Heartmate (21 page)

T'Ash descended to the HouseHeart to prepare it for his Passage later. He stood outside the door and braced himself. The inner sanctuary always affected him—as it was meant to. Sometimes it excited, sometimes it soothed, sometimes he even felt an awful greatness hovered near.

It was the only place in all of Celta where he actually felt connected with his ancestors, those who had lived and fought for GreatHouse T'Ash before him. And it was where he was most aware of his duties and responsibilities to T'Ash traditions and his own descendants.

He shivered and placed both palms against the rough wood facing of the meter-thick stone door.

Here were the strongest spellshields, ancient and intricate, with a final layer cast by himself over the years. The spells had protected the chamber during the explosion and the fire. T'Ash had rebuilt around it, slightly changing the alignment of his new Residence to hide it even further.

Though T'Ash had suffered his last Passage at his then-new forge, for this out-of-cycle and critical Passage, he wanted to be surrounded by the essence of his GreatHouse—the HouseHeart.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke the low incantation that would reveal it to him.

The door inched open and a dim red glow brightened into soft yellow flames in the firepit. T'Ash entered.

He'd last been here a few months before, celebrating the annual founding ritual, alone as always. He smiled as he thought that this was the last time he would have to celebrate something alone.

He murmured a Word and the door swung closed behind him.

The chamber was six meters square, and most of the floor was covered with a painted World Tree. As a dedication to his murdered Family, he had laid a mosaic of semiprecious stones over the primitive Rainbow Serpent portion and grouted it with gold.

The Rainbow Serpent snaked up the trunk of the World Tree, imbued with Flair powerlines. On one side of the World Tree was the firepit, never extinguished, on the other, the ritual pool, wide enough and deep enough for T'Ash to bathe in. And in the farthest reaches of the World Tree's twigs stood the altar to the Lord and Lady.

The power of the room enveloped him, pulsing around and through him, a warm balm on his nerves. He closed his eyes and gave himself to the comfort. He did not know how long he stood, but when he opened his lashes once more, he felt renewed. The HouseHeart had given him precious strength and energy. His heart beat in the same rhythm as the small fire crackled, in the same tempo as the pool swirled.

He prepared for the coming night and his Passage, summoning a bedsponge pallet of permamoss and an old workbench that had once been his first altar. He teleported his best, most consecrated tools to the room, as well as the redgold he would use for his new HeartGift of earrings and marriage armbands.

Just as he left the room, he heard the deep reverberating gong of the GreatHouse, with an added note telling of a delivery.

When he reached the ResidenceDen, Zanth was already reclining on Danith's new bedroll, rumbling a deep purr.

“No. It is Danith's bedroll for her mainspace. If you recall,
someone
left the HeartGift necklace in the middle of her bedsponge. Danith won't touch it, and I don't dare. If
someone
wants to remove the HeartGift from her bedsponge, you could have that bedroll, as well as a furra hide post higher than the desk.”

Zanth raised his muzzle.
No. Me not like necklace.

“Your choice. But that bedroll goes. Now.”

Zanth sniffed, stood and leisurely stretched, sending his claws and scent into the pad, and stepped off the thing. He lifted his small nose in the air and pranced over to the leg of the desk to use it as a scratching post.
Bed not soft enough.

T'Ash narrowed his eyes. “True.” He closed his eyes to locate his cloak made of the softest llamawoolweave. He smiled. Another gift for Danith containing his emanations. The woman would have to surrender. He whisked the cloak from a closet and onto the pallet, then gently arranged it.

The gong rang again, this time at the entrance gate. T'Ash activated the viz holo. “Greetyou, Heir of the Hollys.”

“Greetyou. Merry meet.”

“Indeed. You have the vial and the ring?”

Holm nodded. “You the spellblade?”

T'Ash stepped back, and widened the view of the image so Holm could see the forest green enameled scabbard behind him, with the gold design of holly leaves carried onto the hilt of the weapon, and the smooth spiral-incised smoky quartz set in the pommel.

Holm grinned. “Can I 'port there?”

“Come.”

With a whoosh of displaced air, Holly joined T'Ash in the ResidenceDen. Holm strode to the main gauche. His hand hesitated over the hilt and he glanced at T'Ash.

T'Ash nodded. “It is attuned to your brother, but you can add a Family blessing and I will engage the circuitry of the spell.”

In one swift move Holm pulled the blade from the scabbard, flinching at the Flair. “Very powerful. I can feel the discipline and the protection. Good,” he said between gritted teeth. He inhaled deeply and chanted lowly. With a final word, energy snapped through the room and to the weapon.

Gingerly, T'Ash took the main gauche from the sweating Holm. He raised the long dagger straight overhead, tracing a pattern and speaking the last Word. Power coalesced from the air around him, through the blade, down his arm, and into the ground. Unheard vibrations resonated.

He sheathed the thing, placed it on the desk, then turned to Holm.

Holm pushed T'Ash off balance. Slammed him against the wall. Holly's brawny arm pressed against his windpipe, a sharp dagger pricked beneath his jaw.

Holm grinned ferally over the naked blade. Sparks of blue showed in his gray eyes. “Got you.”

Eight

Holm grinned wider. “You can't beat me. Not now.” His voice rasped unnaturally. “I am linked with T'Holly and T'Ivy. We are concerned about your mad venture to experience Passage once more, particularly since you are at the last reserves of your strength.”

T'Ash would have sworn Holm's bared-teeth smile swallowed up the whole room, until the man captured his glance. Everything began to slowly spin, somehow matching the strange, whirling flecks in Holm's eyes.

