Heart Fortune (Celta) (11 page)

Zem said, along their private bond,
I cannot tell if the meat is good. It IS dead.

Yeah, and Jace had no doubt Zem would rather crunch live mice or shrews or whatever.

“Lepid?” he called. A sharp movement caught his glance—Glyssa sitting at the far table in the corner with a bunch of others. Even as he watched, her color came up, but she didn’t look his way.

The fox trotted in.
You called me?

Jace lowered the plate. “Have a bite of meat.”
Sniff and tell me if it is good. I think Zem’s having trouble with his nose, uh, beak.

One fast dart of a fox tongue and a slurp later, Lepid made a humming noise in his throat and grinned ingratiatingly at the cook.
THIS IS VERY GOOD.

Myrtus’s lip curled. “Sly fox.”

Lepid tried huge eyes and an innocent look. They didn’t work on the cook.

“Thank you for all the trouble you went to, Myrtus.” Jace held up one of the damp spheres of ground meat for Zem. The bird’s beak opened and he took it delicately from Jace’s fingers. A surge of affectionate possessiveness and pride swamped Jace.

Thank you, Myrtus,
said Zem.

“You’re welcome, hawkcel BirdFam.”

I am Zem, Myrtus.

“You’re welcome, Zem.” Then the cook said, “Bayrum,” expressionlessly and walked away. Jace got the idea that he’d been put in the same “sly” category as Lepid. He rolled a shoulder, shrugging it off, feeding Zem more food.

His scan of the hall caught on Glyssa again. He tested the bond between them, exceedingly narrow, good.

He shouldn’t be irritated that she ignored him, that something in her manner told him that she’d continue to avoid him. That circumstance was exactly what he’d wanted.

But it did annoy him.

Eleven

A
couple of septhours later, Glyssa was in her pavilion, arranging the
table she’d set up for them in the outer room.

“Here, GrandMistrys Licorice!” Maxima called from the door.

“Come on in, it’s open, the only spellshield is against insects,” she said, staring at the strawberry-blonde’s dissatisfied expression as the girl trudged in, carrying the fancy box holding the copies of Captain Hoku’s journals. “What’s wrong?”

Maxima sniffed. Placed the box carefully, though Glyssa sensed she wanted to plunk it down. Yes, a
good
girl, pretty much like Glyssa was. Had been. Would continue to be? She wanted to put her “good girl” mentality in the past.

Huffing a breath, Maxima slipped into the chair in front of the table, picked up the teapot, and poured a stream of amber liquid, fragrant with a hint of jasmine. A smile finally tugged at her lips as she eyed the flatsweets.

“I can’t read the journals. They are in Old Earthan. My father’s mother, FatherDam, taught me but I still can’t read them! My ancestress, the first D’Cherry, doesn’t write like Captain Hoku.”

“Oh.” Glyssa blinked. “I believe that Captain Hoku was of the Geek Class. He was, after all, a trained starship pilot.” She went into her bedroom and to the chest that held her personal reference materials and dug out a large book—a scholarly dictionary of Old Earthan. She balanced a tray holding several recordspheres on the top. “These might help,” she said.

Now Maxima’s eyes gleamed as she took the tray. The girl’s mouth showed flatsweet crumbs.

“I hadn’t realized that the different classes of Ancient Earth had a different language.”

“Languages,” Glyssa corrected absently, putting the book on the table and pouring her own tea, noticing that Maxima had already eaten all of her share of the flatsweets. “The Ancient Earthans had several languages, not only of different classes, but of different locations—ah, different continents. Our ancestors endeavored to develop a single language for Celta, even on the three starships. That mostly worked, but language does transform, you know. I believe that those in Chinju have a significantly different accent from us of Druida, and vice versa, of course.”

“Of course.” Maxima sat with Glyssa and watched, perky, as Glyssa found the section labeled “Geek Class.” She glanced over at the girl and smiled. “One of the spheres is a copy of your ancestress’ diaries.”

“Excellent!” Maxima beamed.

“Many of the colonists who came here on
Nuada’s Sword
were of Geek Class and preserved their personal journals and records for us, as well as writing this.” She tapped the reference volume.

Maxima wriggled in her seat. “Nothing like a good library.”

“No.” Glyssa grinned back at her.

“And good librarians are rare,” Jace said from the doorway, his voice laden with innuendo. Zem rode on his shoulder and Lepid panted a little beside him.

“What are you doing here?” Glyssa asked sharply.

He lifted his brows. “I am not allowed to work at either the communications center or at the site of the entry into the ship.”

“That’s so wrong!” Maxima exploded.

