Heart Fortune (Celta)

by Robin D. Owens

  Glyssa shrugged. “I am not sure how long it will take for my city appearance to transmogrify into something more like the rest of the staff.”

  His lips twitched, he ducked his head. “Um-hmm.”

  Lepid bounded up the last few paces of the hill. What is wrong?

  Glyssa stretched her lips in an unamused smile. “GentleSir Sanicle”—and that form of speech was a misnomer—“gave me a slight scare.”

  That is not good. Lepid nudged her leg with his nose, leaving a smear on her clean trous. She actually liked that, wouldn’t look so prissy when she returned to camp. From here, she saw plenty of people stirring. She rubbed Lepid’s head.

  Her fox focused his glare on Sanicle. You made me lose my mocyn with your stupid human noise! Lepid accused.

  Sanicle frowned as if he barely heard the Fam. Lepid snapped his teeth.

  Don’t bite him! Glyssa ordered.

  Lepid gave the man a disgusted look. I am going back to camp to the breakfast tent. My mouth was set for more food. With a whisk of his tail, Lepid shot sure-footedly down the hill.

  “What’d he say?” asked Sanicle, but not as if he cared.

  “He was chasing a mocyn who got away.”

  “Oh, too bad. Let’s head back to the camp.” Sanicle smiled. Was that smile supposed to be charming? Had he had a lot of success using it on women?

  Glyssa nodded. Her quiet moment was broken, and as cowardly as it was, she didn’t want to be out of the camp alone. “Of course,” she said.

  She looked for the path, but it curled around the bottom of the ridge. She supposed people and animals went up the hill as they pleased, to one end or another of the rise . . . or the middle where she and Sanicle stood. Halfway down the hill, her feet slipped on dewy grass. Sanicle caught her before she fell on her derriere, steadied her and tucked her arm inside of his.

  “Let me take your arm,” he said, without letting go.

  * * *

  Jace watched Lepid race into the tent, tongue lolling, skidding to a stop before Myrtus, where he wiggled. You can pet me, wonderful cook!

  “Huh.” But Myrtus bent down and rubbed the fox. Lepid yipped in pleasure, rolled over to his back, exposing his white belly, and the cook continued to pet him, grinning. When he was done, he looked at Zem, ordered “Cleanse,” again for his hands, then held them out to the BirdFam again. “Foxes are nice,” Myrtus said, nudging a still lying, all paws in the air, Lepid with his foot, “but hawkcels are majestic, unusual Fams.”

  Zem bent his head. Thank you, Myrtus. His eyes gleamed and he looked healthier. A small breath like a burp came from the bird. I am done now and would like a nap in our tent.

  Lepid sat up, offered his paw. I would like the rest of his furrabeast bites!

  The plate didn’t hold many, but Jace gave it to Myrtus, who flicked each at the fox and laughed when he caught them in his mouth.

  “All gone,” Myrtus said. “And I know your FamWoman feeds you well, Lepid, and that you hunt. You don’t want to get fat.”

  I am a young and growing fox, Lepid said, his expression still hopeful.

  “Enough of you, take yourself out of my mess tent.” Myrtus waved him away, but his tone was cheerful.

  “Hmm,” Jace said. “Just a minute, Lepid.” Jace bent down and stroked the fox, found his collar. “Maybe you could transport Zem here to eat when he gets hungry and I am working.” Pray to the Lady and Lord that Jace would get back down into the ship, or doing something more with his hands.

  “Let’s try an experiment.” Jace held his arm out for Zem, when the hawkcel climbed onto it, he lowered his Fam to Lepid’s back. Showed the bird Lepid’s collar that he could curve his claws over.

  Very quietly, gliding more than walking, Lepid went to the door of the tent and through it. There weren’t very many people in the mess hall, but those who were there, clapped at the trick.

  Jace caught up with the two Fams just outside the door.

  Want up! Zem fluffed his feathers. I do not like being so low to the ground. Bad.

  Lepid yipped. It is fine! I can slink and run through low holes and hide under bushes!

  Bad, Zem repeated.

  “That won’t work, then.” Jace picked his Fam up and put Zem on his shoulder, and got a wave of satisfaction from his companion through their link.

