“T’Reed has a Family advocate,” Arcto said.
They all looked at the thin Reed men, who had features in common. “Of course he does,” Hanes said.
Laev was frowning. “That might be something to consider, if any of the youngsters coming up would like to be trained in the law. . . .” He slid a glance at Cratag, “or maybe someone else who might be tired of his work.”
For the first time Signet saw Cratag horrified.
Laev let out a belly laugh, tossed a grape in his mouth, and choked. With a good thump of one large hand, Cratag dislodged the grape, and it shot away into a nearby bush. Beadle pounced.
“You got an advocate in the Family, the Family starts thinking of lawsuits for this, that, and the other thing,” Cratag muttered, “wasting good gilt and time.”
The bell for the afternoon session of JudgementGrove tolled, and the bailiff said, “All rise.”
Everyone in the grove stood, even the Fams.
“And making a spectacle of yourself and your Family in front of everyone,” Arcto said disapprovingly.
“We don’t have an advocate in the Family,” Vinni said. There was tension between Vinni and his tutor, probably just that of a boy becoming a man and forming his own opinions. “But if one of the Family wanted to be an advocate, I’d support him or her.”
Arcto opened his mouth, but the bailiff began the ritual to close the sacred circle. After the prayer, he said, “JudgementGrove is now in session, with the afternoon case being T’Reed, T’Alfalfa, T’Salip, D’Kelp, and others.”
“Minor houses,” Vinni said. The case title had run from highest to lowest in status.
As the first advocate started speaking with flourishing gestures—looking to Signet more like an actor than a man of law—everyone settled back down.
The case took all afternoon.
The SupremeJudge Ailim Elder seemed to watch with judicial impassivity, but to Signet’s fascination, she was able to tell when the lady was using her telempathic Flair during the session. The streams of her tiny, intense fllowers would circle and spiral around the person she was scrutinizing then flow into his or her head, then a brief glow of Flair would issue from the person.
T’Reed, the GreatLord himself, didn’t stand before the judge—perhaps the GreatLord didn’t want to be the focus of her skills. His Heir was there, and Signet believed that the man didn’t notice when the judge used her Flair. Very interesting, the SupremeJudge must have a very light touch.
At that moment Ailim Elder looked directly at Signet, and she understood that she was thinking too loudly or doing something like studying the woman’s Flair so strongly that it had attracted the judge’s attention. Signet blushed. Judge Elder’s lips curved in a hint of a smile, and she returned her attention to the l ong-winded advocate in front of her.
It all came down to a matter of contracts, and that had Signet paying attention again. The seamaster Captain of the ship had invested in the voyage and had died. His Heirs had taken a settlement from the Alfalfa insurers for the goods, but had not been able to prove to the Alfalfas, until now, that the man was dead. So T’Alfalfa was directed to pay out—at current high rates—the death benefit to his Family.
All the investors had had various deductible portions on their insurance policies and had suffered that amount of loss, so they would get that paid back to them—and Signet saw great relief on some people dressed several years out of fashion. The Alfalfas would be paid back what they’d paid out, and the people who had found the ship would get the rest, a very substantial amount. There was a reasonable tax to be paid to the Councils of Celta for public use.
Though the judge smiled when she spoke to those involved in the case, she made it clear that she thought the contracts had been sufficient to handle the matter and the parties involved were greedy.
She was about to raise her gavel and bang the case shut when a girl about Vinni’s age ran into the grove and up the steps to the judge’s platform. Cratag shifted and drew his blazer. So did Hanes. Signet was shocked. Though all eyes and wandering attention sharpened and focused on the girl, the guards in the crowd—including the bailiff, had weapons out.
The girl didn’t seem to notice and panted, “Wait, wait, what about my tea set?”
Twenty-two
The girl flushed and spread the material of her short and faded tunic to curtsy to the SupremeJudge. “I beg your pardon, but it took us—me—a while to, uh, document this.” She threw a glance toward a small group of four girls. Everyone else looked, too.
