As he fought, he heard a cut-off squeak from D’Yew, sensed her and the Fam teleporting away.
Five
Too busy with the men he knocked out, and rushing the others of the same group farther down the alley, Draeg paid little attention to where the woman and cat ’ported, just glad they’d left so he could concentrate on fighting.
These continual fights became tiresome.
Nope. He lied to himself even as he grinned, showing his teeth, to the three men facing him. He welcomed the fighting, dirtier and meaner than he could get away with at The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon run by Tinne Holly.
All that frustration released. The irritation that Draeg couldn’t get a handle on whether the Yews were involved in the fanatical edge of the Traditionalist Stance targeting young Nobles.
Another lie. It wasn’t annoyance at the lack of clues that had led to his frustration. Man, his mind flung up rationalizations even as he plowed into the other men, rolled, turned, and began pummeling more.
He was sexually frustrated. He hadn’t had a woman for a month before he’d come to this undercover spy job. And once he’d watched Loridana D’Yew’s innocently swaying hips as she escaped her estate to ramble in Druida City, he hadn’t wanted anyone else. Why, he didn’t know. Why was puzzling and something he didn’t want to analyze.
So he welcomed the fights he got into as he trailed her—this wasn’t the first—and as he cut down on the night crime in the city.
When he looked around after teaching the thugs that there was always someone better and more intimidating than you, the alley was completely deserted of all life.
His mind still tumbled with gleeful roughness and he couldn’t get a fix on the quiet, innocent woman or the pompous, scholarly Fam, both of whom might be a whole lot more nice-minded and less cynical than Draeg himself.
He was sure that the woman had heard only the first couple of blows and short grunts. Sucking on his bloody knuckles that he should really send some Healing Flair to, not that that was easy for him, Draeg realized Baccat had looked at him from D’Yew’s arms.
Baccat had smirked at him.
Draeg heard, with sensation that tangled inside him, the tenor of D’Yew’s voice several blocks away, talking matter-of-factly to her Fam. She must have thought the fight just a scuffle. Not that she would recognize scuffle or fight.
Tonight Draeg had already tugged on the hook he’d set in the FamCat a couple of times. He hesitated to pull on it more since he’d met the cat today and the aura-hook was new. Baccat was definitely aware of Draeg and that he’d followed woman and Fam but probably thought Draeg had kept them in sight. If Baccat discovered the hook and trace, he could remove them more easily now than if a week or so passed.
So Draeg sucked in a few breaths to calm down, cocked his head to hear their voices again, and those floated to him from the southwest. And why the hell were they interested in southwest Druida? A question he couldn’t ask her right now for sure, though he hoped to slide into her confidence enough for her to trust him with . . . with everything.
He heard a few groans that meant the first guys he’d laid out might be regaining consciousness, so he teleported the individuals to a local guardhouse . . . easy to do since he’d gone looking for trouble in the streets of Druida a couple of years back and found it readily for months. He knew his way around.
Then he stood panting with effort and strained to hear or sense D’Yew and Baccat again, and got nothing. He understood he’d lost them, and understood the real downside to his fighting.
If D’Yew got in trouble, Draeg would have to use the line to Baccat to teleport to the couple and help out. Then the Fam would understand he’d been tagged by Draeg. The cat would probably not like that and tell D’Yew everything he might know or guess about Draeg, which could be damn unfortunate and might put this undercover job at risk. He could only pray woman and cat would be more careful tonight.
Keeping his senses open to try to find them again, Draeg began the slow walk to D’Yew estate, grumbling all the way.
* * *
Lori kept a firm grip on Baccat and breathed quickly as they alit in an alley between buildings that only showed slight light from Celta’s starbright night in the center. She and her Fam had worked together to ’port to a street, paused for a few breaths, then headed to this place as soon as they’d heard fighting in the other alley.
