Heart 16 - Script of the Heart

by Robin D. Owens

  "No." Giniana sighed the word out. The Healers had learned long ago that it was easiest on everyone not to pour energy into Healing this particular virus. Such Healing demanded Flair reserves Giniana didn't have, and would wring the strength from the patient, too. Best if he'd simply gone to bed when he realized he'd picked up the bug, but of course he hadn't done that. Few people did.

  The warmth of the sun, the quiet around them, seemed emphasized by a cheerful hum of bees tending the flowers, full of vitality when she, like this man, felt exhausted.

  She sat back on her heels. The man had fallen into an uneasy sleep. She could teleport him to AllClass HealingHall, strain their always limited resources. But, as a threat, he didn't appear great. And he wouldn't be going anywhere soon, particularly without her help. He'd be lucky to get out of bed to move to a toilet and relieve himself.

  She studied Thrisca. The Fam felt livelier than usual, her ears rotated with curiosity. Perhaps giving Thrisca a duty would help. That had never been true in the past, because Thrisca embodied cat disdain, but the situation had changed since spring and the Fam's unHealable malady.

  Meeting her cat's yellow eyes, Giniana sent telepathically, You must guard the Spindles against this man.

  Thrisca snorted, extended her claws on her left forepaw and groomed them. As if Residence wouldn't stop man, or house guards arrest him.

  Giniana replied mentally, Right now I don't know whether the Residence or the guards know this man is still on the estate.

  A studied stare over her shoulder and no response from Thrisca.

  Speaking aloud, Giniana said, "All right, I'll call the Spindle guards and have him taken to AllClass HealingHall."

  After a huffing snort, Thrisca said, I will watch him. All the time. She opened her mouth, tongue curling in the extra smell-taste sense cats had, sniffed, then lifted the top of her muzzle to show fangs in a predator's grin. He is hiding a secret. Perhaps more than one, Thrisca finished with perky glee, sinking her claws into the papyrus and leaving little holes. I like to find out secrets.

  Yes, this guy would be a play toy for Thrisca. Ah, well, it would do no harm to nurse the man until he recovered enough to stand up a few septhours on his own, since Thrisca would keep him under her scrutiny.

  Giniana believed the cat would, because if Thrisca didn't, Giniana would teleport the guy out of the estate and into the HealingHall as soon as she recovered her energy, and Thrisca knew that.

  Against her best judgment, but under the supervision of her purring FamCat, Giniana settled the man in a small lean-to attached to the back of her cottage. Since she'd fitted it up as an emergency sickroom that her trainers always stated every Healer should have, the tiny space did contain a toilet cubicle with sink and extremely basic waterfall, a no-time for food and drink, and a bed.

  I will keep track of him, Thrisca assured Giniana.

  She had no doubt of that, but since the whole thing seemed to liven up her Fam, Giniana let it go. She'd inform the Residence, at least, of the situation next time she was there. Right now, fatigue pressed upon her.

  Once inside her own cottage—and alone for the first time in days, a luxury she'd appreciate for as long as it lasted—she saw an alert of bright yellow air swirling above her old-fashioned scrybowl—indicating a message in her cache. Her personal scry pebble in her trous pocket emitted no sound, so the person calling her only knew her scry image here at the Spindles.

  She crossed to the kitchen counter and touched the rim of the bowl. Immediately star-shaped yellow St. Johnswort blossoms fluttered down, revealing the hard-planed virile face of the man. She could have sworn her heart skipped a beat or two.

  CHAPTER 5

  IN HIS SCRY MESSAGE, Klay St. Johnswort didn't look like an actor, not incredibly handsome and carrying smooth charm … like Raz Cherry whom she'd treated.

  No, this determined man emanated sheer male magnetism. That had attracted her from the start. Realizing she'd swallowed at the sight of his crooked smile and intent eyes and stared at the image for long seconds instead of listening to his message, she finally touched the bowl again. "Play."

