I will allow that, the Fam said. He surveyed the room. So there are only two Fams here so far? The odd coon and the immature tom?
“That’s right,” said Tiana’s father. “But we expect you to obey the rules of the House, the Residence—”
“And be a clean cat,” Tiana’s mother added.
“What say you, Residence?” Sinjin asked.
Felonerb’s eyes went wide. I am living in a real Residence?
“You are living in the oldest Residence,” said the House in its grumpy-old-man persona. “And you’d better be clean or you will regret it.”
Felonerb sniffed wetly, and the Healers, Artemisia and Quina, focused on him.
“We really need to examine him,” said her mother. “Or contact Danith D’Ash to do so.”
“I doubt Danith or Gwydion Ash will take on such a one as him for free,” Garrett said. The coin in his fingers transformed into a metal tag and Tiana didn’t see him do it. “I, however, have an account with the Ashes, and especially Gwydion, to look after my feral band. I can have him check out Felon RatKiller.”
Gwydion Ash, Felonerb said reverently. Big, kind man with Flaired hands. I have heard of him. Yessss, I would like to go. Felonerb articulated, “Yesss.”
Garrett held up the tag, spun it so it flashed in the light. “You gotta pay, cat.”
Felonerb rose to his feet and did a couple of hops on Tiana’s lap. What? What to pay? How many rats? Would you like a live one? How about just guts? The guts are good eating.
“You have to treat my Fam, Rusby, with respect. Great respect. And Artemisia’s raccoon, Randa, too.”
Felonerb grumbled in his throat, looked at Garrett stroking his Fam, then Artemisia, then up at Tiana.
She said, “I don’t have connections with the Ashes.” She didn’t think they even knew who she was. “My mother or sister can take care of you fine.”
“He needs a bath.” Her mother put force behind the word but hid a smile.
Felonerb flinched and looked at Garrett. I agree, Big Man Leader of the Ferals. He looked at Rusby. I will treat you very nice, Rusby. And the raccoon, Randa.
I will treat you nice, too, Rusby said amiably.
“And now I need to go,” Artemisia said. She’d already dressed in her green Healer tunic and trous of expensive material because she worked at Primary HealingHall. The Family lived well enough off the land and bounty of BalmHeal estate, but there was no denying that Garrett’s gilt and Artemisia’s and Tiana’s salaries provided what they couldn’t grow or make themselves. And Tiana had forgotten to ask exactly how much of an increase in salary she’d get with this next promotion. There were five grades of FirstLevel Priestess and she’d been at grade four; had she moved one up . . . or, perhaps, perhaps, two?
But Garrett and Artemisia were leaving the House, Garrett saying, as he usually did, “I’ll see you to the HealingHall, and collect any information my band has on my current cases.”
“Have a good shift!” Tiana called belatedly.
“And you should go straight to bed,” said her mother.
Tiana acquiesced and pushed herself from her chair, dislodging Felonerb, who’d been grooming his claws and paws. “Yes,” she said, though she knew her mother and father also wanted to discuss all the news she’d brought—her reviews, her promotion, and, most especially, the Intersection of Hope cathedral.
She dragged herself to the second floor to her bedroom, following Felonerb RatKiller—what a name!—as he pranced up the staircase. “Residence?” she addressed the cranky entity who liked her less than her sister.
“Yes, Tiana?”
“Can we make a Fam door in my door? I can promise you the energy and Flair to do it. Well, not tonight, but tomorrow.”
That is a GOOD idea. RatKiller approved. He stopped on a stair and gave her a broken-fanged grin. She managed a return smile. Not even Gwydion Ash would be able to do anything about that fang.
And she was grateful for Garrett’s intervention and offer to pay the Ashes for Felonerb’s physical. She had given it a little thought on the long ride, then walk, home. She believed one of the Ash children’s Nameday was upcoming, and she’d planned on offering a trade of creating a small, special Family ritual for them in exchange for an appointment for her Fam.
“Did you hear me, Tiana?” questioned the Residence, opening and slamming a door. She winced.
