She was placed on the large carved rainbowstone altar in the center of GreatCircle Temple which held a soft down-filled mattress covered in the finest llamawoolweave. The scent of fresh, healing herbs rose as D’Holly settled.
All three FirstLevel Healers attended his Mamá. Holm hurried to his Mamá’s side and took her hand. She looked up at him with clear turquoise eyes and smiled. He smiled back, but his shoulders felt tight. His Father appeared worn. The long hours he spent on Nuada’s Sword, where Flair only occasionally worked, had irritated him.
Holm turned his gaze to Lark, but she busied herself with his Mamá, and he couldn’t interrupt. After the return of his rose the night before, she’d pinched their connection to the thinnest of microfilaments, thinner than a thread of her solar sail. It angered and worried him, but the fact that she couldn’t break it let a small flame of hope burn within him.
T’Holly smiled down on his HeartMate and T’Heather handed her a drink. He glanced at his timer. “We are progressing very well and have a half-septhour before the Ritual should start. Rest, GreatLady, and seek your inner core. That is needful for the Healing to work.”
Passiflora smiled as T’Holly helped her drink, then nodded and subsided back onto the mattress, closing her eyes. T’Holly held her left hand and murmured love words to her. The aura surrounding them was so bright a gold it made Holm’s eyes hurt.
An outraged yowl screeched above the hum of voices. Everyone turned to the southwest quadrant of the room. Zanth, a huge black-and-white tomcat, flung off small patches of orange and cream—the kittens. Each landed with a plop on a nearby heap of summer grasses, gathered for autumnal equinox a couple of months away.
Lark gasped. She and Holm converged on the scene. Holm grabbed her hand, but she sent him a shock that tingled his fingers. He stopped to stare at her and she flushed. She, too, was on the ragged edge of control. He sensed bubbling emotions, including the white flashes that bespoke resistance to any constraint. But fury and fear burned in him. She should not treat him so, her lover, her HeartMate.
He reached the kittens as Phyll stood, then wavered, then plunked down on his rump, shaking his head. Meserv rolled to his back and curled his paws over his round belly.
Lark scooped up her Fam and checked him for hurts. He extended all ten of his sharp little claws into her arms. I am fine. Let Me down. Now!
She carefully placed him on his feet.
“The little one is proud,” chuckled T’Ash, joining them. “Quite a fighter.”
Phyll sat, full of feline arrogance, and began licking a patch of fur on his shoulder.
Meserv cracked a gleaming sapphire eye, saw them, shut his eye and whimpered.
Holm sighed.
Zanth stalked over, dripping blood from a drooping, tattered ear. The other ear pointed up. He crouched near the kittens and rumbled a long growl.
“What’s going on here, Phyll?” asked Holm.
Phyll twitched his whiskers and rotated his ears in disdain. Sire Zanth say We are puny. And stupid. And slow. Tiny white teeth showed as Phyll lifted his lip. He’s not laughing now. WE got HIM!
“You certainly did.” Danith D’Ash, the sole animal Healer on Celta, shook her head. “You’re bleeding on the floor, Zanth.”
Still growling, the tom turned his head to look at D’Ash. Reckless kits. Only trouble, trouble, trouble.
Meserv gave a heart-wrenching sigh, then rolled over to sprawl on his side, his eyes wide-open with hurt innocence.
“Poor Zanth, your sons beat you up,” Danith said. She turned a laugh into a cough, then knelt and held out her hand. The tom strode haughtily to her and butted her fingers.
Lark stared at Zanth. “There are pinpoint holes clear through Zanth’s ear. Phyll!”
Phyll lifted his pink nose, a miniature of his sire’s. We beat him. We win. We speak better than he does, too. And just as loud.
T’Ash winced. Certainly, you can make your thoughts felt, youngling.
“Poor Zanth,” Danith crooned. “Let me see that ear.” With a small lightball, she illumined the ear. The light reflected off a shining emerald ear stud.
Lark blinked.
Danith shook her head. “You know what this means, don’t you? I’ll straighten out that other ear, while I mend the tooth-holes, but not now. My energy is needed for the true Healing of D’Holly that will take place here today. You must wait until this evening, Zanth, and serves you right.”
Frowning, she looked at Lark. “Did this little skirmish disrupt the energy flow too much?”
