Heart Duel (40 page)

The next day Holm paced around GreatCircle Temple.
Lark had returned the rose and his calligraphy he'd sent last night.

Straif Blackthorn had kept pace with Holm for a while, then went to the atrium to act as Doorkeeper.

The three FirstLevel Healers of Druida—T'Heather, HeatherHeir Ur, and Mayblossom Larkspur Collinson—along with T'Holly, were supervising the transfer of D'Holly from
Nuada's Sword
to the Temple. Tinne and his wife had gone along to check on the development of his new kidney in the Ship's vats. Holm patted his sides, glad he had both kidneys. Tinne had shown an unwholesome fascination with the progress of his new kidney's growth. Holm had the sneaking suspicion that Tinne
talked
to it, encouraging it to mature.

Holm himself was frustrated to the limits of his small store of patience. As usual these nights, he'd sleep-ported. Meserv had been dragged along and was vociferous in his disapproval of having to
walk
out of the Great Labyrinth. He'd sat on Holm's shoulder and complained every step—until he'd insulted Holm by falling asleep while
Holm
walked out—and snored in Holm's ear.

The nightporting had been a minor anxiety, but the trip out had let him brood about Lark. T'Ash had scried to mutter dark hints she'd been through an ordeal, but Holm couldn't get any meaningful details from his friend.

The entire night had set his nerves winding into a spring of tension under a sliver of control.

The rising babble of voices pulled Holm from his dour thoughts, and he stopped pacing to scan the crowd. A Healing Ritual was considered outside all alliances, so T'Hawthorn's allies were attending. All FirstFamilies Heads and their consorts except T'Hawthorn were there, and some Noble Council Grand-Lords and Ladies and GraceLords and Ladies.

T'Ash and D'Ash stood with their Fam Zanth in the middle of a knot of Holly's staunchest supporters. Meserv sat behind D'Ash's gown, peeking out at his sire, then at the door awaiting his twin Phyll.

The one who caught and held Holm's attention was the young prophet, Muin “Vinni” T'Vine. His changeable eyes held a glitter that screamed of a fateful gathering—setting Holm's hackles rising and his teeth on edge.

T'Holly strode in, carrying his HeartMate and the hall fell silent. To Holm she looked better than the evening before and much healthier than when he'd taken her to
Nuada's Sword
, but he could tell by the whispers that most were shocked at her thin body and her hair, which was now more silver than bronze.

She was placed on the large carved rainbowstone altar in the center of GreatCircle Temple which held a soft down-filled mattress covered in the finest llamawoolweave. The scent of fresh, healing herbs rose as D'Holly settled.

All three FirstLevel Healers attended his Mamá. Holm hurried to his Mamá's side and took her hand. She looked up at him with clear turquoise eyes and smiled. He smiled back, but his shoulders felt tight. His Father appeared worn. The long hours he spent on
Nuada's Sword
, where Flair only occasionally worked, had irritated him.

Holm turned his gaze to Lark, but she busied herself with his Mamá, and he couldn't interrupt. After the return of his rose the night before, she'd pinched their connection to the thinnest of microfilaments, thinner than a thread of her solar sail. It angered and worried him, but the fact that she couldn't break it let a small flame of hope burn within him.

T'Holly smiled down on his HeartMate and T'Heather handed her a drink. He glanced at his timer. “We are progressing very well and have a half-septhour before the Ritual should start. Rest, GreatLady, and seek your inner core. That is needful for the Healing to work.”

Passiflora smiled as T'Holly helped her drink, then nodded and subsided back onto the mattress, closing her eyes. T'Holly held her left hand and murmured love words to her. The aura surrounding them was so bright a gold it made Holm's eyes hurt.

An outraged yowl screeched above the hum of voices. Everyone turned to the southwest quadrant of the room. Zanth, a huge black-and-white tomcat, flung off small patches of orange and cream—the kittens. Each landed with a plop on a nearby heap of summer grasses, gathered for autumnal equinox a couple of months away.

Lark gasped. She and Holm converged on the scene. Holm grabbed her hand, but she sent him a shock that tingled his fingers. He stopped to stare at her and she flushed. She, too, was on the ragged edge of control. He sensed bubbling emotions, including the white flashes that bespoke resistance to any constraint. But fury and fear burned in him. She should not treat him so, her lover, her
HeartMate.

