Lost Heart: A Celta Novella (Celta HeartMate Series) (12 page)

P
utting
his hands around her face, Reglis kissed her forehead. "I am so glad you found a husband dear to your heart." Reglis pivoted and kissed Barton on the cheek. "I'm glad you found my sister." Reglis stepped back. "Neither Enata nor I have HeartMates for this lifetime, but we both longed for a husband and partner. You look to be well-matched."

"By Saille T'Willow himself," Barton said dryly. He waited a beat. "As you would be if you returned to Druida City."

Reglis shook his head. "My life is here. I have a vocation I cannot abandon. We'll talk later about that and why you're here. Tomorrow, perhaps. Now I'll leave you to proceed to Celta’s Castle at your own pace while watching the sun set. I do have duties. You will be welcome at the castle and please consider it your home for as long as you are here."

After another smile and nod to them, he teleported away.

Barton took Enata's hand and they began to walk up the only visible path.

"So how much did you learn about this mysterious lady?"

"Lady?"

"That's what Savi called her."

"Not enough," Enata said.

He looked at her, noted the worry line twisted between her brows, and squeezed her fingers. "Both Savi and Reglis had a point."

"What?"

"We should enjoy the sunset." Barton paused as she turned and sighed at the brilliant colors painting sky and sea. "And be glad of steady land under our feet, a good dinner, and loving in a bed."

"You're right."

By the time they reached the huge double wooden doors of Celta's Castle, the walk, the evening and the warmth and humidity of the atmosphere had worked on Enata so that serenity pervaded her.

Whatever else, she had found her brother, and renewed her bond with him. That part of her trauma had disappeared.

The castle itself consisted of tall walls, both round and square towers, all of a reddish stone and set on a cliff overlooking the bay.

B
arton awoke
in the best bed he'd ever slept in the next morning. A nearly blasphemous thought for a man from the Clover Fine Furniture Family. He also woke up with, of course, the best woman he'd ever had curled next to him. High windows at the top of the walls opened to island air, wafting in humid breezes ladened with the scent of lush tropical flowers.

Really, the only irritating item was that he woke up because his FamKitten was hopping on him, claws not quite sheathed.

Barton grunted.

Good morning, FamMan Barton!
the little cat trilled-purred.

"Uhn," said Enata, raising her lashes a little.

Good morning, FamWoman Enata! I NEED FOOD, then we need to explore the island!

Enata shuddered against Barton. He began to suspect she wasn't a morning person. That, maybe, she was even a
night
person. She sure had been lively the night before when they'd entered this beautiful room and she'd seen the magnificent carved four poster bed. He'd appreciated her energy, then.

Hop. Hop. Hop. A little tongue swiping across his cheek.

I ate all the furrabeast bites you had for the trip! I can't open the no-time! I'm HUNNGGRY!

Barton slipped from the bed. Resup sailed from the bedsponge to land in front of him, twitching a tiny tail.

I will sit on your foot and ride as you go to the sitting room and get Me food!
He matched his words with action, plopping himself on Barton's foot.

"Watch the claws, cat. And what about the vibrations?" Barton asked.

Your vibrations match the ground now,
Resup said.

"Huh." Each step careful, Barton walked to the sitting room. Sure enough, his duffle lay half off the seat the chair where he'd dropped it, gaping open, clothes and other stuff spilling out. Not one tiny shred of furrabeast bites, or jerky, or even clucker kibble remained. Spying a cabinet that looked a lot like the no-time food storage units at home, he ran his fingers along the top.

Weird, alien energy. Not really Flair-type energy, or Flair-tech, like he'd lived with all of his life. This no-time wasn't powered by the same stuff he was used to. But he opened it and found a pouch of tiny clucker cubes, ripped it and dumped them on a plate that had been stowed atop the no-time.

Absently listening to Resup munch, Barton expanded his senses. The same kind of energy hummed throughout the castle, only slightly augmented by Flair. Striding toward a window embrasure, he thinned the shield to nothing and drew in a breath to the bottom of his lungs. Plenty of energy and power, some of it Flair, most not.