Lark looked at T’Heather, who appeared disgusted. Holm’s Mamá seemed in a deep trance.
Holm made a half-bow. “With your permission, FirstLevel Healer, if we join, you can judge the power of the room.” He held out a demanding hand. She fulminated but placed her hand in his, widened their connection for a heartbeat, then withdrew and minimized their link to a thread. Far too short a time for him to try and mend the rift between them.
“The Healing Energy builds. T’Heather has used the release of tension between these three to strengthen his initial Call to the Lady and Lord,” Lark said briskly.
Zanth sat on his solid hindquarters and glared at his offspring. Meserv curled into a ball.
To calm himself, Holm picked up his kitten, cradling him. “You’re worthless,” he said, but his forefinger stroked Meserv’s head and he purred. At least someone liked his touch. “Danith, could you check my Fam, to make sure he has no hurt?”
Danith slid a sly gaze to Holm. “For a tableful of GreatHouse pastries.”
“Zanth still terrorizing your chef?”
“Every morning.” Danith shrugged. She turned her smile on Lark. “Fighters. You learn to live with them.” Lark looked startled, but Holm blessed his friend’s HeartMate. T’Ash winked.
Then Danith directed her gaze to Phyll, who studiously separated his pads to clean between them. “May I examine you, also, Fam Phyll Collinson?”
He stopped his grooming and sat up regally, curling his tail around his paws. “Yesssss,” he vocalized. But I am a HealerCat and I am learning My body. All My insides are fine. I am a most healthy Cat.
“Your brother first, then.” Danith took the purring but limp Meserv in her hands, then frowned in concentration. She darted a glance up at Holm. “His digestive system is not quite right. You must stop feeding him people food.”
Holm grimaced. “My Mamá started it, and we can’t, any of us, deny her whatever she wants. Lately the household hasn’t been organized.” He turned to glance at his mother and saw she was well-attended and deep in trance.
Danith’s face softened. “I understand. I’ll send you some treats you can substitute for the people food.” She put Meserv down and scooped up Phyll. “Yes, you are a very fine kitten.” She rubbed his head and put him down.
Phyll preened, then cocked an ear. T’Heather calls Us. The kittens trotted away. The Ashes followed.
Holm grasped Lark’s arm and absorbed the shock she gave him. He didn’t budge, searching for words. “The kittens will always be a bond between us, as they should be. We should be together.”
Her lips pressed tight and she glanced up at him with angry eyes. “Please let me go.”
He sent a caress to her, then released her.
Holm saw tears in her eyes before she looked away. “Holm, it’s no use. Our love affair is over.”
“No.”
Lark shut her eyes briefly. “If our Families found out, it would make the feud more vicious. We’d be disowned and there’d be internal problems within our Families as members took sides. I won’t be the cause of such strife.”
“You overestimate the effect our—loving—would have,” he said, but sensed he’d lose this battle and cursed himself for bringing it up when they both worried about his Mamá.
Mouth grim, he gave her a half bow and went back to the altar to stand to the right of his Mamá.
Since it was the month of Hazel, the FirstFamily GreatLady and GreatLo
rd D’Hazel and T’Hazel were the leaders of all Rituals. They were HeartMates and Holm was glad of it, though last month had been Holly and next month was Apple, so either of those months would have helped his Mamá Heal better, too.
D’Hazel and her husband went hand-in-hand to the altar. “Merry meet!” D’Hazel raised her voice for attention. Everyone turned to her. “Since this is a Healing Ritual, we will turn the roles of Lady and Lord over to D’Heather and T’Heather. Our placement in the Circle, who will link with whom, will be maximized for the Healing of D’Holly and will be determined by T’Heather.”
“And me!” piped Vinni.
Everyone stared at him. He smirked and adjusted his shirt-cuffs, the embroidery on them signifying his rank.
D’Hazel frowned at T’Heather, but the Healer just lifted and dropped his stocky shoulders. D’Hazel inclined her head to the boy. “As you will, GreatLord T’Vine.”
“I will arrange people as tynged, Destiny, decrees,” said the boy in a lower voice.
Holm wasn’t the only one who shivered.
