“Uh.”
“And weary of operating on someone else’s schedule other than mine—ours.”
She pressed the key in its outline on the door; it vanished and the door swung inward. It opened into a tall-ceilinged entryway of green-veined white marble walls to their left and right that formed a short hallway to the turquoise pool. As promised, lattices covered with colorful and fragrant blooms separated the area from the rest of the baths, which lay mostly to the right. There came a low murmur of other voices to his ears.
They entered and the door shut and clicked locked behind them.
To the left elegant golden script on a polished reddwood door stated, “Lady’s Boudoir and Waterfall”; to the right, “Lord’s Salon and Waterfall.”
“Pretty.” Avellana approved.
Vinni grunted, still having trouble finding words, since he stood close enough to Avellana to catch her sweet-salt scent. Whether the remnants of the fight or the vision had tweaked his hormones—probably both—his mind fogged with desire.
Before he could grab her, she lifted to her toes and brushed a kiss on his mouth. “I will see you shortly in the pool.” She traipsed to the door and through it and he lost the opportunity.
He stepped into the elegant suite furnished for a nobleman but paid little attention to the ambience, translocating his thick robe from his personal locker in the standard public area. He’d keep his waterfall short because he wanted to spend more time with Avellana and fully experience the luxuries of the baths. And maybe he lied to himself. What he really wanted to do was pounce on his HeartMate and forget everything else—the attack at dawn, her moving to Multiplicity the next day . . .
• • •
The small marble boudoir impressed Avellana as a luxurious jewel of a suite. The dressing room held bespelled racks that would keep her clothes warm in the winter as well as smoothing the wrinkles from the garments. Within a scented cedar wardrobe hung a selection of robes from thick, soft fleece to a series of short gossamer negligees, no doubt intended to engender lust in a partner. Avellana studied those, thinking that she might purchase a few of that type herself for Muin.
For now, though, she stripped and took a light robe suitable for summer.
A separate sitting room held a large couch that also looked welcoming for a pair of lovers.
Even the toilet and the bidet appeared to be the latest in luxury.
She stood under a brief waterfall to cleanse herself and noted that three of the four walls contained staggered nozzles to give the bather a sensual experience.
As she exited the large stall, she caught a movement from the corner of her eye and pivoted. This time the blow aimed at her head took her on the shoulder. Pain radiated. She ignored it.
She spun as Muin had spun during the melee and her mind sent out a wordless shout to her love. They linked once again, giving her a physical edge. Her vision went to multiple images and she swallowed, controlled her own surprise and fear, and tried to clamp down the panic whooshing through her from Muin.
As she fought the internal war against their emotions, she let her body automatically hit and block blows. But the man fought better, grunted and took her strikes, then found an opening. Hard hands grabbed her. She thought she heard an underbreath mutter of “One, Save the Vines—”
He planned on teleporting them away.
No!
No! Muin roared mentally.
The man flinched. Avellana kicked again and again, struggled hard, then went limp and they fell off balance in the direction she hoped . . . close to a greeniron handrail along shallow steps to another door to the pool. She wriggled, wrenching her arms free to grip the bottom of the rail set in marble.
He could not teleport with her anchored to the rail. If he was powerful enough, he might be able to yank the rail from its mooring and bring it with them, but she believed he lacked such strength. In fact, she believed she could teleport him away.
The door slammed open, hitting the wall. “Avellana!” Muin yelled.
“I will get him, Muin, and teleport him to your tower! I am the stronger Flaired!” She released the rail, curled to sit, reaching for her assailant. His arm around her waist fell away and he jerked from her.
“No!” he cried hoarsely. “Fligger.” He vanished.
Muin slid to a stop, then sat down abruptly next to her as if his knees had weakened. “Lord and Lady, Avellana.” He put out a hand to stroke her and she realized her skin yet held some dampness from the waterfall and she was nude. Her assailant had not cared to assault her sexually, or not here in the baths; perhaps if he had taken her somewhere else . . . but she thought he seemed repulsed by her.
“Avellana!”
“Not again.” She stood and whispered a couplet to finish drying, then spellwords that removed the sting from the bruises sinking into her skin and muscles. “I am all right, Muin.” She tried a smile and thought it worked.
“Lady and Lord.” He rose in a single, smooth motion and gathered her close. She wrapped her arms around him, liking the feel of his robe.
“I am fine, Muin.”
His breath shuddered out from his chest against her. “Yes, I can feel that. Thank the Lady and Lord.”
“We can stand here as long as you want, Muin, but I suppose there will be more septhours with the guards.”
“I’m afraid so,” Muin said. “And this time I will call on the liaison between the FirstFamilies and the guards, too. He can investigate the case.”
Avellana said nothing but held on to Muin until their breathing and heart rates subsided to normal.
He huffed a breath and his mouth flattened. “The more I consider it, the more I believe Phae, the manager, steered us to this place on purpose.”
Avellana frowned. “I felt he was delighted to see me and wanted to please us.”
