Heart Quest

by Robin D. Owens

  With the next footfall, as he turned the corner and saw the running figure and closed the distance, he knew.

  She was pressed against a brick wall, gathering her Flair. That shot of evil psi at him had nearly drained her.

  “I’ll…pay…you…back…for this,” she panted.

  “Wrong, Zinga Turmeric,” Ilex said.

  She shuddered at her name.

  “Yes, I know you and will hunt you until I find you. All of Celta has turned against you. You will find no refuge.”

  “I will triumph!” Her image thinned, wavered, then she vanished.

  He sent his Flair questing, but she hadn’t ’ported a short distance. Striding to the place where she’d stood, he crouched and set his hand against the ground her bare feet had touched. His body jerked as he felt her vile power. Strong, stronger than he’d expected. Dark slime seemed to coat his hand. He knew her now, but didn’t think she’d be found in any of her haunts.

  Ilex pulled an evidence-collecting cloth from a pouch of his belt and wiped his hand clean, capturing everything that had been transferred from the killer to him. Even the black magic soaked into the cloth, a great relief. He stood and went back to report to Sawyr.

  The Clover Family descended en masse on MidClass HealingHall, crowding into Trif ’s room. First her mother and father plunged into Intake, her mother loudly demanding Lark Apple—who showed up a moment later. They hovered as Lark examined Trif behind a modesty spell, Healed minor scrapes and scratches, including the long mark down the center of her body that made Trif sick to look at.

  Danith D’Ash rushed in too. And the Clovers nodded in approval. She glanced at Trif and her scared expression eased; then she went to Greyku and examined the kitten, who stretched and purred under her stroking hands. “She’s all right. Even mentally.” Danith frowned at Trif, turned to Lark. “I think Trif should see a mind-Healer.”

  “No!”

  “She objects too loudly.” Lark nodded. “I’ll schedule her with my cuz.” She brushed back hair from Trif ’s face and the gesture was sheer comfort, soothing Flair.

  Ilex had soothing Flair too. “Ilex!” Trif cried.

  “He’s fine.” Danith held Greyku close and from her distracted expression, Trif knew Greyku was describing their experience in minute detail.

  “You can tell through your bond,” Lark said gently.

  Trif ’s mouth trembled. “It hurts to access our bond.”

  “What did that man do to you?” boomed her father.

  With a desperate look to her mother, Trif said, “Just a…difference of opinion.”

  Her father snorted. “I’ll see about that.”

  Lark said, “I think there are too many people in this room.” She glanced through the half-open doorway. “And too many people in this HealingHall. Trif is cleared to leave. She has no remaining physical hurts, but I’ll want a mind-Healer to examine her.”

  A whimper came from Trif ’s lips. Lark smiled gently. “Tomorrow.” She handed Trif a soft, thin pouch. “A sleep pillow, lavender, hops, and a gentle spell. Its efficacy will minimize over the next eightday, so I suggest you make that appointment with my cuz.”

  “We’ll make sure she does.” Trif ’s mother nodded.

  “May I please have some clothes?” Trif ’s voice was plaintive, but she didn’t care. “And I really, really want to spend some time under a hot, cleansing waterfall.”

  “I have a good robe for you,” Mitchella said, sweeping in. Narrowing her eyes, she swept a stare around the room. “Leave her to me. I’ve ordered gliders to take the lot of you back to Clover Compound. Trif will stay behind strong First Family Residence spellshields tonight!”

  Reluctantly, her mother and father retreated. When they reached the hall, the raised voices were a cacophony that made Trif ’s head ache. She looked up to see Lark studying her with Healer eyes. Then Lark covered Trif ’s head with the spread fingers of both hands. A little zing buzzed in her mind and head and the pain was gone. “Good job,” Trif managed.

  Lark nodded. “You’ll do. I’ll make rounds here, I haven’t been her for some months, then Holm and I will join you at T’Blackthorn’s Residence.”

  “And Tinne too,” Trif said, remembering the latest disaster of the Hollys.

  With a sober expression, Lark said, “Yes, Holm looks forward to being with his brother, but…”

  “This is not a good situation,” Mitchella said, shaking her head. “D’Holly…”

  “The Holly Family is truly broken,” Lark whispered.