“I am Camellia Darjeeling.” Fishing a bundle of papyrus from her long sleeve, the girl continued. “My Family specializes in tea, though we are not the Teas.” She blushed again and hurried on. “One of my forebears ordered a tea set.” She licked her lips. “A very expensive tea set, from Chinju, and we were told that it was being sent to us on the ship that this case is about.” She shot a look at the rest of the parties. “We didn’t have insurance.” With careful steps she set the sheets of papyrus before the SupremeJudge.
“SupremeJudge, this is untoward. This . . . person . . . is not a party to this action,” the Alfalfa’s advocate said.
“Not proper,” Vinni’s tutor muttered near Signet.
“GraceMistrys Darjeeling has a point and a right to be heard.” The judge read the first page of the papyrus and set it aside, looked up. “I noticed that T’Alfalfa did not provide the JudgementGrove with a list of other claims it might have paid on the cargo. Do you have a list?”
“Ah . . .”
The judge shifted her gaze from the advocate to GrandLord T’Alfalfa himself. “Do you have such a list?”
“Of course.” He gestured, and his advocate handed him a sheet of papyrus. He glanced at it, but Signet got the idea that he already knew everything on it. “No tea set is listed.”
“Thank you for the verification,” the judge said, but didn’t lift her eyes as she scanned the pages on her desk. She lifted a fragile, ragged-edged scrap that looked like a letter and read it several times, then turned it over. The next pages appeared to be forms. Then she turned to a portfolio and pulled out a sheet and scanned it, then said, “A fifty-place tea set from master artist-potter Zisha is listed on the manifest.”
There were several gasps from the audience. Someone muttered, “That will be worth some nice gilt.”
Camellia whirled and glared. “This is my Family’s heritage, we won’t be selling it!”
SupremeJudge Elder coughed, and Camellia flinched, pivoted back around, and murmured, “I beg your pardon.”
The judge nodded, then gestured to D’Kelp, a hearty woman with short, springy hair. She was dressed in a very short work tunic over narrow-legged work trous. She’d kept a practical, optimistic manner throughout all the arguing. The woman bowed. “Yes, SupremeJudge?”
“Have you found a tea set? Or, rather, four large boxes with the stamp of “Fragile china, max spellshield protection.”
D’Kelp hooked thumbs in her belt that was wide, tough leather instead of folded silk cloth, and said, “Can’t say that I have, SupremeJudge.” She nodded at Camellia. “But we’ll look for it, GraceMistrys, and if we find it, we’ll see what shape it’s in so’s we all can figure out whether we can get it to you.” She smiled widely. “And I’ll take the price of our services out in trade. We’ll negotiate that later.”
Camellia swallowed and nodded.
SupremeJudge Elder swept the people in JudgementGrove with her gaze, and Signet felt the touch of her Flair. “If anyone else has documents regarding the salvage of this ship that are not insured, file them with me and the Kelps. If they were insured and you received a settlement, fil e those papyrus with me and the Alfalfas. If they were insured and you did not receive a settlement, fiile documents with me, the Alfalfas, and the Kelps. You may choose whether to refil e a loss statement or to take the salvage.”
Most of the nobles on the platform now wore scowls, D’Kelp looked philosophical.
A gavel
banged, and the final blessing was said and the circle dismissed. The judge walked to her tower chambers.
“Most unusual,” Vinni’s tutor said. Then he seemed to realize he was frowning and smiled . . . but not happily.
“It’s past our studytime,” Vinni said. “You can do as you please.”
“Of course.” The tutor bowed and hurried away.
Hanes snorted. “I’ve never seen a more active gossip. He has a wide circle of friends, all like him, and they’ll be hashing this over for days. Everyone will search their records and attic for anything regarding the ship. Not only nobles since this decision will hit the newssheets.”
Laev said, “That’s what happens when you get lawyers involved in business. Always complications. Better to take care of the negotiations yourself.”
Signet began saying the spells to tidy and repack the baskets, and Hanes frowned. “Arcto should have stayed to help.”
With a smile, Signet said, “It’s after WorkEndBell.” The case had taken so long that the first wisps of colorful evening clouds were beginning to show in the sky and shadows were long on the grass.
