Heart Search (4 page)
Her friends were the best. At thirteen they’d had a grovestudy research assignment on a sunken ship that had been discovered and was being salvaged. Camellia, her mother, and brother had been living in her Family house at the time. Camellia had recalled a story of losing their fortune in a shipwreck. Her friends and she had searched the few Family documents and found a letter and the invoice for a tea set from a famous Chinju artist.
Camellia had interrupted the hearing on a lawsuit about salvaging the ship at JudgementGrove and was awarded the tea set—if GrandLady Kelp could find it in the ocean. The woman had; the fifty-piece tea set had not only survived but increased in value astronomically. Camellia had sold the largest item, a huge urn, and had enough gilt to found her business.
She owed everything to her friends, to the women who had helped her.
A server came to Camellia and discreetly gestured to a table where two women sat. Camellia knew the smaller one with brown hair, GreatLady Danith D’Ash. She’d married into one of the twelve GreatHouses, the crème de la crème of Celtan society. Danith liked tea, and Camellia had concocted a special blend for the woman. The GreatLady often patronized Darjeeling’s Teahouse.
Camellia didn’t know D’Ash’s companion, a boldly voluptuous woman with flaming hair and cream-colored complexion, but since her clothes were in the latest fashion and of the most expensive fabrics, she must be another high-status Noblewoman.
“D’Blackthorn wishes to speak with you, Camellia,” the server said, identifying the other woman.
“Take the counter for a moment, please,” Camellia replied. But as she walked toward the table, her pride in the HouseHeart trickled out, replaced by a stream of anxiety. Of course both of the ladies knew what real HouseHearts looked like.
D’Blackthorn was
the
interior designer of Druida. If she said the design of the HouseHeart was poor and uninspired, she could ruin Camellia.
the
interior designer of Druida. If she said the design of the HouseHeart was poor and uninspired, she could ruin Camellia.
Two
D
anith D’Ash stood and offered her hands along with a smile, and
the knot in Camellia’s stomach loosened. “Greetyou, Camellia.”
anith D’Ash stood and offered her hands along with a smile, and
the knot in Camellia’s stomach loosened. “Greetyou, Camellia.”
“Greetyou, GreatLady D’Ash.” She took D’Ash’s hands and accepted a little squeeze before withdrawing her fingers.
D’Ash sniffed. “Haven’t I asked you to call me Danith?” She turned to the redhead. “This is my friend, Mitchella Clover D’Blackthorn.”
Current fashion had slits running up Camellia’s tunic with little material to grab and curtsey, though she managed a quick, discreet wipe of her palms on the cloth as she bobbed. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
D’Blackthorn smiled, did a scan of the room. “You’ve done something quite unique here.”
Camellia’s stomach squeezed again.
Unique
was one of those words that could mean a lot of things.
Unique
was one of those words that could mean a lot of things.
Though she thought she was keeping a pleasant expression, D’Blackthorn must have noted something because the woman laughed. She held up a hand as if to stop any of Camellia’s racing thoughts of disaster. “A very unique and special place.”
That wasn’t much better.
“I’ll enjoy coming here. The food is wonderful.”
Relief filtered through Camellia. “Thank you.”
D’Blackthorn slanted a look at Danith D’Ash. “Danith was trying, again, to convert me to tea.” GrandLady D’Blackthorn shook her head. “But I’m a caff person and will remain a caff person.” Another look at her friend. “Though I did like that smoky tea enough to buy a few ounces.”
Camellia featured several “smoky” teas. She’d have to ask the server which one D’Blackthorn ordered. “Thank you,” Camellia repeated.
After pursing her lips, D’Blackthorn said, “Yes, you did very well here. A little mysterious, but comfortable. I don’t doubt that you’ll have continuing business. Definitely appeals to commoners and lower nobles as a place to aspire to, and would give comfort to anyone. Well done.”
Huge praise. Now Camellia felt shivery with elation. “Thanks again.”
With a considering look in her eyes, D’Blackthorn said, “I’ve meant to drop by Darjeeling’s Teahouse but haven’t done so. I’ll have to put that at the top of my outings list.”
“I’ve always told you you’d like it,” Danith D’Ash said smugly.
“And sometimes you’re right,” D’Blackthorn replied with the easy teasing of longtime friends. One more glance around, and then D’Blackthorn picked up her pursenal and moved to the payment counter.
