Heart Fortune (Celta)

by Robin D. Owens

  You are a good FamWoman, Lepid said.

  I hope so. And if your caches are not as you left them, please do not confront the cats or Shunuk fox. Let me handle that for you, too. She tried to sound sweetly reasonable.

  All right. That seemed reluctant, but good enough for her as she slipped into her covers. See you soon.

  * * *

  Jace tossed and turned. Glyssa didn’t visit him that night in dreams, either erotic or platonic. The irritation between them would keep her subconscious mind from drifting toward him for dream sex.

  He hadn’t really expected her to come to him.

  Had he?

  But he didn’t sleep much, remembering the awful events of the day, his mind cataloguing them as if he was the librarian, not his phantom lover.

  The morning had started out all right, with that walk with Zem and Lepid in the cool breaking dawn when most of the camp slept and the scents of nature ladened the air and he knew he strode through wilderness being tamed.

  Then all his peace had been shattered as men had grabbed him and ’ported with him back to the opening of the ship. Accused him of theft! Of hurting the guards! Of being so greedy he needed something small and precious from the ship now and battered men to get it instead of waiting and sharing.

  The day had deteriorated from there, the mortification of having Glyssa make excuses for him, his being banned from the communications and the excavation teams, being ignored at lunch.

  And just before he’d joined Zem in the tent to sleep, he’d gone to the large circle around the central campfire . . . and been stuck on the outside of the circle instead of the first row. No one had smiled at him, invited him to scoot next to them. No woman had gestured for him to sit behind her and be her prop. No one had even met his eyes. That had all hurt.

  His status in the camp had plummeted and, in fact, he couldn’t gauge it, didn’t know where he stood with the crew. He didn’t like that at all.

  People he thought were friends apparently weren’t. Friendly rivals, like Andic, had turned sour toward him.

  Tomorrow would be a tougher day as he adjusted his relationship with every single person in the camp. As he watched while others got to descend into Lugh’s Spear and recover the boxes, others work around the communications equipment.

  He did know one thing. There wasn’t a curse on the camp, or a curse on him, but someone definitely wanted him framed.

  He looked over at Zem who he’d set on a simple stand he’d made in the workshop, then Jace rolled over again on the too-thin bedsponge, feeling battered in mind and heart. In the dark, he tested the tiny link between him and Glyssa. Still there. His body ached for a woman. Ached for Glyssa. No!

  But in the black heat of the tent with sweat beading on his aroused body, he admitted the truth. He ached for one woman only.

  Terrible thing. If he gave in to his lust, she could lead him around by the balls, like his mother had done with his father.

  He listened as people drifted back to their tents, mostly in couples, talking, a small laugh here and there but not the usual loud cheerful chatter . . . this “bad luck” business affected others, too.

  He hadn’t felt so lonely in a long time.

  * * *

  Glyssa didn’t sleep well. She’d gotten used to visiting Jace in her dreams. So she moved restlessly, waking throughout the night. Weather blew in with gusts of wind, and she enjoyed feeling safe in her pavilion, hearing the sounds of the camp in a spattering rain so much that it took her mind off the disasters of the day . . . so she didn’t say the short rhyme that would soundproof her walls.

  When Lepid zoomed through the door, deep in the night, after his nocturnal rambles, and hopped onto her bedsponge yipping a FamWoman, good to see you! Good that you are up, she welcomed him. She didn’t even mind when he shook himself off and scattered wet on her and the covers.

  “Want to cuddle?” Before she’d finished the sentence, Lepid had crawled near her hip and curled up, fluffing his tail. He shivered. Cold and wet out there.

  Her hand went to his thick, coarse fur. “You are warm and safe here with me.” But it was a reminder that the official end of summer would come within a month and the camp would close for the winter in no more than two months. What would the Elecampanes do then?

  Surely Glyssa’s story for Camellia would be done, as well as her field report. Her report was on schedule. Attracting Jace’s attention and getting him to be her lover wasn’t proving as easy as she’d anticipated.

