by Robin Owens
Raz wanted a Fam. Now. Wanted the companionship. Wanted the caring, the love. No one in the theater had a Fam, not one of his friends. Actors were not high on the list of people to be matched with sentient animals.
The door off the hallway opened and his father’s voice boomed out from his ResidenceDen. “Good doing business with you.” He was respectful and sounded as if he was bowing.
“Here.” Seratina thrust the kitten at him and he took her, settled her along one arm and petted her with his fingers. Yes, he’d love a Fam. He thought of the fox. A fox wasn’t for him, nor was a puppy. A Fam who would amuse with its poses, its pride—a cat.
He lifted the little one to his eye level, saw that her own eyes were a pale yellow shading into a pale green. Her little round stomach was cute. “Beautiful,” he crooned. She shut her eyes, her tiny tongue came out and swiped her whiskers, then she cracked her eyelids and said, I could have a treat. Just for being Me and beautiful.
He laughed.
“You want a kitten desperately, don’t you?” asked his sister, plucking the thought from his head as she could often do.
He raised his brows, but before he could say anything, his father strode into the room.
Followed by Del Elecampane.
Nine
Like you to meet my wife,” Raz’s father said.
His mother swept up to him, smiled at him, then Del.
“GrandLady Helena D’Elecampane, my wife, Emilia D’Cherry.”
Del shook his mother’s hand and Raz could tell his mother had given the woman a limp hand. Both appeared a little surprised.
“Del has skinned us on some maps of an additional pass through the Hard Rock Mountains.” Since he was rubbing his hands, Raz didn’t think his father was too upset at Del’s prices.
She chuckled. “I think that I got the worst of that deal, T’Cherry.”
Seratina hurried to the pair, a gleam in her eyes. “We got the maps.”
“Yes,” his father said.
His sister beamed, turned to Del, tried and failed to look solemn. “You really think the pass can be widened for regular airship traffic?”
Del nodded. “With current and upcoming technology, yes.”
“We need to get the right-of-way, better yet, the land,” his sister said.
His father’s hand came down on his sister’s shoulder. “Already did, sweetheart, bought it when you left to greet your brother.” He gestured to Raz. “My son, Cerasus Cherry, the master actor.”
Del smiled at him. “We’ve met. I admire his work.”
Since Raz had wondered whether he’d imagined how strong the spark between them was, he gave his sister her kitten then held out both hands to Del.
She looked surprised but put hers in them. When he closed his fingers over hers, the warmth, the desire was there, zipping between them. He was pleased to see a slight glaze come to her eyes, pink edge her cheeks under the golden tan of her skin.
His mother made a small humming noise. Raz smiled and Del drew her hands away.
His father’s bushy auburn brows lowered. He stared at Raz, at Del, a corner of his mouth quirked. “Stay for dinner.”
Shaking her head, Del said, “No. It’s obviously a Family get-together and I won’t intrude.”
“You’re not—” his father said, but his mother had made a soft exclamation.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, D’Elecampane.”
Del swallowed. “Thank you.” After an exhalation, her expression relaxed and she spoke to his father again. “Excellent doing business with you.”
He nodded. “Anytime.”
Del slipped her hands into a bulging pocket of her trous. “A little something extra.” She handed a round glass ball full of clear fluid with a standing-ring on the bottom to Seratina.
“Wonderful,” Seratina said.
Her kitten opened her eyes, sniffed at the globe. I know these. These are fun toys.
“Yes,” his sister said.
“What is it?” asked his mother.
“The result of my creative gift,” Del said, looking much more comfortable now that they weren’t talking about whatever loss she’d suffered, something Raz would ask his mother.
Del rocked back on her heels, a half smile on her face. “I call them landscape globes.” She brought another one out and gave it to his mother. Del frowned at the bits and pieces floating around in the liquid. “Though I don’t know that either of you ladies would need them.” She turned her springreen gaze on Raz. “The items inside will arrange and build to show an image of one’s ideal home.” She shared a smile with all of them. “I’m sure it will reveal this lovely Residence.” She met his father’s gaze. “Certainly if I gave one to you, it would.”
