Heartmate (11 page)

“And see here, here,
and
here!” Mitchella crowed. “Oh, you sly one”—Mitchella's elbow nudged the top of Danith's ribs—“the near future is the White Flower Maid, a time of sensuality, eroticism, and love. I like that! Further in the future, the two of cauldrons—a marriage of
partners.
Now, that's what I'd like to see for you. And
as a Final Outcome
you have the ten of cauldrons, a HeartMate marriage!” She dramatically clasped her hands to her breasts and fluttered her lashes. “Who could ask for anything more?”

It was too good to be true. The White Flower Maid—well, Danith wouldn't be seduced by the necklace or the man. As for the rest, the love in the cards was equaled by the threat of danger.

Danith nibbled at her lower lip. Obstacles—the Cave of the Dark Goddess, such a powerful card and not a good omen. It signified destructive energies all around her, and this was upsettingly mirrored by the eight of blasers, a woman caged by red blaser lightspears. Two other cards foretold peril.

She scanned each of the cards, melding them into a flowing pattern for the future. Love, a good marriage of equal partners—she didn't really believe in HeartMates, at least for herself—a happy outcome, if she was courageous enough to overcome her own faults, fight for her wishes, and survive destructive energies.

Her gaze went naturally to the card in the Family placement, the position she always considered of the utmost importance. She frowned at Coll the Hazel Tree, the Crimsonnuts of Knowledge. What an odd place to find it. Usually she read the card as intuition, but now she searched her memory for alternative meanings.

Slowly it came to her. A channel of creative energy, especially in increasing potential for others, a catalyst or transformer. Now would she be the catalyst to increase the Family of others, perhaps the Clovers? Or would a catalyst appear in her own life?

“Six of stars for Prosperity, that's some money coming in. And the StoneMarker of Fate in Career,” Mitchella enthused on. “The power of truth and recognition of your worth. I always said you had unplumbed depths. Well, what do you think?”

Danith's eyes were drawn once more to the harsh countenance of the Lord of Blasers. “I want some ice cream. Cocoa.”

 
 
When Danith returned home an hour later, a rose scent
lingered in her rooms. Pansy stropped Danith's ankles in greeting, then went to sit in the kitchen near her bowl while Danith opened the collection box. Inside was a fragrant white rose, its petals edged with the faintest of pinks, gorgeous in its simplicity. Eagerly she reached for the card. Maybe it was from Claif, though he wasn't usually a man for romantic gestures—but if it was, then perhaps he was willing to ignore Mitchella's opinion of their marriage.

The small card was bordered in gold. In elegant penmanship, it read “T'Ash.” Danith narrowed her eyes. The slime.

First he had set a seduction spell on a necklace to lure her against her will to his bed, then a heavy-handed proposition, now a measly rose. Perhaps he was interested in a common woman as a mistress before he worked himself up to the nobility for a wife.

She didn't want to be seduced and cast aside. She couldn't think of anything less appealing. Danith took intimacy seriously. Affection, passion, and love were too precious.

And she didn't want a man like T'Ash, who once moved in tough Downwind circles, and now rich noble circles. He was too different than she. Too intense. And too alone.

She wanted a man easy to love, a man who would give her many laughing children and a large family of in-laws. A man she could understand and anticipate, a man willing to vow a solid marriage. Her emotional life had been hard enough as a child; why shouldn't she want something simple now?

Pansy mewed and Danith went to the kitchen. The flower was too beautiful to throw away so Danith put it in a glisten vase. The iridescence of the metal complemented the simplicity of the white rose. It would look nice in her mainspace.

As she fed Pansy, Danith thought of Claif. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted him. She didn't care if Mitchella believed it would be a poor marriage. Danith would work hard to make a good life for both of them. Mitchella or not, Danith would accept Claif when he proposed on Discovery Day.

The collection box played the short melody announcing a delivery. Danith opened it to stare down on a little bunch of pansies charmingly set in a silver holder.

