Heart Thief (28 page)

The strange time-stretch snapped and Caltha stood in front of Ailim. Caltha curtsied.

“Greetyou, Caltha,” Ailim said, slipping her Flair-chilled hands into the opposite wide sleeves of her robe.

“Greetyou—Ailim,” Caltha replied. “This is the first time I've been to JudgmentGrove.”

Ailim smiled. “Everyone is welcome.”

Caltha looked around. “It's a place everyone should visit, but I doubt it's a very popular attraction, like the ship,
Nuada's Sword.
I took the younglings there and, you know, we didn't even want to go inside and visit the museum rooms. It is very impressive, but”—she shrugged—“just utterly different.”

“It is part of our past,” Ailim chided, but struggled to remember when she, herself, had last visited the starship. When she was a child, she thought.
Nuada's Sword
was ever-present. Huge as it was, it loomed in the skyline, visible from every part of the city, yet everyone took it for granted, only showing the thing to out-of-towners as an odd site.

Caltha shrugged. “True, it's our past, but I prefer to focus on the future.” She nodded to a plump merchant who rubbed his hands and beamed with happiness, being slapped on his back by friends. Ailim had determined he was the best candidate to win and care for the old Asphodel estate. “Like the new GraceLord T'Goldthread, there. An excellent choice. He'll cherish the grounds and the Residence. Under his hand, new traditions will be made, a new Family dynasty founded. He'll bring vitality and spirit to the old place. The future is very important.”

“Of course. Speaking of which, when did you plan to leave?”

“This afternoon. We have several days' journey to the plantation on Huckleberry Finn River.”

“Stay.”

Tilting her head, Caltha raised her brows.

“We haven't had time to talk, and there are things to discuss,” Ailim said.

Caltha frowned. “I've been keeping track of the Family's financial problems, but I really need to get back—”

“Stay, D'SilverFirHeir,” Ailim said softly.

Shock flashed in Caltha's eyes. Her cheeks reddened. “I . . . I . . . I can't think of what to say.”

“Young as I am, I still need an heir. We must discuss this. I would prefer you keep your Family here, too. Have your children been Tested for Flair?”

“Not . . . not formally.” Caltha sucked in a big breath. “Can we do it here? With the D'SilverFir testing stones?”

“Of course.”

“I am appreciative of the honor you do me, D'SilverFir,” Caltha said, formally bowing her head.

“But you are not going to say you are unworthy.”

Caltha raised her chin and met Ailim's eyes. “No, I'm not. Until you have children of your own, I'm glad to be your Heir.”

The thought of children gave Ailim a twist of pain. The man she wanted was not the man who could father her children. She pushed the thought away. “Stay, please.”

Again dipping her head, Caltha said, “Yes, D'SilverFir. I'll go and inform my husband and children that we'll remain. There's much to see and do in Druida; we should take advantage of the opportunities.” A gleam came to her eyes. “Isn't Cona going to be fussed? She's been boasting she's your Heir, you know.”

“Oh, has she?” Ailim said coldly. She gestured to Yeldoc to come over. She wanted a witness to her intention, and fussy Yeldoc would do very well. “D'SilverFirHeir, I would like to introduce you to my bailiff, Yeldoc. Yeldoc, please make sure my heir has access to my chambers and me whenever she wishes.”

“I am honored,” Yeldoc mumbled to Caltha, obviously impressed with her figure.

Caltha nodded regally and strolled away.

Ailim swept a glance around JudgmentGrove. She loved the place, the grassy green, the huge trees, the small stage with the Sage's Chair and rainbowstone desk. This, more than her Residence, was home. She wanted to spend more time with Ruis here, but it was best to limit his visits to nightly passion.

A nasty odor hit her nose and it twitched. Then she realized it was just a reminder of the evil amulet Menzie wore. The effect seemed to be growing, feeding off Menzie's energy, but Ailim could not convince her aunt to give the wretched thing up. At the idea of Menzie, a waspish buzz filled Ailim's head. She couldn't bear to see Menzie now.

Ailim sent her robe to her chambers and went into her private area behind the stage, then left the grove. She dreaded returning to the Residence. She needed time alone. She wanted to walk.

