Heart Fortune (Celta) (12 page)

Coming!

Back in the tent, Zem lifted his wings.
You were not nice.

Jace scowled. “Maybe not, but I don’t want to get tangled up with Glyssa Licorice here in camp. One or two nights of sex are fine, but after that people think there’s a relationship and relationships are difficult here.” Gossip got hideous. He’d been careful to keep all his dealings with lovers light. And though his body yearned for her, he’d known quickly she wouldn’t want only a couple of nights of sex. She was different than the other women in the camp. Higher status, more serious. More of a woman who’d want forever from him, everything from him, until he lost himself in pleasing her. Like his father had his mother.

“We can’t just fly out of here, like you. There’s nothing outside of camp but thousands of kilometers of wilderness. You live here within your community. I have to live within mine.”

The bird made a noise that Jace understood to be like a human snicker. He moved his shoulders, relaxing them from a high line of tension, before lifting his Fam to perch on his shoulder.

By the time they reached the circle, everyone was there, but Maxima found him and led him to where she stood with Glyssa—who ignored him.

“Your attention, please,” Raz T’Elecampane said, easily sending his voice through the space, quieting the crowd.

Twelve

E
xpectation seethed through the crowd, Glyssa felt it, too.

Raz T’Elecampane’s mobile face creased into a broad smile. “This afternoon the starship in Druida City,
Nuada’s Sword
, will be launching the communications satellite that will link with the array it sent us. By tomorrow we should be able to have active communication with the city!”

Someone near her gasped harshly, and she tried to turn but the crew roared and jostled in exuberant approval.

Raz raised his palms, said calmly, “Those of you with relatives in Druida City who are tired of telepathic communication can sign up on a schedule to make scrys.”

“
Is
there viz capability?” asked an eager woman.

“Yes,” Raz said. “However, our day here is earlier by three septhours than Druida City.”

“Huh?” someone said.

“It’s a big planet,” Del D’Elecampane raised her voice. “It rotates. The sun reaches us, dawning and setting, before it reaches Druida City on the western edge of the continent.”

“You remember how long it took us to get here, big stup,” a woman to Glyssa’s left joshed, elbowing a large man.

“Yeah, yeah.” He bent down and smacked a kiss on her lips.

What did this mean for the whole civilization of Celta? Would they be able to speak with those on the Chinju continent soon? Glyssa shivered with anticipation.

“That takes care of our announcement for today—” Raz began, but Del interrupted, sending a look at Glyssa. “Most of you know already that we have retrieved a large storage container from
Lugh’s Spear
. GrandMistrys Licorice, we would appreciate your expertise in reading the letters on the side.” Del’s gaze scanned the group. “Landolt, your Flair for sensing things within objects would also come in handy. We would request that you be assigned to the main team exploring the ship, please.”

The man next to Glyssa jolted, then flushed and muttered, “Claustrophobia,” as people stared at him.

Funa Twinevine—whom Glyssa hadn’t noted being so close—snorted. “You came to an
excavation
of a starship when you know you have claustrophobia?”

Landolt, tall and thin with sandy hair, sent her a fulminating look. “Pays fliggering well.”

“That’s enough,” Raz said. He gave a slight bow. “Thank you for attending the announcement.”

“Always do,” Funa muttered. “Gotta know what’s going on, more’n just gossip.”

The crowd began to break up and Glyssa walked forward, as did Maxima. Jace did not. The girl glanced back at him, said, “Come on!”

A mixture of emotions spurted to Glyssa from Jace along their bond: renewed anger, hope, curiosity.

She suppressed a smile at the last,
wonderful
to know he was a curious man . . . that he almost matched her in that.

“Come
on
.” Maxima twined her arm within his, tugged. “The parents don’t want you to go down into the ship. I can’t imagine that they could object to you being around while Glyssa examines the box.” The girl jutted her chin again.

Glyssa didn’t think Maxima’s parents were aware of her infatuation with Jace, but the way the girl was acting, it wouldn’t take long for them to discover. And because stupid jealousy niggled at her, Glyssa took Jace’s other arm.

He frowned, but she ignored that, chuckling and glancing up at him with a smile. “And you’ve been with us all morning, struggling with ancient Earthan languages.”

“Yes.” Maxima nodded. “You belong with us.”

“At least this morning,” Glyssa said.