His father dipped his head, though his gaze was on the globe in his mother’s hand. “Surely.”
“I’ve heard of these. Each one is different.” Seratina compared her globe to their mother’s. Neither had any of the same contents.
“Of course,” Del said, her fingers twitched as if she wanted to shove her hands in her trous pockets. She wasn’t wearing a gown with sleeve pockets, not the sort of woman who would customarily wear tunics with oversized sleeves.
Raz stared at the globe. He’d heard of these just this week. One of the women in his breakfast club had bought a going-away gift for Trillia, one of these landscape globes, and Raz had contributed to the purchase. He’d heard she’d loved it.
“T’Ash sells them,” his mother said, shaking the thing and watching a tiny fern swirl around.
So that’s what Raz had heard earlier.
Del was smiling; her stance had shifted to easy hip-shot. “Lucky on my part. They’re selling well.”
Raz met his father’s gaze, and he became aware again of the box tucked under his arm. He moved to grasp it with both hands. His chest hurt from the contrast between the broken bits of metal inside that had been perfectly crafted models and the whole, pristine landscape globes his mother and sister held.
His father’s mouth went grim as he met Raz’s eyes, neither of them happy that their work had been violently destroyed.
“Are you sure you won’t stay for dinner?” Raz’s mother said and Del shook her head, started moving.
“No, Family only.” Her eyes were a little sad. “Blessings and be thankful for what you have.” She walked back to the ResidenceDen and left quiet behind her.
“What happened to her?” asked Raz’s father.
“All the Elecampanes except a babe died nine months ago in a fire at Yule,” his mother whispered.
Raz’s stomach tightened.
His father stepped up and put an arm around his shoulders and drew his wife and daughter close. “Family Blessing,” he said, and for the first time other than holidays they prayed together to the Lady and Lord.
The kitten sniffed. You can all be thankful for Me.
Raz was.
Dinner passed in cheerful conversation and Raz was relieved. Finally, finally he could talk to his Family about the theater and his friends and his craft.
After the meal, Raz walked with his father into his workshop. “Maps from D’Elecampane?”
His father’s grin was wide. “She contacted us first this time, not the Eryngos.” The Eryngos were rivals for the southern transport trade.
With a puffed-out chest and a lifted chin, his father said, “But we’ve edged them out in business over the last year. They’re a little shaky. The Heir didn’t want the job, so old Eryngo is looking for a good husband for his Daughter’sDaughter that might want to take over.”
Heat flushed through Raz. Sounded like his own circumstances. His father had wanted him as the Heir, but his sister was so much better suited. He wondered if another argument was shooting his way.
His father continued to his workbench, turned with an outstretched hand for the box, then his eyes widened as he saw Raz hadn’t kept pace.
“M’apologies,” the older man rumbled, glanced away. “You’re a fine
actor, Raz.” He cleared his throat. “And that’s what you should be doing. Your sister is an excellent Heir to my business.” He shook his head that only had a few strands of gray. “Sometimes ancient instincts rise up and bite you on the ass. You being male made me want you as my Heir, when I knew all the time your sister could handle the job, would like the job better.” His lips compressed, he shrugged hefty shoulders, then met Raz’s eyes. “You gonna show me what’s in that box, son?”
Raz lowered his chin in a slow nod. “It’s pretty pitiful.” He took the few steps that had him meeting his father and offered the box.
His father nodded, too, opened the box and winced, sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Nasty.”
Swallowing, Raz said, “Yes.”
The older man lifted the twisted metal of the ships from the box, a few clinks came when more broken bits fell off. He’d taken out Arianrhod’s Wheel. He pursed his lips, glanced back at Raz. “Lugh’s Spear is good?”
This time Raz winced. “It’s not as bad as these. I thought we might do the worst first.”
