by Robin Owens
She wasn’t lying or acting. She’d always liked that house best. Had lived there until their mother had asked her and her husband to move in, Seratina to take over more of the business.
T’Cherry’s jaw clenched as he stared at Raz. “I’m in the middle of delicate negotiations with old Eryngo for one of his runs.” He glanced at the women, squared his shoulders. “I can—”
Angry at this whole mess, Raz disentangled himself from Seratina and stood, letting her husband take his place. Raz squared off against his parents. “Just because I am an actor doesn’t mean that my work ethic is less flexible. I do ten performances a week, including weekends. It is the weekend and I just came off stage, am expected to be back on tonight.”
“We know that, Raz,” his mother soothed. She thrust the kitten into his hands, and he began to stroke the little feline.
“My career and business is no less important to me than Cherry Transport.”
His father jerked his head in a nod, pivoted to leave the room. “I’ll contact Eryngo.” He bit off the words.
“No,” Raz said. “I hate being put in this position, but I can do it.” He let his jaw flex, sent the negative energy—from Lily’s sniping and this whole mess—through his body to dissipate in the floor. He felt the loss of the energy, his soles grew hot, the down payment on this trip that could be expensive. “I have an understudy,” he said, resigned.
The kitten licked his thumb. Thank you. FamWoman sad. Doesn’t want to go.
That was the truth. He looked at his sister, who was sniffling into a softleaf, leaning against her husband—her HeartMate. Her eyes were red and swollen with tears.
It occurred to him that Del would never fuss like Lily had over a minor glitch in her work, would never ask anyone to take care of a problem for her, like his sister.
But Del had had a harder life.
He looked at his mother. Her arm tucked in his father’s, she watched him with a smile on her lips but concern in her gaze. She could, of course, go and take care of everything, but she preferred to stay with his father and work as his partner. She’d be entertaining Eryngo; the negotiations were probably taking place at T’Cherry Residence, and that was her province.
Now Raz could see Del in his mother, standing with her partner through everything, able to ask anyone else to solve a problem if it meant he was spared worry.
“A Family matter.” His exhale became a sigh, but his throat tightened with love as he looked at them all. His sister and her HeartMate linked, his parents a unit, the kitten snuggled in his hands. He was a part of them.
Del was alone, almost defiantly alone, with no one to solve any problems she might not wish to shoulder.
Then his father moved forward, hugged him. “Thank you, Raz. I know what you’re giving up for us.”
Of course he didn’t. His father knew very little about how the theater worked.
“I shouldn’t suffer,” Raz said.
He thought of the Ship, who wanted a viz of Heart and Sword, thought of seeing Trillia again. Thought of taking Del with him. She’d like that, she’d already said so.
“Thank you, Raz.” His sister blinked and stood, hand in hand with her husband, who nodded with relief. He was estranged from his Family in Gael City but fit in well with the Cherrys.
There were all sorts of Family permutations in the world. Raz did cherish his, especially with his father’s thick arm lying across his shoulders in easy pride.
His mother came and slipped her arms around his waist, leaned against him, and she was the softness and the scent that meant “love” for all of his life.
Family. They could be maddening, but they were worth it.
A knock came on his door. “Come,” Raz said, and the stage manager walked in, frowning. Behind him was the guard, Winterberry, who was handling the investigation into the thefts and the fire at the yard.
Twenty-two
Everyone in the room stiffened. Raz’s father transformed into T’Cherry, equal in status to Winterberry.
“We received notification of the theft and vandalism of your Gael City estate,” Winterberry said.
“What do you need to know?” Raz’s father asked. He glanced at the stage manager. “Sorry to tell you that right now, Raz is the only one who can be spared of the Family to take care of this matter. With the express—”
“I don’t anticipate being gone long,” Raz informed the man, handing the kitten back to his mother who joined his father. “Overnight.”
The stage manager’s brow creased. “Might be good if you took a couple of days. If you’re going soon . . .”
