by Robin Owens
Shunuk stuck his head in the viewing area.
“He’s going, too,” Del said.
“Thank you, Shunuk,” Raz said. “I’ll get back to you. May I come over as soon as I’ve packed?”
Del hesitated. Straif, a FirstFamily lord who knew Raz was her HeartMate, would study him. Doolee, the child she wanted to spend more time with—both the little girl and Raz would distract Del from interacting well with each of them. All under the very observant eyes of an older, master artist who was also a FirstFamily lord. This was getting far too messy for her.
So don’t consider every angle, go with the simple, what her gut wanted. “Yes, you can come on over.”
“I’ll see you soon,” Raz said.
Twenty-four
Raz spoke with his father and got seats on a commoner-class airship flight to Gael City that would take seven and a half septhours. He was disappointed; he’d wanted to give Del the best. He’d make sure the glider drive back would be special.
He’d had to work harder than he’d anticipated to get Del to accompany him to Gael City. He supposed that was good for him—women had always tended to fall into his bed—but it ruffled his pride. But Del wasn’t a city woman, a sophisticated woman who prized the arts and preferred to take lovers from that milieu.
Lover. She’d used the word, he liked the word, and it stirred him up to hear her say it. Despite their retreat today, they were still lovers. Intensely lovers.
He studied a jacket and put it aside, too trendy for the smaller burg. Packing was taking too long, he was too conscious of his clothes and the image he wanted to project to Del.
She probably threw in a few leather suits and a dress for the theater, gave nothing else any more thought.
But as honest as he wanted their relationship to be, he wanted to show himself in a good light, too. Clothes that fit, that were appropriate for Gael City and the theater . . . that was important. Trillia was excited he was coming. The other actors would be judging him, as would everyone connected with Heart and Sword—the producers, the manager. It never paid to be discourteous or sloppy in his business.
When he drove up the gliderway, Shunuk met him. An air of impatience surrounded the fox. They are all in the playhouse.
“Playhouse,” Raz said, thinking of an amateur theater or an amphitheater.
Shunuk snorted, sent Raz a detailed mental image of a miniature pink house with fussy castle facade, and a little girl. Ah. Playhouse. His sister had had one.
He followed Shunuk down a neglected path. The playhouse was a small cottage and old enough to have seen many generations of young Elecampanes. “Is there a tree house?” Raz asked, thinking of his own past . . . and how his sister had preferred the tree house, too.
Shunuk gave him a disbelieving look. I don’t know. Lots of people here. All watching each other. Boring.
“Ah, you’re ready to go on the trip.”
The fox glanced aside. Get out of the city for a while. He stopped a moment and groomed his whiskers with his paw. Vixens will appreciate me more when I come back.
“Female problems,” Raz said sympathetically.
Shunuk slid him a sly look. Mating is important.
Mating. That idea sent a jolt through Raz, but then a high, piercing shriek of glee hit his eardrums. He heard music and grinned as he walked to the open door of the playhouse.
Jazz beat at the walls, and Del and Doolee were dancing. Del was shuffling to the beat, Doolee was hopping up and down. Both laughed. The afternoon sun highlighted their golden curls, shadowed the dimples in their cheeks.
“It’s going to be one of those kinds of ‘sittings,’ ” murmured an older man as his hand moved rapidly over papyrus, sketching with a drawstick. With just a few strokes he captured the vitality of the two. The great T’Apple whose hololight paintings cost the same as an elegant mansion.
Raz swallowed; he’d met the man a couple of times, but not enough to claim an acquaintanceship. “What kind of sittings?”
T’Apple looked up at him with a quick and beautiful smile.“Exactly. I think they might sit still for maybe five minutes. If I’m lucky.”
Clearing his throat, Raz said, “That was my assessment.”
“Straif T’Blackthorn,” T’Apple muttered. “He didn’t tell me it would be this sort of commission. Drawing on the run, both them and me. I’m getting too old for this.”