  "Greetyou FirstLevel Healer," nice that he acknowledged the mastery of her craft at the same level of his own. That he started with respect. "Giniana Filix," his deep voice seemed to caress her first name and that caused unexpected tingles to shiver through her, too, mesmerizing her.

  "I've left a pass for you to view Firewalker at any time from this evening to the final performance at the end of the month." A corner of his mouth lifted wryly. "I'm sorry I can't offer you tickets after that. As you may have heard, the play is closing at that time." He shrugged, accepting the vagaries of his career.

  The uncertainty and risk of such a profession would have driven Giniana mad. She shuddered. Perhaps she would have given up and given in and found others to support her, like her mother had done.

  No. Giniana would always fight. Healers did. They fought for their patients, they battled disease and sterility and all the other ills that plagued the descendants of the Earthan colonists and kept the Celtan population too low.

  Healers knew that humans still held only a slippery grasp on complete survival on the planet.

  She tuned back into the message as Johns's voice stroked her again when he said her name. "Giniana, I'll be glad if you would come backstage after the show, and…." His eyelids lowered until his gaze glittered with sensuality, "I'd be delighted to treat you to dinner and any other entertainment after the play."

  A breath whooshed from her, and before she could consciously stop them, her fingers initiated the replay spell.

  After the third repetition, the dazzle diminished and she decided to watch the whole thing once more to study his manner. She'd grown up with actors, her parents and their friends. They'd rarely been "off," always performing.

  But she didn't think St. Johnswort, Johns, did. She blinked at the thought. Oh, she'd seen him studying Raz Cherry, and T'Spindle, and some of the society people milling around the terrace before she'd Healed Raz and Johns himself. Observing people with those keen actor eyes, but he hadn't done much playacting then. Perhaps the adrenaline running through him had edged his manner even more, eroded his actor training to reveal the man.

  Raz Cherry, hurt worse than Johns, had kept that easy charm, that surface actor skin during the time she'd spent with them and T'Spindle. As far as she could recall, Johns hadn't.

  Nor did it seem like he acted in this simple scry.

  He'd been himself and allowed her to see himself.

  Also a sign of respect.

  On the scry he blinked and his expression turned bland, his gaze opaque. "I will leave two passes for you, should you care to bring a gallant or a friend."

  He'd let her bring a lover, even though they both knew he wanted to act on the allure between them. He wanted to be her gallant, squire her around … take her to bed. And, yes, every time she thought of that her pulse jumped. She was a medical professional, she knew heart thumping when she felt it.

  That final offer, which cost him since he made it while behind a mask, also spoke of respect.

  This time when he signed off, she let the scrybowl stay dark.

  The whole message spoke of interest, and respect. She wasn't used to respect in acting circles. She always thought they used and manipulated people as much as they could, and believed others weak for allowing that. When thinking of those parties of her parents', her ears rang with the sharp insincerity of laughter, of derision her parents and their actor friends held for others.

  And her parents had used her mother's Healing Family for as long as they could, until they totally wrecked that relationship for themselves and Giniana herself. Not that her parents had cared.

  Giniana cared about people, and from the small interaction she'd had with Johns, he did, too.

  Perhaps.

  Perhaps she should give him a chance.

  But not now. She had other priorities now. She had to work herself thin to aff
ord Thrisca's treatment. She and Johns would both see if he'd still be interested in her or would have moved on, after the time treatment to Heal Thrisca.

  An emptiness left by flattened hope filled her, and she ignored it as she mentally checked one last time on Thrisca lying in the sun near the lean-to. Then Giniana went to bed and embraced sleep.

  Johns finished dressing in a good, professional tunic and trous. Classic cut and fashion, like his glider would be, if Raz Cherry came through on his offer to sell one to Johns at cost. Johns sure didn't plan on reminding his friend and sometime rival of that, let alone nagging the man.

  Just as well if Raz forgot the issue, Johns shouldn't be spending gilt on a large expense at this point anyway. And the pang of regret that he might lose the vehicle sunk him into more gloom.

  Didn't help that his sitting room scrybowl had pinged that Giniana Filix had picked up his message in her cache, and his own offer of the monthly pass, but she didn't scry him back. Tried not to let that fact prick his pride, ego, or any deeper self.