His father looked into the box and shook his head. “Nuada’s Sword is flattened beyond fixing.”
“I thought so, but you’re the expert.”
Stroking a finger along a battered piece of thin metal, his father said, “You’re as good at this as I am.” Again he cleared his throat. “Still have the little Lugh’s Spear you made as a HeartGift?”
Raz kept himself from stiffening, but tension tightened every nerve in his body. Someone at the Thespian Club had been talking. “You’ve heard something?” He kept his voice bland.
“That Trillia, real nice girl, is still friends with your sister. She called to say good-bye. Heard the scry myself.” Like most people, his father smiled at the thought of Trillia. “She was giggling that you’d be getting your HeartMate soon?”
With a sigh, Raz moved to the table, took the squashed Nuada’s Sword from the box, and set it aside. He had no doubt that his father would keep it somewhere, since it meant so much to the both of them, the hours they’d spent building the ship.
His father had a wide streak of sentimentality. Probably why he talked the way his transport workers did instead of the proper noble Celtan that he’d been brought up with. He identified with his job and the men and women who made and repaired and flew the airships. A very good thing. Raz was uncomfortably sure that his younger sister could swear the ears off him, too. The men and women in Cherry Shipping and Transport were tough.
To his surprise, he thought of D’Elecampane. She was tough, too. Had that innate self-sufficiency and confidence that she knew her craft well. Of course she also had that frontier aspect going, too. He had no doubt that she could take care of herself in the wilds.
Raz himself had polished away all innate mannerisms. He was an actor and could don many, but he reflected his mother’s smooth manner more than his father’s bluff and burly one.
The older man had already straightened out a panel with a stroke of his finger, had arranged the pieces of Arianrhod’s Wheel meticulously. Raz got his creativity from both parents.
As well as his sensitivity, his depth of emotion. “Thank you.”
His father glanced up. “Huh? For what?”
Raz smiled, came up, and threw an arm around his father’s shoulder, squeezed. “For teaching me so much.”
The man turned red and narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Raz thought back and his smile tightened. “Yes, I still have my HeartGift, safely shielded and put away. Yes, our little daily divinations at the Thespian Club indicated that my HeartMate would be coming into my life. No, I haven’t met her yet.” His face hardened. “And yes, right now, I will be putting my career first.”
His father shook his head, sighed, and said, “Let’s get to work.”
The next morning Del sat in the courtyard grove of AllClass Healing-Hall and waited for the Healer who had done her physical examination. She shouldn’t be waiting for easily discovered results. The fact that she hadn’t had an immediate response set her nerves—and teeth—on edge. It was all she could do to pretend to sit serenely on the carved stone bench where plenty of other butts had rested—enough so there was a slight rounded depression. She stared at the shade of the trees and the colorful flowerbeds and saw little.
A year ago it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d picked up some sickness or injury that had made her sterile. Now it did—and her small time with Helendula made her want children, the miracle of loving and being loved, of seeing the delight as a child discovered the world.
Del cared for Helendula, but cared for her Family line, too, both new feelings. She’d usually been more interested in the act to procreate than the actual procreating itself.
The small swish of a door alerted her that she wasn’t alone, and she turned on her seat to see Lark Holly, one of the FirstLevel Healers of all of Celta, walk toward her with a smile Del didn’t trust. This was not the Healer who had examined her.
Lark, a small, dark-haired woman with a heart-shaped face, very pregnant, sank down next to Del, offered her hand. “Greetyou, GrandLady D’Elecampane.”
“Del.” Her voice came out raspier than she liked. Reluctantly, she put her fingers in the Healer’s warm, strong, and smaller hand.
Lark nodded, rubbed her thumb over the top of Del’s hand. Del didn’t mistake the gesture or energy for anything but what it was, another examination. She searched for words that wouldn’t be rude and betray her anxiety.
