Heart Fate (30 page)

But something was wrong with this new charge of his, too. “Turquoise House?” he called.

No answer.

“House?” A little louder.

Nothing.

“House, I am worried for you. Please respond.”

“I am here.” It was a whisper. In his voice.

“What's wrong?”

“There was an actress here.”

“I know,” Tinne snapped.

A longer pause. Tinne sensed he'd hurt the House's feelings again. He picked up his cup and swallowed a mouthful. The drink was even better as it cooled, there was an additional spice . . . and he was trying to ignore the effects of lingering shock and a sensitive House. He took another drink and rubbed his chest.

“I'm sorry I was short.”

“You apologize? To me? As if I were a person?”

Cave of the Dark Goddess, he didn't want to go through this tonight. Too bad. “Of course. You are a person.”

“You're sure?”

Tinne rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“That actress didn't think so.”

The House didn't sound like a petulant child, but more like a bewildered child who'd taken an unexpected blow. He'd heard that note in Lahsin's voice, too. He shifted tense shoulders. “House, do you have a recording of the actress's time here?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps you should play it for me.”

A cold draft trickled along the floor from the open fireplace, as if the House whimpered.

“I don't sound good,” the House confessed.

“You've always sounded fine to me,” Tinne fibbed. “Go ahead, play your memory recording of what happened.”

“You won't laugh at me?”

“Have I ever laughed at you?”

“I don't know.” It sounded pitiful.

Tinne finished the drink, the last rich swallow of syrup had settled to the bottom. Then he got up to prowl some tension off as he threw the cup in the cycler. “I haven't laughed at you. You've amused me.” He added fast, “Like my Family does.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Go on,” he coaxed.

“Sit.”

“I'll stretch out on the couch.” He went to the long couch and settled in, head on the softly sloping padded arm.

“Good.”

Echoey coughing came, then before his amazed eyes, a swirl of motes glittered and gathered into a misty picture. Tinne's eyes widened. “You have viz.”

The picture vanished, and uncertainly the House said, “I was told that Residences have viz.”

“Yes, above scrybowls or on wall screens for communication or data retrieval.” He thought about it. “Or, perhaps in specially made crystals to hold and view such memories, I've seen that in a newly rebuilt Residence, but not the ability to . . . to show a real scene in midair. You have a great talent here!”

The weathershields over the large back windows vibrated—with the House's returning enthusiasm, Tinne hoped.

“Really?”

“Yes. Show me.”

As Tinne watched, his anger turned from a simmer to barely contained fury. The woman had belittled the House about everything from its immaturity to its lack of Yule decorations. She'd made her own goal of snagging Tinne clear and had declaimed her latest part, not bothering to read anything.

After it ended, there was a pause, then the House said tentatively, “She made me feel bad. And stupid. And . . . young.”

“I'm sorry for that.” He sighed. “I like this mainspace. Very much. Enough that I haven't wanted any holiday decorations. I like you very much, you're an excellent companion.” His jaw flexed. The woman must have thought both of them stupid not to recognize what she'd done. But figuring out the consequences of her mean- spiritedness was less important than the injury to the Turquoise House's emerging feelings.

Tinne put the right amount of exasperation in his voice. “Turquoise House, you
are
a youngling, just coming into your identity and Flair. What is wrong with that? Everyone is young once, so accept it and move on.”

“I make mistakes.”

Tinne snorted. “That isn't entirely a factor of youth. We all make mistakes. We hope we make
fewer
mistakes as we grow older, but that's not always true. Take my father, for example.” The bitterness in his voice stopped him, but he felt the Turquoise House's sharpened attention.

“That is true,” it said, with just the same inflection that Tinne had had. This would drive him mad.

“Turquoise House,
think
. You will be a very long-lived entity, perhaps even forget you were young—”

“I would like to forget this night,” the House rasped. Tinne was all too aware that he'd rasped quite a bit lately. Cave of the Dark Goddess.

“You should enjoy your youth.” He stopped and chose his words. “You've been tormented by bullies. That happens to many child— young people, an unfortunate fact of life.”

“This is true.”

Tinne sighed, thought of the few voices the Turquoise House had. Not enough. “Why don't we use Mitchella's voice for now.”

“I don't want a woman's voice.” Sulky but determined. How often had Tinne sounded sulky? Not at all, he hoped.

“All right.” What would work? “How about deepening my voice by half an octave.”

“Like this?” Very deep voice.

“Thank you, that's less eerie for me. Now, when people have— uh—emotion—hurt feelings, we consult a mind specialist.”

“The mind Healer D'Sea. You'd call her to talk with me? Ooh, thank you!” The bass rumble of his voice squealing was something he could have done without. Tinne tapped his head lightly on the wall and left it there. Dealing with an infant house. Calling D'Sea to consult, just the person he didn't want to meet for the next few decades. “She's scheduled to meet with me tomorrow. We'll move the appointment here.” Maybe the Turquoise House would distract her.

“Thank you, thank you!” said the House, sounding slightly less subdued. “New thanks is not for making an appointment with D'Sea,” the House said. “But for touching me.”

Tinne grunted, he hadn't thought of that. Feeling stupid, he ran a hand up and down the smooth door molding. The House gave a grateful sigh. He lifted his fingers. “I'm going to bed. It's been a long day.” He didn't even want to drum.

He walked down the pale blue hallway to the MasterSuite, recently changed to a more masculine style. The tinting was shades of green, the furniture a deep burgundy furrabeast leather, the bedsponge on a platform just the right height for Tinne to flop down upon. His drums were in the corner.

After skinning off his clothes, he fell on the bed, rolled to his back, and watched gentle, Flair-made misty clouds drift across the high ceiling in ever-changing patterns. He thought of the women in his life.

