Landolt, tall and thin with sandy hair, sent her a fulminating look. “Pays fliggering well.”
“That’s enough,” Raz said. He gave a slight bow. “Thank you for attending the announcement.”
“Always do,” Funa muttered. “Gotta know what’s going on, more’n just gossip.”
The crowd began to break up and Glyssa walked forward, as did Maxima. Jace did not. The girl glanced back at him, said, “Come on!”
A mixture of emotions spurted to Glyssa from Jace along their bond: renewed anger, hope, curiosity.
She suppressed a smile at the last, wonderful to know he was a curious man . . . that he almost matched her in that.
“Come on.” Maxima twined her arm within his, tugged. “The parents don’t want you to go down into the ship. I can’t imagine that they could object to you being around while Glyssa examines the box.” The girl jutted her chin again.
Glyssa didn’t think Maxima’s parents were aware of her infatuation with Jace, but the way the girl was acting, it wouldn’t take long for them to discover. And because stupid jealousy niggled at her, Glyssa took Jace’s other arm.
He frowned, but she ignored that, chuckling and glancing up at him with a smile. “And you’ve been with us all morning, struggling with ancient Earthan languages.”
“Yes.” Maxima nodded. “You belong with us.”
“At least this morning,” Glyssa said.
“Honored,” Jace said, but his smile was for Maxima.
Really stupid jealousy. Glyssa squashed it with the fact that she was Jace’s HeartMate. But her hurting heart didn’t listen.
A minute later she had to withdraw her arm from Jace’s. She stepped forward to the cleared circle around the large storage box, an olive green with black broken-looking letters traced on it.
Many of the people who’d listened to the announcement had moved toward the single box pulled from Lugh’s Spear to watch.
She squatted down and tilted her head to read the thing, STX was the abbreviation, along with a rounded rectangle with a black half circle pointing inward at one end. She sounded the first syllables out Sub sis something, the letters seemed frayed, STIX. Humming a little, she puzzled on it. This looked like . . . but she’d have to check. Snapping her fingers she whisked the big dictionary she’d left on the table in her pavilion into her outstretched hands.
For an instant the gasps around her impinged on her concentration, then she dismissed them. Flipping to the page she wanted, she studied it, then put the big book on the ground and again held out her hand, this time cupped, and translocated a recordsphere. This one was from the starship in Druida City that included its logs of the last months of the journey.
She swiped her hand over the sphere and a mechanical voice echoed . . . “and two tons of subsistence sticks were dropped from our emergency stores to be transferred to Lugh’s Spear, commanded by Captain Umar Clague, authorized by Kelse Bountry, Captain of this ship.”
Glyssa picked up the book, straightened, and snapped it closed, smiling with triumph at Raz and Del. “This is a 250 kilogram crate of subsistence stick food, originally from Nuada’s Sword. One of the crates that Nuada’s Sword sent to Lugh’s Spear, described in your ancestress’ diary!”
“A historic box of terrible tasting food, great.” Funa sneered.
Glyssa ignored her and walked around the box. “It appears unopened.”
“Landolt?” asked Del.
The tall man loped up to the box, placed his hands on the top and frowned in concentration. His fingers tensed as he used his Flair. “Yes. I sense, um, individual objects, a lot of them.” A moment passed as his frown deepened into a scowl and sweat rolled down his face. “Each . . . is . . . wrapped? . . . in something not . . . not . . . I don’t know what.” He lifted his hands and his palms appeared red with effort and wet with perspiration. Huffing breaths, he stepped away. His knees folded and Jace caught him, grunted, and slipped the man over the shoulder not occupied by his FamBird. “I’ll take Landolt to his tent.” He walked off, and Glyssa turned in a casual manner to watch him.
Del D’Elecampane’s mouth turned down and she flicked a hand. “I think one of our first messages will be to request that someone with Flair comparable to Landolt’s come here.” She glanced at her husband. “We should give Landolt a raise, and we’ll have to figure out additional incentives.”
Raz nodded.