The Healer smiled sympathetically and made Del grit her teeth more before she consciously relaxed her jaw. Lark said, “We don’t often see nobles here. Most go to Noble HealingHall or Primary HealingHall.”
Del rolled a shoulder. “Healers are good everywhere, a simple exam shouldn’t need a FirstLevel Healer.”
Another smile and a squeeze of her hand. “Maybe not, but I asked my associate if I could relay her conclusions.”
They wouldn’t have sent a greatly pregnant woman to give her bad news, would they have? That would have been the height of insensitivity.
Swallowing hard, Del nodded, rubbed her free hand on her thigh, felt smooth linen for the city summer instead of leather for the high mountains. “And your conclusions are?”
“You wanted specifically to know whether you are sterile.”
For once Del wished someone had been a little less direct. “That’s right.”
Lark bent a sympathetic gaze. “You aren’t sterile; you should be able to conceive as well as any other woman on Celta.”
Del narrowed her eyes. “Celta’s harsh on all Earthan creatures. I have problems?” She felt great, how could her body betray her like this?
“You’re as fertile as we all are.” Lark patted her stomach. Surely she didn’t have too much longer before she delivered.
“But?” Del asked.
“You’re a successful woman who spends much of her time away from Druida. My husband is concerned about his cuz, Straif Blackthorn, who wants a child of your Family.”
Huge relief slid off Del like an avalanche down a mountain. “This shouldn’t be any of your business.”
“I love my husband and he loves his cuz. That’s why you want to know if you’re fertile, because it will help you understand whether little Helendula could be the last of the Elecampanes.” Lark flashed a smile. “We’ve all met her, the Blackthorn-Holly-Heather clan. Even my father, T’Hawthorn.”
That man had been the Captain of All Councils, the most powerful man on their world. Del narrowed her eyes. “Don’t try to intimidate me into doing something that isn’t the best thing for me or Helendula.”
Lark’s expression turned cool. “As long as you do the right thing for Helendula.”
“Being a child of the highest noble Families—like the Blackthorns—doesn’t always mean that the child has the best. A baby needs love.” Del looked aside.
“I think you know already that Helendula is loved by the Blackthorns, in
tegrated into their Family.”
“Not totally,” Del said. “She remembers her old Family.” She wanted to add that she thought Helendula remembered her, too, but that could be wishful thinking. “I care for her, too.”
Lark gave a little cough and all Del’s fears came pounding back in the rush of her pulse. She turned her head slowly to meet Lark’s violet eyes. “What else?”
Sighing, Lark laid her hand on her stomach. “The energy of your womb is sometimes associated with women who have problems carrying a child full term.”
It was a blow so sharp, Del didn’t know when she’d feel the pain. She stared at Lark’s belly. The woman flushed, lifted her chin. “But you are a woman in the best physical shape that my associate and I have ever seen. I mean that, Del. You should—”
“What are the chances that I can have a baby?”
Lark puffed out a breath. “With diet and rest and under a Healer’s care, I would say sixty-five percent.”
Not great odds, but better than zero. Hopeful, even.
“More than one child?” Del grated.
With a purse of her lips, Lark said cautiously, “You are fertile; you may just need to be careful after you conceive. We’ll take it one child at a time, shall we?”
She smiled and shifted and Del stood and helped the Healer up. This was Lark’s first child and she’d been bonded with her HeartMate for four years. Typical for Celta.
“Thank you,” Del said. “Glad to know so I can make good decisions about the future of my Family.”
“I’m sure you’ll make the right ones.”
“Helendula displays our Family Flair for scry work. Elecampanes do have Family traditions, and she’s my Heir.”
The Healer gazed at her steadily. “I’m sure no one expects you to stay out of her life. But you have your career.” Lark looked at the HealingHall with an expression that showed she’d never retire. She seemed to understand both sides of the conundrum facing Del. “And the Blackthorns will be dealing with providing tutors for the different Flairs of all their children.”
“Thanks again,” Del said. “I’ve transferred your fees to the HealingHall.”
