Heart Fortune (Celta) (15 page)

Fifteen

J
ace tapped the opening tab near the top of his long, bespelled weather
bag atop his bedsponge. The side gaped, letting in chill air. Grunting, he got out, drew on his heavier spring/fall clothes, muttering the heat activation Word on them.

He touched the bag and the thing rolled up into a round sausage. Maybe he wouldn’t need it tonight, but he was glad he’d purchased the bag before the season began. He glanced over at Zem, who stood on his perch, feathers slightly puffed, his head drooping and his beak in his chest, asleep.

That had Jace sighing in relief. He’d crafted a large spherical weathershield atop Zem’s perch in the middle of the night, a Flair spell he didn’t often do himself since it was tricky. Usually he bought bespelled items like clothing and hats. To his surprise, the spellwork had gone unexpectedly well, as if he’d grown in Flair or matured in technique during the last few years.

He must admit that he preferred to apply hands and back and intelligence to problems rather than to rely on psi Flair magic. He supposed that was because his selfish mother had used her Flair to browbeat his slow thinking but physically impressive father. Jace’s mind skittered away from his father’s death. Long past, never forgotten. Nor were the lessons he’d learned from it.

He’d heard his mother had died a while back and wasn’t sorry. She hadn’t been a good person. Thinking of her—that he might ever be as manipulative as she was—made him flush hot.

You’re up, be quiet,
said a grumpy Zem in his mind.

Jace glanced toward him. He looked the same.

Lost sleep because you were too restless last night. Better that you had mating dreams like other nights,
Zem said.
Easier to ignore.

Heat washed through Jace. He’d hoped Zem hadn’t noticed.

A huffed breath from Zem, a click of his beak.
You should have listened to the wind and the rain, fallen into that rhythm.

Jace blinked and stared. “I thought owls were supposed to be the wise birds.”

Now Zem snorted, raised his head and opened his eyes to stare and blink at Jace.
Owls are arrogant. Hawkcels are best.

“I’m sure.” He stepped forward. Into a puddle, something he’d been ignoring. His tent wouldn’t make it another season. Maybe not another storm.

Anxiety made his mind race. More expense, and digging dirt didn’t pay as well as exploring the ship.

“Don’t you want to eat?”

Later. Sleep more,
Zem said.
Go visit your lady.

“No. Nothing has gone right since that woman has shown up.”

Zem looked up.
Not her fault. Not your fault. YOU go eat and feel better.

Jace shrugged dismissively and headed out of his leaking tent into a pretty morning that failed to satisfy. He’d go over to the workshop tent.

A few people were around. No one greeted him.

* * *

O
ver the following few days, Jace kept his usual manner, even if behind
an outer smile and gritted teeth. He wasn’t a thief and he didn’t harm people. He hoped by staying the same, the crew would recognize this.

Every morning after the fox and Zem munched live or newly dead small rodents, Jace took his Fam to the clinic where Symphyta checked the hawkcel out . . . and sent some generalized Healing energy through the bird.

She and Glyssa and Maxima were the only ones who treated him the same—no, Symphyta’s interactions held a tinge of pity that really made his jaw ache, Maxima was fiercely defensive of him which clued him in that she saw him in a romantic light, and Glyssa treated him the same.

Jace watched with fisted hands stuck in his trous pockets as Sanicle and another couple of men brought up from the interior of the ship another one of the large boxes.

He spent time with Glyssa and Maxima in the tent working, but stayed outside of Glyssa’s gathering personal circle. And, for some reason, that radiated a low-level ache around his heart.

Not to mention the ache in his lower body since they hadn’t connected in sexy dreams for a while.

He couldn’t convince himself that he needed to move on to another woman in the camp for
real
sex. He throbbed for Glyssa alone, which would worry him if he let it.

To no one’s surprise except Glyssa’s, the novelty of the communications center and talking to those in Druida wore off in a couple of days. Jace could have told her that most of the people here had few, if any, relatives, especially in the cities.