D’Ash remained by the table, studying Camellia. The GreatLady dipped her hand in her opposite sleeve pocket and drew out a card. “Come see me at MidAfternoonBell. I have a young FamCat who just came in who I think will suit you.” She followed her friend.
Camellia stared at the business card. A Fam! She was torn. She’d love to have an intelligent animal companion, but she also had wonderful, delicate items in her house. She could imagine the tears, the crashes.
But would she ever get another chance at a Fam if Camellia turned D’Ash down? You didn’t say no to the FirstFamilies. Not even friendly and generous ladies.
Absently, Camellia did a brief cleaning spell of the table, sending the china back to the kitchen to be washed.
Neither she nor her servers could do such spells often during the day, but energy from her delight with D’Blackthorn’s compliments ran high in Camellia.
At the counter D’Ash asked for several types of tea, one of them “smoky,” which was probably what D’Blackthorn had had. D’Blackthorn gestured to the prettiest and most expensive teapot Camellia carried. Selling that item had just made her operating expenses for the day.
The two ladies took their purchases and, chatting, sauntered from the teahouse.
Camellia refrained from skipping as she passed the counter and went into the kitchen for a quick check. All was fine.
All was fabulous.
“You handled that very well,” said a familiar voice and Camellia turned to see one of her best friends, Glyssa Licorice.
Camellia’s breath whooshed from her. “Thanks.”
“So
the
designer for the nobility approved of Darjeeling’s HouseHeart?” Glyssa asked. Glyssa’s Family valued intelligence over status, information more than gilt.
the
designer for the nobility approved of Darjeeling’s HouseHeart?” Glyssa asked. Glyssa’s Family valued intelligence over status, information more than gilt.
“Yes, she did.” Camellia chuckled, another bit of relief. “Both seemed to think the HouseHeart was as it should be. Thank you for your help.”
Glyssa tucked her hands in her opposite sleeves and made a noncommittal noise.
Camellia raised her hand, palm out. “Don’t criticize. They were both born commoners, lower in rank than we, and were very gracious. A few mentions from D’Blackthorn and this place will pull in more folk—from the nobility because she’s one of them, and from the commoners who’ll think that this truly
is
like a HouseHeart.”
is
like a HouseHeart.”
“I am corrected and rightly so,” Glyssa said. “But I believe you think too much of business.”
Camellia was always thinking of business, but
she
didn’t believe that was a fault. Business was exciting. Glyssa’s comment was an old one, and Camellia dismissed it as usual. The Licorice Family was wealthy and Glyssa had never been poor. They just weren’t interested in appearances.
she
didn’t believe that was a fault. Business was exciting. Glyssa’s comment was an old one, and Camellia dismissed it as usual. The Licorice Family was wealthy and Glyssa had never been poor. They just weren’t interested in appearances.
Then Glyssa’s smile broke out and made her serious and thin-featured face beautiful. “But I came to say that
Nuada’s Sword
wants to see you and me and Tiana again.”
Nuada’s Sword
wants to see you and me and Tiana again.”
Another summons—from the last starship.
Camellia waved the card D’Ash had given her. “Can’t today.”
“What’s that?” Glyssa asked.
“Appointment with D’Ash to get a FamCat today. MidAfternoonBell.”
Glyssa’s brown eyes rounded with pleasure . . . and, as always, curiosity. “Then tonight . . .”
“This evening is the Salvage Ball.”
“Oh. Right.” Another attraction for Glyssa since one never knew what people would bring—anything from jewelry that just might be valuable to grotesquely ugly knickknacks. Camellia admitted she enjoyed going for that reason, too.
“I’ll scry
Nuada’s Sword
and tell it that we are busy,” Glyssa said.
Nuada’s Sword
and tell it that we are busy,” Glyssa said.
“For the next couple of days.”
Glyssa scowled.
“Really. I am. Still getting this place running smoothly, and I need to cat-proof my house.”
“That’s for sure.”
“You didn’t already tell Tiana to meet us at the starship?” Camellia asked. Tiana Mugwort was the third friend in their triad.
“No, she’s busy at the Temple.”
“That’s all right then.” The stiffness in her shoulders eased.
“Can I come with you to D’Ash’s?” Glyssa asked.
As far as Camellia knew, Glyssa had never been to the animal Healer’s office . . . which was located in a Residence, a sentient house. Glyssa seemed to throb with inquisitiveness. “Maybe I can get on the list for a Fam,” Glyssa said, then grumbled, “D’Ash gave Fams to the PublicLibrary, but not to our Family.”
