Heart Dance

by Robin D. Owens

  Ilex said to Dufleur, “The house has been cleansed by the highest. I’d say the Priestess and Priest dedicated to the Lady and Lord. I also sense the Flair vibrations of the FirstFamilies.”

  Dufleur blinked. “The FirstFamilies?”

  “They must have done a powerful cleansing ritual.” Ilex’s eyes narrowed. “These places belonging to the murderers must have held a vileness that couldn’t be allowed to exist or spread. They took care that evil wouldn’t.” He smiled. “And it smells nice.”

  Shivering from an inside cold, Dufleur searched his eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “Didn’t he just say so?” Dringal snapped. “Let’s get inside out of this winter.”

  Thirty

  I agree,” Meyar said and went to hold open the front door. His smile was forced. “You see, cuz Dringal, we can come to an agreement on some matters.”

  Without saying a word, Dringal swept into the house. Ilex followed. Meyar patiently held the door for Dufleur. The entrywaywas dim. In fact, the whole house seemed dim with only the infrequent windows providing natural light. The entryway, hall, and the slices of the other rooms that she could see were all empty of furniture. But it wasn’t cold, and there was no musty smell. Taking a cautious breath, Dufleur sniffed the air. A lingering mixture of odors teased her nose and her brain, until she understood that twelve sacred woods had been burned within the house. Ilex was right, the house had been cleansed by the most dedicated spiritual Priestess and Priest and by the FirstFamilies as well. She cautiously let her emotional shields down. There was not the tiniest taint of evil.

  One more test. With the utmost care, she gathered her Flair—and checked the Time Wind that sifted through the house. It was laden with more power than usual, from the strong FirstFamilies Lords and Ladies and the equally potent magic of the Priestess and Priest. But the quantity of the flow seemed the same as in any house of such an age. Not disrupted. As her Flair mounted, she knew that if she wanted, she could see shades of the past. But had absolutely no temptation to find the shadow that would pulse evil. “Is he dead?” she asked suddenly, her visionclearing and gaze locking on Ilex.

  “He was the one who committed suicide when he was caught.”

  Dufleur pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling a little queasy. “Of course he was. I don’t know why I didn’t remember.” Because she never wanted to remember. Never wanted to think of that day.

  “Only one has survived her stay on the deserted island. She is not anticipated to live to the spring equinox.”

  The punishment for the three who had been caught and lived to stand trial had been banishment to an uninhabited island off the coast in the south. And fixed with suppressflair collars. Dufleur shuddered. She couldn’t imagine living without Flair.

  Meyar had walked ahead and returned. “We have some extra furniture in the attic that you are welcome to have, Dringal.”

  “I can get some donations from the Clovers and their furniturebusiness,” Ilex said.

  “I won’t take charity,” Dringal said tightly.

  “Not charity at all,” Ilex said, looked as if he was going to explain more, then wisely kept silent.

  “With Mother living here, you won’t have to find her a place to stay or pay her room or board. In exchange, I want you to buy the best spellshields available for the house.”

  The men looked at her, Meyar appeared pained. “That’s goingto be costly.”

  “The best spellshields,” insisted Dufleur. “They will ease Mother’s mind. And if you wish, I will move from T’Winterberry Residence, to Midclass Lodge perhaps.”

  “You’re welcome to stay, Dufleur,” Meyar muttered with a tired, lopsided smile. He shook his head, sighed. “The best shields for this place that is only housing one person.”

  “What do you mean?” Dringal said. “There will be two of us. My cuz D’Winterberry will be here, too.”

  “My mother?” Ilex asked faintly.

  “Of course. She depends upon me. I’m sure we can ensure that some rooms upstairs are remodeled to look very like her suite now. I’ll take care of her. We should stay together. And I certainly won’t entrust her to your care.”

  Dufleur hoped her stare wasn’t as surprised as Meyar’s. He seemed to recover first, expression turning cheerful. “We’ll see to your remodeling needs.” He glanced at Dufleur. “And I’ll get those shields up today.”