“That I could subdue you so easily shows how sapped your energy and reflexes are. So you will sleep. For a full sun-cycle, twenty-eight septhours. Sleep. Good thing you have a pallet in here.”

“Danith—” T'Ash whispered, but only that, he could not think past those odd lights in Holm's eyes.

Zanth yowled.
Me guard My FamMan. Now!

Darkness engulfed T'Ash.

 
Danith spent a rotten night trying to sleep on her too-
short divan in her underwear. She awoke late the following morning. Attempting to grab some clothes from her bedroom, she slammed the door shut mere seconds after opening it. The sensuality in the room had built to explosive levels. A wave of pure lust had instantly rushed through her.

She grumbled to herself. Then she grumbled to Pansy—Princess. And the name change was one more thing to add to her list of all the irritating items caused by T'Ash.

It was Ioho, the last day of the weekend, but tomorrow, Mor, was Discovery Day and she didn't have to work. Four days off in a row—the three weekend days and a paid holiday, quite nice.

Discovery Day was a major holiday because the colonial starships had gone astray after leaving Earth. The three starships of colonists had been desperate to find another habitable planet, and then they'd discovered Celta.

For Danith, getting such a long weekend off work was worth a murmured prayer of thanks.

She bathed, then pulled a few clothes from the cleanser, glad she hadn't transferred them to her closet. Still, she had worn the turquoise onesuit last week and would have preferred something different. Another item to add to T'Ash's account.

Something tinkled and fell on her foot. It was the string of beads and crystal that Zanth had delivered yesterday morning. She closed her eyes and leaned against the tiled bathroom wall, thinking about T'Ash's account. How in the names of the Lady and the Lord was she going to balance T'Ash's account?

He gave her a fortune in jewels and spoke of HeartMates, yet had the most minimal tender words for her. He'd given of his Flair, of his skill at Testing, of his influence with Holly to witness her Testing. He spoke also of desire and HeartGifts, yet revealed nothing of himself save he thought his Residence was ugly. She knew nothing of him except a few details of his past and that he accepted the outrageous idea that they were HeartMates without question. Incredible.

Nothing of him attracted her except the physical—and his craft. Surely that wasn't enough to build any sort of relationship? Let alone jumping immediately into being bonded as a HeartMate to him.

She shook her head. Impossible.

She knew everything about Claif, could anticipate nearly his every action, almost every thought he might consider. That was stability. That was security. Linking herself forever to a enigmatic, intense man who surprised her at every turn would be disturbing.

And just as she had been originally disappointed when she'd believed a seduction spell had imbued the necklace, now she felt equally depressed that T'Ash had not provided a bedroll for her. Of all things, she would have expected T'Ash to be a man of his word.

He had sent a Healer, a supercilious man in apprentice green, who had looked down a hooked nose at her address and efficiently but compassionlessly Healed her bruised muscle and skin. She had no trace of soreness in her shoulder. And the man hadn't mentioned payment, just whisked in, Healed her, and left as fast as his scrawny legs could take him.

The scrybowl pinged in the kitchen. She pushed back her hair and went to answer it. “Here.”

“GrandLady Danith D'Mallow?” a middle-aged, professional woman asked in a friendly tone.

“Miz,” Danith replied, as she had so often lately.

“I'm afraid not.” The woman smiled sympathetically. “Let me introduce myself. I'm Melissa of GrandHouse Balm, clerk of the NobleCouncil for the initiation of new nobles.” She glanced down at several papyrus. “Congratulations, you have been elevated to GrandHouse status. Do you wish to keep your Family name? We do have several other GrandHouse names that are available, perhaps Nepeta would suit—”

“It's the weekend—Ioho,” Danith said blankly.

GrandMistrys Balm laughed. “Some of us love our jobs. I must admit, it isn't as often as I'd like that we have someone move from common to GrandHouse nobility. I get excited.”

Danith couldn't prevent herself from smiling in return. She blinked, trying to process the information. “Ah, yes. I would like to keep my own Family name.” She lifted her chin. “It is quite common, but—”

“Very pleasant. Mallow.” Balm made a notation with her writestick. “GrandHouse Mallow. Hmmm. Yes.”

GrandHouse Mallow!
It echoed in Danith's head, started her heart beating faster. A Noble, she! Because of her Flair. She caught her breath, felt tears back up behind her eyes, and glanced around for a softleaf. How proud her parents would have been.

“Mallow. Now. You are designated as Head of your household?”

“I have no other Family.”

“D'Mallow then, head of the Mallow GrandHouse.” Balm's brown head bent, showing an even part as she ticked off several items and wrote a few words. She shuffled a papyrus or two. “The base NobleGilt for a GrandLady is 80,000 a year.”

Danith choked. It was four times what she made. Dizziness struck her. “Excuse me. I . . . I need some tea.” With shaking hands she poured water into a mug and placed it on the instanthot. A few seconds later she sank a basklette with her best tea in the cup. She watched as amber streamers spread throughout the hot water and the leaves steeped.

GrandMistrys Balm continued. “I will deposit the first quarter earnings in your bank account immediately come TwinMoonsday morning. Where do you bank?”

“Pennyroyal.”

“Hmmm. Very good. I've studied your Testing and agree with T'Ash's conclusion.” Her voice held an odd note and Danith looked up at the vized image once more. The woman stared at a fancy certificate with something bordering on awe. “Amazingly detailed Testing. His stones must be calibrated to an extent that I didn't know was possible. . . .” She shot a quizzical look at Danith.

“He is very good with stones, gems, jewels. . . .” Danith flopped a hand in what should have been a smooth gesture but didn't quite make it, she felt so overwhelmed. She pulled the basklette from her mug, added sweet, and gulped.