  I am a bad stridebeast, Lepid said, but he sat and his eyes showed amusement. I will hunt and get more food for you, Zem.

  That sounded good, as did the cat Carolinia’s offer, but Jace wouldn’t forget again that he should be the main source of food for his Fam until Zem could hunt for himself.

  Jace considered. “I could translocate you.” He wasn’t great at that, or teleporting, and it took a lot of energy, but he could do it. Better start practicing more, in any event.

  Why would anyone want to teleport when they could fly? Zem asked.

  “Good point, but you can’t fly just yet,” Jace said. “And I think I could teleport us farther than you could fly.”

  Running is BEST, Lepid said, and took off.

  * * *

  Glyssa fumed when Sanicle took her arm, but didn’t protest. She was such a coward, fearing the wilderness so close to the camp.

  “So, did you like the sunrise?” Sanicle asked.

  “Beautiful.”

  “It is, and that’s a good spot to see it. Almost as nice as the lake that’s close. I’ll have to take you there sometime. Pretty blue. Bluer than the Great Platte Ocean next to Druida. Though not as blue as the Deep Blue Sea.” He glanced down at her and gave her another practiced smile. His teeth were white and even. “The Elecampanes usually give us all a couple of weeks off at the end of the season and Del runs a trip to the Deep Blue Sea. You should go.”

  “That sounds nice,” Glyssa said. She frowned. “How soon do you think the season will end?” She hadn’t been here that long, wasn’t nearly ready to leave. Though her field trip report and the transcription of Hoku’s journal consisted of many pages, her story remained pitiful. She pursed her lips in irritation at herself. She didn’t know what to do to fix that.

  “When will the season end? Depends on when the steady rains come.” He glanced around at the trees, the sky. “We might have almost two more months . . . or not. I don’t think the Elecampanes will leave this year until winter really sets in, there’s too much going on.”

  “You’re assigned to Squad One, people going down into the ship,” Glyssa said.

  “Yeah.” This time his smile came and went. No one had gone down into the ship since the explosions except a daily run by Lepid and Carolinia that brought back images of the first section of the corridor.

  Del D’Elecampane had begun a map showing every item, box, sack, and odd belonging in the outer room and hallway.

  “When will you be descending into Lugh’s Spear again?” May as well push and prod. She didn’t care what he thought of her.

  “I dunno.” He masked his expression, shook his head. “Bad luck stalks us.”

  Glyssa snorted. “Human pranks.”

  He shrugged and picked up pace. The camp came in sight and she thought of pulling away but some animal roared in the forest. She flinched and matched Sanicle’s stride. No, she didn’t want to be alone outside the encampment, even if it was within view. She’d take this lovely adventure in small steps.

  “What’s that?” Her voice sounded curious, not nervous, good!

  Sanicle tilted his head. “Wild bissert porcine, I’d imagine.” He licked his lips. “Good eating. The smarter ones have already left the area. I’ll let Del D’Elecampane and some of the other folks who like to hunt know.”

  “Ah.”

  “The bissert is smaller than the average farm porcine.” Sanicle cocked a brow at her. “Only dangerous if you’re alone and citified.”

  Glyssa couldn’t relax with his teasing, mostly because she didn’t like his touch, but didn’t want to offend him right here and now. She tried to say lightly, “You didn’t see my follow-
up spell.” Damn, she sounded prissy.

  “I’m sure you had one.” His smile said otherwise. She didn’t disabuse him of that notion, and finally they reached the camp.

  They walked through the spellshield and into tent town. The first person they saw was Funa Twinevine glaring at them.

  Seventeen

  Here she is, Zem! Here she is, Jace! Lepid said as he trotted up to her.

  Zem clicked his beak. Greetyou, Glyssa.

  “Greetyou, Zem. Greetyou, Jace. Andic, thank you for your company back,” she said.

  Sanicle bowed and made to kiss her hand. She drew it away before he could do so and he straightened with a flushed face. His mouth turned petulant.

  She bobbed him a curtsey and his eyes widened as if not many women had given him one. A self-satisfied expression formed on his face.