Again she hoped they were from Claif. Again the card said “T'Ash.” Simply T'Ash, nothing more, not one word why he would send flowers or what he wanted in return. He would want something as payment. The man she saw last night would never do anything without motive or reward.

She set her chin. She had told him she wasn't interested in his games yesterday evening, and she hadn't changed her mind. He hadn't looked dense. Just exactly what was his game?

 
 
“I'm glad to see you,” T'Ash muttered. Bang! He
swung his hammer to thin the edges of the main gauche on the anvil. “I'm glad to see you.” Bang!

He stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow with a rag. He'd been practicing the words for his scry call to Danith for half an hour and he still had only one sentence. This was going to be harder than he'd thought.

He critically examined the blade. It was looking very, very good, and there was power in it, lightly shielded from Tinne Holly, T'Ash hoped. He'd done a fine job in setting the spells for protection and discipline, and would complete the next portion of the ritual Words later.

The ritual Words! His eyes widened. This last half-hour he'd been concentrating on the dagger edges, not the spells, and chanting his first line to Danith. “I'm glad to see you.”

He touched the hilt. Those words were in the weapon, all right. Damn.

Then he threw back his head and laughed. The Hollys were such fighters that they were glad to see any challenger, and perhaps T'Ash could work that into the spell.

He tossed his sweat rag aside and picked up a magic cloth to wipe down the blade, giving it a bit of brilliance-spell at the same time. Now, those were easy Words. Easy to create, easy to remember, not even taking much power or energy. Why was the formula for Danith so awfully important?

Because she was.

Zanth loped in.
Go to shop now. Make My gift to FamWoman.

T'Ash glanced at the timer. Zanth was right. T'Ash needed to clean up and open his store, where Tinne Holly would come to check on his new weapon.

“The shop will be very busy tonight. Three days from now, Mor, is Discovery Day. I'll have many sales. Also, Tinne Holly will be by to have his main gauche attuned. You will have to wait until after that before I can spare time for you.”

Zanth flicked his tail.
Me patient.

That was a lie.

T'Ash was afraid of that. It wasn't that he didn't trust Zanth. He did. He trusted Zanth to be Zanth. Perrrfectly capable of scratching some female customer cooing over him. Perrrfectly capable of spitting at Tinne Holly. Perrrfectly capable of disrupting the shop.

T'Ash hoped so. She should have gotten the two offerings of flowers by now; perhaps she'd come to thank him. He smiled.

He wondered if the HeartGift spell had influenced her at all, if she was even slightly enamored of him. If she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Perhaps the HeartGift only needed time to do its job and she was waiting at the store. Nice thought.

T'Ash sighed. “Perhaps.”

“Right. I'll meet you at the shop. Do you want me to take or teleport the pink diamond there?” He hadn't seen the stone since Zanth had glommed onto it.

My stone. Me take.
Zanth rose with dignity and left the forge, crooked tail waving.

T'Ash glanced at the timer again. He'd have to leave the choosing of an attractive bouquet to the florist. He exhaled with relief.

 
 
Zanth curled and overflowed the small velvet corner
chair, watching customers come and go through slitted eyes. T'Ash had to admit that his Fam wasn't calling any attention to himself and was behaving well.

An hour after the store opened, Tinne Holly entered. He walked with more swagger in his step than his older brother Holm. T'Ash measured the youth. T'Ash had judged correctly, the main gauche should be proportional to the young man's stature.

Tinne was seventeen and, from the power and Flair emanating from him, more than ready for his second Passage.

T'Ash shuddered as he remembered his own second Passage. It had been triggered by the young Holm Holly, caught in Downwind during his Passage. Holm had been bouncing erratic energy, Flair, and emotions all over the place. T'Ash first got caught in the tide, then swept into the whirlpool, shooting into a raging inferno of fire and lightning that sundered all his beliefs, large and small. Passion had seared him, passion for living and for vengeance.

It had ripped him apart emotionally, nearly driven him insane.

