Heart Thief (43 page)

When the breeze wafted her voice to his ears, he jerked awake, sending his gaze questing for her. Occasionally she'd walk the JudgmentGrove before her official day began speaking with visitors, nobles and commoners alike, as she did now.

Ruis glanced at his watch. A half-septhour before JudgmentGrove began. He looked up to find her talking to Bucus.
NO!
His knuckles tightened whitely.

Bucus and Ailim were intent on their conversation. Bucus held his head at a mocking angle, with raised eyebrows, while Ailim leaned toward him. She pressed papyrus sheets into his hands, pivoted on her heel, and walked to her tower.

Bucus's sneer changed into a scowl as he read the papyrus and crumpled them, shoving the wad in his pocket. He examined the Grove with narrowed eyes, then stalked away.

What had Ailim given him? Ruis cursed himself again for their argument, torn between wanting vengeance and wanting Ailim. Until now, Ailim had been circumspect in her investigations, but he must have pushed her to move more quickly and with less caution. What had been on the document? Instinctively Ruis sensed that it concerned Bucus and the SilverFir Family and wouldn't draw attention to Ruis. He thumped a fist on the wide branch beside him.

Tension bathed him and he scrutinized everyone. The sacred circle was drawn and closed, the weathershield raised, the opening blessing invoked. A stocky figure in drab brown caught Ruis's attention. The man looked familiar. As he wandered the edge of JudgmentGrove, Ruis strained to place him.

Ruis kept watch all morning, his gaze returning time and again to the man in brown. It grated Ruis that his honed survival skills had faded.

The last case before break was called. “Return to the People of Celta and the Maidens of Saille against Antenn Moss, juvenile,” Yeldoc announced.

Ruis jolted. Antenn Moss, Shade's brother. Ailim's concentration was focused on the people before her. Her body language showed how important this case was to her.

Ailim looked at the boy and sighed. “Antenn Moss,” she said, disappointed to see him again. She'd failed the boy. She hoped Ruis was succeeding with Shade.

Antenn flushed. He'd wrapped most of his cloak around his young, scruffy tomcat.

The Prosecutor coughed. “The apprenticeship of Antenn to the Turmerics did not succeed. There was a—personality clash regarding the cat—Pinky.” The Prosecutor shrugged.

Ailim raised her eyebrows. Pinky had a ratty ear and scratches on his nose, no doubt taking after Zanth. She scrutinized Antenn. His mouth set stubbornly. It wouldn't do to separate the cat from the boy.

“I have further results of Antenn's Testing by T'Ash. Witnessed and confirmed by Mitchella Clover,” Danith D'Ash said, gesturing to a stunning and voluptuous red-headed woman who'd accompanied D'Ash to the center clearing. D'Ash ran up the steps to the stage and laid papyrus onto the desk with a flourish, then joined the other woman.

Ailim flipped through the documents and her spirits lifted. When she looked up, she smiled, knowing her relief was nothing compared to Antenn's giddiness. The boy relaxed his tight grip on the cat.

“An impressive Testing in architecture, Antenn. In sight of this new information, the Grove believes the previous placement with the Turmerics to be faulty. T'Ash states that he has forwarded a request for apprenticeship to GrandLord Cang Zhu.”

The crowd chattered. D'Ash beamed, proof to all that a person could rise from commoner to GrandHouse through sheer Flair.

Ailim squared the papyrus and inserted them in a flexifile. “The Grove will augment T'Ash's request for an apprenticeship to Cang Zhu. I do not anticipate any problems with your new apprenticeship.” Best to give a warning, though. She narrowed her eyes. “I do not wish to see you in JudgmentGrove again.”

Again Antenn flushed and shook his head.

Ailim folded her hands. “The Turmerics had trouble with Pinky.” The cat hissed at her. “The Cang Zhus might also have issues with the cat. Therefore, I do not think it wise for you to live with them during your training.” She scanned JudgmentGrove, stilled for a moment when she sensed a blankness in an oak tree outside the circle. Ruis. Another lost soul that might be saved. With a jerk, she brought her mind back to work. “The Grove notes that the boy still needs a proper home.”

People shifted on their blankets and shuffled their feet around her. No one met her eyes.

“T'Ash . . .” D'Ash started hesitantly.

“Fligger,” Antenn swore. He and the Prosecutor shared an uneasy glance.