Jace strolled in and patted her shoulder, bent and scooped up a couple of flatsweets. “Thank you for your support.”

I could eat a cocoa flatsweet,
Lepid said, sitting by Glyssa’s chair, fluffing up his tail because he knew she thought it was beautiful.

She eyed him dubiously. “Isn’t cocoa bad for animals?”

A toothy smile.
Not for foxes
.

“He lies,” Jace said with a smile at Lepid that included her. “Though I have heard oats are good for Fams, and there are such things as oat flatsweets.”

Glyssa had stilled, only her eyes moving. Why was he acting as if he was easy in her company, hadn’t been furious with her only a couple of septhours ago?

“How do you know?” asked Maxima, smiling at him and running her fingers through her hair. Glyssa suppressed a wince. The teen obviously had an infatuation with Jace. Trouble ahead.

Jace turned his easy smile on her, and Glyssa sensed Maxima was the reason he’d come to the tent. The owners’ daughter, someone definitely on his side and who hadn’t embarrassed him. He’d put up with Glyssa if Maxima was here, a person who would be easy in his company. And his manner toward Glyssa held an edge that Maxima might not notice. Not to mention that he could probably feel the anger Glyssa felt toward
him.
No, they wouldn’t connect, not even in dreams, anytime soon.

“I know about fox food because I had a traveling companion with a FoxFam,” Jace said.

Glyssa wondered if the companion had been female.

“A traveling companion,” Maxima repeated, no doubt also considering the gender of that person.

Jace walked to the side of the pavilion and brought back another chair, put it at the end of the rectangular table that would seat six closely, next to Maxima who had her back to the door and opposite Glyssa.

“How can I help?” Another deliberately charming smile showing a dimple in his cheek that Glyssa didn’t trust.

Maxima pinkened, swept a wide gesture—“Here”—and knocked over the recordspheres tray. They went rolling. Red now, Maxima lunged for one, missed. Jace caught two near him and Glyssa snatched one in midair, stuck it in the tray. Her fingers brushed Jace’s as he returned the two he held. She
felt
her brows lowering, twisting as her expression turned to a frown, even as her heart beat a little harder at his nearness, the currently unwanted attraction between them.

Their stares met, held, his gray eyes cool, her own hot. Yes, her cheeks were hot and she could almost feel her hair crackling with annoyance.

She withdrew her hand, fast, nearly tipped over the tray again, then bent below the table and helped a flustered Maxima with a sphere that had rolled far under the table. “No harm done,” Glyssa said—knowing that wouldn’t ease the girl’s mortification at her clumsiness. A girl didn’t like to look stupid and clumsy in front of an older man she crushed on.

Neither did an adult woman. The difference was that Glyssa had experienced infatuations before and lived through them.

Lepid took advantage of the situation to get two licks in on Glyssa’s cheeks that cheered her as she sat again.

Flatsweet, pleeease?

She looked at her Fam. “No flatsweets for you.”

He sniffed, slid his eyes toward her.
I will go hunt, then.

Since Maxima and Jace watched Lepid, Glyssa believed they heard him, too.

“Stay within a quarter kilometer of camp. I’m sure the camp itself has enough vermin to give you a good hunt.”

Lepid chuffed.
There is another FamFox here and at least two FamCats.

Glyssa smiled at him. “That’s right, why don’t you speak with Del Elecampane’s FamFox?”

A small growl rumbled from Lepid’s throat.
I do not like him.

Glyssa was sure it was the other way around. The older fox didn’t like Lepid.

He stood, glanced around, eyes bright over his pointed muzzle.
Bo-ring here with you all just looking at papyrus.

“I’m sure it is,” she said.

Her Fam looked up at Zem.
If I find a good treat for you, a mouse or a rat, I will call, like this.
He yipped loudly three times.

“Don’t you have a telepathic connection with the hawkcel?” asked Glyssa.

Zem clicked his beak and projected mentally,
The fox is young and proud of his kills.

Glyssa winced. “Uh-huh.” She waved her fingers at Lepid. “Go.”

His lower jaw dropped in a foxy smile and she wondered if she was doing the right thing, letting him roam the camp freely. But there were enough complications in the tent with regard to tangled relationships to distract her. She didn’t need an antsy Fam, too.

After one last lick of her hand, Lepid bolted from the tent, ears up, tail flying.
I will search the stables first.

Jace said to Maxima, “I’m happy to help.”

“That’s wonderful,” the girl enthused.