  “We’re late to the first breakfast sitting. The waffles are probably all gone,” Funa said curtly. She turned on her heel and walked with rolling hips toward the mess tent. Sanicle’s gaze went straight to her backside and he followed, caught up with her and slid an arm around her waist.

  Glyssa squatted and let Lepid lick her cheek, rubbing him with both hands. Now his breath smelled more like human food. “Did you eat, then?” she asked.

  I got some furrabeast! Jace was with me! Lepid caroled in her mind. She glanced up at Jace.

  “That’s right,” he said.

  Clearing her throat—how good he looked, even scowling—she said, “Sanicle said he heard bissert porcine in the forest. Will you go hunt it?”

  Jace stroked Zem, scratched him on the neck. “No. I don’t need to.” He paused. “Though I could if my belly were empty. You look nice.”

  She simply closed her eyes when her face and neck went fiery, inhaled a breath and fought the embarrassment. When she opened her lashes, Jace still studied her. She rose. “Sanicle frightened me. All I could think of was a whirlwind dress spell.”

  One side of his mouth quirked. “Whirlwind dress spell.” Then his brows came down. “That strips you, doesn’t it? Cleans you and your clothes. The guy saw you naked.”

  Glyssa stood stoically. “Yes.” She shrugged. “But if we’d been in a Druida City bathhouse—”

  “Personal privacy is more prized here in camp,” Jace said. “Because we have less of it.” Then his eyes unfocused and his smile returned. “Though a lot of folk don’t mind nudity much.”

  Glyssa thought he meant women. She shrugged.

  “You seemed friendly enough with Sanicle,” Jace pressed.

  “I’m not accustomed to being outside in uninhabited territory alone,” she said. Her gaze met his, though she didn’t tell him how much she’d wanted to see the natural beauties outside the camp with him.

  The bell rang for the second seating of breakfast. “I’m hungry,” Glyssa said, surprised to find it was true. “I’ll see you later.”

  Jace nodded. “Yes. Time to have Zem checked out.” He walked away and she refused to follow him with her gaze. Instead she strode to her own tent.

  Zem needs a lot of food, Lepid said.

  Eating like a bird . . . yes, they ate all the time, didn’t they?

  I will have to hunt more. I would like to go with D’Elecampane to hunt the bissert. Do you think she will let me go to hunt the bissert?

  “I think if her own FoxFam is hunting, you should be allowed, too,” Glyssa said.

  Lepid’s tail drooped. I do not want to ask that Shunuk fox. Will you ask D’Elecampane for me? That will make up for you walking with Sanicle and scaring off my mocyn.

  So Glyssa went past her pavilion and informed all three of the Elecampanes of Sanicle’s theory and requested Lepid be allowed on the hunt. Raz said he’d watch out for her fox, and Lepid stayed near the man as the Family discussed the matter.

  When she got to her tent, she collapsed in the chair, sinking into the too-soft cushion, began to undo her tight braids, and used her fingers to comb out her hair.

  Was she really so naive that scaring her had been irresistible, like Sanicle said? Probably. And she still was stiff backed enough not to like the game he had played.

  The incident had already soured her morning, and the feelings that had welled inside her that moment on the rise fleetly sped from the grasp of her mind. She only knew there’d been a peace and a wonder . . . and . . . and maybe a love for the wilderness that called to something inside her that had never been touched before.

  Or that she’d only found in Jace’s arms, years ago.

  She liked this place and soon every day would bring a new discovery.

  But now relations with five people, including her own self, were smudged. Sanicle thought she was a snob because she’d been stiff with him after his joke. The woman he slept with, Funa Twinevine, saw her as a rival. Lepid was unhappy because Sanicle had interrupted his time together with Glyssa, showed her more of the wilderness. Though that was not Glyssa’s fault.

  Jace . . . had Jace’s feelings been hurt when he saw her hand on Sanicle’s arm, or only Jace’s pride?

  * * *

  The Healer Symphyta confirmed that Zem needed more weight, and sent Healing through him, but Jace knew it wasn’t enough.

  And as he walked back down the main thoroughfare, and approached Glyssa’s tent, he knew what he had to do. The solution to their problem had teased the back of his mind, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it. Hadn’t wanted to think he’d have to ask a favor from the woman whose help had made him angry before.

