Heart Fire (Celta Book 13)

by Robin D. Owens

  The Chief Minister continued, “This ceremony will also be performed as an Intersection of Hope ritual, officiated by us. You, High Priest T’Sandalwood, and High Priestess D’Sandalwood and anyone else, are invited to join us as celebrants.” He paused. “Celebrating the Intersection of Hope’s spiritual beliefs.”

  “Understood,” High Priest GrandLord T’Sandalwood said. He took his HeartMate’s hand and drew himself up into a stern and authoritative aspect. “There may be other ministers, priests, priestesses, and potentates of religions who will not join us, but we will certainly be there. We and our highest assistants.”

  The four men inclined their heads as one. “We thank you for that.”

  “We must be vigilant. This could be a turning point for Celta down a dark road,” D’Sandalwood said. She walked over to a twoseat, sat, and poured herself some hot black caff, and Antenn knew her silence was punctuation for words to come.

  After a sip, her gaze met and lingered with each one of them. “We cannot allow our spiritual beliefs—that which should always call to our higher selves—to become a divisive factor in our culture. All of us are descended from people who risked their lives for a new world.” As Foreman began to speak, she lifted her hand. “Even the crew members of the starships had a choice. I’m sure they thought being on a ship, going to a new world, was the best thing they could do, personally for themselves, whether it was because they had psi power or because they were penniless and the ships offered good jobs.”

  T’Sandalwood sat beside her, linked fingers with her, lifted their hands and kissed hers. “Though we seem like a homogenized society, we are not.”

  “And we should not be. But in our lifetimes we will not allow anyone supposedly of our faith to persecute any other faith.”

  “Setting such rules, making outcasts . . . That’s how splintered religions are made,” Foreman said cynically.

  The High Priest rolled his shoulders, his nostrils widened in disgust. “We are not Earth with billions of people and poobahs who rant to masses but do not go among their followers. A person wishing to establish another religion would have to gather like-minded people in a close group, and if such a person preached hatred, acted on hatred, he and his group would break the laws of Celta and be subject to them.”

  He slanted a sorrowful look at Tiana, then at the ministers. “The mob that was whipped up against members of your religion during the Black Magic Cult murders had done its worst by the time we were informed. The houses burned, the Families scattered. Against our precept ‘For the good of all, according to the free will of all, an it harm none,’” T’Sandalwood said.

  “We will not allow the idea that it is right to hate others for their spiritual beliefs to prosper,” the High Priestess emphasized.

  “So you say, and so you might believe,” Foreman said. He stood and gathered the others to him with a glance. “We agree that you have done what you can, but also agree that it might not be enough.” He bowed to Tiana, who’d risen with Antenn. “Neither did we anticipate that security would be a problem. The budget for the cathedral is set and I, for one, do not wish to change it.” He flashed Antenn a smile. “I like the new plan for the cathedral very much.” Another bow to the Sandalwoods, who had also gotten to their feet. “So, my recommendation to my brethren is to accept your energies and Flair in raising the spellshields.” Foreman raised a finger. “If the ritual is an Intersection of Hope rite.” He switched his stare to Tiana Mugwort. “Can we see a preliminary outline of the ritual tomorrow at MidMorning Bell?”

  Antenn felt Tiana’s inner pressure though she stood casually and calmly. “Of course.”

  Twelve

  Tiana sank into her balance, stilled her anxious mind. She could do this. Felonerb’s piercing yowl outside the entrance nearly shook her from her general inner peace. She suppressed a wince and addressed Chief Minister Custos. “Are Fams allowed to attend the ritual?”

  His iron-gray brows winged up. “I am not sure. I will have to consult with my colleagues.” He sent them an inquiring glance. Younger appeared delighted; Elderstone and Foreman frowned. Custos himself looked thoughtful. “But Familiar animal companions developed on the long voyage of the colonist ships from Earth to Celta, just as did our religion.” He shrugged. “We will consult together to answer your question. We have a great deal to consult about . . . however, we will be at the press conference in a septhour at our church offices down the street. We would welcome your presence, High Priest T’Sandalwood and High Priestess D’Sandalwood. FirstLevel Architect Blackthorn-Moss, we will definitely need you for explanation of the building and the process.”