  Time to hit the Theatrical Guild to show his confidence to his peers, confirm his freedom from employment at the end of the month, and make sure his name was on the hiring lists for certain. He trusted his agent, Chatt, but best to be proactive.

  He wouldn't let the once-again-clouding-over morning smudge his spirits any further.

  His scry pebble clanged the standard ring and he grabbed it from his pocket, answered it. Then saw Lily Fescue's face staring out at him—the lovely blond actor who played the leading lady role opposite Raz Cherry in their very successful show. Johns recalled that Raz had told him the night before that she had gotten the elusive script from the playwright genius, Amberose.

  Interesting.

  She simpered at him. She thought the heavy-lidded gaze and slight curve of lips looked sexy. He didn't, and he did that expression better, too.

  "Greetyou, Lily." He stayed courteous. No use irritating anyone who might help him in the slightest, especially a notoriously touchy person like Lily who believed he liked her. He thought her a good actress, at the moment. As far as he was concerned, she didn't hone her skills enough, didn't train with others, but depended on her natural talent and passion which wasn't enough to see her through to a strong career.

  Wasn't enough to sustain anyone's acting career.

  "Johns?" she asked, pouting.

  "Here."

  A mock sympathetic expression dropped onto her face. "I understand if you've gone into brood mode, since Firewalker is closing." She paused delicately, then said, "I saw you at the party last night to celebrate the run of my play."

  All right, that irritated him. "Yeah." He'd danced with her, hadn't he? Yeah, done that duty. Checkmark.

  Lily looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I saw you talking with BW." A small cough. "I've tried and tried scrying BW this morning." Her lips pursed, showing irritated vertical lines that would age her faster if she didn't watch out.

  "Who?" he asked.

  "BW, Blakely Wattle, the playwright Amberose's representative."

  "Oh, yeah." Lily called the guy BW. Didn't take Johns's sharpening senses to understand Lily had a closer connection with the man than anyone else he'd talked to recently.

  "Last night, BW said that he'd scry you more about the script, has he?" Lily pressed.

  "Yeah, but I didn't like his attitude."

  Lily rolled her eyes. "Oh, Johns."

  "Tried to shake me down for gilt. I should pay him to get a part in that play, as well as pay my agent. Told me a string of lies."

  Now she widened her eyes. "But, Johns, Amberose wrote the main hero part for you!"

  His heart gave a huge thump, but he kept his expression bland, sighed inwardly that he had to act for this woman, this colleague, but he didn't trust her. "Yeah? He told you so?"

  "Yes, but more. I had the script. I read the script. The main part, the heroine's, was obviously meant for me, but the description of the hero matched you." Her face scanned what she could see of him, his head and torso, lingered on his shoulders and chest. "Big guy with a honed build, rugged good looks, dark hair, gray-blue eyes, tough alpha manner, that's you."

  "If you say so."

  "I do. Just like the secondary lead was for Raz Cherry."

  "Is that so?"

  "Yes, there's a part for Raz, too." But she flicked that aside with a finger motion.

  "Yeah?' Johns scowled, played a little dumb for more clarification. "What kind of role?"

  "Two couples," she explained briefly. "But our characters and our relationship is the primary one."

  He'd be working opposite her. Just great. He managed to dredge up a slight curve of lips as if pleased.

  Lilly continued, "I recognized who Amberose meant to play my character, and yours, and Raz's. I don't know who she might have intended for Raz's love interest." Another flick of the hand. "But that doesn't really matter."

  She didn't recognize the secondary female lead because she didn't pay attention to other women in her profession unless they directly competed with her. Another flaw in her own character, ignoring her female peers.

  Clearing her throat, Lily glanced aside, then back at him, nervous for some reason. "BW didn't mention giving you the script, did he? What of the pages, do you have them?"

  Why she seemed secretive, Johns didn't know. He stood alone in his family home—and Lily knew he lived in single solitude—and she appeared to be by herself in her upscale townhouse. But Lily had to be dramatic. He really regretted that brief fling with her years ago, a mistake.