 
 
Ruis stood in the shadows of a doorway and watched as
Samba walked her paws up the side of the impressive marble building across the street, a bag clamped in her jaws. She pressed a button to open the collection box of “Cascara Bank and Financial Services.” Ruis grinned to himself, feeling a fizz of happiness. He'd never had a bank account, let alone one at such a firm as Cascara's, second only to GreatLord T'Reed's. Now he, Ruis Elder, was a valued client.

Not that they knew who he was, of course. They thought he was some old, feeble offshoot of the Elder Family.

The firm was efficient and quick. Ruis was pleased with their service and would not hesitate to give them a recommendation.

The collection box slowly opened; Samba placed the satchel inside. The box closed.

Ship had decided that an additional component in Ruis's anger management would be a sense of financial security. Always one to have a stash, Ruis had opened an account at Cascara's. Originally he'd thought of marketing the plants in the greensward, but decided it was too risky.

There were plenty of objects on the Ship that were extremely precious. He and the Ship had concluded that several ancient coins, actually minted on Earth, would provide the security Ruis needed. Ruis had also hidden a few coins in various parts of town in case of emergency.

Through correspondence and Samba's willing paws, Ruis had hired Cascara's to receive a long-lost bounty—three Earth coins—sell them, and keep the funds in an account. Samba was delivering the final papyrus connected with the sale . . . authorization of the commission.

Samba sharpened her claws on the stone building as she waited for a receipt. Her ears pricked. Ruis heard the clucking tongue at the same time. He dared not speak. Samba looked up the street. Ruis huddled in the doorway between two bow windows and crouched down, pulling the light-bending cloak around him so none of his skin showed.

“Here, cat. What a beautiful, lively puss,” said a lilting male voice that Ruis recognized, Holm Holly.

He ground his teeth; surely Samba wouldn't be lured away by such a compliment.

Of course she would. She pranced up the street, out of sight.

“What a beautiful puss, what a clever Cat. Look at that pretty silver collar,” Holm flattered.

Ruis hunkered down further. He caught a glimpse of Holm approaching in an angled window.

Cascara's collection box opened to emit a scarlet receipt.

Ruis cursed under his breath, waiting, assuring himself that all was not lost. Samba was not recognized. If she were, Holly couldn't connect her to him, but the Elder name on the receipt could be damning, could start already suspicious minds thinking.

It could be worse.

It got worse.

Zanth, T'Ash's Fam, swaggered up the street from the opposite direction. A huge cat, he could easily reach the receipt. He'd recognize his daughter, Samba. Zanth had mated with Samba's mother, Tinne Holly's Fam, so Zanth knew the Hollys well. He knew Samba was Ruis's Fam. Zanth hated Ruis.

Zanth lifted his muzzle, sniffed, spied the open collection box, and trotted over. He pulled the receipt from the box with his teeth.

Samba's yowl of outrage split the air. Her papyrus was being stolen by her sire!

Zanth whirled and bounded away, obviously recalling his fight with his daughter. Samba sped after him. Holly laughed.

Ruis gritted his teeth. This could mean discovery. It could mean life or death. Who would the Fam give the receipt to, D'Ash or T'Ash?

Less than a septhour later Samba materialized outside the gates of T'Ash Residence. Ruis had waited out of sight in a spot where his Nullness affected no inherent spells.

“Well?” he asked.

Samba scowled, then burped.
Slip is shredded
.

He sucked in a breath. “Tell me.”

Zanth 'ported here. I followed. He ran into D'Ash. She took slip. I jumped, got slip, shredded
.

“That's all?”

Her muscles rippled from neck to tail in a feline shrug of irritation.
Slip is gone
. Her long wet tongue swiped her whiskers.
Best food in Druida for Cats, here
.

“Did D'Ash read the slip?”

Don't know
.

He looked down at her. She looked away, embarrassed at her failure. He wanted to shout at her or punch a convenient hedge, or swear. He didn't. He loved her, this vain, precocious, often maddening cat. She'd been the first being who had ever loved or trusted him. He sighed and reached down to pick her up. She looked at him with wide green eyes and began a rough purr.

Carrying her, he strode back to FirstGrove to set up the twinmoons ritual for himself and Shade.