  Ilex gave a small cough. “The Clovers are expert in building,too. They’ve been working on that compound of theirs for years. With their help and our Family Flair, we can get the rooms in order during the next couple of days. Mother will keep all her own furnishings, of course.”

  No one would want such yar-duan saturated possessions.

  Dringal inclined her head. “Good of you.” She glanced at Dufleur. “This will do.”

  “I’m glad,” Dufleur said.

  Dringal went into the sitting room to the right. Her voice floated back. “There is a small area here perfect for teleportation.” Dufleur and the men followed her in, found her behind a half wall near a window.

  “Good choice,” Ilex said. “Shall we designate this as the official teleportation area?”

  Meyar shrugged. “Yes. But I’d just as soon do the heavy ’porting of the furniture directly from one room to another. Dufleur, will you be available to help?”

  “Of course she will,” said Dringal.

  “Of course I will,” Dufleur said at the same time.

  Dringal set her hands on her ample hips and looked around again. She appeared—hopeful. Here was a house she could make the way she wanted it. That was important to her, Dufleur knew. Some bitterness eased from Dringal’s expression. She nodded. “This will do very well for my cuz and me.”

  Dufleur regretted her words when she teleported to her laboratory that afternoon. She couldn’t settle. She sensed this was also the right moment to press on with her own goals. After the previous night, rumors and gossip and false tales would be flying around Druida. She’d already had several appointments for timer alignment canceled. She was obviously out of fashion.

  She wanted to continue her work, especially now that Saille was growing cool to her.

  She couldn’t hide her discovery of a cure for disease. That was too large. She’d spend the rest of her life, if need be, figuringout how to make a device that would trap time and mimic her own actions. Several equations came to mind, and she noted them down.

  She’d been reminded all too cogently the night before at Birches how powerful the FirstFamilies were, their edicts and prejudices.

  If she really wanted to prove herself, it would be to triumph over her enemy and revive old D’Willow.

  But curing rats was one thing, healing a GreatLady was another.

  Saille would hate that she revived his MotherDam, but Dufleur didn’t know if anything less startling would get her amnesty for breaking the law. If she spoke to T’Heather, the Healer, and offered to treat a patient, how many times would he insist on her help before he accepted that she could do what she said? And how much would that cost her in energy and Flair? How often could she repeat the practice? Not very often. Despaircrept into her thoughts. If she could summon the Flair for this, say every six months, it could take years for her to prove the worth of her experiments. She’d definitely have to leave Druida.

  But Saille would win any confrontation with his MotherDam.Her brain went around and around, considering the problem,and she paced her laboratory.

  She wanted to consult with Saille but knew he couldn’t rationallyspeak with her about this.

  And the more she walked, the more she yearned to do this. To dismiss once and for all the stories that went around about her father.

  She set her shoulders and teleported to D’Willow Residence,was admitted to Saille’s ResidenceDen immediately. He leaned against his desk, arms crossed and with a wary expressionthat told her that the discussion would be harder than she expected.

  Keeping her gaze level on his, she said, �
��Saille, I’ve found a way to kill disease. I want to prove that time experimentation is a worthy pursuit.”

  His smile was faint, his arms relaxed. “That’s good. Tell me how I can help.”

  “I want to revive your MotherDam and cure her.”

  “No,” he said, eyes going blank, more as if he refused to believewhat she said, than refusing to support her.

  Pain was ripping inside him, flowing down their bond.

  “I said I would help you in everything,” he said slowly, went behind his desk, putting it between them. “I aided you with the Thyme HouseStones. Tell me what you plan.”

  She swallowed. “It’s the only way I can see to do this. I . . . I am calling a gathering at T’Winterberry’s to request this of the FirstFamilies.”

  He just stared at her. Anger leapt in his eyes. “You ask a lot.”

  “Saille . . .”

  “She’s evil. She lost her Flair but continued to be a matchmaker,approved Tinne Holly’s and Genista Furze’s marriage. Conspired with T’Yew to do something equally venal, I don’t know what.”

  “Those secrets you’ve kept from me,” Dufleur said.