“Today, I’m afraid,” Raz said.
“Take the entire weekend. The day after that we’re dark, that should give you plenty of time.”
“Yes, I’ll also be arranging for the show Heart and Sword to be vized for the starship, Nuada’s Sword,” Raz said.
The manager rubbed his hands. “That play hasn’t been staged here for nearly a decade. T’Spindle might consider a revival. Might be a good amount of interest.” He stared at Raz. “If it’s doing well in Gael City.”
“I can check that out for you.”
The manager looked around the room full of people. “I’ll inform your understudy, then. He and Lily might need work.”
Raz’s frown matched the manager’s. Lily wouldn’t like that, another thing he’d pay for when he returned.
With a last nod, the manager left.
People had shifted. His sister and her HeartMate were back on the sofa, along with his mother, the kitten snoozing in his sister’s lap.
T’Cherry stood facing Winterberry. “Any update?”
The guard glanced at Raz, then took the stool before the mirrors, swiveled on it to face them.
“Our investigation is progressing. A known ex-Downwind petty thief has recently left Druida. After he came into some gilt.” A smile flickered across the guard’s face. “He bought a seat on a luxury airship to Gael City.”
“You told that to the Gael City guards?” Raz’s father asked.
Winterberry nodded. “They have his description. He’s not as well known there, and we don’t think he’s conversant with the town. He may stand out. Make a mistake.” Winterberry met Raz’s father’s eyes. “Though I believe he was hired for the job and is not the principal in this matter. He might not know anything even if we do catch him.”
Raz’s father nodded. “Understood.”
“And we still don’t know what the thieves might be after. Have you had any additional ideas?”
Lips thin, T’Cherry shook his head. “No.”
Winterberry studied Raz. “You’re an observant man. Examine your home carefully, see if you can deduce what the thieves want.”
“He’s not a guardsman,” Raz’s father barked. His jaw flexed, a mannerism Raz had gotten and used off stage, instinctively, and deliberately while performing. “Not a trained investigator. What have you found out?”
Winterberry raised his brows. “Since I was assigned this case yesterday?”
T’Cherry flushed but his chin went pugnacious. “It’s been twenty days since the burglary and vandalism of Raz’s apartment.”
Raz’s mother leaned her head on her HeartMate’s upper arm. T’Cherry sucked in a breath and sifted it out, his voice became lower, steadier. “The more you can tell us, the more we might be able to help. The more Raz can use his observational skills at our southern house to give you information.”
Winterberry inclined his head, stood with a fluid grace that matched Raz’s own. “We know that other than the valuables, the main items that have been taken or destroyed are papyrus and holos. The worst destruction was to the model of Nuada’s Sword and Raz’s tapestry map.”
“You’re sure?” Raz and his parents asked together. T’Cherry continued, “You believe that’s significant?”
“Yes,” Winterberry said, staring at the new tapestry hanging over Raz’s couch.
“A gift from Del Elecampane,” Raz
said. He wanted to scry her, now, invite her on the trip with him. Would she refuse?
“GrandLady Helena D’Elecampane was in Mombeij when the first theft occurred, in Steep Springs at the end of that week, then Gael City, and here in Druida the day of the theater thefts.”
“You checked up on Del!” Raz clenched his fists.
“Of course,” Winterberry said. “But given she was talking to a Guildhall clerk when we believe the destruction and thefts occurred here, she is not a suspect.”
Raz just stared. With his mouth open.
Winterberry lifted and dropped a shoulder. “She came into your life nearly at the same time this string of events began.”
“Del is the most honest woman I know.” Raz bit off his words.
“Not to mention incredibly wealthy,” Raz’s mother said.
Winterberry bowed to her, said softly, “We don’t think this is about gilt. Whoever is behind this situation wants something else. Something gilt can’t buy.” The guard shifted his gaze to Raz’s father. “What would you have sold those old maps in your yard office for?”
T’Cherry straightened to his full height. His shoulders seemed to broaden. “I wouldn’t have sold them at all.”
