Heart Quest

by Robin D. Owens

  Ilex glanced around, committed the room’s furnishings and placement to memory. Part of his Flair was an excellent recollection of settings. Extending his senses to examine his surroundings was his greatest Flair. “I don’t know the teleportation pad at Clover Compound. I do know the park across from the main entrance.” Over the last several years, he’d spent a lot of time lingering in that park, after he’d tracked his HeartMate down, then discovered it was Trif. He’d watched the Family he wanted to call his own, but had never approached them, had seen Trif grow from a pretty teenager into a lovely young woman.

  “The park across from Clover Compound?” She glanced at him. “The family owns that park, another to the south of our Compound, and a grove to the north.”

  “I helped Straif Blackthorn plant trees and bushes from his estate in that park.” The words were out of Ilex’s mouth, demonstrating his need of her approval, before he could stop them.

  She beamed and warmth uncurled inside him. He said, “I’ll hold your hand and we can practice teleporting to the park.”

  “The learning sphere says that for best results, we should be close as possible.” She looked away and flushed. “My Flair is so temperamental, I don’t think just holding hands will work.”

  His pulse leapt, but his mind cursed. Trying to keep his reaction to her hidden would be tough. Why hadn’t he remembered that he’d hugged his nephew close during their sessions—their short three sessions? Ilam had learned quickly after being tutored. Ilex had the impression that Trif, with her uneven Flair, would need more lessons. The notion was both an anticipated pleasure and delightful ache.

  “Of course,” he said steadily.

  “Good!” She set herself directly in front of him and he wondered how to hold her to give them a close enough connection, but not be too aroused. Impossible. “Let’s try this.” Keeping his lower body from hers, he loosely clasped his arms around her waist, aware of the warm curve of her hips.

  “That’s fine.” She shifted a little.

  “Tell me when you’re linked mentally with Greyku.”

  “When,” Trif said.

  Done, Greyku sent at the same time.

  Ilex loosened his shoulders. “Just preparing.”

  Trif made a sound of agreement.

  “I’ll be brushing your mind now.” This was the worst idea he’d ever had in his life. Connecting with her mind would be so intimate, so much what he shouldn’t do if he didn’t want to be haunted by her forever. He closed his eyes and was enveloped by her—her vibrant aura, the whisper of her breathing felt through his hands, up his arms, and into his lungs, the scent of her, young woman. He sent out a questing thought, Trif.

  Ilex. The mental lilt of his name—the respect and affection that came with it—staggered him as they slid easily into harmony.

  I am here too! said Greyku, her thought wriggling in his mind impatiently. Let’s go.

  “I’ll set the visualization. Clover Park. Late autumn. Evening.” He drew up the images, projected them to Trif. She joined him, showing her own vision, but it wavered. She tensed inside the circle of his arms.

  “Easy,” he said. “I’ll hold the image and sharpen it. Take my visualization.”

  She relaxed as she accepted his vision, solidifying the scene. “It’s very good! A better visualization than I’ve ever had before. I can see the bare branches of the trees as they shift in the wind, dark against the sky.”

  “That’s my Flair. We have an emotional connection to the park, you because you’ve lived and played and worked there, and both of us have planted growing things. Can’t you sense the park, the reality of it as you’ve known it, as well as a present link to the actual location?”

  “I don’t know….”

  “Relax, try, don’t worry about teleporting, just be in the park. Breathe slow, deep breaths. No hurry.”

  But—cried Greyku.

  “No hurry, kitten. Think of resting in the park.”

  Greyku shifted around on Trif ’s shoulder, then settled.

  Ilex found that he stood easier himself. This was right, holding Trif, helping her. His breathing synchronized with hers—or hers matched his, he didn’t know which, and it didn’t matter. For one special moment, they were together, living in the moment. He wasn’t worried about the future—hers, his, or theirs.

  He savored the balance between them—and the kitten—one last instant, made sure her focus on their shared image of the park was solid, then spoke softly. “We will go on three.”

  She tensed.

  “I’ll wait until you relax again, then we will go on three. There is no hurry.”