  “I spared you my problems.”

  “But you’ve seen all of mine. I wanted to comfort you.”

  He laughed, and it wasn’t pleasant. “I couldn’t tell you, either,that I suspected she was your father’s secret partner.”

  “That makes sense.” She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it. Denial.

  “My MotherDam does not deserve to be revived.”

  Dufleur’s stomach churned. “Then she deserves to be judged.”

  “It would ruin my Family. You know how that is, don’t you? How Family members tear at each other when ruin comes upon them?”

  Oh, that hurt. They were hurting each other. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words, could only think this was the beginningof the end. Stared at him.

  He swore, then said, “I can’t persuade you. I never could. Any more than I could persuade her.”

  Worse and worse.

  “Inform me of the time and place of your gathering. Please go.” He didn’t move to touch or kiss her as he would have even the day before.

  She left wondering what she had done.

  She could, of course, decide not to do this, live with rumorsthe rest of her life. Move to the country in spring, live far, far away from Saille and everything she knew. Uproot herself.

  She could give in to Saille. Would that be cowardly? She didn’t know, but she remembered how she felt when she couldn’t work, when she was denied her basic nature. It wouldn’t take long to go mad.

  She’d stood up to her mother. Now she should go further. Since she was having such success with being courageous, she contacted several FirstFamily Council members, beginning with T’Ash. His formidable blue gaze and serious expression stared out at her from the water droplets above the scrybowl.

  She swallowed. “I can Heal disease through time, and I want permission to revive D’Willow and prove it.”

  “I’m listening,” T’Ash said.

  She gathered a select number of FirstFamily Heads togetherin the Gray Sitting Room, including Saille, but not only those friendly to her. There was T’Hawthorn and T’Holly—and Passiflora—of the older generation, T’Ash and T’Blackthorn, upcoming leaders. D’Grove, D’Hazel, SupremeJudge Ailim Elder.Healers T’Heather and his Daughter’sDaughter Lark Holly. She had Winterberry Residence initiate a link to Nuada’s Sword and Captain Ruis Elder. Her ally.

  Someone she didn’t invite, but who had shown up—the youngest FirstFamilies Head, T’Vine, the boy prophet, sat perched on a chair.

  They all partook of beverages from the no-time dedicated to caff drinks, seemed impressed with the device, and Dufleur thought she might at least receive orders for such units even if the rest of the afternoon was a failure.

  When everyone was settled, she addressed them. “I can kill disease, viri and bacteria, through the use of time. I want dispensationto use the technique on D’Willow who is housed in one of Nuada’s Sword’s cryogenics capsules.”

  “Have you been experimenting with time?” T’Hawthorn asked.

  “When was the last time each of you practiced your Lady-and-Lord-given Flair?” she countered. She knew the answer for all of them would have been “today.”

  “And how would we feel if we couldn’t practice that Flair?” SupremeJudge Ailim Elder murmured.

  Dufleur offered her memoryspheres and image spheres. “I swear by my most sacred Vow of Honor that these contain true, unedited experiments.”

  They watched in silence. Again and again.

  “Impressive,” T’Hawthorn said. He looked at the Healer, T’Heather.

  Heather grunted. Stared at Dufleur, then with a wave of hands, produced a small housefluff, a pet that was a combinationof Earth rabbit and Celtan mochyn. “My youngest Daughter’sSon’s pet. It has a cold.” His large hands stroked the animal delicately.

  Adrenaline shot through Dufleur. “I can Heal it.”

  “Her,” said T’Heather.

  “I can Heal her.” She lifted the housefluff gently. The creaturewas soft and boneless. She went to an empty corner and sat. “As you all know, this chair has been vacant since the beginningof our meeting. The housefluff and I will be traveling slightly through time, both past and present.” She hadn’t explainedany further or in exact detail how her process worked, and they hadn’t asked.

  She drew the Time Wind to eddy around them—this Residencewould always attract more than usual of the Time Wind, since she’d lived and worked in it.

