Heart Fortune (Celta)

by Robin D. Owens

  Jace took the cocoa chip flatsweet. She did, too, though the drink she chose was caff. She put the plate on the study table, sat across from him in another plush chair.

  They ate a couple of minutes without speaking, the only sound in the tent was Lepid’s crunching. She remained quiet well. Didn’t fidget as he wanted to do, though he couldn’t say the silence was uncomfortable—yet. He could still smell her, the whole pavilion reflected the scents of Glyssa, her natural body fragrance and the herbal lotions or whatever she used that pleased and suited her.

  But the more the quiet pressed around him, the more he thought of the other intimate time they spent in each other’s company not talking much. He loved the way she whimpered in her passion. He swallowed wrong and coughed, leaning forward.

  She leapt from her chair, placed a hand on his back and muttered, “Clear!” and flatsweet crumbs vanished from his airway. The heat from her hand, the shape of her fingers he could feel through his shirt, reminded him all too well of how those hands stroked him, aroused him, brought him pleasure—both in dreams and all-too-long-ago reality.

  Sitting up, he forced her to move away, and gulped down a slug of tea that tasted of mint and plants harvested beneath a hot sun, releasing dark flavor. “Thanks,” he said.

  “You’re welcome.” She grabbed her own caff with a hand shaky enough that she spilled a few drops on the carpet. She didn’t seem to notice.

  More crunching sounds came as she bit into her own flatsweet, though she didn’t look as if she was tasting it. Appeared like she was taking a short trip to the past, too.

  That gave him an ego boost. Enough that he didn’t choke again when he said, “I’ve come to ask for a favor.”

  Her eyes went dark brown with wariness. “What?”

  He grimaced. “I’m having a hard time keeping Zem fed. I can’t catch his prey for him, and he is having real trouble eating long-dead meat like furrabeast bites the cook stores.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think Zem—we—would do better if we had a no-time to store the prey Lepid and Carolinia kil—hunt for him.”

  “Carolinia?”

  “We made a deal.”

  “Ah.”

  Though he wanted to savor it more, he finished his tea, set the mug on the floor and leaned forward again, willing her to feel his need—his need for help with his Fam, nothing more. He was lying to himself, but now was not the time to consider that. “How many no-times do you have?”

  “Three.”

  “Three!” The exclamation—almost accusatory—escaped before he could stop it.

  She flushed. Beautifully, accenting her few freckles. Her spine stiffened and she sipped her cup of caff, staring at him with eyes cooler than her cheeks. When she lowered her mug, she said, “I did not pack all the no-times.”

  “Laev T’Hawthorn,” Jace said.

  “That’s right. There is a very small personal vault no-time for valuable items. Secondly, unbeknownst to me, he took a PublicLibrary book, papyrus, and document archival storage unit and had it fitted with a cutting-edge spellshield and no-time spell for records and vizes.” She waved to the new food and drink no-time in the corner of the tent. “And there is that.”

  “I see.” Well, he only saw the food one. The others must be in her bedroom.

  Glyssa stood. “You may have the food no-time. It would be the best for your purposes, anyway. It has an antigrav spell on it so we can move it to your tent.” It would take up a good deal of space in his tent.

  “You would like to set it so that Zem can open it, yes?” She moved over to Zem, who raised his head and blinked out of a nap.

  “Yes,” Jace said.

  “And you, too, of course.”

  “Yes.”

  Glyssa nodded briskly, walked over to the unit and gestured to him. “Come and I’ll key it for you.”

  He stood, then joined her.

  She swayed as if she’d step away, but she didn’t. Her turn to clear her throat. “I’ll key it to your Flair.” Taking his hand—had hers always been so soft and smooth? He nearly shuddered at her touch. Her first real touch since they’d parted all those years ago. He’d left her and the teeming Druida City and the best sex he’d ever had. A kernel of a notion—that he’d been a fool—lodged in the depths of his mind.

  She put his hand on the ident plate, said, “Jace Bayrum, authorized by Glyssa Licorice.”

  Light flashed and Jace’s hand warmed and tingled as the unit’s spellshields accepted him.