  Beside her, Antenn bowed with easy finesse and walked away. Tiana wouldn’t have to go; good, because she already felt as if she were behind on an internal schedule.

  Foreman strode to the teleportation pad. “Let us use the time between now and then to make decisions and revise our statements.”

  “Thank you for meeting with us and telling us your concerns,” the High Priestess said.

  Custos bowed to them. “Thank you for listening. We’ll see you later.” The four vanished.

  “We need to go now, too,” T’Sandalwood said.

  “One moment,” the High Priestess said, and gestured for Tiana to take the few paces to join them.

  “Yes, High Priestess?”

  “If you require any reference materials to create the rituals, you are welcome to use whatever I have in my office, or GreatCircle Temple has in its library, including the restricted section.”

  “You can also use any materials I might have,” rumbled the High Priest, “and like my HeartMate, I have documents, recording spheres, et cetera from my predecessors.”

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” Tiana said.

  Surprise showed on both faces.

  “During training we are allowed in the special section of the GreatCircle Temple library, and I examined the materials then for information on the Intersection of Hope.” She gave a little cough and a small smile. “I saw that you didn’t have anything that was not in the PublicLibrary or my mother’s . . . Also, my trainer at the time had a list of each of your office collections.”

  Tiana looked away. “After my Family found a home again, we reacquired the items my mother felt were necessary for her spiritual needs.”

  Tiana inhaled and met the Sandalwoods’ gazes. “You know that I am a good friend of FirstLevel Librarian Glyssa Licorice Bayrum. Some years ago the PublicLibrarians requested that I ensure their collection was as complete as they could make it with regard to the Intersection of Hope. I did that and I know that they requested and received many materials from the Chief Ministers of the Intersection of Hope, some of which are under seal and not to be revealed without permission.”

  T’Sandalwood smiled a slow, approving smile. “Excellent, Priestess Mugwort.”

  She gave a little curtsey. “Thank you. I have access to everything I might need.”

  “Very well. But if you run into problems, let us know,” D’Sandalwood said. He bent a look on his wife. “My Temple chambers, HeartMate?”

  She nodded, and they teleported from where they stood.

  Tiana blew out an irregular breath and let her knees weaken so she half-collapsed on the twoseat.

  “Good job,” Antenn said, and she jolted.

  “I thought you’d left.”

  “Not yet. I cleaned up the kitchen.”

  “Oh.”

  His smile was easy. “Not that there was much to clean up, though if I were you, I’d check the contents of the no-time. If your Fam is anything like mine, he raided more food than you noticed.”

  She sighed and pushed to her feet. “I have no doubt about that. I’ll go through every menu section and have it restocked.” She paused, then rubbed her head. Yes, that migraine lurked, ready to hit at her weakest moment. Glancing around, she said a quick housekeeping spell and watched the wrinkles in the cloth of the chairs, the crumbs on the table, vanish with
the sweep of Flair.

  The scent of herbs used in GreatCircle Temple released by the spell lingered in the air. The familiar fragrance she smelled every day eased the band of pain in her head, and she moved with more energy and confidence into the small kitchen. The spell had swirled through here, too, and every surface that could sparkle did.

  Antenn came up behind her, so close she could feel his heat, his breath on her hair, and his Flair impinging on her. She didn’t move away. Instead she closed her eyes and let the sensual atmosphere wrap around her and she became aware of another scent . . . Antenn’s scent, musk and deep earth as if his roots, his core, went far into Celta and were as solid as any building.

  They stayed like that for a long moment, close but not touching, not speaking. Separate, yet together. Sexual awareness fizzed around them. Then she felt his hands on her upper arms. She couldn’t recall how long it had been since a man had stirred her so. When? Never.