  Johns said, "Of course he didn't give me pages." He let her see a small frown. "Raz Cherry told me you had the script." And everyone knew the theater where she and Raz worked had been burgled. Johns had gotten the idea that most, if not all, of Amberose's newest play had been stolen from Lily's dressing room.

  Lily put her face far too close to her scry pebble and said, "BW told me when he loaned me the play that it was the only copy Amberose allowed him to have!"

  Ah, so the agent had lied that morning. And Lily had lost the script, typical of her indifference to anything but the absolute now. A couple of her pores showed the dampness of sweat.

  Johns grunted.

  "Don't you do that to me!" Lily snapped, aimed a too-sharp-pointed fingernail at him. "Answer me in words, dammit, Johns!"

  "Tough luck the script's gone."

  "Johns!"

  Well, what had she wanted him to say? "T'Spindle is involved in going after the thieves, now. He'll get action. Pretty sure that when Amberose hears that Wattle lost the script she'll yank her representation from him, maybe he won't tell the woman that you had her play when it disappeared."

  Lily’s hands fisted. "I want that role, dammit."

  Johns didn't see her getting it now, fine by him.

  She stalked back and forth, diminishing and enlarging in her scrybowl. "I hoped BW had more than one copy," she muttered. "Too bad he's the only one who has the play."

  "You mean the only one who did," Johns said sardonically. "Sure sounds like the thieves that hit your theater and T'Spindle's last night got it."

  "They can't believe it's worth much!" Lily protested.

  Johns shrugged. "Who knows? Amberose has a huge name and rep in theatrical circles. One copy of a new play by her when she hasn't written one in a decade might command a lot of gilt." He contemplated it. "A lot. Depends on the thieves, and what they know, doesn't it? Whether they were only after jewelry and money."

  Lily puffed out a breath. "I wrote down what I could best remember, my part." She glittered a smile at him. "And interactions with you."

  Lady and Lord help him, seemed all his interactions with Lily, on and off the stage, would be acting. He raised a brow in bored interest. He didn't want her to know how he'd pounce on such a role. She'd use him if she could. "Yeah, you wrote down lines?" Then he rolled an offhand shoulder. She wouldn't have gotten the language right, for sure, the rhythm. Maybe for her par
t, a bit of his … but it might be interesting to get a glimpse and a gist.

  A few breaths from heaving overblown breasts that caught his eye as a guy, but he didn't admire, then she'd found her sultry tone again. "I'll definitely show what I've got to you."

  That yanked his gaze up to her face, her sharp eyes and pouty lips.

  "Your memories of the script? Not sure it's worth it. Gone now, and when Amberose hears about the theft, gone for a good long time. Won't help me since the production won't be up and running soon." He stated the worst case scenario.

  "Meet me for breakfast at the Thespian Club." Her tone went from breathy to brisk. She glanced at her jeweled wrist timer. "I know it's slightly early for most of us working actors, but you're up and I'm up."

  And he'd already had three scries and made one. How did regular people handle mornings?

  "Can't meet you," he said.

  "Why?" Lily whined.

  "Because I'm due to teach at Moores House for Lady-Blessed Children," he fibbed. That standing appointment was early afternoon, tomorrow. "I have the teaching, then rehearsal and the show." He wanted to go to the Theatrical' Guild. He'd have to watch the timing, because Lily would hear when he'd shown up and he wouldn't be caught in a lie. So he'd wait a septhour or so. She would believe that he'd only give a few minutes to the children, do a drop-by.

  Lily's already dissatisfied mouth turned down. "Are you still doing that gig the Thespian Club sponsored last new year for publicity?" She flicked fingers. "No one’s reporting on it now. It's old news."

  He let his tough guy persona come to the front, said coolly enough, "I like working with the children."

  "They're ... slow."

  "They're great. They welcome every moment. I find it fulfilling when I teach and some become better seated in their bodies."

  She made a moue. "You're lucky they remember you from one session to the next. They didn't me."