  Look, look what Zem and I can do! Lepid chortled.

  Glyssa withdrew her hand, did take a pace away from Jace, and looked at their Fams.

  Lepid stood on the seat of the chair. Zem transferred himself to the FamFox’s back, curled his right foot around Lepid’s collar. With a fluid movement that didn’t dislodge Zem, Lepid slid to the floor, glided toward them with a big foxy grin. We can go together! Lepid said.

  I can ride the fox, Zem added drily.

  “Wonderful!” Glyssa clapped. “What clever Fams!”

  “Yes,” Jace said. He lifted his Fam from Lepid to the top of the no-time. “We’ll key the machine to him, and it has capabilities for Fam use?”

  “Of course,” Glyssa said.

  “Of course,” Jace repeated with less enthusiasm.

  She grinned. “Laev doesn’t buy anything less than the best. It can get irritating sometimes.”

  “Not anything I’ve ever had to deal with,” Jace said gruffly.

  Her smile faded and she nodded.

  Jace concentrated on getting Zem situated on the ident plate. “Zem, HawkcelFam, authorized by Jace—” he stopped. “This won’t hurt him, will it? BirdFams aren’t common.”

  Glyssa hesitated. “I could send a mental query to Laev . . . wait, I have the instructions.”

  “Of course you do.” Jace smiled at her.

  She flashed a smile back that warmed him. They were negotiating this situation pretty damn well, not treading too much on tender feelings, not irritating each other—okay, that had been his problem, not hers, so he’d work on it. Probably.

  She hurried into the inner room of the tent—would he ever see her bedroom? Did he want to? Yes, but without strings attached, and Glyssa seemed to be made up of sticky threads that led to intimate links and connections.

  He heard a low chant of couplets . . . her archival cabinet, no doubt, better secured than the food no-time, though he’d bet it was older and less expensive.

  A minute later she came back, with a sheet of papyrus in her hand, her mouth turned down. “I have the specs for the no-time unit, and it states the power-energy-whatever that it sends during authorization, but I really don’t know how much that is, what it means.” She shook the papyrus as if it would answer her question.

  Naturally, Glyssa wouldn’t pay attention to the amount of Flair needed to access the units, or the amount it used to interact with people—or Fams. She probably never had to consider Flair limitations in her life.

  “Give it to me,” he said. He was good with his hands, and machines. He studied the amount, looked at Zem. The bird was Flaired, was an intelligent being. Probably could handle the Flair-energy voltage.

  Meeting his Fam’s eyes, Jace said, “Let’s try something first, all right?”

  Yes, FamMan. I love you, FamMan.

  “I love you, too, Zem.” Carefully Jace lifted the bird from the no-time, set him on the cushy arm of a chair. Spreading his feet, Jace gathered the exact amount of the Flair-energy charge that the no-time papyrus instructions indicated. “On three I will touch your—”

  Zem lifted and stretched out a claw. Jace nodded.

  This is SO interesting. Lepid hopped around. Zem will be able to open the food no-time! He cast a sad-eyed look at Glyssa. I was not allowed to open the food no-time.

  “I don’t trust you not to gorge,” Glyssa said, picking up the young fox. Which was good, because the animal was distracting . . . but her words soothed Jace, as if she could have k
eyed the unit to Lepid but chose not to. Zem definitely had the same or more Flair than the FoxFam.

  More confident, Jace smiled at Zem. The bird hunched less, feeling the assurance Jace sent through their bond.

  Again Jace felt the strength of the Flair he’d gathered. It was right. He touched Zem’s claw and released it.

  Zem’s beak clicked once. Tingles!

  Jace let out a breath. A couple of minutes later, Zem was authorized for the no-time and set on the floor to tap his beak against the sensitive spot that swung the door and various trays open for him.

  Lepid had been told to sit on Zem’s perch chair and not get down. That didn’t stop his whole body from wriggling.

  “We can change the bottom compartment to be the largest,” Glyssa said. “So it can hold . . . whatever it needs to hold for Zem, and be easily accessible.”