His Mamá, charming and talented and effervescent. So devoted to his father that she'd never admitted he'd made a mistake. They had HeartMate love for many years. Tinne began to see that their way of marriage wasn't the only way.

His brother and sister-in-law had struggled to be together. Though they, too, were HeartMates, they were complete individuals melding lives.

His
ex-wife
. That was the word the press was using, gotten from outside Druida and less-stratified classes than the FirstFamilies. An unpleasant-sounding word, with horrific meaning. The flame of passion built into love now exploded and gone, dead and in ashes blown away with the wind.

He had loved Genista. He mourned that love, that life, but it was fading into the past. The shock of the divorce still made him twitch. Genista, lovely, voluptuous, generous. Playful, laughing, exciting. Sad, wretched, grieving. He could finally admit that he was relieved that the marriage was over. Dissolving it was the right thing to do.

His love had died before their marriage had. Their love had died. Both people had to work to keep marriage meaningful and fulfilling. Even HeartMate marriages.

His mind wandered to the actress bitch who'd put on a shoddy outer wrapping to appear like Genista, but had no notion of her true inner worth and beauty, and used his past and pain for her own grasping ends. Could there be any creature lower than that?

“Turquoise House?” Tinne asked.

“I'm here!”

“Please scry T'Furze and tell him there's an actress called Morning Glory impersonating his daughter, Genista.”

“T'Furze would not be pleased?”

“No, he's an older FirstFamily GrandLord. He won't be pleased someone continues to stir up scandal. His Family is affected, too. We can leave it to him to deal with the actress.”

There was a few seconds of silence. “I have reported the information to T'Furze Residence. It is informing T'Furze immediately.” The House sounded satisfied. “You don't mind that I want a male voice?”

“It's usual for a Lord to have a female voice, a Lady to have a male. But you are your own person. You have several female voices. If you want a male voice, you should have it.”

“Because you are not going to stay with me,” it said matter-of-factly.

“No. You're a good companion, but someday I'll return to T'Holly Residence.”

“You are honest. Mitchella says it may take time for the right permanent Family to find and value me.” The House sounded proud.

“True.” He wriggled under the bed linens. The knots in his muscles from the latest emotional crises had finally loosened, and his mind drifted like the clouds.

“Tinne, does a consultation by D'Sea cost a great deal?”

“Probably.” He yawned. “My Family is taking care of Healing bills.”

“I don't think I need her. I am maturing. I can solve my own problems. I have been scanning in psychology texts for my ResidenceLibrary.”

“Good.” He rolled over, and his mind turned to Lahsin. Sweet, troubled, his HeartMate. Also maturing, solving her own problems. Just being close to her was enough for now.

 
 
Lahsin had taken care of the plumbing. Now she finished house
keeping spells on every floor and went back to the small guest room the Residence had grudgingly offered her. Hands on hips, she stared at it. A large bedsponge in the antique style, set on a tall platform with wooden posts going up to a top frame of carved wood. She didn't like the bed curtains. She'd had to clean them several times, since the Residence insisted they be kept. During each cleaning spell, she'd expected them to disintegrate. But they now showed summer blue with fat pink roses. Not her favorite color scheme. Someday she'd be the one to furnish her own bedroom and sitting room, but not yet.

She'd tried the door handle to the Master/MistrysSuite, but it was locked. She hadn't been able to peek into the HeirSuite, either. She'd have liked a sitting room but was stuck with this chamber with faded brownish walls that had once been a pale, drab pink.

The bedsponge and frame were positioned oddly, crammed against a short wall opposite the back windows that faced northeast. They would look better on a side wall.

Rolling her shoulders, she dug deep for her Flair. Oddly enough, sparring with Tinne had given her more access to it. Being with him stirred it up.

“You are moving my furniture around.”

“The better to clean the rooms. You could use a new look.”

“I like my furniture where it is.” Several doors slammed.

Lahsin rubbed her head.

She was blessed to have found this place. It would be too much to expect perfection. Dealing with BalmHeal Residence was teaching her lessons, too. Patience.

She wondered how long it would be until she lost that patience and what would happen when she did.

Twenty-two

Tinne dreamt of Genista—and falling. He was stuck in a dark
and barren landscape and his once-wife was walking away from him. He called her name, and she didn't answer, didn't hear. Much like those months he'd tried to comfort her after her miscarriage, their loss.

So he ran after her and didn't see a break in the white snow and fell into a pit. Blackness of space and streaking smears of stars surrounded him, whirled around him as he fell and he knew he would land and die painfully and alone.

He woke with a suddenness that took his breath, panting. His mouth was dry when he spoke, “House, what time is it?”

“It is TransitionBell.”

Figured, the time when souls slipped on to their next lives. “Thank you.”

Ilexa, sleeping on a pillow in the corner, snuffled, lifted her head, and squinted at him.
You woke me.

“Sorry.” He rose.

His Fam muttered at him,
I know that look. Now you will drum. All night long you will drum.

“Maybe.”

Cat sigh.
Maybe I will not stay.

He shrugged. “Don't then,
Fam
. The House will keep me company. It doesn't care if I drum all night long, do you, Turquoise House?”

“No, but perhaps you should have some Sleep Well drink.”

“Huh. I've never heard of this Sleep Well drink. Did Mitchella D'Blackthorn stock this drink?”

No answer.

“Who provided this potion?”

Ilexa glanced away, then back, and answered,
Your brother's wife, Lark, sent it.
Ilexa's smile got toothier.
It will soothe bad dreams, give good dreams.

Tinne scowled. “I'd rather drum.”

“I like the drum,” said Turquoise House.

Snorting, Ilexa said,
House does not need to sleep
.

“Feel free to leave,” Tinne told Ilexa, knowing her pride would keep her here. He
needed
to drum, his hands itched.