She’d heard flesh hitting flesh and bitten-off moans. At least two blows, she thought, though she didn’t have the experience to visualize the actions. Yet even before the sounds, the hair on the back of her neck had risen, warning her of trouble. “I should have trusted my instincts,” she muttered, beginning to think that she had better instincts for danger than her cat who’d lived on the streets of Druida.
Standing and petting Baccat, she frowned, trying to sort the sensations within her. Yes, she’d sensed . . . danger as soon as they’d stepped from the narrow way between the buildings into the smelly alley. Her Flair had surged. Her newly released Flair, her not-quite-known main psi power.
You hold Me too steadfastly, and for too long! huffed Baccat. He wiggled, pushed against her, and jumped down.
“Baccat!”
Tail high and twitching, he strolled toward some crates, discarded since the last time they’d traveled this way.
Horrible hissing, more than one screech.
Danger to her Fam!
She flung out her arms in alarm, Flair streaming from her to Baccat. She saw the light around her Fam waver. Lori choked with fear as a huge rat jumped over a crate, all claws stiff and ready to scourge Baccat.
No! She blinked and her eyes widened as she saw a bubble curve around Baccat.
The rat hit the shield—it was a personal shield!—and squealed as it slid around the bubble. When the rodent landed, it scurried away into darkness.
Baccat grunted as the bubble contracted, then shaped closely around him. Lori widened her eyes to see better and stared. No forcefield, no barely visible armor, no iridescence or follicle-tipping light showed. But she’d done it! She’d made a bubble around Baccat, then formed it to his shape! He was protected.
The cat stopped and turned around, put his nose on his shoulder to sniff. It surrounds Me. He paused, lifted one paw, then each of the others in turn. Twitching his whiskers, he said, It coats my whiskers, each and every one! He angled them. The sensation is extremely peculiar. He scowled up at Lori. It is beneath Me, too, so I do not feel the earth, but it has no odor. It does no damage to My pads or paws.
“It’s my main Flair,” she whispered in awe, knowing she spoke truly. “Personal spellshields. I’m sure.”
Ah, Baccat said, sitting and holding a forepaw in front of his eyes as if trying to see what he could feel. Then he put his paw down, shifted his sitting position. To reiterate, the personal spellshield feels quite odd, but I believe I can easily become accustomed to it.
“That’s good,” Lori murmured, keeping an eye out for more rats. She’d been bitten by one when she’d started cleaning up the stables as a child, and not only had it hurt, but she’d almost lost her freedom to be with her animals.
I do not like rats, either, Baccat said. I have had to fight them for food before and they Do Not Fight Fair.
Lori figured Baccat didn’t fight fair, either, but would think losing to a creature of such minimal intelligence an affront. She wondered how many rats nested and lurked here ready to run out over her feet. This had been part of the best route. She’d have to scout the alternatives again. Being in the city remained fascinating, but time pressed upon her. She didn’t know how long she could remain meek and mild with the Residence and her Family.
She could taste freedom.
Tilting his head, Baccat looked at each forepaw once more, then rose and shook himself. Lori still saw no hint of the shield.
It is quite an interesting phenomenon, Baccat said, ears rotating, then stepping forward.
“What?”
That
two of the young women who have lived at Yew Residence have developed Flair encompassing security and shields.
“I never heard that,” she paused. “Just that the person who made the estate shieldspell was unfriendly and wouldn’t update ours.” Lori had had to strengthen the spells on the estate’s walls, gates, and doors quarterly herself, and she simply added to the spells already embedded.
Baccat instructed, Your MotherSire’s second wife, she who is now Lahsin Holly, is the premier person to build and maintain estate spellshields. Now you, Loridana Itha Valerian D’Yew, are mistress of personal spellshields. I have never experienced anything like this. Indeed, I have not heard of such excellent individual shields.
“Oh.” Her knees went a little weak, and if there hadn’t been rats in the alley, she’d have sat down on a two-stack of crates. So she gulped and stiffened her knees and spine.