But Hanes was still frowning and nodded to Cratag. “Some of us take our responsibilities seriously and are never totally off duty.”
For the first time Signet thought of being bound by another’s will and working in a household instead of running it. It might be terrible . . . or, if you were a vital part of that household, it might be as wonderful as she’d always thought—exactly knowing your place and your duties and what was expected of you. Being so busy that no thoughts of emptiness plagued your mind . . . and certainly no loneliness infused your emotions. She smiled at Cratag.
Cratag returned her smile and helped pack up, but though he’d hidden his own emotions through the day, they’d been twinged and plucked as he saw all the circles of alliances interact around him. Making him realize for the fir st time that whatever his status within his household, the respect he received was because of his rank with T’Hawthorn, not because of Cratag the man. He didn’t know when that had not become enough, when he’d wanted to be considered equal to Signet when he never could be.
Furthermore, all the people in the JudgementGrove had been Druidans, doing a city dance that he didn’t quite understand, with shades of nuanced behavior he could not recognize and some he knew he missed. So he was irritated and watchful as he and Signet walked through the outlying trees of JudgementGrove near Laev and Vinni and Avellana. There was more than one group of grovestudy youngsters milling around. The three young people in his charge—though Laev was technically an adult—were talking about the judge’s great Flair of empathy.
Cratag saw it happen but didn’t realize the awful significance of the whole situation until later. Laev kept glancing over at the group of five girls that included the young Darjeeling. He’d been drifting toward them, and the rest of them had followed. Cratag had seen no danger and let Laev lead the way.
Then Laev abruptly stopped.
Flair crackled in the air, enough to impinge on Cratag, pressing upon him hot and heavy and vital, like a southern summer wind.
Signet caught her breath and squeezed his shoulder. He came up next to Laev and examined the fivesome of girls. They all wore clothes shabby at the cuffs. Laev’s gaze was fixed on the striking beauty with a womanly body—surely a new adult like Laev himself. She had honey golden hair waving nearly to her waist. Her tilted eyes were a deep amber, her skin was of a tanned color that made her appear a woman dusted with gold.
Another zing. “What’s that?” asked Cratag. He wasn’t quite sure of the feelings surrounding him. Sexual attraction. More? Dammit!
Signet glanced at him with resigned amusement.
Laev crossed to the fiv e young women and made his most elegant bow, turned at once to the golden girl and offered his arm. The girl sent him a smile that seemed more sly than shy to Cratag, and the other four girls dropped back.
Cratag and Signet’s party stood still while the others walked . . . toward the PublicCarrier plinth. Cratag was torn. He wanted to go with Laev, he had to stay with Avellana. Signet slipped her arm in his. “He’s an adult now.”
He pressed her arm against his side, glanced at the rest of their little group. Hanes had been keeping a watchful eye on those around them—commoners and minor nobles—most of the great folk already had teleported home.
Vinni’s lips had compressed. He took a couple of strides toward Cratag and looked up at him. The boy’s face was pale and set and angry. “Too late,” he muttered. “I didn’t see when this would be and wasn’t paying attention, and now it is too late.”
Cratag banished the sinking feeling in his gut. Maybe the boy prophet wasn’t talking about Laev, but Vinni’s shoulders were set, showing he wasn’t open to questions.
Signet searched Vinni’s face, sensing Cratag wanted answers and the young GreatLord wasn’t going to talk. She was holding Avellana back, wary of the heavy Flair so dense she could actually see irregular sparks. Flair from Laev and the girls and Vinni, thick emotions from Cratag.
“Who is the lovely girl Laev is walking with?” Cratag asked, concern in his voice as they all watched Laev take the young woman’s hand and lead her away from her friends.
“That’s Nivea Sunfllower,”Avellana said.
“How do you know?” Cratag asked.
“My sister knows one of the girls in that grovestudy group and told me Nivea Sunfllower had interesting coloring.”
“Stunning,” Signet murmured.
