Hearts and Swords: Four Original Stories of Celta

by Robin D. Owens

  “Latif Heliotrope.”

  Again, that meant nothing. He didn’t even know what kind of Flair might be in that Family, what kind he might manifest. Because no one had bothered to tell him his true past, no one had prepared him, trusted him.

  “Please, leave.” His voice was slurring. He wanted to think. Or rest. Or escape into sleep.

  “We need to talk this out,” Pink ended grimly, lowered his heavy frame to Walker’s bedsponge.

  “No,” Walker repeated. “Leave, please.”

  “You’re too sick and upset,” his moth—Fen said.

  The men exchanged looks but didn’t move.

  Walker braced an arm against the wall to steady himself. “How do you expect me to be the head of the family if you don’t show me respect?”

  Was he making sense? He thought so, but his mind was so churned up, his body quivering inside, he didn’t know. Not that he wanted to be the head of the family, but they seemed to think it was important to talk about now. What he wanted to do was figure out his whole past.

  He waited as seconds of silence ticked by. He didn’t want them here, needed some place to be alone and safe. Anger and urgency poured through him. He took a step and dizziness grabbed him with swooping claws and everything went dark and his breath was sucked away as he teleported for the first time. He landed somewhere else with a thump, crashing into a wall.

  Two

  All Walker had wanted was to get away to someplace quiet. Maybe to think, but he wasn’t sure he was up to thinking rationally.

  He banged his head on wooden paneling, and they thunked, both head and wall, and he slid down onto a woven straw mat. He was in a childhood hidey-hole, still in the Clover Compound—row houses built around a block with an inner courtyard.

  Curling over himself, wishing he weren’t naked, he tried to ignore the fact that he’d teleported. The room was a small storage chamber on the short, southern end of the rectangle. This was the first room he’d “helped” finish as a youngster. He hadn’t been more than four years old, and proud to learn the wall-glazing spell, do his hand-sized patch.

  He rested his head on his knees, chest pushing in and out raggedly as he caught his breath from the exertion of instinctively teleporting. He remembered how Uncle Pink had taught him the glazing spell, his father had guided his hands, his mother had praised.

  Even then they’d known he wasn’t Fen’s child, had pretended he was. Had treated him as if he were just the same as every other Clover child.

  Which wouldn’t have mattered if they had continued to do that now. But the last week had changed his life, with his Passages and the dramatic increase in his Flair. And the revelation that the woman he’d thought was his mother wasn’t. He had a whole set of genes from some woman he didn’t know.

  He’d just teleported by himself, with no instruction. That demonstrated true Flair. Though it was dangerous as hell, and he hoped never again to do it spontaneously under stress. He could have killed himself or others.

  Yes, all was changed, and not in ways he could ever have anticipated. If he’d even imagined he’d had a chance at great Flair, noble Flair, he could have been more ready for the Passages that had buffeted him, and what his life might become.

  His previous comfortable life had been ripped from him. His place in the family was gone, as was his job. He was now the Head of the Household, responsible for matters in which he’d had little interest.

  Would Pink have handed over the reins of the family to Walker if he hadn’t gone through Passages, developed his Flair? No.

  But he’d seen the gleam of ambition in Pink’s eyes, how his uncle had rubbed his hands when he’d spoken of a noble title. Not only would Walker be responsible for the entire clan, but now everyone would have huge expectations of him.

  He felt the tugging of emotional bonds in the back of his mind: his father, moth—Fen, Pink. They were all worried about him. Something else he’d have to do—allay their fears.

  A knock came at the door. Walker sensed that his brother—his half brother—Barton stood in the hall. Barton was a trainer at The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon, and knew his status there, and in the family, and in the outside world. Barton was one of Fen’s real children. Walker was adrift.

  “Walker?” Barton called.

  “Is my standard fifteen minutes of brooding time over?”

  “Yeah,” Barton said.

  “Come in.”

  Barton opened the door and ordered, “Lights!”

  Spell lamps lit.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Everyone heard the shouts when you disappeared, even some mental ones. And this is where you always come to brood.”

