Heart Change

by Robin D. Owens

“Ah, um, of course.” Signet took a deep breath. “I didn’t have time to prepare a room specifically for Avellana, but she is welcome to use the HeirSuite. It was mine as a girl and is furnished for a female.”

  “The HeirSuite! I get the HeirSuite, just like big sis Coll?” Avellana perked up. “My very own rooms? More than one room? Not on the ground level?”

  “It’s on the third—” Signet stopped in time, recalling that Avellana had tried to fly as a very young child. That had led to a terrible fall, resulting in brain damage. The reason everyone feared for her chances during her First Passage . . . the whole basis of this entire situation.

  Signet drilled Avellana with a serious look that she knew she’d be using a lot in the future. “Can I trust you not to do anything to endanger yourself or others by opening or hanging out the windows or any time you go out on the balcony?”

  “Excellent wording,” Vinni muttered.

  D’Hazel’s expression was torn between the glance of approval she sent Signet and anxiety as she turned her gaze to her daughter.

  “I get a balcony!” Avellana was so thrilled she was jumping up and down.

  “If I get your word about the stated conditions,” Signet said. “Whether you stay in the HeirSuite and are not moved to a ground floor oldie’s room is completely dependent upon your good behavior.”

  “Oh, I promise. I promise not to do anything to endanger myself or others by opening or hanging out the windows or any time I go out on the balcony. And I won’t teleport from the balcony to anywhere.” She beamed a smile. “I teleport very well, but am not allowed to do it by myself.”

  Teleporting at seven? When most people came into the power after their Second Passage at seventeen? “I accept your promise,” Signet said.

  Avellana slipped her small hand into Signet’s and the trust in the gesture made Signet’s heart squeeze. She had another new friend.

  Oh, Avellana would only stay with Signet for a while, until the girl survived her First Passage, but at least Signet knew the time was limited to begin with. Maybe, when word got out that she was a catalyst, she would learn how to keep friends after she changed their lives. Avellana would certainly be staying in Druida and not leaving to follow other dreams.

  Signet looked at Avellana’s mother, D’Hazel, whose smile appeared to be cautiously optimistic.

  Signet smiled back. “I would be honored to show you my home.” She lifted her chin. “It is one of the loveliest Residences in all of Celta.” She looked down at Avellana. “The HeirSuite has wonderful arched windows and looks out over the ocean.” She gave Avellana The Look. “You are not allowed to go down the path to the beach and the ocean without me or with anyone other than me. If you do, you will get the old person’s room on the ground floor. It smells like oldie.” That was a fib. There was such a room, but it hadn’t been used in generations, and Signet and the Residence kept the house meticulously. That particular room faced inland and looked out onto lovely gardens, but Signet was sure Avellana wouldn’t appreciate that.

  Avellana wrinkled her nose. “May we go see, Mother?”

  “Yes, of course,” D’Hazel said.

  Vinni coughed, and D’Hazel glanced at him with a puzzled look. He shifted from foot to foot, shot a look at the door.

  “Oh, someone is going to meet us,” D’Hazel said. When she met Signet’s eyes, there was a hint of GreatLady to lower noble. “I am very conscious of Avellana’s safety.”

  “Of course,” Signet said, feeling wary.

  “So I have hired a guard for her during the time she is away from our Family and Residence.”

  “A guard?” Signet didn’t quite understand.

  “Yes. I assure you he has the best credentials from T’Hawthorn himself.”

  T’Hawthorn had once been the Captain of All Councils of Celta, the most powerful man in the world. The most important of the FirstFamilies GreatLords. Finally the meaning of what D’Hazel was saying fil tered into her mind. “You want me to house a guard.”

  “I want Avellana to be safe,” D’Hazel repeated.

  “I don’t need another person to watch me.” Again Avellana looked up at Signet with wide eyes and a charming smile, squeezing Signet’s hand.

  “I think your mother knows what should be done better than you or I.” Signet thought sharing the responsibility for Avellana’s welfare sounded like a good idea, even if it meant another person in her home.

  “Thank you,” D’Hazel said. “In this instance I’m quite sure I’m right.”

  “He will be arriving shortly,” Vinni said. “I asked that he meet us here.”