He reached the kittens as Phyll stood, then wavered, then plunked down on his rump, shaking his head. Meserv rolled to his back and curled his paws over his round belly.

Lark scooped up her Fam and checked him for hurts. He extended all ten of his sharp little claws into her arms.
I am fine. Let Me down. Now!

She carefully placed him on his feet.

“The little one is proud,” chuckled T'Ash, joining them. “Quite a fighter.”

Phyll sat, full of feline arrogance, and began licking a patch of fur on his shoulder.

Meserv cracked a gleaming sapphire eye, saw them, shut his eye and whimpered.

Holm sighed.

Zanth stalked over, dripping blood from a drooping, tattered ear. The other ear pointed up. He crouched near the kittens and rumbled a long growl.

“What's going on here, Phyll?” asked Holm.

Phyll twitched his whiskers and rotated his ears in disdain.
Sire Zanth say We are puny. And stupid. And slow.
Tiny white teeth showed as Phyll lifted his lip.
He's not laughing now. WE got HIM!

“You certainly did.” Danith D'Ash, the sole animal Healer on Celta, shook her head. “You're bleeding on the floor, Zanth.”

Still growling, the tom turned his head to look at D'Ash.
Reckless kits. Only trouble, trouble, trouble.

Meserv gave a heart-wrenching sigh, then rolled over to sprawl on his side, his eyes wide-open with hurt innocence.

“Poor Zanth, your sons beat you up,” Danith said. She turned a laugh into a cough, then knelt and held out her hand. The tom strode haughtily to her and butted her fingers.

Lark stared at Zanth. “There are pinpoint holes clear through Zanth's ear. Phyll!”

Phyll lifted his pink nose, a miniature of his sire's.
We beat him. We win. We speak better than he does, too. And just as loud.

T'Ash winced.
Certainly, you can make your thoughts felt, youngling
.

“Poor Zanth,” Danith crooned. “Let me see that ear.” With a small lightball, she illumined the ear. The light reflected off a shining emerald ear stud.

Lark blinked.

Danith shook her head. “You know what this means, don't you? I'll straighten out that other ear, while I mend the tooth-holes, but not now. My energy is needed for the true Healing of D'Holly that will take place here today. You must wait until this evening, Zanth, and serves you right.”

Frowning, she looked at Lark. “Did this little skirmish disrupt the energy flow too much?”

Lark looked at T'Heather, who appeared disgusted. Holm's Mamá seemed in a deep trance.

Holm made a half-bow. “With your permission, FirstLevel Healer, if we join, you can judge the power of the room.” He held out a demanding hand. She fulminated but placed her hand in his, widened their connection for a heartbeat, then withdrew and minimized their link to a thread. Far too short a time for him to try and mend the rift between them.

“The Healing Energy builds. T'Heather has used the release of tension between these three to strengthen his initial Call to the Lady and Lord,” Lark said briskly.

Zanth sat on his solid hindquarters and glared at his offspring. Meserv curled into a ball.

To calm himself, Holm picked up his kitten, cradling him. “You're worthless,” he said, but his forefinger stroked Meserv's head and he purred. At least someone liked his touch. “Danith, could you check my Fam, to make sure he has no hurt?”

Danith slid a sly gaze to Holm. “For a tableful of GreatHouse pastries.”

“Zanth still terrorizing your chef?”

“Every morning.” Danith shrugged. She turned her smile on Lark. “Fighters. You learn to live with them.” Lark looked startled, but Holm blessed his friend's HeartMate. T'Ash winked.

Then Danith directed her gaze to Phyll, who studiously separated his pads to clean between them. “May I examine you, also, Fam Phyll Collinson?”

He stopped his grooming and sat up regally, curling his tail around his paws. “Yesssss,” he vocalized.
But I am a HealerCat and I am learning My body. All My insides are fine. I am a most healthy Cat.

“Your brother first, then.” Danith took the purring but limp Meserv in her hands, then frowned in concentration. She darted a glance up at Holm. “His digestive system is not quite right. You must stop feeding him people food.”