  There were a few breaths of silence. Then Mitchella thrust her arm holding a plush green robe through the modesty spell.

  Trif accepted it gratefully and slipped it on. Then Danith gave her Greyku and she held the kitten close. Trif glanced around at the three women—two of whom were powerful in their Flair, all of whom were of the FirstFamilies one way or the other. She licked her lips. “It’s not entirely over. The—the leader threatened me and, uh, escaped.”

  The other three stiffened; their faces went from sympathetic to fierce.

  “You’re coming home with me,” Mitchella said. “With Holm and Tinne in the Residence, and ready to act as bodyguards, we’ll make sure that you’re safe until the killer is caught. Straif should arrive tonight or tomorrow. He’ll track down and find that evil one.”

  “But my instruments—other things in my apartment. I need them—”

  “Surely, you won’t need them before morning,” Lark interrupted. “You must rest.” She helped Trif down from the Healing dias.

  Danith D’Ash picked up Greyku and shoved the kitten at Trif. “You aren’t the only one who had a horrific experience. Take care of your kitten. She needs sleep and comfort too.”

  “All right.” Trif grimaced. “Try and break this news to the family gently.”

  “I will,” Mitchella said. She nodded to Lark. “It’s a blessing that the men will be with us. They’ll strengthen the spellshields of the Residence too. See you later, Lark.”

  “Blessed be,” Lark murmured.

  Mitchella linked arms with Trif and they walked from the room, down a corridor, and out into the cool night, where a glider awaited to take them to T’Blackthorn’s.

  The night was long and busy. Time and again the thought of Trif in danger sped Ilex’s heart—and kept him focused.

  He spent most of his time scouting out places where Zinga Turmeric might hide. D’Grove and Sedwy Grove had been shocked at the revelation of how Zinga had used Sedwy and her knowledge.

  Others looked for the two missing members of the kurchucx—Piana Juniper had revealed their names. One they captured. The other, a son of a GrandLord high in the airship guild and a pilot, had killed a couple of men and stolen a small airship. Neither Nuada’s Sword’s sensors nor the newly arrived Straif Blackthorn had any luck tracking him.

  A FirstFamilies Council was called, and Ilex had to take time out from his searches to report every couple of septhours, which had him irritable and fighting impatience. The Nobles seemed to think T’Blackthorn would find Tumeric and she was as good as caught, so they moved on to planning the upcoming rituals. It was enough to make Ilex grind his teeth.

  The Council, Sawyr, and the rest of the guards put evidence together against the cult members. Though the trial was set for a few weeks later, with truth testing and the spheres the killers had made of their rituals, Ilex didn’t think the trial would take long or the judgment would be in question. The FirstFamilies had already consulted with SupremeJudge Ailim Elder, and determined what punishment would be appropriate for the unusual, horrific crimes. Cyperus Sedge indeed had been the lucky one, escaping into death, though what sort of life he’d live next with such sins on his soul was something for hard thinking.

  Ilex finally was able to bow out as the Council was discussing trial procedures. He had something more urgent to do. He knew Trif was safe in every way, but he longed for her. He’d accepted that they had to be together and tried not to think of his past v
isions. Trif had been adamant that life with him was what she wanted, and they would enjoy every moment together.

  No matter that dawn was a septhour away, he wanted to see her and ask her to HeartBond with him.

  As he walked down the large hallway of the Guildhall, he heard his name.

  “Black Ilex Winterberry,” a husky voice said.

  Whipping around, he saw young Vinni T’Vine standing behind him. He’d left the FirstFamilies Council deliberations.

  The boy glowed. A rainbow aura shot with gold surrounded him.

  “Yes, Vinni?”

  “I will not be needed as bait.”

  “No. She’ll go after Trif and me now.”

  “T’Blackthorn has returned to Druida.”

  Ilex stiffened. “This is my case. He can help, but I will find—”

  “No. It is too late. Events have been set in motion so there are only two outcomes.”

  Sheer horror curled in Ilex’s gut.