  A few breaths later—a few more seconds of enjoying her in his arms—and he began the count. “One, Trif Clover. Two, Greyku cat. Three.”

  They arrived in the park. No hesitation, no unbalanced landing.

  “We did it!” Trif pulled from his arms, whirled around with Greyku shrieking in glee, small tail straight out for balance.

  His heart squeezed at the youth of them. When was the last time he’d spun around in happiness? Maybe when he was ten. Before his father had died and his mother had become the woman she was—or revealed the woman she’d always been.

  Trif ran up to him and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go! We’ll head for the landing pad that the family has put up in the corner of the Compound courtyard. Then we can teleport back. I’m sure I can hold the image of my mainspace in my head and guide you this time.”

  “You are certainly more familiar with that than I.” He lengthened his stride to keep up with her running steps. They crossed the empty street; then Trif opened the door to a hallway leading to another, open, door and the courtyard. Ilex frowned. Neither of the doors had been locked. He’d have to speak to the Clover Family elders.

  They were through the hall and into the open space before he could ask Trif who was the head of the Clover household.

  She cried in rage, dropping Ilex’s hand and shooting toward the far left corner of the yard where a tangle of children bounced up and down on a huge red pad that looked like an oversized bedsponge. The teleportation pad.

  Pure horror scrambled his wits. If he’d known the location of the pad and they’d tried to teleport…they could have killed themselves by entangling their solidifying molecules with others—and taken a couple of children with them. Stop! He sent a mental command that could be heard throughout the Compound.

  All activity in the rectangle stilled. Adults looked to him as he followed Trif to the pad. The children tried to scramble away. “Hold!” With a sweeping gesture, Ilex froze the lot of them. This too was part of his Flair and demanded a certain level—Noble level—and energy to use. But the energy to power it was easily found—fear at what might have resulted, and anger that the Clovers had not been more careful.

  Now even the murmuring of the adults ended.

  “What were you thinking!” demanded Trif of her younger family members.

  “Let me handle this, Trif,” Ilex said, nudging Trif aside so he could confront the bespelled children. It looked as if the oldest was about ten, a girl. The youngest sat in a diaper on the pad, staring up at him all wide eyes and round mouth, eyes terrified that it couldn’t move. “Get that one,” Ilex said, releasing the toddler from his “still” spell. A wail rose and echoed off the walls of the surrounding houses.

  Trif scooped up the baby and cuddled it. It hid its face into her neck, hiccupping cries until it spotted Greyku; then a chubby hand lifted. A woman came and took the babe.

  Ilex snapped fingers under the oldest girl’s nose. “You may speak.” He angled his chin at the pad. “What is that?”

  The girl gulped, swallowed again, but met his gaze. Brave child. “It’s a teleportation landing pad.” Her eyes slid to Trif. “For cuz Trif. She’s the only one of us who has enough Flair to ’port and she don’t often get it right.”

  Reddening, Trif said, “Doesn’t often get it right.”

  “Do you know the penalty for occupying a
lit teleportation pad?” He nodded to a post next to the pad that held a bright light—signifying the pad was empty and it was available for use. He flicked it off.

  All the adults had gathered behind him. He could feel their auras pressing against his.

  “The penalty is all their allowances for the next month, and a favor-debt from each for you, guardsman,” boomed a voice.

  Ilex’s eyes widened. There must be twelve children caught in his spell. Debts from twelve young Clovers. This would tie him to the Family for some time to come.

  A big man with a fat belly bowed to Ilex. “Greetyou, Guardsman Winterberry.”

  Ilex bowed back. “Greetyou, gentlesir.”

  “I’m Pink Clover, Trif ’s father.” He scanned the children, looked back at Ilex. “What is the penalty for occupying a lit teleportation pad?”

  “For a Family landing place, it is yours to decide, as you did. For a public place, it is a year outcast from Druida.”

  Gasps came around him. Ilex met each child’s stare in turn. “Realistically, it is death.” He shrugged. “Or could be death, in the worst-case scenario.” Ilex was used to thinking of worst-case outcomes.