  Walker grunted.

  Barton threw him a heavy bright green robe that had a sheen to the cloth. Walker caught it automatically. “What’s this?”

  “Your new lounging robe.” The corners of Barton’s mouth quirked up.

  Walker stared at it, appalled. Saw the embroidery on the chest, four four-leaf clovers, in eye-watering yellow green, stems meeting, arranged in a crosslike pattern. “Clover Coat of Arms?”

  “Uncle Pink commissioned it as soon as you finished your First Passage. He’s very proud of the color and design.” Barton coughed. A lot.

  Walker knew he wasn’t coughing; he was laughing.

  Then Barton straightened and leaned against the jamb, shook his head. “You look like you’ve been down to the Cave of the Dark Goddess and back.”

  “Feel like it, too.” Walker scrubbed his face. Bristles rasped against his palms. He met his brother’s—half brother’s—hell, brother’s eyes, the same blue as Fen’s. “Is my bedroom empty yet?”

  Barton stared past Walker. Walker’s flesh pebbled.

  “You know how Dad has been wanting you to move out of that room for a while?”

  Walker gritted his teeth. He already knew what was coming. “They put me somewhere else.”

  “The new luxury suite on the west side of the compound.”

  “I don’t like the west side.”

  “They’re not going to move you to the main suite on the east side. Security isn’t as good.” Barton shrugged, hooked his thumbs in his belt. This time he met Walker’s eyes. “They were wrong not to tell you about your birth mother.”

  “Doesn’t change a damn thing,” Walker said.

  “Nope. But we—everyone in our generation, your brothers and sisters and all the cuzes—are angry, too.”

  “When did you find out?” Walker snapped.

  Barton gave him a cool look. “Just a little before you did.”

  “Sorry.” Walker grunted, rubbed his face again. Maybe that would stimulate his brain, too. “How are the elders now?” He’d rather not talk to them. He was shivering from cold and reaction, so he put the damn robe on.

  “The elders are acting stupid, self-righteous, and guilty.”

  “The youngsters?”

  Barton smiled. “Fascinated and excited. Can’t wait ’til you become a noble lord.”

  Walker belted the robe. “Knowing Pink, he’s already made an appointment for my Flair testing to ascertain how strong my Flair is, and what kind I have.” The strength of Walker’s Flair would determine how far the family would rise in social status. Whether they’d be the third tier of the nobles, Grace, or the second tier, Grand.

  “Yeah,” Barton said. Tapping his wrist timer, he continued, “You have about fifty minutes to clean up. You can use my rooms.”

  “Hell, I don’t—” Walker stopped. Nothing would be accomplished by cursing or fighting.

  “Don’t know what you’re doing? You know what my employers, the Hollys say,” Barton reminded.

  Walker had spent a few years training with them. “Same as T’Ash,” Walker said, speaking of his own employer. Ex-employer. Hell. Nothing was the same. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, pretend you do until you figure it out.”

  “Right.”

  “I hope the family
gives me some time to adjust.”

  Barton hooted with laughter. “Every living soul is in the courtyard waiting to see you off. Cuz Mitchella has a glider to take you, and is staying to prepare for the big party tonight. The whole Family has risen to the nobility. You’re just the one with the title. We’re all nobles now. Not just you.”

  “Glad to be of service,” Walker mumbled. He groaned when he took a step.

  With a shake of his head, Barton closed his hand around Walker’s bicep, steadying him as he wobbled when they left the room and walked along the southern corridor and down a flight to Barton’s rooms.

  Once there, Barton pushed him toward his waterfall room. “Go soak your head under a waterfall.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  Walker stood under a hot waterfall for a long time, and when he came out, Barton handed Walker his silkeen loincloth and best tunic and trous suit of beige raw silkeen. Walker eyed it, stared at Barton. “I’m going to T’Ash’s for testing. The Ashes have seen me every workday for the last six years. Good clothes aren’t going to impress them.”

  “The elders insisted. You’re representing the Family now.”