Muin tilted his head. “I have enough of a connection with him that I can speak with him telepathically.”
She allowed her surprise to show. “You do?”
His mouth turned wry. “The winters without you have been long, and I like company other than my Family . . . and I got into the habit of coming here after the melees.”
“Oh.” She blinked; perhaps he had been as sad as she during their time apart. Her anger at him continued to chip away.
Phae Thermarum, please respond, Muin snapped mentally, on a stream that included Avellana.
As he sent the communication, Avellana wrapped herself in a plush, nonrevealing robe.
“Let’s see if we can find him in the pool, the reception area, or his office.” Muin frowned. “I’m not sure we should run through the baths looking for him. We don’t want to hurt the business.”
“No.”
“Casual but swift efficiency.” Muin took her hand and they left the private pool. Though concern for the man she had met briefly and liked ladened her, a small portion of her regretted not frolicking with Muin in the pool and making love with him.
She copied her love’s casual manner as they hurried through the baths, the pool area, and the building. They ran across several other attendants at work but not the manager.
When they reached the office, she and Muin insisted the second-in-command unlock the door—they found signs of a struggle and smears of blood, and no Phae Thermarum.
• • •
A whole station’s worth of guards arrived, as well as the FirstFamily liaison who had already been briefed on the previous assault and everything else. Muin seemed to know the man, and she let him handle the questioning as she translocated another outfit from home and dressed.
Muin had also immediately notified the Thermarums, and the older GraceLady herself appeared to organize the questioning of the patrons and take charge of the baths.
No reports of the missing Phae surfaced, and none of the city death groves stated they had received his body.
Unfortunately, the chief tracker in the world was pursuing another criminal out of town.
This time, Avellana took a memory sphere and essentially relived her attack as well as explaining in her own words, and that sped up the questioning process. She also allowed herself to be put into a trance to relive the assault.
Naturally her parents and sister had shown up at the baths and supported her during the minor ordeal but had fussed much less than usual.
The guards released them all before midnight, with a perfunctory query as to whether she would like to be apprised in the future about this matter. Muin asked that, too, and while she appreciated being treated as a normal adult woman, she decided to focus on the more positive aspects of her life. She did agree to appointments later that day to pick up a protective amulet, which would have teleported her to a HealingHall as soon as she had been hurt, and personal armor, which would have prevented the blows in the first place, though it might not have stopped a person from teleporting with her.
She fell wearily into bed listening to her FamCat’s whining that he had missed all the fun since he had been hunting. Halfheartedly, she mumbled praise for a couple of rat corpses she saw from the corner of her eyes before she banished them, then relaxed and considered the pleasure of the next day at Multiplicity as she slid into sleep.
Nineteen
He hadn’t gotten his soak, though one of the bath Healers had banished the aches and pains left over from the melee, the inner tremors from his prophetic vision for Cal Marigold, and Vinni’s race to Avellana.
He’d returned to the Residence and didn’t feel like soaking in the large, rectangular pool in the waterfall room of his suite, so he teleported up to the new sunroom that would only fit two comfortably, him and Avellana. Always just two of them alone; any children he and his HeartMate had would stay on the nursery floor until they moved into their own suites.
Yes, he contemplated children. And the fact that he and Avellana had been prevented from perhaps making one tonight. An even more difficult loss of opportunity to accept than the bath meditation.
He walked to the southwest rim and the waist-high wall of the tower, thinning the dome to air. Though he could see the Varga Plateau, and the darker smudges of what he thought might be the section of rolling hills that would hold the town of Multiplicity, he didn’t know if the village would be visible without a telescope during the day. He’d get the best on the market.
At night, he might be able to see her lights. Just as if he walked to the north side of his tower he could see the wall and the lights of Druida City but not be able to distinguish D’Hazel Residence.
Resetting the dome so the lush tropical greenery wouldn’t suffer, he moved back to the lit stone-rimmed pool. He groaned as he slipped into the roiling and almost painfully hot water of the small tub—not quite the scent he liked as he hadn’t been able to duplicate that from the Thermarum Baths. The Vine ladies concocted their own recipes, supposedly good for easing the aftereffects of the Vine Flair.
His predecessor, D’Vine, had had some sort of floral perfumed salts he couldn’t abide.
He pressed the button for more of the tangy citrus scent, narrowed his eyes as the green-flecked liquid dumped into the tub.
He’d soak and see if the herbal waters and the minor Healing spells of his pool seemed to be as efficacious as the Thermarum Baths.
But though he sank up to his neck in water, his brain didn’t turn off. Edged thoughts cut into his peace.
First, Family matters. Though the FirstLevel Healer had examined G’Aunt Bifrona and reported her in good health, Vinni didn’t doubt that she would pass on soon. She wouldn’t be here by the New Year in the autumn. Another ache, this one in his heart. He would miss her, no matter how much she meddled and irritated. But he’d have to set up a smooth transition for the next lady of the household.
He caught his breath. Avellana. Stup! That aspect hadn’t struck him before.