Something to consider.

Then Enata came up behind him and put her arms around him and he figured it was time to return to bed. Their appointment with Reglis wasn't for a good septhour and a half.

B
arton leaned
against a paneled wall on the second floor of one of the round towers. The chamber encompassed the whole floor, with windows that could be thinned from stone to clear, or even to nothing by Flair. This room full of books, papyrus, vizes and recording spheres was Reglis Licorice's personal library.

The man had done well for himself.

Barton wanted to pace,
had
given the room a good pace or two as he studied the windows in between the bookcases. He'd looked out every one, checking the view. To the east and below he could easily see the bay and, in the opposite direction, what he believed to be the far edge of the island, maybe even a tinier island in the ocean beyond. In the middle of the land mass sat a gigantic, blue sapphire jewel of a lake . . . It appeared as though the island had been formed around the lake. He wondered if it was fresh or salt water. With the oddness of this whole place, it was probably fresh.

Enata had scrutinized the books and other stuff before sitting down in a large club chair to calmly await her brother. Like Barton, she wore professional garb. Hers was a long tunic split up the sides from below her knees to the top of her thighs, with trous beneath. Her tunic had rectangular sleeved pockets. He wore just-broken-in leathers, suitable for outside. He fully intended to take some island paths after the meeting, keep the exploration of Celta's Castle for later, though Resup had other ideas. He'd thrown a kitten tantrum when Barton suggested he accompany them to meet Enata's brother. Resup preferred to nose around the building. Barton had only wanted the kitten to stay inside, so they both won.

Barton and Enata had been early for the meeting. Since Reglis should show up in two minutes, Barton had stopped his circumnavigation of the room.

The door opened and Enata flew to the door to hug and be hugged by her brother.

Barton sensed the emotional flow between the siblings, glad his lady had that bond back. She held on tight until her brother began to appear uncomfortable and raised his brows at Barton. So he trod over and put his hand on her shoulder. "Come on, dear one, give Reglis time to answer our questions."

She nodded, then snuffled, and wiped the dampness of her eyes on his Flaired shirt, an intimacy that pleased him. Draping an arm around her shoulders, he led her to a wing back chair, and urged her to sit. He stood next to her, trying to look casual, but the moment had come and he thrummed with questions.

Reglis took a chair close to her, and Barton speared him with a gaze. "So who summoned us here?"

Head tilted, a touch of amusement on his lips and a dare in his eyes, Reglis said, “Can't you guess?"

"No," Barton replied flatly.

"Think big."

Barton shrugged. He sensed Enata's mind zipping through ideas.

"All right, think
huge,
" Reglis spread his arms wide.

"Reg-lis!" Enata protested.

He leaned back in his chair and his face became serious. "Usually by the time we arrive here, we've been prepared. Perhaps that didn't occur with you. But I can't tell you. You must guess. It's the rule," he paused. "That is, I can't tell you at all, Barton. Eventually, I believe, Enata will be . . . ah . . . contacted."

Displaying weakness or not, Barton got up and paced. "I think better on my feet."

"Of course," Reglis said easily. Still felt like a weakness to Barton. After a couple of circuits of the room he stopped at the east window and looked out at the bay, beyond those cliffs at the ocean separating the island and Druida City. Slowly, he began to winnow every hint he'd heard, put the puzzle together.

She.
The Lady of Celta
. The name of the sailing ship between this lost island and the peninsula holding Druida City.

An island not shown on any maps.

Not shown when the Earthan ships circling the planet recorded its geography as they landed. A shrouded island, even then?

Or maybe a new island, but how could that be?

An island especially formed for the Chosen of Celta.

By the Lady of Celta.

But not the goddess his culture worshipped, the partner to the Lord, the Celtic Lady and Lord that they, humans from Earth, had brought with them to form the basis of a new society on this planet.

Huge.

Vibrations in the ground, “bad” and not compatible to the Fam animals in Druida City, but “the same” as the ground here.