  Vinni cocked his head as if listening; different colors came and went in his eyes. Emerald, blue-gray, hazel. “I heard you say to your HeartMate that she was right in wanting to Heart Bond.” The boy prophet’s voice had an odd, echoing quality to it. “Do you still believe that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then give her your HeartGift. Now. It is the only thing that will save you both.”

  Vinni opened the door to the council room and went back in.

  Blood pounded in Ilex’s ears, still rushing with adrenaline, fear for Trif. He believed completely that Vinni’s vision was strong and true.

  He had to get his HeartGift.

  Glad he was already in CityCenter, Ilex went through the three levels of security at the deserted bank vault where he kept his HeartGift. Finally, he was alone in a privacy cubicle, ready to open the large no-time which held the gift for his HeartMate that he’d created during his last Passage so many years before.

  He muffed the Couplet opening the safe three times before he steadied his voice and said the rhyme correctly. The door to the box slid up and Ilex was hit with the power of his HeartGift—a blast of lust that doubled him over. All he saw were visions of Trif as she pulled him to her, felt himself slip inside her tight sheath, heard her pant his name as she reached release. He groaned and braced himself against the table, sweat pouring down him, arms shaking, fighting off an embarrassing climax.

  When he’d stashed the HeartGift, he’d never thought he’d open it again. He’d intended it to rest in the vault until after his death. Waves of passion, sensuality poured from it. He fumbled for the small scrap of papyrus with a shielding spell on it that he’d put next to the safe. His fingers touched the note, trembled so much it flicked away, and he realized his eyes were shut tight. Forcing his eyelids open, he saw the papyrus, snatched at it, got it, and touched it to the small tray that was the bottom of his gift. The papyrus stuck as it was supposed to; then came sweet relief from the pounding lust.

  He lifted shaking hands to wipe his face on his arm…the softleaf in his pocket was as soaked as his clothes. With a minute of determined thought about the murders, his body subsided enough for him to stand straight.

  His gift was beautiful. He’d loved making it. Loved the wistful, futile dream of giving it to his HeartMate.

  For a moment he just stared at it, a lacquered tray filled with sand raked in tiny patterns, particularly around the three smooth stones and two rough rocks.

  The small zen meditation garden was of a tradition more ancient and of a different root religion than that of the colonists of Celta, but they’d brought many crafts and records of other cultures to their new world.

  Just looking at it gave him hope. He smiled, then his optimism faded. Could Trif actually like this simple, serene piece of art? She tended to the overblown….

  Stop.

  Stop doubting himself. Was that the true reason he hadn’t claimed her, because he didn’t think he was good enough for her? Too rational, too staid, too old. Perhaps, though the very thought of her dying made his bowels go to water.

  In any event, he’d decided to go to her, to apologize, to beg for another chance. He hoped giving her the HeartGift would show her how much he cared.

  He picked the tray up carefully, though a spell held the sand and rocks in place until he gave it to his lady. Then she would find it pleasing, or make her own patterns—or they could create one together.

  Perfect.

  Trif slept well, with no dreams of evil murderers ready to slice her open during a bloodrite, and no tossing and turning from anxiety about her relationship with Ilex.

  She’d gone to bed early, taking one of the luxurious guest suites that Mitchella had redecorated. Yet she woke at a commotion in the early hours of the morning.

  Straif T’Blackthorn had returned.

  She dressed and went down. Greyku accompanied her, and Trif was surprised to see that Vertic the fox sat in the parlor along with Straif and Mitchella. She was firmly ensconced on Straif’s lap.

  Frowning, Trif noticed that Mitchella still wore the robe she’d had on when she’d come to the HealingHall. She didn’t look as if she’d slept. But whatever sadness and tension had been in her before was gone now she was in the arms of her beloved HeartMate.

  “I’ve been awaiting Straif, and I didn’t want to leave you, and I couldn’t sleep, and the Residence said that there was a FirstFamilies Council meeting going on, so I participated by scry.” She waved an arm at a huge hologram that took up much of the parlor. “They’re still at it.”

  Trif matched her little shiver. No Clover family meeting had taken more than a couple of septhours.

  “Greetyou, cuz Trif,” Straif said. His gaze was grim. “One member escaped besides Zinga.”