  Preparing herself, she mentally reviewed the steps, gauged her own energy and Flair, the housefluff ’s—who was not a Fam—and the virulence of the cold—minor. She moved into the Time Wind, snagged the virus, jumped forward in time, then back thirty seconds. And relived those thirty seconds.

  The housefluff perked up from its previous limpness, wrinkledits nose, hopped from her lap and over to T’Heather. He scooped it up.

  Everyone stared at Dufleur, wide-eyed.

  Saille left without a word, emotions churning through their bond.

  “You hurt him,” SupremeJudge Ailim Elder murmured.

  “We’ve hurt each other.”

  “What do you want?” T’Heather asked abruptly.

  “As you know, the former D’Willow lies in a cryonics tube in Nuada’s Sword and set a prize for whoever Heals her.” Dufleur waved a hand. “I’m not interested in that. I would take nothing from the Willows.” Except Saille’s heart. “The point is that the former D’Willow has already agreed to be experimented on.”

  Ruis Elder spoke from the screen. “Ship has been observing this meeting, too, and states that Dufleur Thyme has met the conditions the former D’Willow set for reviving her.”

  Healer T’Heather grunted again. “Ship’s right.”

  Vinni T’Vine, the young seer, nodded seriously. “I advise we allow this.”

  They all stared at him. Dufleur could only pray that he wouldn’t let her ruin her own or Saille’s life.

  “What do you want?” This time the question came from the Captain of the Councils, T’Hawthorn.

  “I want the ban against the Thymes working with time lifted.”

  “Just against the Thymes?” T’Hawthorn followed up drily. He knew all about business competition.

  “The Agaves are no more.” She set her teeth, sent each a hard look. “It is my belief that the law forbidding the use of a natural Flair talent contributed to GraceLord Agave’s desperate actions and the destruction of his House.”

  She waited tensely, her gaze drawn again and again to the housefluff T’Heather petted, until Fairyfoot jumped in her lap and purred. Her FamCat had promised to be quiet the whole of the meeting—for her own large room in the new house. Where Dufleur didn’t want to live.

  “There’s more than just results that need to be considered,” Passiflora said. “D’Willow was the head of the Willow household
for decades. Saille T’Willow has taken on the responsibilityfor less than six months. Many might consider him an upstart and give the power back to D’Willow.” Passiflora gave a little cough. “If the Family can’t settle it themselves and it came to a vote in the FirstFamilies Council . . .”

  “Even if the Family chose young T’Willow, the FirstFamiliesCouncil might—”

  “No,” said SupremeJudge Ailim Elder. “Many of our laws have been bent and broken recently. We will not interfere in a Family unless illegality or abuse is shown.”

  “The Family prefers T’Willow,” Dufleur said. Studied them each again. “And if the matter somehow came to the attention of the FirstFamilies Council, I believe that Saille would still win. I could ask those of you here who would support him. That would be a consideration for me in attempting to revive her.”

  “I wouldn’t support her,” Ruis Elder said cheerfully from the screen that showed him lounging in the Captain’s Quarters of Nuada’s Sword. “I am formally allied with you, GrandMistrysThyme. Besides, she voted to execute me.”

  Others of the gathering winced. It was the blackest moment of the FirstFamilies Council in a century.

  “I’m glad to say that no one else here wanted me dead,” Ruis said.

  “Our vote would go to T’Willow,” Ailim Elder said.

  And the discussion deteriorated into politics. Dufleur watched, tense, as they debated who in the FirstFamilies would vote for or against Saille as T’Willow—if it came to that. And she reached out to him through their bond. He did not answer.

  After each FirstFamilies prospective vote was discussed, and a straw poll taken that showed Saille being backed by a solid majority, Passiflora said, “If it is D’Willow’s time to die, if Dufleur finds a way to extend that life, would more people be greedy for more years? Would it undermine one of the key spiritualbases of our culture?”

  And ethics was debated for two septhours.

  Finally, finally such talk was done—easier for them, she thought, than this other decision.

  They asked her to leave the room, and that Winterberry Residencekeep their discussion completely confidential. Both Dufleur and the Residence agreed.