Heart Fire (Celta Book 13)

by Robin D. Owens

  “I understand.”

  “Does this have to be done now?” asked Antenn.

  Everyone stared at him.

  “It’s best,” said Garrett.

  Tiana nodded. “While the memories are fresh. Though I think both this memorysphere and the previous ones I recorded should also be fine.”

  “I witness that I regressed FirstLevel Priestess Tiana Mugwort to the night of the firebombing of her childhood home, and I heard everything she said while she was in the trance, and no one and nothing influenced that experience,” the High Priest said heavily.

  Tiana sat and twisted to see him. He was all stiff and formal and again her spirit sank that she was doing this—no matter how necessary it seemed—and it impacted her career. It appeared as if the process had affected T’Sandalwood, too, and not in a good way.

  Something she’d think about later, since guard pics began to appear on the wall, four at once. She jolted at the first image, that of a middle-aged woman who was also one of the first faces she’d seen when she’d peered from the broken window of the mainspace. In the pic, she smiled. In Tiana’s memory her round face had been flushed, her eyes glazed with frenzy, and so Tiana described.

  Tired, she went through them as quickly as possible, though sometimes she hesitated and said that she thought one or another had been there, had seen his shadowed features. GraceLord Galega was there, but she’d known he’d died before that very winter was over, years ago. She also figured that some innocent people were mixed in the viz, recognized people whom she knew but who hadn’t been in the mob that night.

  She recognized instantly the relative of GraceLord T’Equisetum, and Chief Winterberry stated the man’s name was Arvense Equisetum.

  Finally it was done and she slumped on the pillow.

  High Priest T’Sandalwood rose heavily to his feet from the floor, moving more ponderously than she’d ever seen him outside death rites of a friend. His gaze connected with everyone but hers, and he said, “This is very disturbing information indeed regarding GraceLord T’Equisetum. I need to meditate on this, consult with the High Priestess.” His gaze latched on Winterberry. “But first I would like to speak with you in my office. If you would be so kind to accompany me to talk about what actions should be taken, small and large, and the procedure?”

  Winterberry bowed stiffly, then turned to Tiana. “I strongly advise that you file a formal complaint against GraceLord T’Equisetum and his relative who incited the mob. They owe you reparations. As does the whole NobleCouncil. The actions of that body must be scrutinized. At the least, the title must be returned to your parents, your sister, and you. You’ve all done work in contributing to Celtan society for which you haven’t been paid your annual NobleGilt.”

  “We at the Temple have been paying Priestess Mugwort the standard salary for commoners who are on our staff.” T’Sandalwood sounded offended.

  “But even commoners usually have Family members with other sources of income,” Winterberry said.

  Garrett said, “The Primary HealingHall hasn’t been as generous to my HeartMate Artemisia, and I guarantee that GraceLord Mugwort and GraceLady Mugwort provide great services to Druida City and our society, for which they have received no remuneration for over a decade.”

  “That must be remedied,” T’Sandalwood said.

  “Agreed,” Winterberry said.

  “But this is a sensitive matter with wide ramifications,” T’Sandalwood stated.

  “We can approach T’Ash to lead the charge on this,” Antenn said.

  The older men stared at him.

  “T’Ash is wealthy, Noble, of the FirstFamilies. Formidable,” T’Sandalwood replied.

  Just throbbing silence.

  Antenn gave a little cough. “Scary. And he had to fight to get his title and estate back after an enemy fired his Residence and killed his Family. That might be a long time ago to some, but”—Antenn swept a hand to Tiana—“like Tiana, he’s never going to forget that night, those moments. He’ll be solid on wanting justice for this, and he’ll be persistent. He won’t quit until things are right.”

  T’Sandalwood’s brows dipped as he scrutinized Antenn. “You, young man, are absolutely correct.”

  “T’Ash will never give up on this.” Winterberry nodded slowly. He turned to Tiana. “You will have a very strong advocate.” He paused, took the memorysphere from his pocket, looked at the High Priest. “Can we copy this for T’Ash and ask him to join us if he is available?”