  She’d made a HeartGift for her HeartMate, of course, during her second Passage dreamquest at seventeen to free her Flair. And, by law, if she gave him his HeartGift and he kept it for a full eightday, she could claim him as her husband, bound to her alone for the rest of their lives.

  She hadn’t thought she’d need to do that, and her HeartGift was so precious to her, and her pride so full that she’d win Jace without it, she hadn’t brought it with her. The origami hawkcel remained protected in her home bedroom safe. Foolish.

  Lepid licked her hand, his tongue rough and damp, but love infusing his bond with her. You are WISE FamWoman!

  Glyssa snorted, she only wished that were true.

  Wiggling into a more comfortable fox-circle, Lepid said, And we have the BEST pavilion. No wind in here. No rain.

  Which had Glyssa’s thoughts winging toward Jace again. She sniffed. If he’d been less foolish, he could be here with her, sleeping or making fabulous love. She hoped he froze his ass off.

  Fifteen

  Jace tapped the opening tab near the top of his long, bespelled weather bag atop his bedsponge. The side gaped, letting in chill air. Grunting, he got out, drew on his heavier spring/fall clothes, muttering the heat activation Word on them.

  He touched the bag and the thing rolled up into a round sausage. Maybe he wouldn’t need it tonight, but he was glad he’d purchased the bag before the season began. He glanced over at Zem, who stood on his perch, feathers slightly puffed, his head drooping and his beak in his chest, asleep.

  That had Jace sighing in relief. He’d crafted a large spherical weathershield atop Zem’s perch in the middle of the night, a Flair spell he didn’t often do himself since it was tricky. Usually he bought bespelled items like clothing and hats. To his surprise, the spellwork had gone unexpectedly well, as if he’d grown in Flair or matured in technique during the last few years.

  He must admit that he preferred to apply hands and back and intelligence to problems rather than to rely on psi Flair magic. He supposed that was because his selfish mother had used her Flair to browbeat his slow thinking but physically impressive father. Jace’s mind skittered away from his father’s death. Long past, never forgotten. Nor were the lessons he’d learned from it.

  He’d heard his mother had died a while back and wasn’t sorry. She hadn’t been a good person. Thinking of her—that he might ever be as manipulative as she was—made him flush hot.

  You’re up, be quiet, said a grumpy Zem in his mind.

  Jace glanced toward him. He looked the same.

  Lost sleep because you were too restless last night. Better that you had mating dreams like other nights, Zem said. Easier to ignore.

  Heat washed through Jace. He’d hoped Zem hadn’t noticed.

  A huffed breath from Zem, a click of his beak. You should have listened to the wind and the rain, fallen into that rhythm.

  Jace blinked and stared. “I thought owls were supposed to be the wise birds.”

  Now Zem snorted, raised his head and opened his eyes to stare and blink at Jace. Owls are arrogant. Hawkcels are best.

  “I’m sure.” He stepped forward. Into a puddle, something he’d been ignoring. His tent wouldn’t make it another season. Maybe not another storm.

  Anxiety made his mind race. More expense, and digging dirt didn’t pay as well as exploring the ship.

  “Don’t you want to eat?”

  Later. Sleep more, Zem said. Go visit your lady.

  “No. Nothing has gone
right since that woman has shown up.”

  Zem looked up. Not her fault. Not your fault. YOU go eat and feel better.

  Jace shrugged dismissively and headed out of his leaking tent into a pretty morning that failed to satisfy. He’d go over to the workshop tent.

  A few people were around. No one greeted him.

  * * *

  Over the following few days, Jace kept his usual manner, even if behind an outer smile and gritted teeth. He wasn’t a thief and he didn’t harm people. He hoped by staying the same, the crew would recognize this.

  Every morning after the fox and Zem munched live or newly dead small rodents, Jace took his Fam to the clinic where Symphyta checked the hawkcel out . . . and sent some generalized Healing energy through the bird.

  She and Glyssa and Maxima were the only ones who treated him the same—no, Symphyta’s interactions held a tinge of pity that really made his jaw ache, Maxima was fiercely defensive of him which clued him in that she saw him in a romantic light, and Glyssa treated him the same.