I wonder . . . Baccat said, just before he jumped into the darkness and attacked a rat!
Terrible, awful noises from the pair had Lori shuddering, wanting to put her hands over her ears. This was a fight to the death.
Then the bloody rat shot from the shrouded shadows, across her feet, and she clapped her hands to her mouth to suppress a shriek. The rodent staggered a couple of steps and fell over.
Ha! Baccat strutted from the darkness and spit out rat flesh, and Lori hurriedly looked away. He stopped in front of her. Look at ME!
She did. He actually appeared sleeker, more well groomed than usual.
Not a scratch on Me. He sniffed. Not a bite, though the rat tried both. I am unharmed, nay, untouched, even.
Lori gulped again. “Oh. That’s good.” She could have done without the demonstration.
I can fight and kill and prey cannot hurt Me, and I will be NO PREY to others.
“Very good.” She angled a little so she didn’t have to see the defunct rodent.
It is EXCELLENT. What we have here, My dear FamWoman, is an exponential development in defense. He hopped on the crates and stared at her until she met his reflective eyes. How do you feel? Do you feel as if this shield continues to drain you because We are in close proximity and your Flair is being cycled to My shield?
“Oh.” She lifted her hair with the fingers of both hands; perspiration had dampened her scalp, more from the fight than the spell itself. She took stock of herself, then replied slowly, “No, I placed the bubble that contracted into a shield on you, but it does not continue to pull Flair from me.”
Then We may treat this as a regular spell. No doubt it has a time limit and will wear off, Baccat said. His whiskers twitched. My shield does not seem to be deteriorating incrementally. Therefore I would postulate that when the Flair you invested into the spell is gone, the protection will simply vanish. It will be well to note the duration.
“Yes,” Lori agreed.
How do you feel, in general? Baccat asked.
“Good.”
Not too depleted from the magnitude of the spell?
Lori sank into her balance and stretched out her arms, then each leg. “No, I’m fine, no more tired than if I did a medium housekeeping spell.”
Baccat’s upper muzzle lifted as if in a smile, and Lori looked away from his bloody fangs. Very well done, FamWoman! This MUST be your primary Flair.
“Yes.” Lori nodded, bit her bottom lip, let out a small sigh. “I used regular, daily Flair so often that my primary Flair has been slow to appear—”
Sluggish, Baccat said, a growl in his mental voice. Sluggish to come because of all the demands of the Residence and your Family. Another cat sniff. I could stay in the Residence with such a shield now.
“No!”
No, We do not want to reveal this new Flair of yours.
“Absolutely not.”
Ears flicked back and forth. I think We should call this Flair of yours “personal armor.” Yes. He groomed his whiskers.
“I suppose.” A large shaft of twinmoonslight speared into the alley, skimming some damp puddles with silver. She looked into the sky and saw the edge of Cymru moon peeking over the building. “It’s getting late, and it’s been an eventful night.”
“Yesss,” Baccat vocalized. He hopped down from the crates. We must consider the new twist in our situation. You could make a great deal of gilt providing personal armor spells, particularly if We can develop some that will last several specific durations, or if We can imbue an object, say an amulet, with the spell and have the armor triggered as needed. We could stay here in Druida City . . .
She’d been listening and smiling at Baccat’s business schemes, but this wiped the humor from her. “Ab-so-lutely not!” Lori said aloud, then to emphasize it, sent the words and feeling of denial telepathically to her Fam. I am NOT staying in Druida City. My stridebeasts and horses and I are all traveling to MY Valerian estate. She sliced a hand in the air. That is definite.
“Grrr,” Baccat said. I am a Civilized Cat and prefer Druida.
She frowned at him, and then he said, Oh, very well. I suppose I can attempt to bring culture to the hinterlands. He waved a paw.
Setting her hands on her hips, Lori scanned the alley. “I think we must not use this passage again. There is too much stuff in it that might spook my animals.”
