimeters thick sat there. She pulled them out in bundles, and found them to be forms: "Biography for the NobleCouncil," "Verification of Life Papyrus," "Application for Noble Name, Coat-of-Arms, Motto, Heraldry." Finally there was a red-bound book, Responsibilities of a Head of a GrandHouse, Laws, Rules, and Regulations Pertaining to the Nobility (Examination Upon Completion). Ugh.
The collection box whined again, and Danith hastily closed it. A moment later the potent smell of roses spread throughout the room. She opened the box and retrieved the beautiful flowers. The gilt card simply stated "T'Ash," as always.
She smiled, then went humming to shower and change into a soft maroon tunic trous casual suit.
Two hours later her head began to ache as she tried to fill out the documents in detail. She wasn't sure of her ancestors for the last five generations. Her mother and father had both been only children of dead parents, one of the reasons Danith had ended up at Saille House of Orphans. Children, except those Downwind, were prized. She should have been adopted. Adoptions weren't as socially acceptable as having blood children, but fully as legal.
Danith shrugged and tested herself for any residual disappointment at not being adopted, and sighed in relief. With the validation of her Flair, that disappointment had finally vanished.
Fifteen minutes before the end of the workday, Danith's scrybowl chimed.
"Here," she said, looking up from the dining room table covered with papyrus. Soon she would have a place with an office, perhaps a little house of her own…
"Monkshood, Chief Clerk of All Councils," an arrogant voice said.
"D'Mallow," Danith replied, glad her new scrybowl didn't make her move from the table to look into it for a viz. She'd figured out how to project a holo. Molecules of magically magnetized water surrounded her, showing through the scrybowl to the caller.
"We must schedule a mental, telepathic psychological test to place you in relation to others in GrandHouse Rituals. We need to understand how your obscure Flair will interweave with other members of the established GrandHouses. No doubt you will not be close to the real GrandHouse nobles, those twelve that belong to the FirstFamilies." His long nose wiggled as he made a note with a writestick. "Humph, yes, testing. Let me check on an appropriate time for an appointment."
Danith raised her eyebrows. "GrandMistrys Balm didn't inform me of this."
The puce-jowled man in the holo frowned. "She has contacted you? She oversteps her authority. Again."
"She said she was the clerk of the NobleCouncil. That sounds as if she is the one in charge—"
"Humph." The man waved Danith's words away as if they were bitemites. He looked down at a sheet of papyrus and his long nose wiggled. "Half into ThirdBell, tomorrow. Be at the gardengate of Acacia GrandHouse."
Danith stared at him.
The air shivered around her. With a snap T'Ash appeared. He looked at her, then directed his gaze to the holo. "Little Mister Monkshood."
"ThirdSon of the former T'Ash," Monkshood sneered back.
Danith sighed. Another person T'Ash disliked and who returned his dislike. She wondered exactly who T'Ash did like, and felt a sinking feeling that she was included in a tiny minority.
"What's he want?" T'Ash asked her.
"Something about psychological testing."
"Is that so?" He turned to the holo man with a fierce smile. "Don't you have my confirmation of D'Mallow's Test in front of you, Monkshood? How negligent." T'Ash sounded smoother than she'd ever heard him. Was this his Noble GreatLord side, something she'd missed?
Monkshood's eyes narrowed and a small hiss came from his thin lips. He jerked a papyrus in front of him.
"That's it." T'Ash smiled again. Danith wouldn't ever like that smile directed at her. "Nice certificate, isn't it?" He drew out his broadsword.
Danith gaped at the length of steel unsheathed in her mainspace.
T'Ash whisked a cloth from his belt and began rubbing the sword to a bright shine, applying Flair Danith felt straight to her bones. He glanced up at the functionary. "You don't have any questions with my certificate or the Heir to the Holly's now, do you? Nothing like those questions of me before I was confirmed as T'Ash, do you?"
The uncommon melodious note in T'Ash voice made Danith shiver.