  But if anyone in camp had multiple no-time storage units, food or otherwise, it would be Glyssa Licorice who’d been outfitted by GreatLord Laev T’Hawthorn, with no expense spared.

  A no-time storage unit for Zem’s recently dead, not cold, maybe blood-yet-pulsing prey, would be a good answer for everything. Especially if Zem could access the unit himself.

  He angled toward Glyssa’s tent.

  We are going to see FamWoman? asked Zem, clicking his beak in a manner that Jace sensed was approval.

  “Yes. I think she can help us.”

  Of course. Zem shifted. From the corner of his eye, Jace could see the bird preening.

  The Elecampanes left her pavilion, nodding to him and went next door to their own tent. Jace got the idea they were communicating telepathically.

  He stopped outside Glyssa’s open door. Narrowing his eyes, he could see a strong spellshield, probably more than the one keeping insects out.

  That the camp was less secure than it had been, that he thought less of the people he worked with—someone had tainted all their reps—dimmed his spirit a little.

  “Greetyou, Glyssa Licorice,” he called.

  We are here! said Lepid, as enthusiastic a greeting as if the fox hadn’t just seen them.

  Glyssa moved from the side of the tent to the door, interest in her eyes, her brows lifted. “Greetyou.”

  She didn’t automatically move aside to welcome them in. That irked Jace, but he had to admit he deserved it.

  Greetyou, Glyssa, Zem said, angling his body a little so the one shaft of sunlight streaming through the clouds hit a beautiful outstretched wing.

  “You’re very beautiful today, Zem,” Glyssa said. So she’d understood Zem’s posturing, too.

  So are you.

  She smiled and her face plumped and softened and she was beautiful. More beautiful than she’d been after the whirlwind spell.

  “Come on in.” She whisked the spellshield aside with a gesture, and Jace walked through . . . and too close to her, because her fragrance wrapped around him and lust speared straight to his cock. He had to use a spell to diminish his reaction, and that was a damn shame.

  “I’ve got a special perch for you, Zem,” she said with another graceful gesture to a battered, wooden runged chair that Jace had seen before in someone else’s tent. No doubt she’d purchased the thing for Zem. Tenderness stirred in Jace, not just sexual attraction. Danger!

  “Thank you,” Jace said.

  Thank you, Zem sai
d.

  And I can sit on the seat when you sit on the top rung! Lepid said, hopping onto the woven seat that contained a jagged hole he didn’t seem to mind.

  “Zem is a top rung kind of bird. Top-of-the-pyramid,” Glyssa said. “Can I get you caff or tea?”

  The caff in the camp ranged from person to person, but in the dining tent Jace had just come from, it was great. Tea he didn’t get often and he knew Glyssa carried a selection provided by her friend, the mixer of tea. He’d taste something new. “Tea’s fine.” He settled Zem on the top of the chair, then glanced outside at the morning and the dark clouds gathering. When he looked back, she’d moved to the no-time food storage unit in the corner of the sitting room, the largish one he’d seen in her duffle when he’d helped her set up her pavilion.

  She brought out steaming, fragrant tea in a nice cobalt blue pottery mug, nothing too delicate for a man’s hand, and a platter of flatsweets that also appeared to be warm. A cocoa chip flatsweet looked melty.

  He sat in the chair she indicated, a nice plump cushion under his ass, so different than the other chairs in camp.

  Their fingers did not brush when she handed him the mug, offered the plate of flatsweets. He’d hurt her. He steeled himself against guilt, he had enough of that with Zem. And she’d irritated—hurt, something—him first by insinuating he couldn’t take care of his own problems. By wanting more from him than he wanted to give.

  Scared him with the upsurge of deep feelings he’d felt when he’d first seen her. Rushed to his defense, claiming a link with him that was all too true but one he’d wanted to deny, to himself as well as others. So he was immature. He never claimed to be a good man. He had his own honor, yes, but he didn’t consider himself kind or good. Well, better than his mother, but he had her blood in him.

  Glyssa would equate honoring your word with good.

  Lepid was whining for flatsweets again. She sent him a frown, then chose one with a raisin instead of a cocoa chip and broke it apart and gave a piece to her Fam.