Her Fam strolled into the next business street, empty and moonslit. I do not like the rats. They might be a distraction to me when we leave town. I will advise the owners of the shops regarding the rats in the alley, and that the crates give them shelter.
Lori didn’t quite believe that the store owners would listen to Baccat but didn’t say so.
As usual, they decided to do short teleporting hops and walk home, to continue to acquaint Lori with Noble Country and the area she must know well so she could lead her stridebeasts—no, the stridebeasts and horses, her animals—through the city safely. The stridebeasts liked her to lead instead of ride one of them, and she preferred to keep that lower profile.
And, after all, she couldn’t teleport directly home, because her pulse still beat hard through her veins; she still radiated excitement from Baccat’s fight with the rat, her trip outside, and the revelation of her true Flair.
How amazing that she had such interesting Flair! She’d have to practice personal armor shields in private, figure out if she could put one around herself, too. And whether she could shield the whole group of them during their escape and their trip.
Though her body felt tired, her mind still hummed with discovery and delight.
The Residence would definitely notice that. Especially since she was supposed to be working on the boathouse, and refurbishing some of the boats—which she couldn’t care less about.
Not to mention that she couldn’t bring Baccat into the Residence with her. The one time she had had been horrible for everyone but especially her Fam. Even though she could shield him now, she didn’t know how long his personal armor spell would last. It would take experimentation for her to find out, and better that was done when not in a dangerous place or under threat.
She daren’t fall into the Family fault of Yew hubris and arrogance. If the Family and the Residence learned of her plans, all could be ruined.
She swung open the gate . . . and faced Draeg Hedgenettle.
Six
Lori caught her breath at the sight of the stableman. Her heart pumped hard and felt like it surged into her throat.
He was beautiful. No, not beautiful, just exactly how a man should look. And what a man! Again she was struck that he was nothing at all like the thin, elegant builds of her male relatives, like her cuz Zus. Not much at all like the men she’d seen in her short forays outside the estate at night. He looked as if strength and masculine grace had been bred into his line . . . as she’d bred special qualities into the best of her stridebeasts.
Yes, his body was gorgeous, his face attractive, or it could be if he didn’t aim such a dark scowl at her.
Solidly standing in the doorway, he blocked her entrance and crossed his arms. “It’s about time you got
back.”
She swallowed and lifted her chin. Despite his glowering expression, she felt no danger as she had earlier that night, that had activated the use of her new primary Flair. He wouldn’t physically hurt her. “Please move.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t just teleport into the Residence,” he said.
“I can’t do that,” she answered automatically, “but if you don’t move, I will teleport farther into the estate.” She tilted her head. “And it seems as if you wish to speak to me?” She paused. “Not that I intend to tell you anything.” But her heart beat harder. Would he report her to Cuspid, the maître de maison; Folia, the housekeeper; or the Residence itself?
If he did so . . . she’d have to leave. Now. As soon as possible, taking her animals whether it was good for them or not. Figure out some way to protect them from the freezing weather on the trip. She couldn’t leave them as objects for any revenge the Family might inflict.
Draeg caught the door by the curved latch handle and swung it wider, stepped out of her way, and flourished a bow along with a sweeping gesture that she enter.
Baccat sashayed through, tail flicking. Greetyou, Draeg HEDGENETTLE.
As he straightened, the man’s frown changed subtly into an expression of wariness. “Greetyou, FamCat.” Draeg drew in an audible breath. “You smell odd.”
“Odd, how?” demanded Lori. She hadn’t noticed any odor other than remnants of rat-fight, so if her Flair held a scent, she needed to know about that.
Draeg shifted his gaze to her. One of his shoulders hunched. “Some herb I don’t recognize.”
Lori wanted to press further but didn’t dare. She could be in enough trouble as it was.
I prefer to sleep in herb gardens, Baccat stated. And I enjoy rolling in them, wherever I find them. He inhaled with gusto. I do not smell any unattractive aroma upon Myself.
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