“Honored,” Jace said, but his smile was for Maxima.

Really
stupid jealousy. Glyssa squashed it with the fact that
she
was Jace’s HeartMate. But her hurting heart didn’t listen.

A minute later she had to withdraw her arm from Jace’s. She stepped forward to the cleared circle around the large storage box, an olive green with black broken-looking letters traced on it.

Many of the people who’d listened to the announcement had moved toward the single box pulled from
Lugh’s Spear
to watch.

She squatted down and tilted her head to read the thing,
STX
was the abbreviation, along with a rounded rectangle with a black half circle pointing inward at one end. She sounded the first syllables out
Sub
sis
something
, the letters seemed frayed,
STIX
. Humming a little, she puzzled on it. This looked like . . . but she’d have to check. Snapping her fingers she
whisked
the big dictionary she’d left on the table in her pavilion into her outstretched hands.

For an instant the gasps around her impinged on her concentration, then she dismissed them. Flipping to the page she wanted, she studied it, then put the big book on the ground and again held out her hand, this time cupped, and translocated a recordsphere. This one was from the starship in Druida City that included its logs of the last months of the journey.

She swiped her hand over the sphere and a mechanical voice echoed . . .
“and two tons of subsistence sticks were dropped from our emergency stores to be transferred to Lugh’s Spear, commanded by Captain Umar Clague, authorized by Kelse Bountry, Captain of this ship.
”

Glyssa picked up the book, straightened, and snapped it closed, smiling with triumph at Raz and Del. “This is a 250 kilogram crate of subsistence stick food, originally from
Nuada’s Sword.
One of the crates that
Nuada’s Sword
sent to
Lugh’s Spear
, described in your ancestress’ diary!”

“A historic box of terrible tasting food, great.” Funa sneered.

Glyssa ignored her and walked around the box. “It appears unopened.”

“Landolt?” asked Del.

The tall man loped up to the box, placed his hands on the top and frowned in concentration. His fingers tensed as he used his Flair. “Yes. I sense, um, individual objects, a lot of them.” A moment passed as his frown deepened into a scowl and sweat rolled down his face. “Each . . . is . . . wrapped? . . . in something not . . . not . . . I don’t know what.” He lifted his hands and his palms appeared red with effort and wet with perspiration. Huffing breaths, he stepped away. His knees folded and Jace caught him, grunted, and slipped the man over the shoulder not occupied by his FamBird. “I’ll take Landolt to his tent.” He walked off, and Glyssa turned in a casual manner to watch him.

Del D’Elecampane’s mouth turned down and she flicked a hand. “I think one of our first messages will be to request that someone with Flair comparable to Landolt’s come here.” She glanced at her husband. “We should give Landolt a raise, and we’ll have to figure out additional incentives.”

Raz nodded.

A small cough came and everyone turned to Symphyta. “We also need another Healer. Or two.” She met the Elecampanes’ gazes and flushed. “And, perhaps,” she whispered, “a subsidy.” Her jaw worked as she stared beyond them. “We could ask the HealingHalls or . . . someone else . . .” Symphyta’s gaze slid toward Glyssa and she knew the Healer was thinking of T’Hawthorn. “To pay a Healer.”

Del D’Elecampane grimaced. “We’ll take care of it. Come talk to me later.”

Raz smiled at Symphyta. “And I think you might want a tent of your own.”

“She’s fine staying with me,” Funa asserted loudly.

Inclining his head, Raz said, “I’m sure she appreciates your offer.” Again he looked at Symphyta. “Please, we’d like to discuss this with you some more.”

“I’ll be glad to talk to you,” Symphyta agreed.

“A lot of talking,” Del D’Elecampane grumbled.

Raz slipped his arm around his HeartMate’s waist, kissed her temple. “That’s management for you, darling.”

“I s’pose,” Del said, then went up to the box and circled it, glanced at Glyssa. “Thanks for helping us. I don’t think that we’ll open this just now.” She shrugged. “Not if it’s only subsistence sticks, I’ve heard enough about those from my husband’s ancestress’ diary to know they were nasty. And they’d be expired by now, too. If it had been the grain or seeds we found . . . that would be different.”

“Yes,” Raz agreed. “Several of the boxes discovered and vized by our people when they went into the ship are this color. Probably all the same.”

Glyssa’s turn to shrug. “Probably.”