“I know T'Ash is an expert on Downwind boys,” Ailim said smoothly. “But in this instance, I believe I would prefer another home, perhaps one with another boy his own age, or an extended family—”

“Mitchella!” D'Ash cried.

The voluptuous redhead beside D'Ash started.

“You can take him.” D'Ash then addressed Ailim. “The Clovers are one of the few large families of Celta. There are several boys and girls in a wide range of ages. Mitchella always wanted to be a mother—”

“Fligger,” Antenn said.

“Not this way, Danith,” the woman named Mitchella said. She met Ailim's eyes, then lowered her gaze.

Ailim studied the boy and the woman. SilverFir had no matchmaking genes, but Ailim had been a judge long enough to weigh character. Though the solution sounded odd, some meshing of the auras of the lonely young boy and the woman—who Ailim realized was sterile, an awful fate—seemed right. Ailim saw clearly they could help each other and live together as family.

“If Mitchella Clover would accept the boy, Antenn Moss, into her home, the Grove would grant the placement,” Ailim said, avoiding GentleLady Clover's gaze.

Antenn put Pinky down and they walked to Mitchella Clover. Antenn's brown hair stuck out in clumps all over his head. “You don't want me, either. Know guy—” He stopped, struggling to correct his Downwind shortspeech. “I can work hard, as apprentice and more. The man who runs one of T'Ash's Downwind Centers will trade bed for work.” He darted a glance full of trepidation at Ailim. He didn't like that she could read him.

Ailim sighed. “If you will give me the name of the—”

“No. He comes with me.” Mitchella stiffened her spine, causing her bosom to lift. Men caught their breaths.

Antenn eyed her figure. “What a great mother.”

“I'm not your mother. You can call me Auntie Mitchella, like my other ten nephews.”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

She looked the boy up and down. Then held out a hand. He put his own into hers. “Yeah.”

Ailim picked up her gavel and banged it. “Noon recess is called. Yeldoc, you may dismiss the weathershield and sacred circle.”

Mitchella Clover and her new ward strolled in the direction of middle-class Druida, their cloaks billowing in the wind. They had dropped hands, but were talking. Their new life might not be easy on them, but Ailim believed it could work.

Ailim's lips curved in a gentle smile that tangled Ruis's emotions as she watched Antenn and Mitchella Clover. Then Ailim glanced at D'Ash, who dipped her head. Ailim frowned and Ruis knew they mindspoke. Ailim rose from her desk to meet a hurrying D'Ash near the front of the stage.

“Die!” A silver dagger flashed to Ailim, then sparked blue as it hit a protective shield. She fell from the impact.

“Bind!” Yeldoc ordered, pointing his staff at the assassin. The man struggled.

Ruis gripped the branch to swing down, blinded with fear and fury.

Samba lit on his back. Her weight forced air from his lungs. He panted to get breath back. “Grrrrrrr,” he managed.

His Fam flexed her claws, pricking him through his cloak and tunic. “Samba!” he hissed, enraged.

Stop! Think! I go see!
Samba leapt to the ground.

“T'Ash!” cried Danith D'Ash.

By the time his vision cleared, T'Ash had 'ported to the stage. He grabbed his HeartMate and held her close, then scanned Ailim.

Ruis gasped, still trying to inhale a lungful of air. Tremors ran up and down his body. He set his jaw. If the man had been anyone but T'Ash, he'd have run to Ailim. A moan of anguish at his helplessness tore from his chest. Always outside, and Ailim would come second for T'Ash, not first. Ruis was the only one who put Ailim first.

With a stride T'Ash reached the desk and slapped a palm on it. “T'Heather!” he roared for the best Healer on Celta. Enough Flair circled T'Ash that Ruis could see it. Much of the crowd scattered.

GreatLord T'Heather materialized on the desk, bag in hand. A disapproving frown crossed his broad farmer's face. “Decorum, T'Ash. Not on such a blessed desk.” Healers were used to emergency summonings. He hopped down and stumped to D'Ash, put down his bag, and checked her.

“Desk's stationary. Whole JudgmentGrove needs purifying.” T'Ash reverted to his childhood Downwind short-speech. “ 'Cause of this filth.” He strode to the trembling assassin, grabbed his shirt in one hand, lifted, and shook him. The culprit soiled himself.