Most were like him.

But he didn’t really care for study, and it wasn’t his strong point.

Action
was.

So he shoveled never-ending dirt away from a large area where the main entrance was. He figured that was pretty useless. The top of the ship was at least three stories down, and from what he’d seen of the plans, the ship’s main doors were levels lower than that.

Even with the two earthmovers, they weren’t making much progress. But folk noticed his hard, simple work.

And though at first the rumors of a curse still circled, and his rep was still smudged, eventually people began to relax around him again.

Until the night when another storm rolled in.

* * *

M
idnight and lightning sizzled around the camp, painting the
trembling windblown tents in searing silver.

Glyssa stood in a thick robe at one of the windows of her pavilion, holding a shivering Lepid. She’d set aside Hoku’s journal and her too slowly progressing story to watch the show. Only the thin coating of Flaired gauze kept the storm from her—exciting.

For a moment she yearned to share the excitement with Jace, rolling around on his bedsponge. Or hers.

He’d been treating her like an acquaintance.

She could find him in a dream, make love to him there. He might even welcome her . . . she’d noticed the increased sexual frustration through their bond, though neither of them had mentioned it in their polite conversations.

Not that it would be appropriate to talk about that with Maxima around, and Jace was only near during the day when Maxima was with Glyssa. She wouldn’t chase after him, tried to give him time.

As she watched, two terrible explosions shot fire into the sky and sound roaring through the camp.

Lepid yowled.
That was not the storm!

Glyssa feared he was right. “Weathershield!” She gestured at herself and Lepid, coating them with Flair, then thinned the door and ran through. Mud stuck to her feet, slowing her, irritating her.

Lepid followed, barking his lungs out.

As she zoomed toward the closest fire, she heard the Elecampanes behind her.

People popped from their tents, most in rain gear, yelling and shouting.

Lepid shot ahead of her.
FamMan!
he called mentally.

Glyssa’s throat closed. Surely he couldn’t be hurt! She checked their bond. No. He was fine, a little sluggish from sleep. She narrowed the bond again before he caught her peeking and thought she was pushy.

Smoke and burnt canvas smell came to her nose and she stopped at an area of destruction.

Jace came up to her, but didn’t speak.

The Elecampanes halted near.

Two people ran toward them from opposite directions, a dripping Funa Twinevine, half-clothed and wet so her lush body was on display, and a man who preferred guard duty.

“My tent,” shrieked Funa Twinevine, swiping her wet hair from her face along with—tears? rain?

“The box!” the guy panted as he skidded to a stop in front of the Elecampanes. “Boxes. Both. Blown up.”

Funa bent and picked up something, said a Word to cool it, swore, and then her face twisted into an ugly scowl. She stalked to Jace, flung a tough piece of tanned furrabeast leather at his face hard enough to cut his cheek. “This is your work. Just because I wouldn’t sleep with you anymore you
do
this? You filthy fligger!”

Gasps came, everyone faded back from Jace. Glyssa wanted to hold out her hand to him, knew it would make fools of them both.

“I left that piece in the workshop tent,” Jace said.

Didn’t sound wise to Glyssa and she kept her mouth shut. Whatever little goodwill he’d managed to retrieve these past days had abruptly vanished with Funa’s accusation.

A wan Symphyta jogged to them, a strangled whimper coming from her. “I was taking my usual late shower.” She blinked wide eyes, staring at the debris. “I’ve lost everything.”

Glyssa put her arm around the woman. “Let me know how I can help.” She scanned the crowd, face set. “We will all help.” Her eyes narrowed at Trago. “Did Symphyta leave anything in your tent?”

He shifted, but answered, his expression pitying as he shook his head. “It’s been a while. I don’t think so, but I’ll look.” Glancing down, he whispered, “You can sleep with me, you know.”

“I have room,” Glyssa said. “You didn’t have insurance?” She aimed the question at Symphyta, then sent her gaze to Funa.