He was Raz’s MotherSire’s age, tall and elegant, with a head of white hair and turquoise eyes. “I doubt it,” Raz said. He chuckled, said something he always hated hearing from others. “Think of it as a challenge.”
“Ha.”
The music ended and both females fell onto the thick and faded carpet the color of dirt. Del hooted with laughter, then her squeals matched the child’s as Doolee climbed over her.
A wide smile on his face, Straif T’Blackthorn drifted over, thumbs tucked into his belt. “Absolutely must have a holo painting of them.”
“Get a viz camera,” muttered T’Apple.
“Think of it as a challenge,” Straif T’Blackthorn said.
Raz and T’Apple shared a glance. Those who didn’t practice the arts didn’t understand the work that made something perfect look simple or effortless.
With an innocent expression, T’Apple answered, “Perhaps you should carve them—likenesses of all your children for your HeartMate.”
Raz’s brows rose. “You sculpt?” he asked Straif.
Straif frowned. “I whittle.”
T’Apple stuck the drawstick behind his ear, clapped Straif on the shoulder. “Your creative talent is strong.” He glanced at Raz. “And you are one of the best in your profession.”
“Thank you.”
The older man went on, “Yes, Straif, I should drop a word in Mitchella’s ear about your whittling miniatures of your child—”
Straif raised his hands. “No. Please.”
“Then you should have considered how easy these two would be to capture in a holo painting.”
Both Del and Doolee were up and consulting about the next music selection. Del was jiggling the little girl in her arms and Doolee was wiggling.
Raz’s throat tightened. The child looked enough like Del to be her own, and he’d never seen her face so soft with tenderness.
Still grumbling, T’Apple flipped pages on his pad, grabbed his drawstick, and began again. “How do you expect—”
“This is only a preliminary meeting,” Straif said. He winked at Raz. “You don’t need to work today, T’Apple.”
“Ha.” He continued making rapid sketches. Del’s face stared out at Raz from the sheet, then a rounded one beside hers, Doolee’s. For some reason he saw differences on the papyrus where he’d only noted likeness before.
Straif peered at the pad. “She’s going to be a beauty.”
“She already is,” Raz said.
Both men stared at him.
Raz met their gazes with an impassive one of his own.
“Da, da, da!” Doolee broke the moment by toddling over to Straif, who picked her up.
With a wicked smile, T’Apple sketched the two of them. Straif frowned. “I’m not paying you for one of me.”
“No, but your wife will. You should have a Family portrait.”
Raz became aware that the music was a low and throbbing ballad. Instinctively he crossed to Del, took her in his arms, led her into the slow dance.
She looked up at him and her eyes had deepened into a darker green and all that mattered was that they moved together.
They danced for a few minutes until Doolee yelled, “Del, Del. Me. Me!”
Raz realized Straif had been “dancing” with Doolee and she wanted to switch partners. Del’s laugh roared and she stepped away from Raz, turning to the little girl. Who held out her arms to Raz.
Plucking her from Straif’s arms, Del smiled down at the child a moment. “He’s a handsome one, isn’t he? Raz Cherry.”
“Wwwwzzzz. Ch. Ch. Ch!” Doolee said, fluttering h
er lashes at him.
He took her, not recalling the last time he’d held a child in his arms. His sister when they were both young, maybe. None of his friends had children. Most of his friends were unmarried actors.
Doolee gave his cheek a wet kiss. “Mmmm,” he said, and though he was amused, he’d wanted to finish his dance with Del.
He spun in a quick dance step, around and around, good training, knowing that Straif T’Blackthorn couldn’t match him in those steps.
Doolee shouted with delight.
When he returned the girl to Straif, T’Apple was checking his wrist timer. “I have to go.” He nodded to Raz and Straif, rubbed Doolee’s plump cheek, bowed to Del. “It was a fascinating experience.” His eyes glinted. “I accept the commission. I consider it a challenge.”
Del flushed, shifted, lifted her chin. “We’re active.”
“I can see that.” He glanced around the playhouse.