The stringent steam rose and he went dizzy, more from the thought than the deep inhalation of potent herbs.
Surely this indicated destiny? That he should wed and HeartBond with Avellana as soon as she’d requested? The Lord and Lady, and perhaps Avellana’s personal spiritual Hopeful Journey, pointed to her becoming D’Vine soon.
Finally.
They’d been proceeding too damn slowly, more at their Families’ pace. And Vinni admitted he’d stretched the time out.
Had made love less than a handful of times.
Next Family problem—the faction of the Family who worked against them.
He must winnow out that bunch. Plot and plan and get rid of them somehow—to another estate, hell, to another continent if possible.
But not to Multiplicity.
He sensed when Avellana and Rhyz slipped into her bed in D’Hazel Residence, and he acknowledged that dream sex tonight would be most unlikely. Again.
Vinni had confirmed with Antenn Blackthorn-Moss that the architect would keep an eye out for Avellana in Multiplicity after Vinni delivered her when the builders gathered—a septhour before WorkBell.
In his head, the echoing snuffles of Rhyz reverberated, and Vinni sensed when both FamCat and Avellana slept.
With a murmur to reheat the water, and the release of additional scent and spells that brought forth, his mind finally quieted and he listened to the ripple of the liquid. He’d like birds in this tower-top paradise, too. He’d ask Avellana . . .
Come to bed, FamMan, I am lonely in this big suite, insisted Flora, and he teleported there.
• • •
Eyes watched her. She could feel them as she stood at the designated observation spot on the hilltop. The sun, Bel, lit the valley and she used the shooting rays of dawn to scrutinize the panorama, turning slowly in place.
Her business partner, Antenn Blackthorn-Moss, and his workers and subsidiary builders walked the pretty streets below. The craftspeople wended their way through the area where the first homes would be raised, too busy to pay any attention to her, finalizing each step of the process.
Rhyz FamCat prowled near the far end of the hill, tail flicking, alert, but apparently he saw no one watching her, either.
The people who set up the long tent behind her, the chairs and twoseats, tables and food no-times, had left a half septhour ago to cater a more important event in Druida City.
Studying the slope, she decided that, unlike the outcropping across the valley where she had been attacked, if someone pushed her here, she would simply roll gently down to the plain, perhaps picking up bruises from hidden rocks, but not suffer much damage.
The back of her neck prickled. Yes, someone watched her. As she narrowed her eyes, she saw that a . . . hawkcel? . . . flew a little oddly, like one of its wings had been damaged.
Several notions tumbled in her mind to form a conclusion. She had heard that the private investigator Garrett Primross used intelligent feral animals as informants. That man now handled the investigation of the assaults on her. She thought Muin considered Primross a friend. Did Primross spy on her with the hawkcel? For his own investigation or on Muin’s behalf?
Sending out a thought to the bird, she questioned, Do you watch me for Primross?
I look for a good place near good folk for a nest.
Oh . . . Yet before she could pursue further conversation, the bird headed back toward Druida City.
She would ask Muin about Primross. She supposed she should be thankful that her Family and lover had decided that Rhyz and Antenn were sufficient to watch her today instead of hiring a bodyguard. Of course she would be taking time out from the raising of Multiplicity to be fitted with the protective amulet from T’Ash and personal armor. She quashed the resentment that she would not be here to observe every detail of the construction of this first phase of the community.
Below, a multitude of calendar spheres popped into exist
ence, chiming and ringing and playing cheerful melodies, signaling WorkBell, the beginning of the business day.
Antenn, several of his staff, and a couple of subcontractors headed toward the town circle and stood near a neat tarp showing the ends of large rectangular timbers. Avellana had thought that the Community Center would be the last building erected that day, in the evening hours, but Antenn must have changed the schedule. She only hoped it wasn’t because of her.
He had prepared a challenging roster for the day. Two of the model houses would be erected, to entice buyers from those who would come to gawk at the construction. Four of his designed homes would be raised, one a tiny house.
Like her, and the other people who had already bought homes, new observers would comment on the originality of each dwelling and be impressed.
People would see a planned community built before their eyes. Druida City, too, had been a planned city, built by the colonists. The Earthan folk had anticipated that their descendants would fill the city in two generations. But buildings—homes and multi-unit dwellings and business fronts and warehouses—yet stood empty in the walled city.
Since then, Gael City and the villages had grown organically, depending on their type—like fishing or mountain towns or artist colonies.
This would be the first totally designed community by native Celtans on this continent, and pride washed through Avellana that she was a vital part of the project.
Rhyz trotted back, a dead mouse in his mouth that she only had to admire for a couple of seconds before he ate it.
And in that minute that her cat distracted her, she missed the very beginning of the erection of the Community Center in the middle of the town green circle.
Since that eight-sided stone building had inspired her own octagonal house, which would be raised later today, she had wanted to see the entire process.
A line of vehicles on the road caught her eye, led by several old Family gliders that would hold fifteen people, and a couple that appeared to be rented for grovestudy groups.
Heart Sight Page 19