The crowd made disbelieving noises. Symphyta hugged Glyssa, then stepped away from her as if needing to stand on her own.

Glyssa flushed at the crew’s reaction, lifted her chin. “Well, we can make a pool. Perhaps we can use the new communications system to set up a pool for gilt or provisions in Druida City, have the pilot bring things out with the next trip.”

“That’s an excellent idea for the use of our new system,” Del D’Elecampane said. Her face hardened and she put her hands on her hips. “We will not tolerate these
human-made
incidents of vandalism and terrorism. When we find the culprit, we will prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law . . . when we get back to Druida City.” Her smile wrinkled the lines at the corners of her eyes, showed teeth. Everyone understood her unstated threat. The Elecampanes were the law here in camp, on the frontier, as it had always been in human society.

A slow and stately Myrtus Stopper proceeded to them. He shook his head. “This was the second explosion, then?”

“Yes, my tent!” Funa snapped.

Myrtus held a bunch of oblong items in his hands.

“What are those?” Glyssa asked.

Another shake of his head. “As the guard said, the other explosion destroyed the crates we got from
Lugh’s Spear
—”

“The curse!” a woman yelled.

“Damn bad luck,” shouted a man at the same time. “Project is turning rotten.”

“It’s a human villain,” Jace replied loudly. “Just one bad guy. Not a curse. Not bad luck. Not a project turning rotten.”

But grumbles from people drowned him out more than the quieting rain and distant thunder.

“What are you holding?” Glyssa asked Stopper again, hoping the question would distract people from Jace.

“Some of the subsistence sticks from the crates.” His gaze slid to the Elecampanes. “I tried one. Terrible, terrible. And in my expert opinion, if they once had nutritional value, they don’t anymore. My Flair tells me so.” He looked around the gathering. “I found these, I’m sure there are others. If you all bring them to me, I will take care of them.”

“Sounds good,” said Raz T’Elecampane. He raised his actor’s voice. “I suggest we all disperse now to our tents and leave further discussion for the morning.”

Trago stepped forward. “You can stay with me, Symphyta. As a friend. Your own bedsponge.” His voice was almost monotone.

“I have room,” Glyssa repeated.

“And we have some spare tents and equipment for emergencies like this,” Del Elecampane said. She smiled at Symphyta. “Take your pick.”

With a trembling smile to Glyssa and a nod to Trago, Symphyta turned to Del D’Elecampane. “Thanks, I’d like that.”

Raz T’Elecampane moved to put an arm around Symphyta’s shoulder, and his weathershield enveloped her and would slowly dry her slicker, hat, and rain boots. “We can give you a pop-up tent for one. A little small . . .” He began to walk with her toward the Elecampanes’ pavilion, the staff gave way before them.

Symphyta smiled up at him. “I’ve been sharing for so long, that sounds really fine.”

Del and Maxima strode after them and Glyssa turned to Jace. He was gone. People had separated to give him a large path back to his tent, too.

And she couldn’t go after him.

Excitement is over.
Lepid sighed. He picked up each paw and his nose wrinkled.
This spell doesn’t cover the bottom of my feet. I have nasty can’t-feel-pads-well paws.

“Then you won’t be running all over the camp until the morning, will you?” Irritation welled through Glyssa at Jace’s refusal to let her help him. She could be discreet.

Lepid whined and gave her big eyes. She huffed and picked him up. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Her FoxFam curled up as she drafted a simple announcement and appeal for funds for a Healer who’d lost all her belongings in a fire. She’d show it to the Elecampanes, then her friend Tiana, a priestess at GreatCircle Temple, who’d circulate it for her, or lead the effort. And Tiana’s sister was a Healer at Primary HealingHall, so it could make the rounds there, too.

That, at least, was satisfying.

But she ached for Jace’s emotional hurt and Glyssa thought the camp staff now felt a fear they hadn’t before. The explosions seemed all too personal.