“I’m so sorry, Residence,” she groveled, knowing that it would not be as gracious in accepting her apology as Antenn Blackthorn-Moss. “I am so tired my mind wandered and I didn’t hear your very excellent advice.”
“I said”—it turned up the volume of its voice—“that you are lucky. One of the walls of your room had a Fam door opening onto the corridor at one time. It was a moment’s work to remove the wall and clear away the debris.”
“Oh, wonderful!” She put energy into her reply.
OH WONDERFUL! screeched Felonerb, hopping around in the hallway. CAN YOU HEAR ME, HOUSE? I AM THE NEW FAM! THE CATFAM!
“I hear you,” the Residence said sourly. “You do not need to shout, FamCat. And you may address me as ‘Residence.’”
“YES, HOUSE!” Felonerb answered with great enthusiasm.
Tiana’s teeth snapped together before she pried them apart and rushed into speech. “He meant no insult.” Despite her weariness, she sent a telepathic message strictly to the Residence. I am sorry, but he is a Street Cat and I will work on his manners!
A floorboard creaked under her feet, a disapproving noise by the Residence. It is a Rude being.
Yes, I’m sorry, she said mentally, then aloud, “Oh, look, Felonerb, there’s your door!” It was nicely framed in expensive reddwood, highly polished.
And there was her own door, and behind that door was her bed, and near the end of her bed was her fireplace. She yearned for the soothing, unrhythmic pop and crackle of flames . . . the very best way for her to sink into a meditative trance was listening to a fire. But she didn’t think she had the energy or Flair to light the kindling. Some other time.
Without another word, Felonerb zoomed through his door, leaving the thin wooden flap swinging. A few steps later, Tiana was through her door, out of the public portion of the House, in her own private sanctuary. She tottered to the bedsponge set on a frame just low enough for her to fall facedown on it, sink into the thick feather comforter, and let out a moan of relief at finally being alone and done with this interminable day.
THIS IS A WONDERFUL PLACE. YOU HAVE MORE THAN ONE ROOM. AND YOU HAVE A LITTLE CLOSET THAT DOESN’T HAVE MUCH IN IT. I NEED THAT CLOSET! ALL THE BEST CATS HAVE THEIR OWN CLOSETS. I HAVE LEARNED THIS FROM THAT BRAZOS HAWTHORN CAT. I NEED A CLOSET LIKE HIS.
Felonerb was still shouting. And hopping. He hopped all over her back with little hard paws.
“Please don’t shout, Felonerb, my head aches.” All of her ached. Every. Single. Muscle.
I will “whisper.” He managed to enunciate the last word.
“Wow,” Tiana said. “What incredible skill you have vocalizing.”
I know, he said smugly. I will go explore the whole House and look for some pillows for My closet. The House will learn to love Me.
“I’m sure.”
He left and Tiana was finally alone and in silence enough to hear her own thoughts.
Was the High Priestess right? Had she misinterpreted her HeartMate? Decided he hadn’t come for her because of the scandal surrounding her Family?
There were other reasons for men not to look for their ladies—or women not to look for their lords. Her friend Camellia’s HeartMate had been married to another woman; her friend Glyssa’s HeartMate hadn’t believed in love. Had Tiana been wrong about her own HeartMate? Wouldn’t he love her despite her past? The essential her?
She did know that one night had changed all her philosophies about life, that night her Family had run for their lives.
So many of their friends had abandoned them that she thought he, whoever he was, had abandoned
her, too.
Status and fortune had been ripped from them because GraceLord T’Equisetum had managed that, could do it. And though her Family hadn’t been broken by those acts, though they’d become a stronger unit, it had been impressed upon Tiana that status mattered.
And she’d believed her HeartMate hadn’t come to her because he knew her and her low status and wished not to be tainted by associating with—marrying—her.
She could have been wrong.
Just before she slid into sleep, using all of her small, replenished Flair, she reached for the link with her HeartMate.
And found nothing.
* * *
Antenn slept and heat rose inside him and he thrashed and had sex dreams and didn’t know who the woman was but did know he didn’t deserve her. Not he, a common boy from Downwind, brother to a murderer.