T’Heather stumped with his HeartMate to join D’Hazel and T’Hazel by the altar. “When I contacted each of you earlier, you gave me permission to sample your energy for this ceremony. Last night I drew up the Heart Circle that will be the most effective in this final Healing for D’Holly. With our energy, her new kidney will be totally accepted by her body, she will regain strength and be well on the way to complete recovery.”
There was a murmur of approval.
“We will proceed,” T’Heather said. To Holm’s surprise, the first thing he did was place Meserv by his mother’s left hip—the side of her new kidney donated by Tinne—and Phyll by her right hip. T’Ash’s Fam, Zanth, lay next to her feet, and Tinne’s fighting cat, Ilexa, curled around her head.
As Holm and Lark reached the altar there came a commotion at the door.
“Let him in,” ordered Vinni, “It’s Hawthorn!”
Another boy entered—the youngest Huathe Hawthorn, Lark’s nephew, Laev, followed by the Hawthorn guard Cratag.
Holm eyed Cratag. He looked much tougher than the model they’d fought with the day before. Holm winced inwardly as he recalled how often the Hollys had practiced killing the man—a man Lark obviously liked and admired since she embraced him and he patted her back.
“T’Hawthorn?” T’Holly’s voice boomed from several strides away, a mixture of fury and wariness in it.
Lark said. “Welcome, Laev.” She hesitated, and Holm knew she wanted to hug the youngster, but was conscious of the boy’s dignity. Her sensitivity sent a spurt of pride through him.
“T’Hawthorn!” T’Holly roared.
The boy flinched. Lark laid a hand on his thin shoulder. Laev trembled, then stepped away from his guard. When he spoke, his voice shook. “I’m Huathe, FirstSon and Heir of HawthornHeir. I was the one who hurt your Lady. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I—” he broke off and took a shuddering breath.
Holm admired the slight boy, barely a teenager. Thin, but with a shock of thick black hair and the violet eyes of the Hawthorns, his voice stilled by fear, yet he stood before T’Holly and admitted his fault.
“Come, Laev,” Holm said. “And welcome. We are glad you attend. As the one who injured my Mamá, your presence will add potency to the Healing Ritual. The Hollys”—Holm shot a glance at his father who glared at Laev—“do not war on children. Do we, sir?” he asked T’Holly.
T’Holly’s lips had thinned. “You wielded the knife that felled my HeartMate?” The undertone of anguish made his voice fill the building.
Lark moved to stand to one side of the boy, Cratag to the other. Both had supportive hands on his shoulders.
Laev opened his mouth, swallowed, then a squeaky “Yes” emerged.
For a moment mad fury lit T’Holly’s eyes. His jaw worked, then he spun on his heel. “Hollys do not war on children.”
T’Heather stepped forward. “The Healing Ritual is long and powerful. You are not of age yet. You have not experienced your second Passage. Does your Family know you are here?”
Laev sent a desperate look up to Lark. “FirstDaughter Mayblossom does.”
“Laev has not been Tested yet, but the Oracle at his birth confirmed his great Flair, enough to rise to T’Hawthorn,” Lark said. “As the one who wounded D’Holly, his presence and his remorse will be a potent spur to our spell.”
T’Heather bowed to the boy. “It is a right and honorable thing that you are here. Come.” He strode away. Laev heaved a breath and hurried after him.
Holm met Cratag’s gaze. “Hollys cherish young ones, and women,” he said softly. He waited until Cratag inclined his head, acknowledging that the Hollys were holding back in the duel, while the Hawthorns fought without such limitations. “T’Holly can loathe but understand the mistake of a poorly trained boy in a fight.”
It was good for Lark to know the Hollys had limits to their violence and kept their honor in the midst of a bloody feud.
He suspected she’d finish the unspoken corollary to his thought. T’Holly can loathe, but understand, the mistake of a poorly trained boy in a fight. But had young Laev been trained by the Hollys, he would not have made such a mistake, even in the fury and excitement of a scrambling fight. The whole dreadful act that had shot the feud to new levels would have been avoided.
“Cratag, your strength and vitality will contribute to the HealingCircle,” Lark said. “HollyHeir, I don’t believe you’ve been introduced to my cuz Cratag Maytree, currently serving GreatHouse T’Hawthorn?”