  Pink nodded. “I believe you’ve made your point. If you would release the children, please?”

  Lifting his fingers, Ilex ended the spell. The children tumbled back onto the pad.

  “You twelve will await us in the common room,” Pink said.

  “Uh-oh,” breathed Trif beside Ilex.

  The children ran to one of the doors as fast as their trembling legs could take them. Ilex turned fully to Pink.

  The man’s expression was grim. “Though it’s our fault too.” He studied the rest of the adults, who all nodded. “We aren’t used to having someone with Flair and were negligent in thinking of the consequences of an occupied landing place.” He bowed again. “Trif told us last night that you would be helping her with her ’porting.” He grimaced and tapped his temple with his finger. “Didn’t sink in. I promise you, this will not happen again.”

  “I appreciate that. I’ve never seriously harmed anyone in all my career, and I don’t want to start with a Clover child now,” Ilex said.

  “We all agree,” said a woman, throwing her arms around Trif and hugging her tightly. Ilex had met Trif’s mother, Pratty, before. “Greetyou, Gentlelady Clover.”

  “Oh, don’t call me that. There are too many of us. Call me Pratty. And my thanks for helping my girl.”

  “We ’ported here,” Trif said proudly. “I mean, to Clover Park across the street. Ilex didn’t have a good image of the teleportation pad…good thing too.”

  A teenaged boy came up. “The kitten’s here too! Can I hold her?”

  With that, the strain eased.

  The kitten leapt into the outstretched hands and purred loud enough to attract chuckles and a group of teenagers.

  “We are practicing teleporting, so we’ll be returning to MidClass Lodge shortly,” Trif said.

  Ilex stared at Pink. “Do you consider yourself in my debt?”

  Wariness entered the man’s expression. “Yes.”

  “Then I want you to be more security-conscious. Lock your doors. Spellbind them.” Ilex glanced over the courtyard and saw several sturdy young men and women. “Send one of your youngsters to Tab Holly’s Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon for training.”

  Pink stepped back. “What?”

  “At least one of your Family should have experience in fighting and security.”

  Looking bewildered, Pink spread his hands and said, “But we are Commoners, no more than middle-class, and only Trif has extraordinary Flair.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Ilex gestured around him. “You Clovers are a byword in Druida, in all of Celta—the most prolific Family in the world. Your adopted daughter Danith Mallow is now Danith D’Ash, and your daughter D’Blackthorn. They move in the highest circles. Don’t tell me that T’Ash and T’Blackthorn don’t listen to you. You have numbers and for that you are the envy of every Family, high or low, in the world. That makes you unique, the members of your Family unique, and individuals to be prized. Your influence is beginning to be felt in other circles, your status raised. Recognize that. Send someone to train with the Hollys.”

  Several of the oldest generation looked stunned at Ilex’s words.

  “He’s right,” Pratty Clover, Trif’s mother, remaked.

  “I want to learn to fight!” said a gangling girl.

  “No, me!” A bigger youth shouldered her aside.

  “Me!”

  “Me!”

  “Me!”

  Three boys shouted at once.

  Pink rubbed his forehead, sent a sour smile to Ilex. “We’re Commoners, and we have minor Flair, but nobody called us cowardly or noncompetitive.” He raised his voice to the courtyard seething with young people excited at the new opportunity. “We’ll have a family meeting!”

  The idea of fitting everyone around a small table like most Families boggled Ilex’s mind.

  Pink turned to Trif. “I suppose you don’t want to train with Tab Holly.”

  She gave a delicate shudder. “No.” Then she lifted her chin. “I want to learn to ’port.”

  He grunted, nodded at Ilex. “You listen to the guardsman.” Then Pink raised a fat finger and pointed it directly at her nose. “Having a Heart Mate is a wonderful blessing, but looking for him…. Watch yourself carefully when you go on that damn fool quest of yours.”

  Trif flushed, snatched her kitten back, set Greyku back on her shoulder, and stalked off to the empty landing pad. She pressed the button lighting the signal on the post—sending notice to anyone who stretched their senses before teleporting to the pad that it was ready for use.