Del offered her hand. “Thank you. Great meeting you.”
T’Apple shook her hand. “I can fit in another ‘sitting’ next week.” He raised his brows at Doolee hopping up and down. “And perhaps you and Doolee can actually sit.”
Del’s dimples creased as she smiled. “We can try.”
“Good. Merry meet.”
“And merry part,” Del and Straif and Raz replied. Doolee said, “Mmmmp.”
“And merry meet again,” T’Apple said. He tucked his supplies away in a satchel and stepped outside. The man’s presence was such that Raz felt it when he teleported away.
At that moment the tinkle of a child’s tune sounded. “Scy!” Doolee yelled and shot toward a scrybowl on a chest in a dim corner.
Del frowned and strode behind her. “I didn’t know there was a scrybowl here.”
“H-h-hr,” Doolee said as she touched the bowl.
“Ah, GrandLady D’Elecampane, at last!” Then the man sputtered, his ruddy jowls quivered as he bridled. Del sighed and picked up Doolee. She stared down at the bowl. Raz joined her.
“Greetyou, T’Anise,” Del said expressionlessly.
He beamed at her, then at Raz. “Greetyou, GrandLady D’Elecampane, GrandSir Cherry.” The man’s face vanished as he bowed. “I would like to invite you to a social event tomorrow night at the Antiquarian Club so we can discuss the agenda for the next New Twinmoons ritual.”
“I’m going out of town,” Del said. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’ll let you know when I’m available—”
“The Bloom Noble Circle needs you. As a noble you have a responsibility to this city and planet—”
“I’ve always fulfilled the terms for my NobleGilt, so I’m a responsible noble. I’ll be in touch when I’m available.” Del flicked a finger on the scrybowl water. Her body was tense.
“I’ve heard they do good work,” Straif said neutrally. He came over to take Doolee, who was sputtering at the scrybowl.
“I’ll be out of town for a few days,” Del repeated.
Raz tucked her fingers around his arm. “We’re going to Gael City.”
Straif looked serious. “I’m sorry for your troubles.”
“We’ll get through them,” Raz said.
“Yes,” Straif said. He kissed Del on her cheek and Raz didn’t like the casual gesture, even from a man with a HeartMate. Doolee gave Del several smacks. “Bye!”
“Fare well.” Del brushed a hand through the child’s locks, kissed her back.
“Bye!” Doolee grinned at Raz and he kissed her, too. She smelled like child and city and . . . Blackthorn. He didn’t say so.
“Good-bye,” Raz said.
“Take care,” Straif said, looking at Raz, who knew he’d be held accountable if anything happened to Del.
Raz was back. Here on her estate, for her. Del’s whole being had shivered in delight when she’d seen him. No break of their relationship. This time. The misstep she’d made in her wooing had only cost her a few septhours of misery. Enough to tell her that if this affair didn’t transform into a HeartBond soon, she would be aching for a long time.
Before she tried again.
Take the trail for years, maybe.
But that hadn’t happened, and perhaps it wouldn’t, if she was careful. Though she was damn tired of being careful. She was glad when everyone else left . . . even Shunuk, taking a last tally of his food caches before they left Druida.
There should have been awkwardness, but there wasn’t. They’d managed to get over a disagreement with one brief scry, and she wasn’t even good at this. Amazing.
Raz scanned the place. “Interesting.”
Del chuckled. The playhouse had one large room, a little no-time area, and tiny toilet closet. Old furniture, much of it child-sized, was pushed up against the walls. The walls themselves were covered with drawings in various tints against a creamy background, none that would give T’Apple any competition. There were maps. Her maps, both imaginary and real, one was a rough drawing of the estate, with the dark block of the house. “I think Doolee likes it here.”
“It’s a good playhouse for a girl,” he said.
She turned and stared. He shrugged. “I always liked tree houses better.”
“Tree houses,” she said, watching him. “You know, all sorts of things can drop down on you from tree branches.”
“So? You do sleep under trees in the wild, don’t you?”