“No,” Holm said. He’d only skewered the man’s simulacrum several times the day before. “I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.”
Cratag nodded and turned to scan the crowd. Lark slid her arm in his. “Let’s find where T’Heather wishes to place you.” She didn’t even look at Holm as she walked to the altar, but he was on her heels.
With a frown of concentration, T’Heather ordered the Nobles. HeartMates would always be connected, and the couples would be spaced at intervals to boost the circulating energy.
T’Holly held his HeartMate’s left hand, and T’Heather and his HeartMate came after, then FirstLevel HeatherHeir Ur, then Tinne and Genista, Tab Holly and D’Ash and T’Ash.
It was obvious to Holm that he should hold his Mamá’s right hand. “FirstLevel Healer Mayblossom Collinson should link with me,” Holm said, extending his hand to her. They, as all HeartMates, should be together.
But Vinni T’Vine was there, leading a pale, thin young woman with limp blond hair. “No,” Vinni said. “GrandLady D’Marigold will link with HollyHeir.” He challenged T’Heather with a stare and T’Heather took a step back. Red touched his cheeks. He nodded and continued lining up the other side of the circle.
Forcing a smile, Holm bowed to the colorless Marigold. “A pleasure,” he lied. Her light blue eyes sharpened, but she just nodded and set an unexpectedly firm hand in his. His amulet heated and Holm stilled. There was something strange about her Flair. He dropped her hand.
“D’Marigold, you link with Cratag Maytree,” Vinni chivvied the large, scarred guard into place.
The lady looked up at Cratag with awe. He flushed and shifted.
“Laev,” insisted Vinni, “over here, you take Cratag’s hand on your left and Lark’s hand on your right, I will link with Lark on one side and D’Hazel on the other.” The GreatLady and her HeartMate T’Hazel came at the young prophet’s gesture.
Everyone acknowledged each other, briefly clasped hands to test the connection with those on either side, then stood and waited for T’Heather to finish arranging the Nobles.
Even though the circle was not complete, voices hushed and a heavy, portentous atmosphere enveloped the room. If Holm squinted, he could see individual colored auras, the merging of a HeartMate couple’s energy—that made him swallow hard—and the blur of color as they began to merge into a powerful whole.
Finally everyone was in their assigned place. The circle
was more the form of a womb—the womb of initiation, or a heart with a rounded point. D’Holly lay on the altar, T’Holly on her left and Holm on her right started the upward curves of the heart, then the circle rounded out.
Holm’s heart thudded one hard beat as he realized that they were the shape of the innermost path of the Great Labyrinth, at the bottom of the crater bowl. He reached, he sank, but could not find his calm center. He could not bear the thought of failure. He glanced at his Mamá. She lay serene, her skin rosy and her lips parted. She had reached her own essential self and dwelt in a stream of music.
His father looked more peaceful than he’d been since D’Holly had been wounded, but his face had trimmed down to stern lines that Holm regretted. He wondered if the laughing, loving father he’d known would ever return, or if something deep and intrinsic had changed in the man. Soon Holm would take his Mamá’s hand and funnel all his energy, and the energy from others, into her. He muttered a prayer under his breath and saw other noble lips moving in the same fashion. He hoped with every fiber of his being that his Mamá’s poison-ravaged body would accept Tinne’s kidney and she would heal.
The light dimmed, the Temple charged with anticipation, and T’Heather began the Ritual.
Twenty-six
D’Heather and T’Heather cast the circle and Called the Deities. A hum of powerful energy poured through the Nobles. Lark nearly gasped aloud at the potency.
It had been a long time since she’d participated in a GreatRitual Circle. The T’Hawthorn Rituals couldn’t begin to equal this. Her father and brother were always restrained—perhaps unable to release their full power when linking with less Flaired Family members. But Lark thought it was something more, the strict manners and propriety with which all Hawthorns were ingrained might unconsciously limit them. Did that explain those “white flashes” she experienced, the fighting of her Flair against restrictions ingrained since she was a babe?
But the Heathers were used to freeing their Flair in their craft, as were the Ashes and Hollys. The exultation of working at her full potential, pouring her Flair into a merging of great power, dizzied Lark. Then she could separate and examine individual pinpoints in the stream of building Healing-Light.
Heart Duel Page 29