A small cough came and everyone turned to Symphyta. “We also need another Healer. Or two.” She met the Elecampanes’ gazes and flushed. “And, perhaps,” she whispered, “a subsidy.” Her jaw worked as she stared beyond them. “We could ask the HealingHalls or . . . someone else . . .” Symphyta’s gaze slid toward Glyssa and she knew the Healer was thinking of T’Hawthorn. “To pay a Healer.”
Del D’Elecampane grimaced. “We’ll take care of it. Come talk to me later.”
Raz smiled at Symphyta. “And I think you might want a tent of your own.”
“She’s fine staying with me,” Funa asserted loudly.
Inclining his head, Raz said, “I’m sure she appreciates your offer.” Again he looked at Symphyta. “Please, we’d like to discuss this with you some more.”
“I’ll be glad to talk to you,” Symphyta agreed.
“A lot of talking,” Del D’Elecampane grumbled.
Raz slipped his arm around his HeartMate’s waist, kissed her temple. “That’s management for you, darling.”
“I s’pose,” Del said, then went up to the box and circled it, glanced at Glyssa. “Thanks for helping us. I don’t think that we’ll open this just now.” She shrugged. “Not if it’s only subsistence sticks, I’ve heard enough about those from my husband’s ancestress’ diary to know they were nasty. And they’d be expired by now, too. If it had been the grain or seeds we found . . . that would be different.”
“Yes,” Raz agreed. “Several of the boxes discovered and vized by our people when they went into the ship are this color. Probably all the same.”
Glyssa’s turn to shrug. “Probably.”
“You really aren’t going to open it up?” asked Maxima, nearly hopping with impatience.
“Not right now,” her mother said. “Perhaps you should return to your work with GrandMistrys Licorice. The bell announcing the first lunch seating will ring soon.”
Maxima sniffed as if she was uninterested in food. But all three of them had nibbled most of the morning.
Raz nodded to the staff. “I would prefer only the newly formed Squad One that is authorized to descend into the ship remain. We will discuss our next steps.”
Reluctantly, other people began to drift away. Del frowned at her daughter and Glyssa handed Maxima the recordsphere and began to walk to her tent. The girl followed.
“Have you watched and listened to all these yet?” Glyssa asked.
Maxima made a face. “Bo-ring.”
Glyssa’s lips twitched. “Yes. But there are some good nuggets in there.”
“I don’t know how you recall all that.”
“Training.” And Maxima Elecampane might not be pure librarian material after all. Though there was a lot of boring work that later might pay off in a librarian’s life. Or could never pay off.
But here Glyssa was in an exciting venue, full of people who weren’t like anyone she’d ever met. Adventurers, risk takers. Like her.
She grinned again.
Maxima studied the glass sphere as they walked back to Glyssa’s pavilion. “This isn’t like regular recordspheres.”
The difference was barely noticeable. Glyssa was impressed. “No, they are archival quality, made with a lot of space for excellent quality vizes and audios.” She nodded toward the glass ball. “The public librarians were allowed by Nuada’s Sword to copy its logs of the journey only once. That is one of the secondary copies. We don’t want to return to Nuada’s Sword and beg for another—for which it would charge us a monstrous amount. It is not known for its generosity.”
“Huh,” Maxima said, rolling th
e ball in her hand, her fingers seeming to test the material, her brows drawn down as she focused. “I might . . .”
“Yes?”
“I might be able to make these spheres even better.” She slid a sideways glance to Glyssa, pinkened. “I’m good with glass . . . and, ah, other stuff. Part of my Flair.”
“What other stuff?”
The girl’s shoulders lifted nearly to her ears. “Communications, mostly.”
Glyssa narrowed her eyes, wondered exactly what that meant, but they’d reached her pavilion and Maxima darted inside.
“Show me how you figured out the words from the dictionary,” the teen said as Glyssa entered, distracting her.
* * *
Zem fluttered to the crosspole of Landolt’s large tent as Jace took the man inside and laid him on his meter-thick bedsponge. Landolt shared his tent with his two male lovers. One had accompanied Jace to fuss at him and watch Landolt. Neither a groggy Landolt nor the other guy thanked him, which rankled a little.