“You really aren’t going to open it up?” asked Maxima, nearly hopping with impatience.

“Not right now,” her mother said. “Perhaps you should return to your work with GrandMistrys Licorice. The bell announcing the first lunch seating will ring soon.”

Maxima sniffed as if she was uninterested in food. But all three of them had nibbled most of the morning.

Raz nodded to the staff. “I would prefer only the newly formed Squad One that is authorized to descend into the ship remain. We will discuss our next steps.”

Reluctantly, other people began to drift away. Del frowned at her daughter and Glyssa handed Maxima the recordsphere and began to walk to her tent. The girl followed.

“Have you watched and listened to all these yet?” Glyssa asked.

Maxima made a face. “Bo-ring.”

Glyssa’s lips twitched. “Yes. But there are some good nuggets in there.”

“I don’t know how you recall all that.”

“Training.” And Maxima Elecampane might not be pure librarian material after all. Though there
was
a lot of boring work that later might pay off in a librarian’s life. Or could never pay off.

But here Glyssa was in an exciting venue, full of people who weren’t like anyone she’d ever met. Adventurers, risk takers. Like her.

She grinned again.

Maxima studied the glass sphere as they walked back to Glyssa’s pavilion. “This isn’t like regular recordspheres.”

The difference was barely noticeable. Glyssa was impressed. “No, they are archival quality, made with a lot of space for excellent quality vizes and audios.” She nodded toward the glass ball. “The public librarians were allowed by
Nuada’s Sword
to copy its logs of the journey only once. That is one of the secondary copies. We don’t want to return to
Nuada’s Sword
and beg for another—for which it would charge us a monstrous amount. It is not known for its generosity.”

“Huh,” Maxima said, rolling the ball in her hand, her fingers seeming to test the material, her brows drawn down as she focused. “I might . . .”

“Yes?”

“I might be able to make these spheres even better.” She slid a sideways glance to Glyssa, pinkened. “I’m good with glass . . . and, ah, other stuff. Part of my Flair.”

“What other stuff?”

The girl’s shoulders lifted nearly to her ears. “Communications, mostly.”

Glyssa narrowed her eyes, wondered exactly what that meant, but they’d reached her pavilion and Maxima darted inside.

“Show me how you figured out the words from the dictionary,” the teen said as Glyssa entered, distracting her.

* * *

Z
em fluttered to the crosspole of Landolt’s large tent as Jace took the
man inside and laid him on his meter-thick bedsponge. Landolt shared his tent with his two male lovers. One had accompanied Jace to fuss at him and watch Landolt. Neither a groggy Landolt nor the other guy thanked him, which rankled a little.

Stepping from the tent, Jace drew in a breath and smelled the camp—humans—a trace of the sweet scent of the plains, the forest and water in the distance. Zem cackled in warning before he stepped back onto Jace’s quilted shirt shoulder. He’d added the pad that morning before their early walk to find food for his bird . . . pretty much a futile walk since Zem couldn’t fly, Jace was too noisy, big, and clumsy to catch small mammals like mice, and he’d been found and detained before Lepid had found prey for the hawkcel.

Just before the announcement claxon had rung and broken up the little study group in Glyssa’s pavilion, Jace had forgotten the charges against him and been satisfied with himself.

He’d felt lighter in spirit and satisfied with a job well done. He
had
helped with the map. Now he smiled with the inner knowledge that he’d
seen
the layout of the ship, the plans. So much easier to visualize in three dimensions when you see something in two.

Glyssa trusted him. She was pushy, but he sensed she had no doubt of his innocence.

The kid was nice. Staunch. A good thing in a friend, and he thought he had her as a friend.

Another breath and he jolted a little as the first lunch bell sounded and he headed toward the mess tent.

His mood soured as he walked. No one approached, and the personal space around him seemed to have tripled.

Just as he passed Sanicle’s tent, the man made to step out, hesitated. Jace stopped and sent him a sardonic smile.

Sanicle grimaced, raised his hands. “No offense.”

Funa Twinevine came up behind the man, wrapped her arm around his waist, smirked at Jace.

“No offense, what?” Jace pressed.

The man angled his body in a defensive fencing position . . . as if he and Jace had ever crossed swords. One hunched shoulder. “No offense, but I don’t want to be seen with you. Your luck’s turned bad.”

“The worst,” Funa said.