  Avellana dropped Signet’s hand and went over to a corner that held a teleportation pad. “I already have a FamCat, and he will want to see our new rooms, too. Rhyz, will you come to me?”

  “Another Fam,” Signet murmured. “It will be good to have company.” But so many, and so soon!

  “Yesss,” hissed Du. I am ready to leave this place for my own home. T’Ash’s Fam has everyone here under his paw.

  Signet chuckled and replied mentally, And you want your own household under your paw.

  Yes.

  Signet sensed the many auras of a busy household around her. When Du jumped into her arms, she cradled his thin body. Our household is only you and me.

  I must start somewhere, Du said.

  The dizziness returned. She was no longer alone. Her household was now herself and Du, but guests—i ncluding Fams—made it four more. People in a house that had been empty of everyone but her for so long. The sound of a child’s laughter. Two children, if Vinni visited. Cherished Fams.

  Avellana’s orange tabby Fam appeared on the teleportation pad, and she hauled him up into her arms.

  Signet looked around the room full of people—the Ashes, the Hazels, the animals. “D’Marigold Residence will be pleased to welcome you all.”

  She heard voices from the hall outside the room. All the unattached Fams who had been lying around casually arranged themselves. They wanted to bond with a person as much as people wanted a Fam, Signet realized, and held Du tighter to her chest. He revved up his purr.

  The ride to GreatHouse T’Ash Residence had been silent. Cratag had sat stiffly in the luxurious backseat of the Hawthorn Family glider. Though there had been no shield between him and the driver, another Family member, Cratag hadn’t spoken. The driver’s manner had held a pity that set Cratag’s teeth on edge. It wasn’t only himself who believed this outside job was more like a demotion.

  T’Ash’s greeniron gates had opened, and the Residence had come into view, a large pale yellow building of curves and jutting shapes. The newest fortress of the FirstFamilies, in an equally new style, was made of armourcrete and the shields were the best. The gliderway was smooth, without any dips or bumps, and the driver was as competent in his profession as Cratag was in his. Their lord didn’t promote fools.

  But that hadn’t stopped their lord from assigning Cratag to another household. Cratag had to meet GreatLady D’Hazel and be gracious to her even while he resented her. At least the scars on his face helped keep his expression unreadable.

  T’Hawthorn had indicated that D’Marigold would be here, and that was the only bright thing in this whole cloudy mess. He remembered her from the times they were at GreatRituals, and there was a single meeting a few years ago where they’d held hands during a Healing Circle. He had little hope that she’d recall him. Would she be frightened of him—his size and his aspect? Women often were, common and noble. Those who lived in Druida were accustomed to excellent Healing that left minimal scars, particularly on the face. The slash from his jaw to his nose—his obviously once broken nose—was white from a slicing claw of a now-dead slashtip. The smaller claw punctures were less noticeable.

  Cratag followed T’Ash’s butler down the carpeted hallway. He was much friendlier than T’Hawthorn’s butler, and from the general looks of the Residence, it seemed like the house and the Family were more casual.

  A cold chill s
licked his gut. The only Family he’d known, the only Residence, was T’Hawthorn’s. He’d have to adapt to a new place, something he’d never anticipated he’d have to do again. D’Marigold’s household couldn’t possibly run along the lines of T’Hawthorn’s.

  He was led to an office suite, then through it, the odor of animals in the air. Obviously the animal Healer’s portion of the house. Danith D’Ash was also the person who matched rare Fams with nobles.

  The butler opened the door and announced him.

  Cratag sought D’Marigold immediately. She looked more ethereal than ever. Her hair was pale gold, her eyes a summer blue, her lips soft and pink.

  Vinni cleared his throat.

  Cratag figured he’d stared too long at her and moved his gaze to the Hazels, mother and daughter. The GreatLady was gazing at him. She seemed unsurprised at his size and scars, but he hadn’t seen her reaction when he’d entered.

  He had seen D’Marigold’s, whose eyes had widened, but she hadn’t flinched, a good sign.

  The little girl said, “You are going to be our bodyguard, Mother told me.” She smiled. “You look big and strong. How did you get those scars?”

  D’Hazel closed her eyes. “Personal comment, Avellana.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It was a question.”