"No," Monkshood said. He hesitated a moment, then his mean little eyes seemed to light with an inner, obsessive fire. He glared at Danith. "Half ThirdBell, tomorrow—"
"Now, before you go—" T'Ash interrupted smoothly in turn. "Read me the rule where it says D'Mallow must subject herself to some sort of psychological test."
Monkshood smiled a smile as nasty as T'Ash's own, but his color heightened. He pulled over a book, a well-thumbed rule book that appeared to be always near at hand.
"The new noble may be asked to allow his/herself to be tested by a certified Healer and Psychologist."
"Why don't you read the entire paragraph for us, Monkshood, all the way from the section number," T'Ash advised.
More narrowed eyes and bared teeth. Monkshood's gnarled finger moved up the page.
"Just a moment." With a thud a large dark blue leather-bound book appeared in T'Ash's hands. The sword balanced point down on the cloth, gleaming. The smell of hot metal and graphite cleaner wafted to her nose. Danith stared at the weapon. Did T'Ash just do three simultaneous magical actions?
She narrowed her own eyes to match the men's. Three simultaneous actions made him great in Flair indeed. He was showing off. To Monkshood? Or to her? Probably both.
T'Ash flipped the heavy pages of his book. "The section number, Monkshood?"
"Section four, Paragraph two: 'If the test results of a nominee are equivocal, upon request of two Nobles, one of Head of GrandHouse or greater status, the new Noble may be asked to allow his/herself to be tested by a certified Healer and Psychologist.' "
"Hmmm," T'Ash said. "Very creative reading, as always. My testing of D'Mallow placed her in the 98th percentile of a GrandHouse, did it not? That is hardly equivocal. And perhaps you will tell me the names of the two Nobles who requested further testing?" Now T'Ash leaned on his sword. Somehow the weapon didn't sink into Danith's floor.
Monkshood stared at them flatly. "I seemed to have misplaced the request. I'll viz back—"
"No. Council Record Verifier on."
From the background of the clerk's office a metallic voice wheezed, "Verifier."
"T'Ash, FirstFamily GreatLord, requesting immediate notification of questioners of D'Mal
low's Testing. As the testor, do I have this right?"
"You have the right," the magical-machine stated.
"Can I also request the entire matter of further Testing be dropped if the names are not provided?"
A whir. "Correct."
"Well, Monkshood?"
The functionary slammed his book closed. "The matter is closed."
"Good." T'Ash said. "Just as well. Though I would have liked to hear whom you would have scraped up to go against my Testing Stones. Gliding very close to a rollover, Monkshood. Barely escaped with your skin, don't forget that. And Danith doesn't succumb to intimidation, I've tried. You remember that, too. Call over."
The droplets forming her holo evaporated in a rush of warm air. She could only think of one thing to say. "You called me Danith,' before him. The gossip will fly."
"I teleported here. Monkshood will think I'm a close friend or you have poor security. Which do you want a petty man like him to believe? He can make your life a misery. He was a thorn in my side a few years ago."
He sheathed his sword and paced up and down her main-space. It didn't provide much room for his energy. "The evening newsheets shout of your new Noble status. We're mentioned in the Society column." He shrugged his shoulders. "There could be rumors that you have a fortune in jewels here."
Danith shivered.
"You have lousy security. I don't like you staying here alone."
She lifted her chin. "I have Princess."
T'Ash looked at the small, furry, jewel-bedecked cat lounging on the settee and snorted. He crossed to Danith and cupped her chin in his hand. "Come with me. The T'Apples are having a party. They have great food. I suspect Zanth haunts the underside of their tables even now."
Danith smiled at the thought. "No."
"Then dine at T'Ash Residence. We have a variety of wonderful food in the no-time. You haven't seen the MistrysSuite—"
"No."
His jaw tightened and bleakness came to his eyes. He looked at Princess and said lowly, "I am tired of being alone."
So had Danith been, a few days ago. Now so many people, and cats, came and went in her life, she needed more time to try and put her life back in order. She sighed once more. "Not tonight, and not at night."
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