  T’Sandalwood closed his eyes briefly. “Yes. Let’s hammer some ideas out first.” With an admonishing nod to Tiana, he said, “I would prefer that you fill out the legal documents in GreatCircle Temple and stay there until you are done, so you are available if we need you.”

  She nodded.

  “After you are finished with the forms, if you have not heard from us, you may consider your day done.” He sighed heavily. “It has been a—challenging—experience for you.”

  “Yes, High Priest T’Sandalwood,” she said.

  “I will have complaint forms translocated to the Temple for Priestess Mugwort to fill out.” His expression was absentminded as if focused on the meeting with T’Ash. “Surely you’ll feel more comfortable working on them at the Temple.”

  Everything moved so quickly! As if she’d dropped the pebble of her memory of the night into a lake and it rippled clear across, affecting others as it went. T’Ash on their side! Though Antenn had mentioned the man to her before. She slid a gaze toward him, saw that his focus was on the older men. Then, as if he felt her study of him, he turned his head and winked at her.

  With an additional rush of pleasure at his support, her knees went wobbly and Garrett stepped up and steadied her with a hand under her elbow.

  “Tiana needs to recover a little first,” TQ stated with authority. “I have several restorative drinks in my medical room. Antenn, please follow my instructions to get them. Garrett, please settle Tiana in the chair in the mainspace.”

  “Whatever we do, this is going to be a long, and perhaps ugly process,” Garrett said.

  Winterberry shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Once you have a FirstFamily Lord or Lady involved in something, things get done fast.” He looked at Antenn. “I’ll need you to fill out a witness statement immediately, too. Please go to the Temple so you are at hand if I wish to consult with you. I’ll translocate some there.”

  Bowing to T’Sandalwood, Winterberry said, “High Priest, if you would offer to teleport me with you to your offices, we can get this process rolling. I’ll send my glider back to the guardhouse.”

  T’Sandalwood held out his hand and Winterberry clasped the man’s fingers, and they were gone.

  Meanwhile, Antenn had slipped from the room, and Garrett led her from the chamber—which she didn’t think she’d care to see again—to the left.

  “I have two areas that might be mainspaces now, Garrett,” TQ informed him. “But on second thought, I believe Tiana would be more comfortable in her sunroom.”

  “Fine.” Garrett kept his steps as small as hers and his pace slow, staring at her thoughtfully.

  “What?” she asked.

  He took a coin from his trous pocket, then sent it running through the fingers of his free hand, appearing and vanishing. “You spoke in the tone of a girl.”

  She shrugged. “That’s not unusual when a person is regressed to a younger age, you know that.”

  Nodding, he said, “That’s true. But it affected every man here. Every one of them will fight for justice for that child who was ripped from her home.”

  “Oh.” The back of her neck heated along with her cheeks, and she knew she flushed. Then she let a long sigh out. “That will be good.”

  “I think so. You know that Winterberry was the guard the FirstFamilies called on when any investigation needed to be handled? He knows them. Not sure how well he works with T’Ash, but Antenn Blackthorn-Moss is right. T’Ash will go after the NobleCouncil to make sure you Mugworts get wha
t you’re due with blood in his eyes. They can’t just ignore this like they have for years.” Garrett shook his head. “And I think Winterberry and the FirstFamilies are shifting all investigative business onto me. Winterberry is the Chief of all the guards now, and the FirstFamilies seem to want someone not . . . tied into the legal system. Though, obviously, in this instance, he can help a great deal.”

  They’d reached the end of the hall, and Tiana touched the door latch, which she’d closed and locked since it was the portal to her personal rooms, and the door swung open. The sitting room still looked stark, but they walked through it to the sunroom.

  That door swung open for them, courtesy of TQ, and the humid scent of green and growing plants, the small rush of a fountain, wafted over her like a balm.

  “Nice,” Garrett said, glancing around at the tiers of beds and plants, the long pond, and the fountain in the corner. “That the Mugworts hold the BalmHeal estate and run the secret sanctuary is not well known,” Garrett said slowly, “but I’m sure some FirstFamilies know.”

  “Like my friends the Hawthorns.”

  “Yes. And there isn’t a more influential man in the younger set, a wealthier one, than Laev T’Hawthorn.” Garrett paused, raising an eyebrow in a question toward her as he settled her in the wicker chair. “Unless it’s Vinni T’Vine?”