  Walker’s jaw worked. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  Barton punched him on the shoulder, and Walker had to settle into his balance not to go down. “Too bad that life took a hard curve for you.”

  Barton’s smile flashed. “Glad it’s you and not me. I like my life just fine. Here.” Barton handed him a tube of green liquid. “Restorative. The Healer left it, guaranteed to perk you up physically and Flair-wise.”

  The drink didn’t taste too bad. “Thanks for the clothes, too. Now can you get me out of here and to the glider without seeing anyone?”

  “Mom and Dad are worried.”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t talk to them during my waterfall.”

  Another shrug from Barton. “Sure.”

  Walker stared at his younger brother, spoke softly. “I can deal with testing, or I can talk to them about the past, or I can talk to Pink about the future. One option—one skirmish only—today. Particularly since I have to move to new quarters.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “Damn right. I’m being forced down a path not of my choosing. That wasn’t what we were told or taught as children. We were supposed to be able to choose our own goals.”

  Barton cleared his throat. “Everyone in the Family has always been strong on fulfilling potential.”

  “And I’m no longer just one of the Clover boys. Now I have Flair and my potential has suddenly gone up. I can fulfill Pink’s ambitions for the Family. I understand that. But while the elders have had twenty-seven years to contemplate such an event, I’ve had about a septhour.”

  Crossing to a no-time food and drink storage unit, Barton opened it, sent a tube of ale sailing toward Walker. He caught it, squeezed open the top, hesitated.

  “Healer said ale wouldn’t hurt with the mixture,” Barton said.

  “Thanks.”

  “And I can get you to the glider without meeting the folks.”

  “Good.”

  “Probably easier on you to go to the Ashes than dealing with the rest of us.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I’m not angry at any Ash.”

  Walker’s former employer, Great Lord T’Ash of the First Families— people descended from the original Earth Colonists—met him at the front door of his Residence, with a wide grin on his face. He gave Walker a strong arm clasp. “I heard that my son triggered Passage in you. That you survived three in one night.” He shook his head. “That’s tough.”

  “How is Nuin?”

  “Good.” T’Ash smiled as he scanned Walker top to toe. “Better than you look.”

  “Thanks.”

  “’Welcome.”

  T’Ash’s wife and HeartMate, Danith D’Ash, pushed by the GreatLord and hugged Walker. “Three Passages at once can be difficult.” She stepped back, studying his face. “I was like you, without obvious Flair, and I suffered all Passages at once. If you need to talk with me, I’m here for you, Walker. Always.”

  The nape of Walker’s neck heated. T’Ash scowled. “Thank you,” Walker said in a tone that he hoped conveyed to her that he appreciated her offer but wouldn’t take her up on it.

  Since T’Ash’s expression cleared and D’Ash’s clouded, he thought he’d gotten his tone right.

  She shook her head. “You could always do that.”

  “What?” Walker asked.

  “Convey a load of meaning in a few words. Make T’Ash feel better but not insult me.”

  T’Ash frowned at her.

  “Must be part of your Flair,” D’Ash continued. “You could usually manage Nuin, the other children, and us, too.” D’Ash nodded. “Yes, part of your Flair.”

  T’Ash stared at Walker.

  Walker said, “I thought it was skills I developed.” He cleared his throat. “Can we get on with the testing?”

  “Yes, it’s cold out here,” Danith and T’Ash moved aside.

  Walker entered and nodded to the butler, who was hovering—a man he’d worked with for six years. Then Walker strode into T’Ash’s den.

  T’Ash caught up with him in a few long paces and Danith D’Ash rushed.

  “We’ll learn what Flair you have during your testing,” T’Ash said. He shooed his HeartMate.

  D’Ash didn’t move. “Walker might like me to stay.”

  “Thank you, Danith, no,” Walker said. “I am nervous enough as it is.” He gave T’Ash a man-to-man look.

  T’Ash said to Danith, “We’ll tell you the outcome as soon as testing is done.” He glanced at Walker. “I made a deal with her to keep her out of the way—unless you specifically asked her to stay.”