He moaned and Pinky patted his face, and he opened his eyes groggily to see his Fam lick his paw as if it were damp . . . or had salt on it. Burying his head under his pillow, he subsided back into dark unconsciousness.
* * *
A yowling screech jolted Tiana from sleep and had her yelling herself, jackknifing to sit, flinging her comforter—and her new Fam, Felon RatKiller—nearly off the bed. Nearly, because he’d hooked claws into comforter. The bundle of him, wrapped in the quilting, wailed even louder.
Her head pounded and she put her hands over her ears, trying to keep the burgeoning migraine from crippling her.
“What is going on!” her mother bellowed.
Tiana whimpered and curled up in a ball.
“Ohhh, shhh.” It was the slightest of whispers and Tiana felt the bedsponge sink as her mother sat next to her . . . then her mother’s warm hands moving her own from her head and the touch of her mother’s Healing fingers and blessed relief.
Except for the shrieking cat.
“You stop that, now!” ordered Quina. “Can’t you see you’re hurting your FamWoman?”
Felonerb stopped midhowl.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, all too aware that her body had slicked with sweat during the moment of migraine, Tiana began to uncurl.
“This is not a good sign,” said her mother in the darkness, then sighed.
No. Once Tiana got a migraine, no matter that her mother or sister Healed it, the thing tried to return all day long . . . unless she slept for a full seven septhours. Not something she could afford to do.
I AM SORRY, FAMWOMAN! Felonerb projected mentally.
“A little less blasting-loud telepathy, Felonerb,” Tiana said weakly. She sat again, leaning on her mother.
In the silence a small ripple of sound could be heard. Tiana’s scry pebble, stuck in her pursenal atop her bureau. The tune was the one Tiana had assigned to the High Priestess.
“I, too, have a message for FirstLevel Priestess Mugwort,” the Residence said.
Her title. Something official, then. She’d have to leave, and fast.
Her mouth dried and her pulse thundered in her ears.
Ten
I’ll prepare a special shake for you before you leave,” Tiana’s mother said, and hurried from Tiana’s bedroom.
She was left alone to deal with Felonerb and the Residence.
“I could not get your attention,” the Residence continued with complaint in its tones. “I was forced to inform the recently arrived Fam.”
Me! Felonerb said.
As Tiana’s eyes adjusted to the twinmoonslight beaming through the long window, she saw her Fam’s ingratiating grin.
“All right. Thank you, Residence.” She slipped from bed, knowing that she probably would be using a lot of Flair in a day that started with an early announcement . . . and the first thing to do was to dress quickly.
That meant doing a Whirlwind Spell to bathe and clothe herself appropriately. Then she’d also need her Flair to teleport to the gates of the secret sanctuary and out, and wherever she was needed. She’d be lucky not to succumb to another migraine today.
“Residence, can you please play the message sent to you for me?” she asked.
“Certainly,” it said with more than a hint of pomposity in its tones.
FirstLevel Priestess Tiana Mugwort, came the rushed voice of High Priestess D’Sandalwood. The four Chief Ministers of the Intersection of Hope have requested an immediate meeting with us and you and the FirstLevel Architect. The High Priest and I are preparing to lead Dawn Ritual. We wish you to open the off-site Temple offices in CityCenter for Blackthorn-Moss and the ministers. Please arrange for breakfast and drinks. There was a pause, a note of querulousness mixed in with the High Priestess’s usual lilt. None of us have been informed why the ministers wish to speak with us or what they want to discuss. Another small break. Perhaps your mother, as a noted parishioner, might have been told? In any event, the High Priest and I will teleport the moment Dawn Ritual at GreatCircle Temple ends.
Tiana already knew her mother had no information with regard to the meeting, otherwise Tiana would have been awakened first instead of playing catch-up.
“How long ago was this?” she asked the Residence, not wanting to activate the perscry’s light spell or the one in the room.
“Seven minutes forty-nine seconds.”
“Thank you.”
One sharp window rattle came, punctuation from the Residence that equated to a human sniff.