Ruis stared at the prisoner, willing his own memory to jog loose.

“Why did you attack?” T'Ash demanded.

“Ruis Elder hired me!” the man screamed.

Ruis's blood turned to ice. He should have anticipated this. Another lie from Bucus. But he remembered the assassin now. The man had hunted Ruis in his old apartment, wearing Bucus's colors. Sloegin with the gambling problem.

Ruis stared at Ailim. She was looking in his direction, concern on her face.

“Ruis Elder, the thief?” T'Ash asked. “Odd problem. But I'm thinking Elders are a bad lot.”

“It was the Null!”

T'Ash plunked the man down, touched something on the man's head. Sparks flew, the criminal screamed. Blood poured from his mouth. He sagged and died.

T'Ash stared down at him. “Mindblock band with destruct spell. Great Flair, not Null. Who knows? Dead guy, now.” Scowling, he turned back to T'Heather, who ran Healing hands over Ailim.

Bile coated the back of Ruis's throat. Useless. Again. Unable to protect his woman because he skulked in a tree. Unable to defend himself or clear the new calumnies against his name.

Yeldoc's nose wrinkled as he stared down at the corpse. With a wave of his staff, he banished the body to a DeathGrove. Another pass of his staff encompassed the loiterers. “Move along. JudgmentGrove is closed. I'll have a statement for the newsheets in a septhour.”

“Yeldoc, the Ruis Elder case was before my time. There's no reason for Ruis Elder to harm me. The attacker wore a mindblock but he sounded as if he lied. Make sure that's clear to the newsheets,” Ailim said. “Also, Yeldoc, contact JudgementGrove's Chief Investigator GrandLady Lady-Mantle and ensure she finds the truth of this whole business.” She gripped the desk as if she had trouble standing.

There was no reason to say that he'd hired the attacker except to vilify his name, Ruis thought. No reason except to load more crimes on him, to put barriers in his way. The aftermath of anger, fear and shock churned inside him, slicking him with cold sweat.

Samba streaked across the stage and ducked under Ailim's robes. No one seemed to notice. Ailim stiffened.

T'Heather observed her. “I'll give you a restorative potion.”

Ailim's trembling wave indicated her Chambers tower. “There.”

“Very well.” T'Heather picked her up and carried her to the square building. Samba was nowhere in sight. Yeldoc hurried to open the door for them. T'Ash and D'Ash followed.

The door banged shut.

Ruis set his forehead on his arm and closed his eyes. She was safe! For now. But he knew who'd ordered the murder attempt and blamed him. Whether Bucus expected the assault to succeed or not, he'd sent Ailim a warning not to mix in his affairs. Not to challenge the Captain of the Council. A slow and mighty burning began in the core of Ruis's bones, gathering force. This anger, when it burst, would not be denied.

The last stragglers crunched away through blowing dead leaves, gossiping.

Samba reached the bottom of his tree.
Ailim ‘ports to Landing Grove as soon as T'Heather Healer goes.

Ruis set his jaw. His heartbeat still thundered. “She's all right?” he croaked.

Samba set her claws in the tree trunk and stretched, then sharpened her claws.
You saw. Grove shield stopped knife. She NOT hurt. No blood.

Ruis jumped from the tree and ran to the Ship, burning off the energy of his fear. All he could think of was getting his hands on Ailim again, celebrating life with her after a brush with death as he'd done before. All too often.

Rage simmered through him until his mind spun with what he wanted, needed to do. Bucus must be removed. Now.

He paced the corridor of the Ship inside the portal nearest to JudgmentGrove. The wind howled outside. Half a septhour later Ailim stumbled into his arms.

He held her while she trembled and sobbed and freed her emotions. Stroking her hair, he murmured soothing words, and deep tenderness pervaded him. She'd come to him.

Because he wanted to ravish, to take her hard and fast and deep, like the last time they came together, he strapped down his wildness and set a gentle, cherishing pace.

He needed to savor every moment of their loving, so he slowed as he carried her to his quarters. His heart still stuttered with fear that he'd almost lost her. He'd barely begun to know her, to enjoy her, to love her. To have lost her now was inconceivable. Even with Samba and the Ship, he wasn't complete. Only Ailim fulfilled his innermost needs.

She pressed her face against him, for protection or comfort, he didn't know, only that he wanted to give her everything.