  Jace just stared at the stuffed no-time, the indicator of all the food and drink. Food for every meal. Food for snacks. Hot and cold drinks. Hot and cold food. Food for ritual meals. “It still reads full,” he said. There were furrabeast steaks stacked in there. His mouth watered. He turned his gaze to Glyssa and she pinkened again.

  “You’ve been here a little over an eightday and haven’t eaten anything.”

  “I’ve put out flatsweets and drinks!”

  He just stared.

  She crossed her arms. “All right. We’re savers, the Licorices. We save. Just in case.”

  He shook his head.

  So she flung open her arms, reddened more. “Eat, eat it all! I don’t care. Eat whatever you want.” But an odd expression passed over her face. “Eat it all,” she repeated more firmly.

  He was tempted, but he knew he wouldn’t be eating much in his tent. The odor of furrabeast steak coming from his place might cause a riot from his neighbors.

  “Better that everyone in camp thinks this thing is empty.” He rapped his knuckles on the no-time. It sounded full.

  She blinked, nodded. Oh, yeah, she was smart, she’d already figured out the ramifications. Moving toward him, she gestured him aside so she could rearrange the inside storage.

  “I guess there’s no way for you to put some of this in your other no-times.”

  Stopping, she sent him an appalled glance. “Put food in my document no-time!”

  “Guess not.”

  “Barbarian,” she muttered.

  He laughed. His stomach grumbled.

  Lots of things smell really good! Lepid said.

  It took her only a few minutes to reorder the food and change the menu readout. Then they all left her pavilion and paraded with the floating thing through the camp, Lepid broadcasting answers to any questions. When they reached Jace’s tent, Glyssa remained outside as he moved stuff around and fit the no-time in.

  “Thank you again,” Jace said.

  Carolinia and I will hunt now, Lepid said.

  The FamCat separated herself from the shadows. I can do that, for some special food from your new no-time.

  “Done,” Jace said.

  At that moment the announcement bell rang.

  Eighteen

  When they all gathered, the Elecampanes stood as a couple, as always, and Raz Cherry T’Elecampane remained stern, more usual since the “cursed” rumors started. Before then he’d been extremely easy with the staff.

  Jace realized now that he wasn’t the only one hurt by Raz’s cool demeanor. The man had charisma. People wanted to please him and his reserve made the encampment even less cheerful these last few days, especially with the cloudy and rainy weather.

  “I have news,” Raz said abruptly, addressing the quiet crowd—most of the crew—who’d gathered. He stood easily, legs spread, chin up, in a command pose no one would mistake. “The airship coming next week will be significantly larger than the recent transports. We are bringing in ten guards and another Healer. Del and I will be paying the guards a straight salary.”

  Which meant that the guards would be loyal to the Elecampanes. And no one, except maybe Glyssa, had enough gilt to suborn the guards.

  Raz glanced at Symphyta, who stood on the other side of Glyssa and next to him.

  “The pool for Symphyta has been successful and she’ll be getting new equipment. We will be subsidizing all three Healers, though, of course, each of them can choose their charges for members of this community.”

  Jace figured that Trago wouldn’t do any Fam Healing at all. He didn’t know about the new Healer . . .

  “Male or female Healer?” Symphyta called.

  A smile flashed across Raz Elecampane’s face and Jace instinctively relaxed and smiled himself. Raz dipped his head in Symphyta’s direction. “Male.”

  “Goody.” She grinned back.

  Trago snarled, stalked away. No doubt he’d undercut Symphyta’s prices. Not good, and not good for morale.

  “Trago, I would prefer you stay until we are finished,” Del D’Elecampane called.

  The man stiffened, turned back, and stood with an angry expression, arms crossed.

  Raz resumed. “Symphyta, your new tent is for two, but we don’t expect you to share unless you wish. It’s your tent.”

  “Yay!”

  “And we are replacing Funa’s.” He inclined his head to Funa . . . who’d been sleeping in several tents.

  “Also arriving will be two noble sisters.”

  The slight murmur that had arisen among the crew stopped as everyone focused their attention on Raz when he said, “With regard to the curse.”