  He tugged and she turned. They stood facing each other, less than a handspan apart. Heat built and seemed to cycle back and forth between their bodies. She tilted her head so her gaze would meet his. His eyes had darkened to brown. Wide black pupils. A flush accented his cheeks and her face warmed, too.

  His hand lifted and his fingers touched, withdrew, settled under her chin. He bent and his face came close to hers and his head angled and his lips feathered over hers and she closed her eyes. His mouth pressed against hers, and a rush of need swept through her, pounding through her blood. She reached out, to link her arms around his shoulders, and found air.

  Her lashes opened to see him taking more than one pace back, his expression stunned.

  “I—” he began, then made a futile gesture and closed his mouth.

  She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and gave him honesty. “It was good. I—”

  The scry screen in the outer room pinged. “FirstLevel Priestess Mugwort, I would like to see you as soon as possible in my office,” came the voice of High Priestess D’Sandalwood. Tiana saw the flicker that showed the woman was looking into the room and awaiting a response.

  “Later,” Antenn Blackthorn-Moss said, and didn’t even walk to the teleportation pad before he disappeared.

  Tiana dragged in a breath and let it out along with some of the sexual tension, she hoped. She didn’t want D’Sandalwood to read her expression. With a casual step, she moved toward the screen and answered. “I’ll be right there. The chambers here are cleansed, but the no-time needs to be restocked.” She smiled with self-deprecation. “I’m afraid I didn’t watch my Fam closely enough when we arrived, and he gorged.”

  The High Priestess’s face lightened. “I’ve heard from my husband about RatKiller.”

  “His name is Felonerb now.” Tiana coughed a little. “Felonerb RatKiller.”

  “Even better. I’m sorry I missed him. I will send a journeywoman to review the no-time offerings there and choose the menus, a good task for such a one. Please come. I have a new concern.”

  Tiana crossed to the teleportation pad, checked the various pads in GreatCircle Temple, found a free one, and flipped the switch to show she’d be arriving on it. “I’m coming at once, High Priestess.”

  Seconds later she was in a tiny northeast teleportation room set aside for staff. She preferred the larger, public pads, but GreatCircle Temple was busy this morning. And as she crossed the wide inner area she saw a lot of furniture being moved around. For an instant a pang went through her at losing her small office with the view of the starship Nuada’s Sword, but then she assured herself that her new two-room chambers, closer to the High Priestess, with a view of the lushest flowering Temple gardens, would suit her better.

  And Tiana realized something else in a blinding flash. She held on to the past too tightly. Another damn—wretched—flaw to work on. Her shoulders sank as if under a heavier burden.

  She also wondered why Antenn had retreated from her. Was it something about her or about him?

  Seemed she’d have to work on self-confidence, too.

  * * *

  A few minutes later Tiana sat in front of the High Priestess’s desk. This time her personnel file, the gold file of the Intersection of Hope project, and another, thinner and newer turquoise file were spread before D’Sandalwood.

  It appeared that her superior was going to give her another responsibility that affected her career. She stifled a sigh.

  “Ah,” D’Sandalwood said. Her gaze flicked to Tiana, then upward to the spring-blue sky revealed by the open ceiling.

  Tiana wanted to prompt the woman, but that would show impatience.

  “The Chief Ministers, the High Priest, and I spoke together and we continue to agree that you will be an excellent liaison.”

  “Thank you,” Tiana said.

  “I was impressed and pleased at how you handled the situation this morning.” D’Sandalwood smiled the warm smile that filled Tiana with pleasure that she’d done well for this woman.

  “Thank you.” Tiana smiled back, relieved.

  The High Priestess raised a hand. “However, we”—she gestured, encompassing the Temple—“are concerned about your availability.”

  “Availability?” Tiana asked blankly.

  “Ah.” Another peek at the sunshiny sky by D’Sandalwood. “We—the High Priest and I—couldn’t help but notice that you were quite tired yesterday.” She didn’t look Tiana in the eyes. “Perhaps due to a great deal of teleportation. And, I think, you have teleported a couple of times today, also?”