“I have a good tent,” she said.
He chuckled and rubbed his cheek against her head.
They sat on a twoseat and had about two minutes of peace before Shunuk barked and a mew came as did a small mental kitten-voice. Me, Me, ME! Time for Me to be a surprise. I am in the box, now.
“What was that?” Raz asked, tilting his ear, probably also sensing something through their link.
Del stood. “Time for your third present, before we leave.”
His eyes lit. “Something good for the trip?”
She smiled, hoping it was mysterious. “I’ve always found one good on the trail.”
Shunuk hummed appreciation in her mind.
Not much quiet time for her and Raz today. Maybe there never would be. He was outgoing, his energy high when he was around people. Now they both had Fams, and if they became a Family . . . four individuals. Much noise.
Shunuk ran through the open door and hopped onto the large rounded arm of the twoseat, his tongue out and happy anticipation in his eyes.
Del went into the small room that held the no-time cabinet. Atop it was a white box about four times the size needed for the kitten, wrapped with a big red bow, the kitten’s choice. There were large air holes in the bottom.
I am ready! the kitten prompted.
With one last big breath, Del picked up the box. She was sure Raz would love the kitten, but Familiars and humans should be matched and . . . Danith D’Ash had known the kitten would be for Raz. Mind simmering with a trace of anxiety, Del took the box in. Shunuk nudged Raz with his muzzle. You will like this.
Well, one of them knew this was a good move. She put the kitten box on Raz’s lap.
He opened the lid, looked sincerely surprised. “A kitten!”
The kitten hopped out with glee, landing on Raz’s chest, squeaking, I am here and you are MY FamMan! She curled all of her claws into his shirt. Del hadn’t thought of that, but it wasn’t one of his expensive silkeen shirts. Anyway, he’d learn that having a Fam could be expensive—emotionally as well as financially.
“A kitten Fam. I saw you with your sister’s,” Del said.
He tilted his head back to look at the little being—who was purring and kneading his chest—in the eyes. “She’s beautiful.”
Leave it to Raz to know at a glance, or in one sentence of a mental voice, that his Fam was female.
He picked her up in both hands and Del got a mental flash of comparison of this Fam with his sister’s. His was chunkier, would not have the delicate, sinuous lines of his sister’s Fam. But this kitten was much more colorful with its mixture of furs, her loud menta
l voice . . . though her purr wasn’t as loud.
“She’s beautiful,” he repeated. “What’s her name?”
The kitten glanced at Del and she was touched the Fam would let her pick her name. “Rosemary,” Del said. She smiled. “For remembrance.”
Raz stilled and looked at her. “You’re not going anywhere soon?”
“Only with you and Rosemary to Gael City.”
Shunuk yipped. I am ready to go!
Rosemary lifted her nose, as parti-colored as the rest of her, a third pink, a third brown, and a third black. I was ready before YOU! She grinned up at Raz, showing little pointy teeth. You are a beautiful person; you will fit with ME.
Raz turned her around, looked at her straight, short black tail, her white mask, her mostly blue gray self. “My theater friends will love you, Rosemary.”
She butted her head against his hand. I am a Cat of many colors, Rosemary purred. I am SPECIAL.
All cats think they are special. Shunuk lifted his head. Are we going soon or not?
ADVENTURE!
The fox looked down his nose. May be adventure for you, but regular traveling for me.
I am hungry. I need more FOOD, Rosemary said.
Del went into the playhouse and pulled two bowls of milk from the no-time, set them down.
“You certainly are special.” Raz set her carefully on her feet in front of the smaller bowl. Shunuk lapped at the other. Raz cocked an eyebrow at Del. “How much does she eat?”
“Don’t know.” Del indicated a papyrus pamphlet and a viz record sphere in the box. “Instructions from D’Ash on how to care for your new FamKitten in two formats.”
“Looks like quite a lot of information.”
D’Ash knows EVERYTHING, Rosemary said.
“Sure,” Raz said. “I won’t be memorizing this, however.”