  Jace watched with fisted hands stuck in his trous pockets as Sanicle and another couple of men brought up from the interior of the ship another one of the large boxes.

  He spent time with Glyssa and Maxima in the tent working, but stayed outside of Glyssa’s gathering personal circle. And, for some reason, that radiated a low-level ache around his heart.

  Not to mention the ache in his lower body since they hadn’t connected in sexy dreams for a while.

  He couldn’t convince himself that he needed to move on to another woman in the camp for real sex. He throbbed for Glyssa alone, which would worry him if he let it.

  To no one’s surprise except Glyssa’s, the novelty of the communications center and talking to those in Druida wore off in a couple of days. Jace could have told her that most of the people here had few, if any, relatives, especially in the cities.

  Most were like him.

  But he didn’t really care for study, and it wasn’t his strong point.

  Action was.

  So he shoveled never-ending dirt away from a large area where the main entrance was. He figured that was pretty useless. The top of the ship was at least three stories down, and from what he’d seen of the plans, the ship’s main doors were levels lower than that.

  Even with the two earthmovers, they weren’t making much progress. But folk noticed his hard, simple work.

  And though at first the rumors of a curse still circled, and his rep was still smudged, eventually people began to relax around him again.

  Until the night when another storm rolled in.

  * * *

  Midnight and lightning sizzled around the camp, painting the trembling windblown tents in searing silver.

  Glyssa stood in a thick robe at one of the windows of her pavilion, holding a shivering Lepid. She’d set aside Hoku’s journal and her too slowly progressing story to watch the show. Only the thin coating of Flaired gauze kept the storm from her—exciting.

  For a moment she yearned to share the excitement with Jace, rolling around on his bedsponge. Or hers.

  He’d been treating her like an acquaintance.

  She could find him in a dream, make love to him there. He might even welcome her . . . she’d noticed the increased sexual frustration through their bond, though neither of them had mentioned it in their polite conversations.

  Not that it would be appropriate to talk about that with Maxima around, and Jace was only near during the day when Maxima was with Glyssa. She wouldn’t chase after him, tried to give him time.

  As she watched, two terrible explosions shot fire into the sky and sound roaring through the camp.

  Lepid yowled. That was not the storm!

  Glyssa feared he was right. “Weathershield!” She gestured at herself and Lepid, coating them with Flair, then thinned the door and ran through. Mud stuck to her feet, slowing her, irritating her.

  Lepid followed, barking his lungs out.

  As she zoomed toward the closest fire, she heard the Elecampanes behind her.

  People popped from their tents, most in rain gear, yelling and shouting.

  Lepid shot ahead of her. FamMan! he called mentally.

  Glyssa’s throat closed. Surely he couldn’t be hurt! She checked their bond. No. He was fine, a little sluggish from sleep. She narrowed the bond again before he caught her peeking and thought she was pushy.

  Smoke and burnt canvas smell came to her nose and she stopped at an area of destruction.

  Jace came up to her, but didn’t speak.

  The Elecampanes halted near.

  Two people ran toward them from opposite directions, a dripping Funa Twinevine, half-clothed and wet so her lush body was on display, and a man who preferred guard duty.

  “My tent,” shrieked Funa Twinevine, swiping her wet hair from her face along with—tears? rain?

  “The box!” the guy panted as he skidded to a stop in front of the Elecampanes. “Boxes. Both. Blown up.”

  Funa bent and picked up something, said a Word to cool it, swore, and then her face twisted into an ugly scowl. She stalked to Jace, flung a tough piece of tanned furrabeast leather at his face hard enough to cut his cheek. “This is your work. Just because I wouldn’t sleep with you anymore you do this? You filthy fligger!”

  Gasps came, everyone faded back from Jace. Glyssa wanted to hold out her hand to him, knew it would make fools of them both.

  “I left that piece in the workshop tent,” Jace said.

  Didn’t sound wise to Glyssa and she kept her mouth shut. Whatever little goodwill he’d managed to retrieve these past days had abruptly vanished with Funa’s accusation.