“For any price, because they are Family heirlooms and you don’t need the gilt,” Winterberry said.
“That’s right.”
Raz’s sister cleared her throat and rose from the couch. Her husband, holding her hand, stood with her. They walked to join Raz’s parents, matching gazes with the guard. “You think all this”—she gestured at the room—“is because someone wanted—wants—a Family heirloom?”
“We—” started Winterberry.
“Not ‘we,’ guardsman. You, Winterberry. The guard assigned to the FirstFamilies.”
It seemed to Raz as if a sigh was trapped in the man’s chest, but Winterberry answered, not dropping his gaze. “Yes, I do.” He glanced around at the room, the empty shelves. “The item least damaged was the model of the starship, Lugh’s Spear.”
Raz and his father winced, exchanged a glance. “Still looks pretty bad to me,” T’Cherry said.
A notion struck Raz like a bolt, made his mind fizz with static, settle into a new pattern. “The Tabacin Diary.”
“What?” Winterberry asked sharply, his sensorball glowing as it recorded.
“I was at Nuada’s Sword today. The Ship mentioned the Tabacin Diary.”
“Which is?” Winterberry asked.
“Lost.” Raz’s mother wrapped her arms around his father. “Lost for generations.”
“A journal of our first ancestress,” his sister said, “before she chose the name ‘Cherry,’ her name was Tabacin.” His sister’s brow wrinkled. “She was a member of the crew of Lugh’s Spear, born on the Ship, but made the trek from where Lugh’s Spear landed to here, Druida City. They say she kept a journal of the trip, and before—of Discovery Day and the landing.”
“They say she recorded where Lugh’s Spear might be,” T’Cherry said in a strong voice.
“The lost starship,” Winterberry murmured. “The location unknown, but Flair and technology has developed sufficiently that we might be able to uncover the starship now.”
“Others have searched for it. No one has found it,” Raz said.
“What a treasure,” Raz’s brother-in-law breathed. His eyes had glazed.
“The diary is gone!” His mother’s voice was shrill. T’Cherry hugged her. His sister handed his mother the limply sleeping kitten.
“That’s right,” Raz’s father said. “It’s gone. Misplaced or lost or even stolen a long time ago. We don’t have it and don’t know where it is.” His face hardened. “Am I gonna have to shout that to the newssheets?”
“I doubt if they would believe you,” Winterberry said. “Whoever might be searching for the journal probably doesn’t believe that your Family could have lost such an important item.” Winterberry glanced at Raz. “And you’ve become involved with a noted explorer and the best cartographer on the planet.”
Raz’s father winced. “Does look bad. But we don’t have the book. Winterberry, you tell the FirstFamilies of this, all your colleagues. I’ll set the rumors going around my set.” His father looked at Raz. “My son can get the word out to the theater people and everyone who associates with them.” T’Cherry sighed. “That’s all we can do.”
“I’m afraid so,” Winterberry said.
“Raz, you check the southern estate for any missing documents, holos, papyrus.” His father shrugged heavily.
“I’ll do that.” Raz kept his own voice soft, but he was heating again from inner fury. All this destruction for an object they didn’t even have! He wondered if he could get his hands on the villain.
“I’ll authorize gilt for damage repairs,” his father said. He glanced at his timer. “The next express airship to Gael City is a tenseater luxury one and takes six septhours. It leaves in a septhour and a half. Can you be on it?”
“Yes,” Raz said.
T’Cherry squeezed his wife. “Long day already. Let’s go.”
“Yes.” Raz’s mother sighed and handed the kitten to his brother-in-law.
His father nodded to Raz. “Scry after you examine the place.”
“I will.”
Cocking his head at the suppressed anger in Raz’s tone, his father said, “Let the guardsmen do their jobs. That’s why the Councils pay them.” With forced casualness, T’Cherry continued, “You might want to come back by glider. Pretty two-day trip to share with someone.” After a last glance to the guard, his parents exited the room.