Camellia would be the first of their group to get an animal companion. Another benefit of taking D’Ash up on her offer of a cat.
“Of course you can come.” D’Ash’s offices were open to all who needed an animal Healer.
Glyssa pulled her hands from her sleeves to rub them. “An afternoon at D’Ash’s and the Salvage Ball tonight.” She grinned. “Life is good.”
For the moment. Camellia wouldn’t be able to get out of visiting the starship for long. She and Glyssa disagreed on this, too. Glyssa loved visiting the Ship.
At first, Camellia had been thrilled. She and the Ship had discussed growing a tea crop and experimented with some ancient strains. Camellia’s Flair—psi power—was for blending tea, and she’d chosen species that could be adapted for Celtan tastes. So now some of the teas served and for sale in her places were grown in the starship’s great greensward. A good selling point.
But lately Camellia sensed that someday
Nuada’s Sword
would realize she kept secrets it wanted.
Nuada’s Sword
would realize she kept secrets it wanted.
She didn’t know what she’d do then, but at least that day wouldn’t be today.
L
aev had just returned to his desk after a solitary lunch in the formal
dining room when a yowl jolted him from his work. He stared at the FamCat, Black Pierre, progressing toward him with a very young cat—maybe seven months—walking behind him, staring at the room.
aev had just returned to his desk after a solitary lunch in the formal
dining room when a yowl jolted him from his work. He stared at the FamCat, Black Pierre, progressing toward him with a very young cat—maybe seven months—walking behind him, staring at the room.
Jasmine erupted from her office, nearly stumbled over the cats, and hopped back. Black Pierre hissed. “Sorry,” she said, choking a laugh.
They both watched as the old cat trod across the thick carpet until he—and the sleek cat—circled Laev’s desk to his feet.
Your Fam,
Black Pierre said telepathically.
Black Pierre said telepathically.
The cat tilted its head to stare up at Laev coolly. Its slinky tail twitched.
He will do.
He will do.
With a flick of a paw, Black Pierre knocked its head.
Quiet, you. This is GreatLord T’Hawthorn. You should be honored.
Quiet, you. This is GreatLord T’Hawthorn. You should be honored.
The youngling moved to pounce on its elder, but Jasmine, used to animals, caught it and brought it up to rub against her face. “Aren’t you pretty,” she cooed. The animal calmed.
I am,
it said.
it said.
Black Pierre sniffed.
My son. Not as beautiful as I was at that age.
My son. Not as beautiful as I was at that age.
Laev was almost afraid to ask, “Where did you get him?”
Turning his back and walking toward the door, tail high, the older cat said,
My get.
My get.
Laev choked. “Yours? You’re ol—” he stopped before he insulted the cat.
I am not as old as your FatherSire when he died in the bed of his lady.
Jasmine snickered. Laev rubbed his temples with thumb and forefinger. Another scandal that he’d had to live down, how he’d come into his title three months before. The back of his neck heated.
You are too alone,
Black Pierre said.
But you do not deserve such a wonderful Fam as I.
Black Pierre said.
But you do not deserve such a wonderful Fam as I.
“Uh-huh,” Laev said.
But you can have him. An indiscretion.
The cat gave a tiny cough.
And you may name him. Now I return to My FamMan, the chef.
The cat gave a tiny cough.
And you may name him. Now I return to My FamMan, the chef.
Sure showed where Laev ranked in the cat’s priorities. Black Pierre teleported to the kitchen.
Jasmine stroked the cat she held along his back. His purr filled the room.
“Maybe you should take him home—” Laev began.
“Did you forget who you’re talking to?” Jasmine arched her brows. “I am not allowed to bring home Fams for my mother to place. Father’s rules, and I don’t want to alienate him before you speak to him and a quarter of my Family’s funds are in my hands.” Jasmine placed the cat on Laev’s desk, where he deigned to bat a crumpled piece of papyrus, sending sheets to the floor. Turning around, he knocked over the basket of invitations.
He hadn’t quite come into his full growth, but he looked to be a good hunter. His fur was long and black. When Laev reached out to pet him between the ears, the cat bit his fingers. “Ouch!” Laev shook his hand. Droplets of blood welled from tiny holes. “Keep that up and you’re gone to the gardening shed. Have you been vetted by D’Ash?” he asked the tom.
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