  A wan Symphyta jogged to them, a strangled whimper coming from her. “I was taking my usual late shower.” She blinked wide eyes, staring at the debris. “I’ve lost everything.”

  Glyssa put her arm around the woman. “Let me know how I can help.” She scanned the crowd, face set. “We will all help.” Her eyes narrowed at Trago. “Did Symphyta leave anything in your tent?”

  He shifted, but answered, his expression pitying as he shook his head. “It’s been a while. I don’t think so, but I’ll look.” Glancing down, he whispered, “You can sleep with me, you know.”

  “I have room,” Glyssa said. “You didn’t have insurance?” She aimed the question at Symphyta, then sent her gaze to Funa.

  The crowd made disbelieving noises. Symphyta hugged Glyssa, then stepped away from her as if needing to stand on her own.

  Glyssa flushed at the crew’s reaction, lifted her chin. “Well, we can make a pool. Perhaps we can use the new communications system to set up a pool for gilt or provisions in Druida City, have the pilot bring things out with the next trip.”

  “That’s an excellent idea for the use of our new system,” Del D’Elecampane said. Her face hardened and she put her hands on her hips. “We will not tolerate these human-made incidents of vandalism and terrorism. When we find the culprit, we will prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law . . . when we get back to Druida City.” Her smile wrinkled the lines at the corners of her eyes, showed teeth. Everyone understood her unstated threat. The Elecampanes were the law here in camp, on the frontier, as it had always been in human society.

  A slow and stately Myrtus Stopper proceeded to them. He shook his head. “This was the second explosion, then?”

  “Yes, my tent!” Funa snapped.

  Myrtus held a bunch of oblong items in his hands.

  “What are those?” Glyssa asked.

  Another shake of his head. “As the guard said, the other explosion destroyed the crates we got from Lugh’s Spear—”

  “The curse!” a woman yelled.

  “Damn bad luck,” shouted a man at the same time. “Project is turning rotten.”

  “It’s a human villain,” Jace replied loudly. “Just one bad guy. Not a curse. Not bad luck. Not a project turning rotten.”

  But grumbles from people drowned him out more than the quieting rain and dis
tant thunder.

  “What are you holding?” Glyssa asked Stopper again, hoping the question would distract people from Jace.

  “Some of the subsistence sticks from the crates.” His gaze slid to the Elecampanes. “I tried one. Terrible, terrible. And in my expert opinion, if they once had nutritional value, they don’t anymore. My Flair tells me so.” He looked around the gathering. “I found these, I’m sure there are others. If you all bring them to me, I will take care of them.”

  “Sounds good,” said Raz T’Elecampane. He raised his actor’s voice. “I suggest we all disperse now to our tents and leave further discussion for the morning.”

  Trago stepped forward. “You can stay with me, Symphyta. As a friend. Your own bedsponge.” His voice was almost monotone.

  “I have room,” Glyssa repeated.

  “And we have some spare tents and equipment for emergencies like this,” Del Elecampane said. She smiled at Symphyta. “Take your pick.”

  With a trembling smile to Glyssa and a nod to Trago, Symphyta turned to Del D’Elecampane. “Thanks, I’d like that.”

  Raz T’Elecampane moved to put an arm around Symphyta’s shoulder, and his weathershield enveloped her and would slowly dry her slicker, hat, and rain boots. “We can give you a pop-up tent for one. A little small . . .” He began to walk with her toward the Elecampanes’ pavilion, the staff gave way before them.

  Symphyta smiled up at him. “I’ve been sharing for so long, that sounds really fine.”

  Del and Maxima strode after them and Glyssa turned to Jace. He was gone. People had separated to give him a large path back to his tent, too.

  And she couldn’t go after him.

  Excitement is over. Lepid sighed. He picked up each paw and his nose wrinkled. This spell doesn’t cover the bottom of my feet. I have nasty can’t-feel-pads-well paws.

  “Then you won’t be running all over the camp until the morning, will you?” Irritation welled through Glyssa at Jace’s refusal to let her help him. She could be discreet.