He’d sensed alien magic, not human psi-Flair or Flair technology all around.

But they were not the natives.
They
were the aliens.

And part of the culture they'd developed was that every particle of the universe was alive. Rocks. Mountains. Stars.

A planet.

Celta's Castle. Celta's Chosen.

An entity who could erase a person from the mind of everyone who'd ever known or known of that person.

He thought his mind exploded, snatched at the far reaches of it, the most incredible thought. He must be wrong. He'd sound foolish if he said what he was thinking. But he coughed, turned to look at Reglis and Enata. "The planet. This planet has — is — alive. Is a being, an entity. Celta."

R
eglis grinned and clapped once
. "Well done, Barton! I never would have guessed. Never allowed my mind to extrapolate such a notion." He glanced at his sister. "How about you, Enata?"

Enata looked flabbergasted, her eyes unfocused, her lips parted. She shook her head, struggling to overcome disbelief, Barton thought.

He rolled his shoulders. So he'd pulled a guess from the farthest, most fantastic edges of his mind and it had been right, still fliggering staggering, but right. He stared at Reglis, who appeared pleased.

"So we've discovered the
who,
" Barton grated the words out. "We can get to
why
later."

"Why is very important," both Licorices said at the same time, Enata's voice squeaky high.

"No. What's very important is the ill effects this is having on everyone." Barton's gaze bore into Reglis'. The man blinked. "You serve this lady?"

"The lady avatar of the planet Celta? Yes, I do." He spread his arms wide. "Ill effects? I am fine. The Chosen are fine." He glanced away. "The lady has learned how to deal with human minds." Barton got the impression that the lady had learned by trial and error, like by breaking fragile human minds.

"Not well enough," Barton said. "Enata's been sick since the beginning of the month, when the lady began messing with her head."

"What!"

Barton scooped Enata out of her chair, sat himself, and kept her on his lap. Knowing his face tightened, he kept his voice smooth and quiet. "Do you realize what that . . . what Celta has been doing to your sister? All this month she's been going to that vault of yours to see a new book,
The Chosen of Celta.
" He jutted his chin to a big floating book in the corner. It looked larger than the one he'd seen in the vault. His hands soothed Enata. She rested against him.

Grit entered Barton's tones. "And every time Enata left, that thing—" He stopped and coughed. "—the great entity who is our home," he said aloud to remind himself he did love the planet, not to mention it could probably crush him with a thought. "That is to say, Celta removed her memories. So she's been bouncing back and forth between remembering you and not. Tore her up emotionally. There have also been physical side effects."

Reglis stared at them, face paling. "No," he whispered. "I didn't know."

"Celta has been hard on Enata." He pinned the shocked man with his most intimidating gaze. "I want a Healer called to check her out. You
do
have Healers, don't you?"

"Of course." Reglis drew himself up.

"Look at her." Barton swept a hand along his beloved. Hardened his heart. "Does she match your memory? She's too thin and pale."

"I'm better now," she murmured.

Reglis scowled.

"Speaking of memories. Celta doesn't tell you she wipes you from the memories of all who knew you, even knew
of
you, does she? She doesn't inform you of that when she calls you and tells you that you're Chosen, or once you're here."

Pure shock rolled over Reglis' face, trembled down his body. He reached for a chair, groped his way into it.

"I see you can figure out the ramifications of that — broken minds, fractures in a Family missing one of their members and not knowing that, inexplicable psychological problems, behavioral problems."

Enata said, "I was mean, really mean to Glyssa, and not just personally, but professionally, in a professional setting." She rubbed her forehead, then she dropped her hand. "The Hazels . . . I don't think they've been quite right for a long time. Functioning, but not
right
. You have a Calluna Heather Hazel here. Is she a Healer?"

A white-faced Reglis nodded. "Yes, but not at Celta's Castle. I'll call our Healer. He's very good, especially with the mind . . . he helps us adjust."

"You obviously remember your Families," Barton said.

"Yes, of course. We are given the choice to live here or not, accept the vocation offered or not."