Holly had fought almost every hour. Passage brought deathduels for Hollys. Now the danger menaced Tinne.

T'Ash continued to study Tinne from under lowered eyelids and suppressed a sigh. The silver-haired youth could not stand still for two microns.

He prowled the shop, looking at the wares and waiting until T'Ash finished ringing up sales. A mannerly boy.

He didn't look stupid, and he didn't look as if he would appreciate a weapon imbued with strong disciplinary and protection spells. He might need a little distraction when he tested the main gauche for balance.

T'Ash wanted no argument with a hotheaded Holly if Tinne discovered spells in the blade.

Finally the last customer ready to purchase something was served and Holly approached the counter.

“Greetyou. I'm Tinne Holly, my brother said you wished to see me about a weapon?”

T'Ash offered his hand. The FirstFamilies were often superficially friendly and quietly cutthroat, but Holm Holly was T'Ash's friend and nothing in Tinne's demeanor said he'd be any less honorable. Less stable, less dependable, less sensible, but equally loyal.

Tinne's eyes widened and he clasped T'Ash's hand. Wild, hot energy surged up T'Ash's arm. He didn't let the shock show.

“Your brother commissioned a main gauche for you.” T'Ash brought the long dagger from under the counter and handed it over.

Tinne took it, jerked a little, and squinted down the fuller groove of the blade.

Distraction needed. “Tell me, Holly. What would you consider a good opening line for a scry to your beloved?” T'Ash asked casually, congratulating himself for combining two purposes at one time. He was diverting Holly from testing the weapon with his Flair, and was getting some masculine advice.

Tinne shot a surprised gaze at T'Ash, then grinned. Tinne had the Holly charm, in abundance.

Tinne placed the main gauche carefully on the glass case, but traced the gold wire in the shape of a holly branch along the main gauche's hilt to the smoky-quartz pommel.

He looked deeply into T'Ash's eyes and lowered his own lashes in a sensual look T'Ash didn't think he'd be able to master in a few short hours.

“Darling delight,” Tinne purred better than Zanth, “did you miss me?”

T'Ash didn't think that would work for him. “Try something else.”

The young man's smile flashed again, revealing a dimple. Damn but these Hollys had life, and women, easy. Tinne fondled the pommel of the main gauche. “Compliments on eyes or a smile are always good.”

Pleasure filled T'Ash at the thought of Danith. “My lady
is
beautiful.”

Tinne blinked. “A Lady? You?”

T'Ash's face froze.

Tinne took a step back, two, his expression no longer lighthearted. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, then formally bowed his head. “I apologize. You are worthy of any Lady.”

Now T'Ash fiddled with the blade. He noticed customers sidling quietly to the door. With effort he summoned a smile. He nodded in return. “Forgiven.”

Tinne smiled quickly, young and confident enough to be so simply reassured. “My thanks.” He looked at the long dagger on the counter. “I would hate to forfeit such a magnificent treasure. Particularly since my brother is paying for it.”

“You like the design, then.”

“Perfect.”

“Please, try the balance. And as with all my weapons, it must be attuned to the unique vibratory band of your Flair.”

Looking interested, Tinne approached. He closed his hand over the blade, hefted it.

Those customers not fascinated by the show again slid toward the door. T'Ash sighed. Majo would be most unhappy if business did not stay steady. Not to mention the fact that T'Ash had his pride. He wanted to show his manager that he was equally adept at sales, even though he'd had to close for most of the day.

“Come behind the counter. There is space enough here to match the main gauche with your resonance.”

Tinne nodded. With a wave of his hand, T'Ash dissolved the spellshield between the counter and where he stood.

T'Ash positioned the young man on the grounding mat. “Hold the weapon loosely in your left hand. Gauche means left. The long dagger is meant to complement your blaser or your sword. Stand still. Breathe and clear your mind of all thought.”

Now the customers crowded to watch. T'Ash quietly rang up sales, pleased at the trade. He kept his senses focused on Holly until he felt Tinne had achieved the proper contemplative state.