  “It was a question about his personal appearance. We have discussed this before.” More than anger was in the woman’s tone, distress, too, as if she feared for her daughter’s mind or memory.

  Four

  Cratag answered Avellana, “I’m from the southern continent of Brittany.” He laced his tones with the lilt of his native land. “There aren’t as many people there, nor as many Healers. I was hurt fighting a slashtip.”

  “Thank you for your forbearance,” D’Hazel said. He thought she wanted to swoop down on her daughter and pluck her up and take her away, but Vinni T’Vine stood in her path and D’Marigold held Avellana’s hand.

  “It must have hurt a lot.” Avellana was still looking at him.

  “It did.”

  “But you killed the slashtip.”

  “Yes, because he was trying to kill me.”

  The little girl nodded decisively. “Then you are a good person to take care of Signet and me.”

  “I intend to be.”

  “You need a Fam, too.”

  Cratag nearly rocked back on his heels at that. No one would give him a prized Fam, not a common, minimally Flaired person like him. But the little girl and D’Marigold and the animal Healer, GreatLady D’Ash, were all nodding.

  He looked at the animals, none of whom had been a threat, so he’d dismissed them without truly observing them. There was a beige cat sitting elegantly by D’Marigold’s feet in a proud pose, with an interesting triangular face, white muzzle, and yellow eyes. Obviously D’Marigold’s Fam.

  The little girl had an arm around a big cat who was nearly limp in her arms. Two cats already.

  Well, cats were more common than dogs. Maybe there would be a fox? He’d heard foxes were good Fams.

  There was a fox, aloofly watching from a cube set in a strategically defendable area. Two houseflu ffs watched him and a black and white cat gazed at him from upside-down eyes, all paws in the air, with a goofy smile.

  Cratag stepped toward the fox.

  I am not for you, the fox snickered.

  Cratag pivoted back . . . and nearly tripped on the goofy cat who’d thumped down from his perch and run to him. The cat fell over, between Cratag’s feet, and he had to settle into his balance or windmill like a fool.

  Lying on Cratag’s shoes, plump side rounded, the cat gazed up at him with cheerful delight, a little drool escaping his mouth. Greetyou, FamMan.

  He heard it clearly, as clearly as any Family mindspeaking, the only sort he’d been able to hear. Maybe he had a better connection with animals.

  “He gets clumsy when he’s excited, but he’s perfect for you.” Danith D’Ash beamed.

  The cat grinned. What will you call me? I will call you FamMan.

  “Or you could call me Cratag.” He nodded to each person in the room. “Please call me Cratag.”

  FamMan. The cat jumped to his paws, raced back and forth across the room, his run mixed with an occasional bow-legged hop. Then he ran around Cratag, hit the rise of his sturdy boots, and fell over, grinning again. What will you call me?

  Damn. He had a silly Fam. Cratag searched Family names, Maytree and Hawthorn, for an appropriate one. “Beadle,” he said.

  Cratag, the Hazels, Vinni T’Vine, and D’Marigold—who’d told him to call her Signet—walked through T’Ash’s Residence to the front door where the glider Cratag had come in waited.

  D’Marigold’s fragrance of delicate spring blossoms drifted to Cratag, making him very aware of her. Soon they’d be at her Residence, and life would never be the same. He’d look back on this interlude as a time different than his previous life at T’Hawthorn’s and his ultimate return there.

  The glider driver had made himself comfortable in the kitchen that was well known for good food and hospitality, and now met them on the portico, along with another man.

  Vinni heaved a sigh when he saw his bodyguard. The boy tended to slip away from his guards. If Families continued to produce children who could teleport at a young age, Cratag foresaw problems protecting them, though as far as he was aware, Vinni and Avellana were the only children who could teleport. Just his luck to be tangled up with them both.

  Hanes Vine, Vinni’s bodyguard, winked at Cratag, but made his expression serious as he fastened his gaze on his charge. “We got your note, T’Vine, but would like to reiterate that you should take at least one of us with you wherever you go.”

  D’Hazel gave Vinni a sharp look. “Vinni, I thought we also discussed being a good example for Avellana. She looks up to you. Something dreadful could have happened on your own.”