"I'm thinking those who don't take Celta up on the offer don't remember the fact. Choice is a step in the right direction. Celta probably realized that rebellious humans don't fit her needs," Barton muttered.

Enata asked softly, "How do you feel knowing that we have no memory of you?"

Now Reglis looked just plain sick. "I'm calling the Healer. He's a native." His head tilted as if he spoke telepathically.

"The Healer was born and raised here?" Barton asked.

"Yes." Reglis popped from his chair. "He'll be along shortly. He's working with Captain Mor and the crew. The voyages are hard on them."

"Maybe because of the memory thing," Barton said. "Maybe it comes and goes with them."

Reglis' mouth flattened. "I've asked Corylus Hazel and Calluna Heather Hazel, the
Chosen
before me, to come, too."

"Good, get this entire mess all thrashed out," Barton said. "You can tell us more of Celta while we wait."

The sizzle of his anger cycling through their link made Enata nervy, along with his tense muscles. She shifted in his lap, caught a motion from the corner of her eye. "What's that volume floating in the corner?"

Reglis raised his hand and the book, twice as large as the one in Security Vault One in the PublicLibrary, floated over to them.

"This is the complete and unabridged record of Celta's Chosen."

She rose to her feet, stalked over to the book, felt some of Barton's anger fade to her own irritation and his curiosity match hers. "The PublicLibrary has an
abridged
version!"

A familiar smile wisped across Reglis' lips. "I know how annoying that is for you." His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. "
Perhaps
we can provide a copy." He tapped the opened page with a forefinger and Enata saw his small, precise writing.

"Your notes," she breathed. "And everyone else's?"

Reglis nodded. "Perhaps I can convince Celta to duplicate this in Security Vault One."

"How?" Barton asked. "How does this all work?"

"Magic." Reglis rolled a shoulder. "Celta is a strong planet, not weak like the crippled Earth our forebears left. Intelligent and skilled. Magic, psi power, Flair, call it what you will, but we are puny compared to her."

"Her?" questioned Barton.

"Like our Residences, and the starship
Nuada's Sword
, the planet chose a sex to interact with us better." A quick smile. "I think because the first librarian she picked was male and preferred women. He listened to her telepathic conversation."

"A powerful planetary being? Anyone would."

Reglis' brows went up. "You'd be surprised what some people prefer to ignore."

"I never ignore voices in my head," Barton said, joining her to look at the book. "Unless they're nagging Family."

They all laughed.

"So," Reglis prompted. "Questions?"

"Why us?" Barton flicked a hand toward Reglis, then Enata and himself.

"I—" Reglis stopped and tilted his head for a long moment, nodded, then met Enata's gaze, looked at Barton. "I was going to tell you my own deductions, but now I will be speaking for the planet, Celta, as we call her. Naturally, she did not think of herself as that until our ancestors, the colonists from Earth, arrived."

"What did she—" Enata began.

Barton's hand dropped to her shoulder again. "You librarians get distracted. Keep on topic. Why us? Why the other's she's taken in . . . our lifetimes?" He paused. "Specifically."

"Specifically," Reglis repeated, an odd note in his voice, then, "Ouch!" A pause. "You're forgiven. Do not forget you can burn out our minds while talking to us."

Enata gasped, Barton went stiff beside her.

Reglis flinched and grimaced, then said, "Yes, all mended. Thank you." He turned his head back toward them. "Celta prefers to have a PublicLibrarian in Druida City as a failsafe, should something happen to the general populace of our planet, the librarian would know to bring the survivors here." Reglis cleared his throat. "We are a delicate species to her, and there is only so much changing to herself she is willing to do so we might adapt."

"All . . . right," Barton said. "So that's Enata. Why me?"

"For the same reason she chose Savi. Because you are Clovers, the most prolific Family of us all."

Enata heard him grinding his teeth. "Oh. So she's not giving up Savi?"

"No, but Balansa can leave." Reglis touched his temple, then his head dropped. Without looking at them, he said, "She confirms that she's tampered with memories. And states that when you leave, you will lose your memories of here."