  “Good deal,” Walker said, but now Danith was frowning. He bowed to her. “Thank you for the offer.”

  “You’ve always been one of my favorite people,” she said.

  “Later, Danith.” T’Ash gave her a lusty kiss. Walker studied the den. Except for his original interview to be Nuin’s tutor/wrangler, he hadn’t ever been in the famous room that held the best Flair Testing Stones in the world.

  The room itself was octagonal, with a lush carpet in the bold colors that the Ashes favored. The desk was huge and battered, with the most disgusting cat perch he’d ever seen next to it.

  As if his thought had conjured up T’Ash’s Fam, the cat swaggered through the cat door.

  Greetyou, Walk, said Zanth.

  “Greetyou, Zanth. I note you have a new emerald stud for your ear. Looks great.”

  Zanth always expected everyone to notice anything new with regard to his person, and if you didn’t, it was the worse for you: a shredded shoe, a nice trous-rub—after Zanth had killed a sewer rat—that would ruin your clothes...

  Thank you. With one bound Zanth landed on his perch. It didn’t even wobble under the weight of the huge cat.

  The Ashes broke apart and said their good-byes, something Walker had heard for years. A pang went through him that his time with this Family was lost. The job and life he’d loved had vanished forever, and not by his choice.

  He ripped his glance from the couple and sat in the large chair with wide wooden arms.

  Zanth folded his front paws under himself and watched Walker through squinty eyes, roughly purring. Each of his tattered ears had an emerald stud, and he wore his famous collar of emeralds.

  Walker smiled at the cat slowly, knowing that he could tease Zanth without repercussions. Walker said, “It occurs to me that if I now have enough Flair to become a noble, Danith might give me a Fam.”

  Zanth stopped purring, opened his eyes.

  T’Ash grunted as he went to a cabinet and unlocked it. “Probably get your pick of whoever is in the Fam adoption rooms.” The GreatLord pulled out a large, ornate box about a meter long and three-quarters of a meter wide. Inside were T’Ash’s Testing Stones; sweat dampened Walker’s armpits. Thankfully his tunic h
ad spells that absorbed and dissipated sweat. Worth every piece of gilt he’d paid for it.

  Still aiming his glance at Zanth, Walker said, “I’m sure there are some very attractive cats in the adoption rooms.” He cocked his head, kept his smile bland. “On the other hand, I haven’t had a great deal of luck with cats. I may prefer a fox...or a dog. Something very loving.”

  Zanth hissed.

  “Quiet, Zanth,” T’Ash said absently as he set the box on the arms of Walker’s chair, then removed the lid.

  Walker’s breath hitched in his throat. The Testing Stones were beautiful! Polished egglike rocks of every color, some with glinting sparkles, some dull. He glanced up and found T’Ash grinning.

  “Always nice to impress someone I respect,” the GreatLord said.

  “Yes, I’m impressed, and thanks.”

  The GreatLord leaned against the front of his desk. He nodded to the stones. “If matters proceed as I expect, I’ll be the first to offer you Clovers an alliance.”

  Walker jerked back as if slammed into his chair. He’d never considered that. Being part of the web of alliances between some of the most important people in the world.

  “You will be the head of your Family, of course,” T’Ash said, with the exact assumption that Pink must have anticipated. Of course any noble with great Flair would want to deal with someone also with Flair.

  Ears ringing, Walker gathered his wits. He hadn’t thought things through about alliances. The Clovers already had ties with the FirstFamilies since his cuz had married into them...but still, formal alliances of support were vital.

  Nobles still settled some problems with feuds, which meant lives were at stake. The burden on his back got heavier and heavier. He drew in deep breaths. Binding ropes seemed to have wrapped around him, constricting his chest and lungs.

  His becoming noble raised the status of his entire family—Family with a capital F. None of the Clovers had ever spoken of Family with a capital, as an organized community that was lasting until...well, forever, if Walker had anything to say about it. But once they became noble, they’d be a Family indeed.