She flipped open the box and Glyssa saw a couple of additional journals and some loose papyrus inside. “There’s a detailed map of the ship . . . Hoku called them ‘specs’ or ‘blueprints,’” Maxima said.

Stiffening, Jace said, “Yeah?”

Glyssa recalled when her friend Camellia D’Hawthorn had sent a copy of the blueprints to the Elecampanes. Another set was in the PublicLibrary, and the originals stayed in the T’Hawthorn Residence vault. Evidently the Elecampanes had kept the blueprints secret from the crew.

“I’m not sure that your parents want that information disseminated,” she said. Both Maxima and Jace scowled at her.

“Are you questioning my honor, too?” Jace snapped.

She rubbed her forehead. “Of course not.”

Maxima stuck out her chin in a gesture that Glyssa, as a younger sister, had used herself. Dammit, she needed to be more sensitive.

“I think I know who can keep a secret and who can’t,” Maxima said.

Which, of course, made Glyssa wonder what secrets Jace might be keeping that Maxima might know. Glyssa’s nose twitched. She did have a
tiny
problem with curiosity.

“Jace won’t tell anyone about the blueprints, and that’s what we’re supposed to be working on today, right?”

“Checking the maps against entries in the journals, yes.” Glyssa took the teapot and the flatsweet plate off the main table and put it on a smaller one, moved the two cups to one corner, and spread out the specs. Each sheet showed one level and there were three, probably those Hoku was most familiar with.

“I’m honored at your confidence,” Jace said, his expression smoothing as he gave a little bow to Maxima.

She glowed, swept a look at him from under her eyelids before glancing at Glyssa. “You don’t mind if Jace stays and works with us, do you?”

Now she asked.

If it had been anyone but Jace, Glyssa would have bundled the blueprints and journals up and taken them next door to the Elecampane’s tent.

But the need to spend time with her HeartMate throbbed inside her, even if he was annoyed and angry with her.

Glyssa told the truth. “No.”

“I promise to be helpful.” A charming smile from the man that Glyssa didn’t trust—he remained irritated with her. He lifted Zem off his shoulder and set him on the back of her best chair.

Glyssa eyed the BirdFam dubiously. “Maybe I should put some papyrus down for Zem.”

The hawkcel cast a beady glare at her.
I am a clean bird.
Another snick of his beak.
I am also a tired bird.
He closed his eyes.

“We took care of our personal needs before we came in,” Jace said easily. He smoothed the maps, frowned. “Hmm.” Staring at the papyrus, he angled the plans a little, and Glyssa saw that he’d set the ship to match the angle of the ship’s outline that had been delineated on the ground outside.

Glyssa looked at the map. Unlike the intelligent starship in Druida City,
Nuada’s Sword
, which was one massive cylinder,
Lugh’s Spear
had graceful, modified wings, angled back like the ancient Earthans’ air machines. More interesting in Glyssa’s point of view, but she wouldn’t be telling
Nuada’s Sword
that.

She wasn’t the only one who focused on Jace’s long and elegant finger as he traced the outside line of the ship to behind the right wing.

They worked together well, though watching Maxima attempt to flirt with Jace was painful in more ways than one. As the minutes passed, Glyssa realized Jace was clueless about the girl’s puppy love since he treated Maxima like a younger sister. She wondered at that—he struck her as an observant man—but she figured he just had man blindness about this.

She’d have liked to have warned him, but he wouldn’t listen to her.

Midmorning the alarm of the camp pulsed in the pattern of “interesting information.” Maxima’s face lit with a grin. “I wonder what’s going on!”

She headed out of the tent at a jog, leaving Glyssa alone with Jace. “Where do we gather?” She already knew, but asking such a basic question would keep her from commenting on Maxima’s crush on him and alienating him. No man liked to be given advice he didn’t ask for. All right, no
person
cared for unsolicited advice in general.

He lifted his brows. “There’s a cleared circle a couple of rows in.”

“Ah. I’m sorry I embarrassed you this morning,” she said.

He grimaced.

“I was just trying to help.” She knew the instant the words dropped from her lips that it was the wrong thing to say.

His head came up, his expression turned stormy. “I don’t need your help. Like I said, I don’t like being dependent on anyone. Or anyone being dependent on me,” he said, but Glyssa sensed more. He didn’t like to be dependent on lovers.

But his words hurt.

She bit her lip. “Sorry.” Back stiff with tension, she walked to the pavilion’s threshold. “I will endeavor not to try to help you again, even if you
do
need it.” She walked out of the tent, nearly blindly and bumped into someone who was hurrying toward the open area. “Pardon,” she muttered. Then she sent a loud and private mental call,
Lepid!