  She sat. “If you’re asking me whether GreatLord T’Vine has ever visited FirstGrove and the sanctuary, I couldn’t tell you, not even here.”

  “Aww, Tiana,” TQ said.

  Garrett jolted a little.

  “I’m accustomed to keeping secrets. But, actually, I don’t think T’Vine has been—where I live.”

  “Lived,” TQ said firmly.

  “Where I lived.” She sighed and leaned back against the pillow of the chair and let the tangled, tired emotions within her subside as she considered the places she’d lived. Her childhood home, which had been budding with intelligence and now was firmly in the past. The series of rental apartments during that year her Family hid, blessedly fading from her memory. BalmHeal Residence, who had tolerated her, and who housed her loving Family, but hadn’t ever quite felt like a real home to her. And now here, with the cheerful TQ.

  Antenn appeared with a tube that showed thick orange-brown sludge, green bits, and a sprig of mint. He stared at it doubtfully and handed it to her.

  She opened the top with a grateful sigh, swallowed some down. The restorative would give her energy and also contained a small spell to deflect a headache, though she didn’t feel as if a migraine loomed.

  Antenn glanced at her. “Better you drinking that stuff than me.”

  “My sister Artemisia stocked the medicine room here, and this concoction is one of my mother’s. It’s not bad and I’m used to it.”

  Antenn nodded and went back to studying the sunroom. “This isn’t quite finished, either, is it?”

  “None of my rooms are all the way finished,” TQ said. “I want my—Tiana to make it the way she prefers.”

  Tiana sighed. “That’s very nice of you, TQ.”

  The fountain splashed an extra-happy burble.

  “I have a message for you, Garrett,” TQ said. “The High Priest and Winterberry want to talk to you and for you to fill out the witness statement immediately. I have already done mine,” TQ ended with pride.

  Garrett grunted. “I don’t know the light well enough in GreatCircle Temple to teleport there.”

  “You can take the Temple glider T’Sandalwood came in,” Tiana offered. “And I’ll go there with Antenn in his.” She’d seen the vehicles through the courtyard windows as she’d walked to her rooms.

  “Fine. See you later.” One side of Garrett’s mouth kicked up. “Glad this thing is finally being taken care of. The Family can use the gilt.” He left.

  Antenn paced the length of the sunroom and back. With the plant beds, it was narrower, barely big enough for two to walk side by side. “You know, TQ, if you’re still working on the beds, I’d recommend multicolored stone instead of just gray.” He stopped at the corner. “And I think the fountain is too small and uninteresting. It doesn’t fit. You need a fountain especially shaped for a corner. Red granite rock at various angles would look good.”

  “Do you know where to obtain such a fountain?” TQ asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll order it for you.”

  “Thank you, Antenn.”

  The architect took out his perscry pebble and, eyeing the corner, did so.

  “Charge me, Antenn,” TQ said.

  “It can be a housewarming gift,” Antenn said gruffly, not looking at Tiana.

  “Thank you, Antenn,” TQ said.

  “Thank you, Antenn,” Tiana echoed.

  He shrugged. “’S nothing.” When he turned to her, his face was pleasant but unrevealing. “How do you feel now?”

  Twenty-six

  Tiana rose to her feet, crossed into the sitting room, and put the tube into the reconstructor. Taking a softleaf from her sleeve, she wiped her lips and crossed to the door, then noticed Antenn standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. “You haven’t chosen a color scheme for your rooms yet?” he asked.

  “Ah, no.” She hadn’t thought to, was too accustomed to deferring to others.

  “What would you like?” Antenn and TQ said at the same time.

  “Ah—”

  With narrowed eyes, Antenn said, “Warm tones. I think you appreciate warm tones. What’s your favorite color?”

  Tiana glanced around the sitting room. “I think I’d like peach in here.”

  A grunt from the architect. “Then you can have a rich cream for your bedroom.” He paused. “Or pink.”

  “Not pink, a rich cream sounds good,” she said.