“Residence, can you ask T’Blackthorn Residence if Antenn Blackthorn-Moss has left yet?”
“Surely.” Now the House sounded proud, since it was linked to all the current Residences and respected as the oldest by its peers.
“He is teleporting to his office as we speak.”
She’d have to hurry or she’d be late to meet him again.
“Can you calculate the end of the Dawn Ritual, please?” she asked, continuing to get vital data and soothe the Residence. It loved to feel needed and helpful.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Thank you.” She sucked in a breath. “Whirlwind Spell, professional meeting.” The last of her breath was snatched as air spun her around, hit her like tiny pellets to scour her clean, flung bespelled clothes on her—soft, plain underwear, pantlettes and breastband, an equally soft robe of pale blue, one of her older ones that flattered her. Her hair was pulled and braided into a coronet.
By the time she inhaled she was ready to leave.
I will go with You to breakfast, Felonerb said.
Of course that would be his main priority.
And to support You, he added virtuously.
Her mother came through the door with a large tube of thick cocoa—a Healing potion to stave off a migraine that didn’t always work but was better than nothing at all.
Tiana drank it down, gave it a few seconds to settle in her stomach, and walked to the corner of her sitting room that had a teleportation area delineated by a small, meter-square rug.
“Residence can you drop your shields just for an instant this morning so I can teleport out?”
“I would not usually do so, but the GreatCircle Temple, a personage almost as old as myself, has a fondness for you.”
It did? News to Tiana. She nearly gasped since she hadn’t thought GreatCircle Temple even knew she walked its halls. She bowed her head. “Thank you for this exception, BalmHeal Residence.”
“Don’t expect it often,” the Residence said.
“I won’t.”
Felonerb made a fantastic leap and attached himself to her shoulder. She felt the small pricks of claws and heard the material tear, and winced.
“I will add shoulder pads to all your clothes today, Tiana.”
“Thank you, Mama.” It was depressing only because she had so few clothes, especially outside her priestess robes. At least pale blue looked good on her . . . and just why had that thought appeared? Because she was going to meet the architect! By the Lady and Lord, had she developed . . . something . . . for him so soon?
He was kind. He was solid. He was ambitious. Three good qualities.
>
Beautiful hazel eyes. Attractive. Sexy.
Time to go! Felonerb said, turning his head and breathing on her. His breath . . . even his person . . . didn’t smell too bad. She sniffed.
I rolled in the herb garden! ’Cuz my name is also Felonerb!
With another discreet sniff she recognized a variety of Earthan chamomile difficult to keep alive and knew her Fam had probably flattened her mother’s most prized herb bed.
She gave her mother a big smile. “Yes, time to go! Thanks so much for the Healing and cocoa, Mama! I love you!”
Quina narrowed her eyes, tilted her head. “What’s going—”
And as Tiana teleported away to the Temple’s CityCenter office, Felonerb said with relish, And SHE wanted to wash ME!
A cat who believed in grudges. Just what a priestess who had to do work on her own self wanted.
* * *
The Turquoise House felt the light of the dawn on his exterior walls and hummed to himself. Soon, soon, soon the first of his Family would come. It would be the woman, because his plan would entice her first.
Yes. And she would bring the man.
Maybe today!
Thunder cracked. He didn’t care. Today would be a fabulous day! And tomorrow would be even better!
* * *
As soon as Antenn entered the bright and cheerful conference room with easy chairs set around a fireplace, he heard the clattering of china and silverware. His heart jumped. Tiana Mugwort would be here, too.
Since there were no voices, he cleverly deduced she was alone. Cocking his head, he realized the sounds were coming from another room, and he found the door to that room tucked into a corner. Where he might have put the entrance to a setup room or pantry.
With a smile because he’d see her again, he strode toward the half-open door and pushed it wide.
Perfectly groomed, she nodded to him. “Greetyou, FirstLevel—”
He cut her off with a slice of his hand. “I thought we agreed that you don’t have to always call me by my professional title or my Noble title. How can I help?” He studied the small room that had a counter running along all sides with cabinets hanging above and inset below.
Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) Page 9