  With a sigh, Pink clapped Ilex on the shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of our girl.” He studied the younger generation, who’d arranged dining benches around the rectangular courtyard and watched him impatiently. “Thank you for your good advice.” He shook his head. “We’ll have to let more than one go. Perhaps even as many as three. It’s going to be expensive.”

  “Tab Holly might be—intrigued—with teaching Clovers, imparting the knowledge of a proper duello to the middle class.”

  Pink winced. “We’re more used to scuffles and fistfights.”

  “I’d wager you’re a keen negotiator. You might have an interesting session with GentleSir Holly.”

  Pink perked up. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Rubbing his hands, Pink grinned, then bowed. “Merry meet.”

  “And merry part,” Ilex said, the standard reply.

  “And merry meet again,” Pink said, and went to a large bell and pulled the rope.

  Clanging filled the courtyard and people spilled from the house doors. Ilex blinked at the sight of them all. Shook his head. He’d underestimated the size of the clan. A little dazed, he joined Trif, wrapping his arms loose around her supple waist.

  “Let’s go quickly, while people aren’t watching.” She formed an image of her mainspace and he and Greyku shared the vision. Shifting a little, she distracted Ilex so he had to focus hard to keep the image from wavering. “On three,” she whispered. “One, my mainspace; two, my mainspace. Three!”

  They stumbled a bit when they landed, but Trif whooped with victory and once again danced out of his grasp. “We did it, and you let me take the lead, and I brought us here! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ilex.” She swept up to him and grazed his cheek with a light kiss. The brush of her lips ignited a firestorm in him. He reached for her, but she’d already spun away, lifting Greyku from her shoulder and holding the kitten high, looking at her Fam and not him. “I think this calls for a drink! I have some brithe brandy.” She glided into the minuscule kitchen, and the sound of an opening no-time door came.

  Ilex couldn’t speak. His physical reaction at the mere touch of her lips on his skin in a friendly kiss fried all his logic. All the rationalizations he’d used to stay in her company were lies.
/>   All the warnings he’d given himself were true.

  He was in trouble.

  Trif danced out of the kitchen with two small brandy snifters, Greyku trotting beside her. She handed one to him, then clinked it in a toast. “To teleporting!”

  Ilex wished he was anywhere but here.

  Trif went to a small twoseat, settled, sipped, and said, “Do you have a HeartMate, Ilex?”

  His head began to ache. What to say? He’d never lie to her. “I never felt one in my own Passages.” The Third and last one had been when he was twenty-seven, a little more than two decades ago, as was usual. She’d been two years old.

  The incredible lust and joy at touching a HeartMate had come from her during the heat of her Second Passage at seventeen, and the fluctuating echoes of that had continued over the last three years.

  Her mouth softened. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s rare enough to have HeartMates.”

  “Yes. We don’t have any in the family now except Mitchella D’Blackthorn and Straif.” Her brow wrinkled. “Though I think there was a pair of Clovers a few generations back. What of your Family?”

  “My mother is a widow. My father died when I was a boy.” He smiled humorlessly. “My aunt and uncle on my father’s side were HeartMates. Childless, but HeartMates. Their line died out, like so many.”

  Trif squirmed a little on the sofa. “My main Flair is to see the past. The cities on old Earth were huge. So were the Families. The entire population.”

  “Four hundred years after colonization and we’re still taming the planet,” Ilex murmured.

  “That’s sad.” She stared at the liquid in her cup, lifted her chin. “But HeartMate marriages produce more and stronger children. Offspring better suited to Celta, and with more Flair.”

  Ilex sat in a chair across from her, drank some brandy, and smiled. “So you’re hunting for your HeartMate as a duty for your Family. I think your Family would disagree on that.”

  “That won’t stop me from searching for him.” Her smile lit her eyes. “Everyone in the family older than I am has lectured me. Danith D’Ash has spoken to me. Cuz Mitchella has arranged a meeting with T’Willow for me tomorrow afternoon.”