Stepping from the tent, Jace drew in a breath and smelled the camp—humans—a trace of the sweet scent of the plains, the forest and water in the distance. Zem cackled in warning before he stepped back onto Jace’s quilted shirt shoulder. He’d added the pad that morning before their early walk to find food for his bird . . . pretty much a futile walk since Zem couldn’t fly, Jace was too noisy, big, and clumsy to catch small mammals like mice, and he’d been found and detained before Lepid had found prey for the hawkcel.
Just before the announcement claxon had rung and broken up the little study group in Glyssa’s pavilion, Jace had forgotten the charges against him and been satisfied with himself.
He’d felt lighter in spirit and satisfied with a job well done. He had helped with the map. Now he smiled with the inner knowledge that he’d seen the layout of the ship, the plans. So much easier to visualize in three dimensions when you see something in two.
Glyssa trusted him. She was pushy, but he sensed she had no doubt of his innocence.
The kid was nice. Staunch. A good thing in a friend, and he thought he had her as a friend.
Another breath and he jolted a little as the first lunch bell sounded and he headed toward the mess tent.
His mood soured as he walked. No one approached, and the personal space around him seemed to have tripled.
Just as he passed Sanicle’s tent, the man made to step out, hesitated. Jace stopped and sent him a sardonic smile.
Sanicle grimaced, raised his hands. “No offense.”
Funa Twinevine came up behind the man, wrapped her arm around his waist, smirked at Jace.
“No offense, what?” Jace pressed.
The man angled his body in a defensive fencing position . . . as if he and Jace had ever crossed swords. One hunched shoulder. “No offense, but I don’t want to be seen with you. Your luck’s turned bad.”
“The worst,” Funa said.
“A lot of bad luck going around the camp,” Jace said tightly. “And most of it man-made bad luck aimed at me.”
“Well, we don’t want it smeared on us!” Funa sniffed.
Jace’s jaw hurt from his gritted teeth.
Sanicle lifted and dropped his shoulders. “Even though you spent time in the tent with the sexy librarian who has FirstFamily friends and the owners’ kid, that doesn’t count for much.” Sanicle’s gaze went past Jace. “And there the new pretty lady is.” He gave a hum of approval. “All that prissy manner bottled up under a redhead. Gotta be interesting.”
A quick spear of jealousy stabbed through Jace. He knew for a fact that when Glyssa dropped the prissy manner in bed, she was all fire.
“Think I might try my luck with her,” Sanicle said.
Funa dropped her arm from the man’s waist and bumped him off balance with her hip. “I’m right here.”
He glanced at her. “We don’t have an exclusive arrangement.”
Anger came to Funa’s eyes and she simmered in it.
“Move, Bayrum,” Sanicle said. “Leaving now.”
Funa glared at him, then slanted a glare at Jace. “He’s right about the luck thing. I don’t want your bad luck rubbing onto me.”
Jace just lifted a brow. Then he nodded and crossed into the middle of the main lane between tents. People continued to ignore him and Sanicle strode past him trying to catch up with Glyssa who walked toward the mess tent.
Face pouty, Funa took to the road, swinging her hips and gathering other male gazes. Another guy joined her and she broke into animated conversation.
Jace’s mood dimmed by the continuing stickiness of “bad luck” and the accusation of theft, he reached the dining tent.
Unlike all the days before, no one called to him. No one even met his eyes.
Talk stopped when he came in, and after he got his clucker and greens, whispers hissed through the tent.
He ate in stoic silence, not looking to where people gathered around Glyssa to ask about her dictionary and the recordsphere and the box. Not listening for her laughter.
Too many people, Zem grumbled from the top rung of a wooden chair. His mental voice sounded thin. Jace studied him, didn’t see that the bird appeared much different, but he was still learning what a healthy bird might look like. Jace reached out with his forefinger and stroked the bird’s good wing. “Easy, now.”
Feathers rustling, Zem tipped his head and stared at him, blinked. That feels good. His wing lifted a bit, went back to his side. Bring me more food, please.
“I’ll do that.”
Zem gave a mental sigh. It will be dead but filling.
“We’ll get you well. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Jace vowed. He already loved the bird fiercely.
Thank you, FamMan.