  “Layers, subtle swaths,” Antenn said. “It’s old-fashioned but it works. Cream and pale yellow and slight peach, shaded all together.” He nodded. “That would work. See to it, TQ.”

  “Yes, Antenn!”

  “You might want a contrasting wall in here, or a full mural. Think about it.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  TQ said, “I know Avellana Hazel, the three-dimensional mural artist. And I’ve had lots of wonderful murals on my walls. The ocean at Maroon Beach . . .”

  Antenn flinched.

  “The great labyrinth through the seasons,” TQ continued to gush. “FirstGrove.”

  “FirstGrove?” Antenn asked. “FirstGrove! You know someone who’s been to FirstGrove? The secret sanctuary, BalmHeal estate?”

  Tiana kept a casual smile on her face and refrained from tucking her hands into her opposite sleeves, a nervous gesture that might clue Antenn in.

  “I am on good terms with BalmHeal Residence,” TQ said haughtily, as if to make up for his mistake. “All us sentient Houses and Residences have links, you know that.”

  “But you’d need a person with a recordsphere to viz FirstGrove,” Antenn pushed.

  A slight sighing of the House around them, little wood creaks, air drafts. “Antenn, I have had desperate people within my walls.”

  “Oh.”

  Tiana’s perscry lilted a formal processional march. She plucked it from her sleeve. “The High Priest is calling.” Answering it, before the man with lined brow could speak, she said, “I—and witness Antenn Blackthorn-Moss—are on our way.”

  T’Sandalwood nodded. “Good, that’s good. By glider?”

  “Yes, the guard glider.”

  “Your memorysphere has been copied. The complaint form is on your desk in your office.” He rubbed his forehead. “T’Ash is here. I’ll see if he needs to speak with you.”

  Her stomach clenched and she felt the blood drain from her face. T’Ash. As Antenn had said, a very formidable man, one she’d never spoken to. “Very well,” she said, her voice high.

  The High Priest shook his head. “These FirstFamilies Lords and Ladies . . . too curious for their own good. All of them.” His lips firmed. “I will see you shortly, FirstLevel Priestess.”

  “
Yes, sir.”

  “Antenn Blackthorn-Moss’s witness statement has also been translocated to your desk. You can ask him if he needs a private meditation room to fill it out.”

  “I’ll be fine working with the priestess,” Antenn said, and Tiana liked that idea; it both relaxed her that she wouldn’t be alone and pleasantly stroked her nerves.

  “Shortly, then,” the High Priest said. “Blessed be.” He grimaced. “I hope this whole matter resolves to blessings upon all of us . . . and receiving what we deserve.” He signed off.

  Tiana found her palms pressing together in a reflexive gesture.

  “Justice balanced with mercy, I suppose,” Antenn said.

  * * *

  The glider ride to GreatCircle Temple passed in quiet, Tiana too preoccupied to converse with Antenn. It had been another long and emotionally strenuous day. And she could only see those continuing in the future.

  Sooner or later she’d have to confront GraceLord T’Equisetum.

  When they reached her chambers, she was pleased that though they weren’t as elegant as her rooms in TQ, the furnishings were comfortable and of a homey shabbiness, not threadbare from poverty.

  She led him into her office, which held a desk in the back corner that she’d use mostly for writing reports . . . and drafting rituals. The desk had been assigned to her as an apprentice when she’d entered the Temple for training years ago, and she’d kept it with her. Not at all an impressive, intimidating piece of furniture. Or one she used to show her status as a FirstLevel Priestess.

  Antenn glanced at it and flicked his fingers at the light-spellglobes in the corner that lit with a full-spectrum daylight glow. He said, “When you receive the NobleGilt due you as a contributing member of our society, you’ll be able to purchase a better desk.” He frowned. “And a more comfortable chair for sure. I can get you a discount with Clover Fine Furniture.”

  “Thank you,” she said coolly, and went to the desk where two stacks of papyrus lay. Her stomach jittered from his words—he was sure the NobleCouncil would recognize its mistake and give the Mugworts back the gilt it had confiscated, acknowledge them as a Noble Family again. She wasn’t so sure. In her counseling experience, it wasn’t easy getting a person who felt entitled from birth to admit they’d been wrong—let alone a whole Noble body.