  “Yes.” Tiana had a vague idea of where this was going. The High Priestess was being circumspect about where Tiana and her Family lived . . . BalmHeal Residence and FirstGrove.

  “The Chief Ministers of the Intersection of Hope—all of us—want you immediately available. Under, ah, other circumstances, we might assign a glider to you, but we don’t think that would work for you, would it?” She paused. “Since you live out of the city.”

  Tiana didn’t know whether the High Priestess and High Priest had any idea where FirstGrove was. She couldn’t imagine either of them being desperate enough to find the secret sanctuary tucked in the northeast corner of the city walls. Only the despairing, the near hopeless could find it and penetrate the walls and spellshields.

  FirstGrove wasn’t easily discovered since a warehouse district had built up between the estate and the rest of Druida City.

  Teleportation from the House depended on the whim and mood of the Residence and could be iffy within the boundaries of the land, too. Usually people didn’t remember the exact location once their life got better, or they Healed mentally, emotionally, physically.

  The Mugwort Family were bespelled not to mention their home.

  “No. I wouldn’t be able to have a glider,” Tiana said. A nice glider parked outside the walls of FirstGrove in the decrepit warehouse district would stand out flagrantly.

  “We—my HeartMate and I—didn’t think so. And though you responded quite quickly to our urgent request this morning, and, as I said before, we are quite pleased with how you solved a tricky problem, we think it would be better if you were closer to the city, ah—”

  “More available,” Tiana ended, using the High Priestess’s own word. Better if she weren’t living in BalmHeal Residence. Moving away from her home and her Family for the duration of this project, for the good of her career.

  Again she was presented with a big decision, and again she felt she’d have to decide on the spot, was being pressured to do that.

  “Circumstances around this project are moving quickly and not under our control,” D’Sandalwood said apologetically.

  Tiana’s heart beat fast; her mouth had dried so she could barely swallow, hardly speak, but she must. Lifting her chin, she met the High Priestess’s gaze. “I will have to request a stipend to live outside my home.”

  A flash of pity showed in D’Sandalwood’s gaze, and Tiana’s stomach clenched. She could feel the heat on the back of her neck at having to reveal this and
hoped her cheeks weren’t too red.

  “A stipend will not be necessary,” the High Priestess continued smoothly. She gestured at the new turquoise folder on her desk. “You are very lucky.”

  Sure didn’t feel like that, and Tiana’s spine went ramrod. So far, nothing about this assignment—except the physical attractiveness of Antenn Blackthorn-Moss—had felt lucky.

  “The Turquoise House is between occupants and it has offered itself to you as a domicile.”

  Tiana blinked as she processed that sentence. “My sister stayed at the Turquoise House for a week last year.”

  “And so it knows your Family.” D’Sandalwood frowned briefly. “I think there might be other connections with you or yours that—but I don’t know for sure.” She shrugged. “Currently the House has been empty at its own request for about a half year, and minimally furnished.” D’Sandalwood chuckled. “It says it would be happy to decorate for you.”

  Tiana’s mind spun, ideas flitting around, unable to get any traction for her to think through. A sparkling wonder made her smile at the thought of an intelligent Residence taking her wishes into consideration. At anyone taking her wishes into consideration . . . putting her first. Incredible concept.

  Too incredible. “I . . . uh . . .” She had no clue how to furnish or decorate a House in a pleasant manner. She’d paid little attention to her old home; they’d lived on the run for a year, then had been offered custodianship of the estate of FirstGrove, the ancient BalmHeal Residence, which was already furnished. About the only thing she’d added to her room was . . . a drawing of the floor plan of the Turquoise House she’d gotten as a gift.

  She felt her pupils widen.

  “The Turquoise House has a relationship with Mitchella D’Blackthorn, the interior designer, who has worked with it before,” D’Sandalwood said.