With his easy stride, Winterberry went to the door. “Please keep me informed.”
“Please keep us informed,” Raz’s sister shot back. She jutted her chin. “My parents and me and my husband and Raz.”
“I’ll do that. Like GrandLord Cherry says, let us run this case. We are the experts.” Then the guard was gone, too.
His sister shivered then took a step from her husband and offered both hands to Raz. Her face had crumpled into sadness.
He took her palms; they were damp from perspiration or wiping tears from her face.
She sniffed then said, “Thank you for going down and taking care of this mess for us, Raz. You’re the best brother.”
“I’m your only brother.”
She buried her head in his chest and he patted her on the back. “I really couldn’t face going there. Maybe never again if it’s too awful.” Her words hitched. “Could you . . . could you . . .” Tears were back in her voice. “Look for my dolls,” she whispered. “See if they were . . . hurt.” She swallowed hard. “Bring back those you can . . .”
Both he and her husband flinched, shared an angry look. They didn’t like her unhappy.
“I will,” he promised as he patted her again, knew her HeartMate would soothe her later.
She shivered, released her hold, and took a pace back. Her husband’s arm came around her. They were all a very demonstrative Family. Raz liked that.
Setting her chin, she caught Raz’s gaze, managed a faint smile. “Are you whisking Del Elecampane away with you for a romantic retreat?”
He nearly flinched. Del had wanted time away and he’d retreated from her. But he pasted a lopsided smile on his face and answered, “I hope so.”
“Good.” She hesitated, shook her head, then swooped in for a wet kiss on his cheek. “See you later.”
“Yes, later.”
As soon as the door closed behind them, he pulled out his perscry.
At the garden party, Del thanked her hostess and drifted from the room no more than a quarter septhour after she had obtained the information she’d wanted. She’d had a “casual” conversation in a secluded corner of the garden with Amberose’s agent.
Amberose wanted full creative control of the production of her play. She wanted to name the actors and the director and choose the theater.
Del had a throbbing headache from the very thought of all the things she would ha
ve to do to give Amberose what she wanted so she would give Del what she wanted. Right now she’d made noises to the agent that she was considering “getting into the theater business.” She might even have to buy a theater. She couldn’t believe it. What would she do with a theater in Druida?
She was still determined not to stay in the city. She’d picked up a cold three times, gone to a Healer to zap it three times. She’d had no health problems traveling outside the City. There were too many people here.
Del hadn’t caved in to the agent. She was the one with the gilt, after all, and she’d sensed that he wanted to make his commission. She also got the vague feeling that the usual major players had turned Amberose down. Del could play a waiting game. She had named Raz, Johns, Galangal, and Trillia as actors she respected. She’d muttered something about Lily Fescue’s negativity and watched the agent blink as he absorbed that.
Before she’d left the party, she’d glanced to see who else might be talking to the man. Nobody. That was a plus. Maybe.
Del had enough irritation energy to teleport home but believed she wasn’t getting her gilt’s worth from the monthly hire of the glider and asked the chauffeur to pick her up. She was standing on the cool portico looking at the rain, her skin prickling at the chill breeze that whisked through, when her perscry barked.
Bringing the small stone from her moderate sleeve pocket, she said, “Here.”
The holo expanded until she saw a shabby office, with a full-length GreatLady Danith D’Ash standing wearing a wide grin. The woman held up a small kitten. The Fam was pudgy with baby fat, but Del could tell that it would be a solid, stocky cat. She liked its colors: primarily a bluish gray with mottled black and lighter gray mixed in. The young cat had a white mask around its yellow eyes.
Del smiled and felt her muscles easing.
Danith D’Ash said, “What do you think? Zanth, T’Ash’s Fam, just brought her in and dropped her on my feet. I’m sure she is his get, but he just grunted when I asked. So only half a pedigree.” The woman nuzzled the kitten. “She’s so soft.”
“Looks perfect to me,” Del said.