  “Something nearly did,” Signet muttered.

  Cratag glanced at her but said nothing, since D’Hazel had continued to talk in that patient voice most youngsters hated. Which reminded Cratag of Laev, T’Hawthorn’s Son’sSon, and how much he wanted to see the young man.

  Had T’Hawthorn bothered to tell Laev personally that Cratag would be here at D’Marigold’s when Laev himself was experiencing his Second Passage at seventeen?

  Hanes slid his glance toward Cratag, both of them commiserating for Vinni and the gentle scold he was receiving before his social inferiors and men whom he respected.

  D’Hazel may have been a canny noblewoman with her peers, but she knew little about adolescent boys.

  Hanes and Cratag held similar positions in their households—extended Family that worked for a GreatLord. Cratag as the chief of T’Hawthorn’s guards, Hanes as chief of Vinni’s bodyguards. They’d met when they’d taken Laev and Vinni to their training sessions at the Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon. The main difference between the two men was that Hanes had more than average Flair and had grown up in the Vine household under old D’Vine.

  When D’Hazel stopped for a breath, Cratag said, “Perhaps Avellana can have a warm drink when we reach D’Marigold’s.”

  As expected, D’Hazel switched her focus back to her daughter. “Yes. The wind is cold.”

  Neither he nor Hanes had been much affected, but they were both big men. D’Marigold and Vinni appeared cold despite the weathershields surrounding them. They’d teleported to T’Ash’s and hadn’t worn heavy outer garments—another defic iency that D’Hazel had pointed out to Vinni. At her exclamation, the driver swept the door open.

  Hanes stepped forward and lifted Avellana—warmly dressed in a thick winter coat and with a weathershield, too—i nto the glider. “Here you go, GreatMistrys Avellana, enjoy the ride. Greetyou, Rhyz,” he said to her Fam. Then Hanes winked at her, and she smiled back. He eyed the glider, turned to the driver. “I’ll sit up front with you.”

  “You’re welcome to,” the driver said.

  D’Hazel stepped into the glider, Vi
nni slid next to Avellana on the large leather back bench facing forward, and Signet followed gracefully. Cratag was last, and though there was still room on the bench, he sat on the one facing the rear. The driver initiated the privacy shield between the front and back of the glider, retracted the stands, and smoothly took off.

  All three FamCats scrutinized each other and vocalized lowly in their throats, working out status.

  D’Marigold’s Du sat upright, staring the other cats down. Though he had just been adopted, he obviously considered that the Residence would be his own, and he would be top cat. Since Avellana’s Fam dropped his eyes, and to Cratag’s disgust, his own plump puss rolled to expose a white furry belly, forcing Cratag to catch him before he fell off his lap, the littlest cat won.

  The people, of course, knew their status, highest to lowest: D’Hazel, T’Vine, D’Marigold, Avellana Hazel, and Cratag. Vinni was only second because of his age, Cratag was a commoner and lower than everyone else.

  Once past the walls and through the greeniron gate of the D’Marigold estate, Cratag saw the beautiful Residence. It was of smooth construction in a peachy color. He was sure the shell wasn’t armourcrete.

  It was not a secure fortress modeled after Earthan castles like the FirstFamilies had built. Not even a smaller armored house that other nobles had constructed. This home was designed to be pleasing to the eye with tall arched windows, smooth curves, flowing balconies, and a gracious presence. Beautiful and essentially indefensible from any sort of threat—given any thief or army, the Residence would fall.

  The glider stopped before the house, and paneled wooden doors inset with fancy colored glass opened . . . inward. Cratag sighed. D’Hazel was looking approvingly at the pretty Residence, Avellana was squirming with excitement under the weight of her Fam, Vinni was watching Avellana, and Signet was radiating pride.

  The drive was raked, the few steps up to a porch were spotless.

  Hanes Vine was the first out of the glider, and circled around to open Avellana’s door. Once again he lifted the girl from the glider with a flashing smile. He set her on her feet with a wink that had the girl giggling and thanking him by name. Obviously she was no stranger to the Vine household. Hanes offered his hand to D’Hazel, who accepted it. He didn’t patronize Vinni, merely stood by as Vinni jumped the three-quarter meter to the ground.