Cratag snorted. He’d settled into his balance as if expecting trouble, and there was a line between his brows. Vinni fell into the same stance.
As if sensing their concern, Laev lifted his head from gazing at the girl to meet Cratag’s eyes. The younger man inclined his head in acknowledgment but didn’t leave the girl. Signet thought she caught the whisper of Laev’s thought to Cratag. I will escort GraceMistrys Sunflower home. Then a flash of pure joy showed on Laev’s face. I have been connecting with my HeartMate during Passage!
Nivea Sunflo wer plucked at his bloused sleeve, and he bent attentively to her.
“Uh-oh,” Vinni said.
Avellana might have been oblivious to Signet’s and Cratag’s concern, but she knew her own HeartMate’s voice well. “What?”
Vinni hunched his shoulder and muttered, “Don’t want to talk about it.”
Avellana put on her stubborn look, but even she couldn’t make Vinni talk if he didn’t want to.
The crowd pressed together, and Avellana tripped. She started to fall, and everyone reached for her. Cratag caught her, lifted her, and said. “She’s hot.”
The girl’s face had flushed red.
They shouldn’t have come. What had possessed Signet to think that this would be a good thing? Now Avellana was showing signs of Passage.
“Clear the way!” Hanes shouted, using his body to push people aside. Cratag followed, cradling Avellana protectively.
To Signet’s surprise, Vinni slipped his hand in hers. This outing should have been fine. The mass of people didn’t bother her, it was that upsurge of Flair. More than Laev in that group is undergoing Passage—the older Mugwort girl, too, I think. And HeartMate energy . . . He sounded unhappy and worried.
By now the men were clearing the nearest teleportation pad of minor nobles, gesturing Signet and Vinni to come. But Signet had the huge baskets, and they didn’t quite fit into the space. They all linked hands, and Signet held the bond she had with Avellana close. Anxiety flashed through her that she tried to suppress from the child. This was a real fugue, and it was already more intense than the last. “On three,” she said, her lips cold. She counted down, and they teleported to the small room that barely held them.
“Give her to me.” She held out her arms to Cratag.
With a brusque nod he transferred Avellana. Her skin had turned clammy and pale. Beads of sweat shone on her face.
“Residence, prepare Avellana’s bedroom for Passage, now! W
arm it up, release the herbs!” Signet yelled. The doors to the room whisked open. Another bang from down the hallway, Avellana’s doors.
Signet ran.
The Passage was hideous. Horrible, fantastic illusions burned . . . iced . . . tore through them, and Signet could only hang on to Avellana during the long, wild ride. Signet would gather her Flair, release the little puffs to be battered by ugly storms . . . tentacles, grumtud monsters . . . but the flowers bobbed and streamed toward Avellana. And Avellana’s own Flair, her brain pathways, had changed and were more connected, better defined. For that Signet gave thanks.
When she wasn’t praying.
Now and then she felt Vinni’s unique mind touch, but it was Cratag who anchored them. Signet felt his strength at her back, enfolding her as she held the child. Solid, steady, with little Flair but a deep source of personal and grounded energy . . . that she drew on to keep Avellana from going mad with the visions, reminding the child that this was not real.
They’d fallen from the tower again.
This time, they hadn’t slowed before they hit the ground and sharp spiking stones rose from the ground to impale them.
This time they died, and there was a portal of swirling stars close if they wanted to go through it, be part of that wheel, then pass on to their next lives. The glittering and fabulous light was pure fascinating temptation, but Signet kept Avellana close and filled her mind with other images. Rhyz, her FamCat, even now with them, twitching droopy whiskers. A serious Vinni surrounded by huge and pulsing Flair.
Signet heard Avellana’s cry of love within herself, and they turned away from the portal and suddenly the visions were gone and they were lying on a soft and fluffy cloud in the summer blue sky, then they were rising to the top of the bowl, then beyond . . .
. . . and Avellana was asleep.
Alive and healthy and sleeping.
But before Signet opened her eyes, she knew that she, too, had changed. She’d had her own revelation when Avellana had felt her golden love for Vinni.
Heart Change Page 21