 
 
Ruis let Nightshade dismiss the Guardians of the Watch-
towers and extinguish the four directional candles. The ritual had gone better than Ruis had expected. Since he had no Flair he couldn't call upon psi power to manifest his will and prayers into concrete events, but he'd found peace in the actions.

Nightshade no longer jittered. His expression held an underlying serenity so Ruis considered the ceremony a success.

Ruis had stood before the simple, ancient altar in FirstGrove and named aloud resentments and hatreds he intended to release for all time from burdening his soul. He trusted the boy enough to let him hear some minor sins and secrets.

At one moment during the prayers, when Shade was on the opposite side of the circle, Ruis sensed Nightshade had experienced a small pulsing of Flair he could learn to use to fashion his own rituals. Ruis felt a small flicker of hope that he'd turned Shade onto a path other than the vengeance stalk.

Shade cut the Circle, and the ritual ended.

“Good job,” Ruis said. He clapped a hand on Shade's shoulder. The boy started and tugged away. Ruis's mouth tightened, but he banished the hurt. People would always pull away from him.

“Shade,” he said.

The youth looked up from dousing the candles set at the compass points. At least there wasn't a wariness in his stare, the young man trusted Ruis—a little.

Ruis swept a hand around them. “This is the FirstGrove.” His voice naturally lowered. He wanted to extend the feeling of serenity as long as possible. Being on the Ship usually energized him, thinking and working; being with Ailim D'SilverFir usually made his thoughts and body concentrate in a different, carnal, direction; but being here in FirstGrove gave him a calm he'd rarely experienced.

“It will let you in. I've given you the dismiss illusions spell and the gatespell.” Ruis nodded to the edge of papyrus sticking out of Shade's pocket. Ruis hoped soon Shade would need those spells to enter, that he wouldn't be admitted because he radiated desperation.

“Use this place to heal. In the gardenshed are fresh herbs and recipe books for poultices you can make for your wrist. If you use your hand, it may Heal better. I'm leaving the altar, tools, and candles in place. When I'm gone, consider doing a ritual of your own, using your Flair.”

The boy blinked and an arrested expression crossed his face. He grinned and almost looked young. “You think?”

Ruis smiled back. “You won't know what you can do unless you try.”

Shade looked around the grove then up at him, brows lowered. “You mean what you say during Ritual? Ill-will to T'Ash gone?”

Ruis nodded. “Yes. Not only has that GreatLord forgiven me, but it's damned dangerous to hold a grudge against him.” He stopped himself from adding that Danith D'Ash had helped him, leading to the lightening of his resentments. When Shade was further reformed, they'd talk of Danith D'Ash.

“Ill-will, pitti-pat word.” He sent Ruis a sly look. “Dangerous to cross T'Ash, dangerous as crossing a Holly. You didn't release no ill-will for Hollys.”

“No, I didn't. Some emotions take longer to let go. Like your hatred for T'Ash.”

Shade's glistened teeth flashed, and again he was the cunning, feral, blood-lusting gangmember. Ruis wished he hadn't spoken.

“T'Ash killed my triad-brothers. He noble. Go unpunished.”

“Who attacked first? Your gang. Who threatened his HeartMate? Your gang. Who tried to kill D'Ash? Your brother, Nettle. What was he supposed to do?”

Shade shrugged. “He chose. He will pay.”

“His choice was forced upon him, by you.”

Shade began to walk away. Ruis grabbed him by the shoulders. A tremor of shock went through both of them at the contact, Shade reacting to Ruis's Null touch, Ruis realizing he defended nobles. The teenager was too taut and thin under his hands. He gave Shade a little shake. “Who started the fights? What would you have done if you were T'Ash?”

Shade jerked from Ruis. “She in our territory, Downwind. She ours. We many, he one. We take what is ours.”

Ruis squeezed the boy. “Listen to yourself! You sound like a wolf, not a man. Think of what you were and what that brought your brothers—death.” He let the young man go and gestured to the altar, shining with small gifts from Ruis and Shade, symbolizing the shedding of old, bad habits. “Think of the man you can become. A man of talent and Flair and worth who can make a good life for himself. Think, damn it, don't just react!”