  He swept a cool gaze over them all. “Chlora and Musca Comosum. Musca will test the breathable quality of the air inside Lugh’s Spear. Chlora can scan the ship for diseases.” Raz’s expression set into a cool mask. “GrandMistrys Glyssa Licorice has offered to house them in her tent during the time we anticipate the ladies being here. We ask those of you who stay to welcome them.”

  Those of you who stay!

  Del stepped forward. “You all know the offer we made when you signed on for this venture. Those of you who have their return trip paid for can leave. Those of you who have earned enough pay to return to Druida can also leave.”

  Jace calculated that that might be a quarter of the camp.

  Raz continued, “The airship going back to Druida can accommodate twenty-five people. Those with return credit will be served first. After that, we will fill the seats from a list. Contact Maxima immediately after this gathering.” He waved at Maxima, who held a clipboard.

  Silence seethed among the crew, everyone considering their options. People had stiffened with pride and offense that they would be considered cowardly enough to leave . . . or relaxed with relief that they could shake the camp dust off their boots and go back to Druida as soon as possible.

  Jace had straightened.

  So had Glyssa. That had him raising his brows, even as her own lowered . . . in self-examination?

  I am not ready to leave my nest, Zem said from Jace’s shoulder.

  Jace wondered where his bird had a nest. Jace reached up and stroked his Fam, told him equally privately, We will discuss this some time later.

  A pause, then Zem said, I will not leave my FamMan.

  Love welled within Jace. I will not let you pine for your home. Some of the people leaving would be those who were homesick—for the city or for the ocean.

  Del kept her hand in her HeartMate’s and cleared her throat. “Raz and I have not decided whether to keep the encampment open for the winter yet. If we do not, we will hire an airship as we have before, to return us all to Druida City before the new year in nearly two months. If we do decide to winter over, we anticipate buying component buildings for the camp—dormitories and common buildings. We would like your input on this decision.”

  More quiet and Jace felt the Elecampanes’ gaze on him as they scrutinized the crew. Raz said, “We are also ready to open this venture to shares. We have contracts ready in our pavilion. Those of you who want to invest, please see us after this announcement. When access to Lugh’s
Spear is opened again, we will be offering more shares in the venture in lieu of the bonus upon finding artifacts.”

  In unison, the Elecampanes said, “Each of you consider carefully what you wish to do.”

  Raz gestured around, toward the landing field, the communications tent, the rest of the camp. “Stay now or go. Determine whether you might wish to stay here in the winter and perhaps, found a permanent community here.”

  Glyssa’s wasn’t the only gasp.

  “. . . decide to invest in this project and our vision, or not,” Raz finished.

  When he ended, Del D’Elecampane waited a moment, then said, “That’s all.”

  People stood still, then noise erupted.

  Without really looking at him, as people clumped together and buzzed with news, Glyssa said, “About the Comosum ladies—”

  That was the least of the news Jace’s brain was zipping around.

  She said, “They are bringing something for you. I have been in communication with Gwydion Ash, the animal and Fam Healer. He has been very intrigued with Zem.”

  More annoyance lit inside Jace. He turned and stared at Glyssa’s slightly dipped carroty head and nearly equally red cheeks. “For an extensive report on Zem, he has provided some meals—” she coughed and winced—“newly killed rodents of several kinds, and, uh, smaller birds—for Zem. The Comosums are bringing them in a special no-time.”

  On Jace’s shoulder Zem puffed his feathers and snicked his beak in satisfaction. He leaned down and tugged a strand of Glyssa’s hair from her braid. Thank you, FamWoman.

  Now Glyssa met Jace’s eyes. “I love Zem, too. I am allowed to show that love.”

  Yes, yes, yes! Lepid bounced around them both. Good food for Zem. I love Zem, too.

  “Provided meals?” Jace kept his tone even.

  “In a no-time.” Glyssa pursed her lips. “We will switch out the no-times. The one the Ashes are sending is specifically calibrated and designed for Fams.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this a septhour ago?”

  She glanced around, people had separated into clumps. “Zem needs a good solution to his food problem now. And I like you in my tent.”