Just that had him forgetting that people avoided him. He, Jace Bayrum, had a Fam! A wonderful, beautiful BirdFam unlike any other telepathic companion Jace had ever heard of.
Head high and with a steady step, Jace walked past all the tables, ignoring more whispers and over to the cook again. Trago the Healer jerked his elbow into Jace’s path but with a fancy bit of footwork, he dodged. Trago cursed at him anyway.
Without actually looking Jace in the eye, the cook scraped some raw ground clucker and furrabeast onto Zem’s plate and Jace returned to the end of the table where he and Zem sat alone.
So what if the others thought he was bad luck? Even resented him enough that they preferred to think him a thief? He had Zem, and Maxima believed in him. That should be enough.
He’d accept it as enough.
Raz Cherry T’Elecampane stepped into the tent and walked straight to Jace. Though the actor’s face wore a mild expression, sparks of ire danced in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Jace asked.
“I don’t know how the rumor started and how it passed around so quickly, but your ‘bad luck’ has tainted my, our, project.”
Thirteen
What happened?” Jace asked.
Raz T’Elecampane scowled down at him. “Gossip has already circulated the camp that it would be dangerous to open the box because it might have deadly Earth spores in it. A terrible virus from Earth that will kill Celtans . . . or something.”
Jace choked on a bite of clucker. “What!”
Raz nodded. “Who knows what we might open and release? Stories of cursed camps and expeditions are making the rounds, too. I take it you did not start this rumor?”
Jace stood, kept his expression mild because others were watching. He spoke in a low tone, “No.”
“Gossip also stated that you instigated that notion.”
Jace shrugged, trying to appear less angry than he was. “Someone has a hate on for me . . . and I didn’t have much time to start such a rumor. I took Landolt to his tent, neither he nor one of his partners talked to me. I didn’t talk to them.”
He raised his voice so it echoed throughout the tent. “On my way here I talked with Andic Sanicle and Funa Twinevine, both of whom are here. They are the only ones I spoke
with. They know what I know.”
“You fligger!” Funa yelled, then rose from her place, dumped her metal plate and utensils into the cleanser with a clatter and stormed out.
Jace nodded at Funa. “She thinks I’m bad luck, so does Sanicle. I wouldn’t put it past either one of them to talk me down, and Zem and I reached here after they did. Did the gossip come from this direction?”
Raz shrugged. “Who knows? Everyone here has enough Flair to be telepathic with good friends or lovers.” His smile sharpened with teeth. “You’ve had several lovers here.”
“Yes,” Jace said. “I’m friendly with a lot of people. Doesn’t mean that someone didn’t set me up for theft and isn’t smearing my name. Someone wants my rep blackened.”
Raz rocked back on his heels, also seemingly casual. “Perhaps.” His blue stare met Jace’s. Cold, considering. “Once a project gets a reputation as being unlucky, it’s hard to keep it going, keep staff.”
“And any little thing that goes wrong is blamed on bad luck . . . or me,” Jace said. Since his appetite for the rest of his meal—overcooked greens—had been spoiled, Jace picked up his metal plate, took it over to the garbage, scraped off the leftovers, and slipped his plate in a track of the cleansing bin. When he turned back toward his place, Raz was gone.
Jace felt the gazes of everyone else in the tent. Bending down, he offered his arm to Zem and left.
Not wanting to gather with the others to watch the communications set up—he knew no one in Druida and had on a good brood—he spent time using a shovel. He dug with others at the place where the Elecampanes believed the main entrance to the starship to be . . . who knew how many levels down? They only had two big earth-movers that anyone with a little Flair could power. Jace wasn’t given the option to use those, either.
* * *
After lunch, Glyssa strolled with most of the camp to the new communications center, which still didn’t look like much to her. Lepid coursed ahead of her and ran back. Everyone is coming. All the peoples.
He barked in excitement. About two-thirds of the folk looked on indulgently, but the rest scowled at his behavior. Nothing she could do to curb him right now, but she got the idea that they should take walks—all right, she’d walk and Lepid would run—a couple of times a day. The exercise would do her good and she’d explore more of the camp, maybe even walk along the outline of the ship that was within sight of the tents.
Heart Fortune (Celta) Page 11