Holm grimaced. “My Mamá started it, and we can't, any of us, deny her whatever she wants. Lately the household hasn't been organized.” He turned to glance at his mother and saw she was well-attended and deep in trance.

Danith's face softened. “I understand. I'll send you some treats you can substitute for the people food.” She put Meserv down and scooped up Phyll. “Yes, you are a very fine kitten.” She rubbed his head and put him down.

Phyll preened, then cocked an ear.
T'Heather calls Us.
The kittens trotted away. The Ashes followed.

Holm grasped Lark's arm and absorbed the shock she gave him. He didn't budge, searching for words. “The kittens will always be a bond between us, as they should be. We should be together.”

Her lips pressed tight and she glanced up at him with angry eyes. “Please let me go.”

He sent a caress to her, then released her.

Holm saw tears in her eyes before she looked away. “Holm, it's no use. Our love affair is over.”

“No.”

Lark shut her eyes briefly. “If our Families found out, it would make the feud more vicious. We'd be disowned and there'd be internal problems within our Families as members took sides. I won't be the cause of such strife.”

“You overestimate the effect our—loving—would have,” he said, but sensed he'd lose this battle and cursed himself for bringing it up when they both worried about his Mamá.

Mouth grim, he gave her a half bow and went back to the altar to stand to the right of his Mamá.

Since it was the month of Hazel, the FirstFamily GreatLady and GreatLord D'Hazel and T'Hazel were the leaders of all Rituals. They were HeartMates and Holm was glad of it, though last month had been Holly and next month was Apple, so either of those months would have helped his Mamá Heal better, too.

D'Hazel and her husband went hand-in-hand to the altar. “Merry meet!” D'Hazel raised her voice for attention. Everyone turned to her. “Since this is a Healing Ritual, we will turn the roles of Lady and Lord over to D'Heather and T'Heather. Our placement in the Circle, who will link with whom, will be maximized for the Healing of D'Holly and will be determined by T'Heather.”

“And me!” piped Vinni.

Everyone stared at him. He smirked and adjusted his shirt-cuffs, the embroidery on them signifying his rank.

D'Hazel frowned at T'Heather, but the Healer just lifted and dropped his stocky shoulders. D'Hazel inclined her head to the boy. “As you will, GreatLord T'Vine.”

“I will arrange people as
tynged,
Destiny, decrees,” said the boy in a lower voice.

Holm wasn't the only one who shivered.

T'Heather stumped with his HeartMate to join D'Hazel and T'Hazel by the altar. “When I contacted each of you earlier, you gave me permission to sample your energy for this ceremony. Last night I drew up the Heart Circle that will be the most effective in this final Healing for D'Holly. With our energy, her new kidney will be totally accepted by her body, she will regain strength and be well on the way to complete recovery.”

There was a murmur of approval.

“We will proceed,” T'Heather said. To Holm's surprise, the first thing he did was place Meserv by his mother's left hip—the side of her new kidney donated by Tinne—and Phyll by her right hip. T'Ash's Fam, Zanth, lay next to her feet, and Tinne's fighting cat, Ilexa, curled around her head.

As Holm and Lark reached the altar there came a commotion at the door.

“Let him in,” ordered Vinni, “It's Hawthorn!”

Another boy entered—the youngest Huathe Hawthorn, Lark's nephew, Laev, followed by the Hawthorn guard Cratag.

Holm eyed Cratag. He looked much tougher than the model they'd fought with the day before. Holm winced inwardly as he recalled how often the Hollys had practiced killing the man—a man Lark obviously liked and admired since she embraced him and he patted her back.

“T'Hawthorn?” T'Holly's voice boomed from several strides away, a mixture of fury and wariness in it.

Lark said. “Welcome, Laev.” She hesitated, and Holm knew she wanted to hug the youngster, but was conscious of the boy's dignity. Her sensitivity sent a spurt of pride through him.

“T'Hawthorn!” T'Holly roared.

The boy flinched. Lark laid a hand on his thin shoulder. Laev trembled, then stepped away from his guard. When he spoke, his voice shook. “I'm Huathe, FirstSon and Heir of HawthornHeir. I was the one who hurt your Lady. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I—” he broke off and took a shuddering breath.