  Trif flinched.

  He raised a hand. “He’s gone from Druida—and wasn’t at your ritual.” Straif ’s jaw flexed. “We traced him to an airship field, then lost him. The mind Healers we’ve consulted think he’ll never come after you. As for Zinga, I’ll rest for a few minutes, then start on the trail of this heinous bitch.” His mouth thinned. “I must work with Ilex Winterberry. He knows Druida better than I ever will.” Straif ’s eyelids lowered briefly. “I understand you are his HeartMate, so you’ll be able to locate him for me through your bond.”

  Trif hesitated.

  Time for Fams to take a paw in this matter, Vertic projected.

  Straif Blackthorn stared at the fox. “What matter?”

  The mating matter.

  Trif flushed, shifted from foot to foot, then said, “Very well, see what you can do. I’m not giving up on Ilex.”

  Vertic laughed in short barks, eyes closed, tongue lolling. We will hunt first, then you.

  “Sounds good to me,” Mitchella said.

  “I will strategize and wait for my prey,” Trif corrected.

  “Right.” Straif rolled his shoulders, waved the Fams away. “Go.”

  Greyku pranced over to Trif and stropped her ankles. I love you.

  Eyes stinging as she looked down at her Fam, Trif said, “I love you too.”

  Straif squeezed Mitchella and made her laugh. “I love Mitchella and Trif. Mitchella loves everyone here, Trif loves everyone here. Now can we get on with the day? Let’s wake up the cook.”

  Vertic flowed to his feet, then cocked his head. FamMan returns home.

  Trif blinked. “Just now?”

  “A guardsman’s work is never done,” Straif murmured.

  We go. See if you can keep up, kit. Vertic sped from the room, and Greyku followed.

  The Blackthorns were kissing deeply. Trif cleared her throat. She coughed. Finally, she said in a loud voice, “I’d like some answers here!”

  Slowly, Straif ended the kiss and pulled away to look at her. His eyes were glazed. “You say something?”

  “What has the FirstFamilies Council decided to do with the cult members?” asked Trif.

  Mitchella scowled. “If Zinga Turmeric—she’s the leader of the cult who’s missin
g, Ilex discovered that—is smart, she’ll take her own life too. There will be a trial in a couple of eightdays, but the Council is already preparing a special judgment ritual for when the culprits are found guilty.” Her eyes fired. “There’s plenty of evidence to convict them.”

  Straif toyed with his HeartMate’s fingers. “There was a lot of discussion.” He looked up and his expression was feral. “Most of us just wanted to rip them to shreds. And Turmeric better pray I don’t find her.”

  Trif didn’t think he was joking. Her knees felt weak and she took a chair.

  “But the rule of law prevailed. Something to be said for civilization.” He shrugged. “Though I’ll bet there will be a mob of Nobles and Commoners too who’d like to do the same.”

  Not wanting to visualize that—she’d seen mobs in her visions of the past and they hadn’t been pretty—Trif hurried into speech. “What sort of special punishment ritual?”

  Mitchella lowered her voice. “They will be banished, of course, and not anywhere near civilization. Ruis Elder, the Captain of Nuada’s Sword, will take them to an uninhabited, wild, and isolated island in the middle of Great Platte Ocean.”

  Straif took up the explanation. “During the Ritual, a suppress Flair chain will be embedded under the skin around their necks. They won’t be able to use any Flair to support themselves, and if they tinker with the chains their heads will blow off.”

  “Yech,” said Trif. She thought of the night before and trembled. She’d have bad dreams for sure, and her visions might be more violent and disturbing too. No way around it, she’d have to visit a mind-Healer. It wasn’t something Clovers did.

  “They have sensors on them that report to Nuada’s Sword. No one expects them to live very long,” Straif said.

  Trif ’s hands shook so, she twisted them together in her lap. “Terrible.”

  “Better than letting the Families of those they killed punish them. They’d be tortured to death.”

  Nodding, Trif said, “Yes. Deservedly so, but that is not our way.”

  “No.” Mitchella studied her. Once Trif would have shifted under such an intense gaze, but not now. “You’ve matured. HeartMate love will do that. Have you talked to Ilex?”