Heart Change

by Robin D. Owens

  Damiana shrugged, pulled her arm away.

  “I can see others’ Flair. Yours is blocked.”

  Damiana’s eyes went desperate, her mouth flattened.

  Signet said, “I think I can fix that for you. Perhaps now.”

  The poet’s breath caught. She swallowed. “Truly?”

  “Yes.” Signet took her arm again, and this time the woman came along. “Since it’s an experiment for me, and Bright Brigid’s Day Fair, there will be no charge. If you want to try.”

  “Yes.” Damiana’s fingers clamped on Signet’s arm. “Of course. I’m supposed to deliver a new poem to D’Holly to set to music for the new session of the Councils, and I can’t . . .”

  “Ah, fear. I thought so.” They were near the Lady Chapel and Signet heard murmuring voices and recalled Vinni was doing oracle appointments. Her smile widened as she realized that she, too, would be conducting a working interview. That felt good.

  “The Lord’s Chapel?” she asked Damiana.

  “No.”

  “All right, there are some tiny Priest and Priestess Consultation rooms in a few meters.”

  “Fine.”

  They reached the first small room, and it was empty. The three temple priestesses were at the fair. The room was dim with heavy wine velvet curtains, richly outfitted but only big enough for two, with chairs nearly knee to knee. Perfect.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Signet said. “This works best if I take your hands and we both sink into a trance.”

  Damiana sighed as she sat and held out her hands. Signet sensed her relief that nothing unusual would be asked of her. Signet took the poet’s hands and found them dry and warm. “I’ll count down.”

  “Yes,” Damiana said in a voice already thick and slow.

  Signet said a blessing, closed her eyes, and counted down, fell into a light trance, opened her psi power, and linked with Damiana.

  Her Flair was dammed behind a black web. It didn’t appear a difficult task to unravel the web and free the woman’s natural talent. “This might be painful,” Signet warned.

  “Please,” Damiana whispered. Signet thought she saw the web through their link.

  “It could take a while—” Signet was still too unaccustomed to using her Flair to judge how long procedures might take.

  “All day, all night, whatever time you need.”

  “Very well.” Signet frowned at Damiana’s construct of a black spider web. “I can remove the blockage, but it may return if it’s a deeply rooted fear.” Signet cleared her throat. “You should get counseling from a Priestess or Priest or a mind Healer.” Signet herself should get more formal training, so she could minimize pain, recognize problems faster, be more precise.

  “I promise,” said Damiana.

  “Let’s start then, breathe with me. . .” Signet mentally reached for the first strand of the black web. It was slipperier than she’d anticipated.

  After a couple of minutes Cratag shook himself from the brood his conversation with Laev had caused, cleansed himself, and put on his regular clothes. He glanced at his timer. The break between first and second lessons had passed. Too bad. He’d looked forward to talking a bit with Avellana, another FirstFamilies GreatHouse child, maybe tease her from her grumbles if she was still in her sulk. She’d be in the library. Time to check on her anyway.

  When he opened the door to the library, she wasn’t there. He frowned. “Residence, where is Avellana?”

  “She and Rhyz went through the doors into the gardens during class break and did not return,” the Residence said. It didn’t sound worried, but a tingle snaked down Cratag’s spine. “Thank you.”

  He could race upstairs where he might spot her more quickly, or he could run along the paths. He opted for running, throwing the doors wide and heading for the flower garden. “Avellana,” he called. She was wearing spring green, he recollected. “Rhyz.”

  They didn’t answer.

  Thirty-four

  Avellana and Rhyz would have heard him if they were in the gardens. Cratag’s chest tightened. He turned and headed to the cliff gate. She’d been avoiding the boathouse. The gate was cracked open. Surely she wouldn’t go to the beach alone against the rules? She hardly did anything against the rules, but Cratag understood overwhelming temptation, and the sea was bright and blue with white-caps this morning. The tide was on its way out, plenty of beach. He couldn’t see the beach and running down and up those steps would take precious time.

  Avellana! he called mentally. No answer, though she rarely spoke to him mind-to-mind. He checked his link to her but felt nothing. Maybe he couldn’t sense it because his fear was rising. He didn’t have a strong enough bond with Rhyz to touch minds with the FamCat. Dammit, he wished Signet was here.

  Despite his doubts that Avellana would be near the river he headed toward the boathouse.

  He didn’t have great psi, but his senses were hyperaware, strained to the limit, and he heard a small splash.

  He raced to the boathouse path. The gate to the river was open, he shot through it, pounded down the steps, was passing the boathouse—

  “Halt, or I shoot,” a cool voice said.

  A jumble of puzzle pieces clicked into place. No bad luck, no accidents had plagued them, but human malice. “Hanes,” he said, but didn’t turn left to look at the man. Hanes wasn’t as important as Avellana. Cratag scanned the river. Downstream there was a spring-green-and-orange-fur-like bundle caught in the branches of a tall fallen tree jutting into the river. He took a step, and blazer fire streaked across the path close to his boot toes.

  “My aim with the girl wasn’t very good when I tossed her and the cat into the river,” Hanes muttered. “They didn’t get where the strong current would grab them.” He sounded irritated. “My blazer aim is better.” He shot again, grazing Cratag’s knuckles. The knife dropped from his numbed left hand. He didn’t dare slip his right knife into his palm, couldn’t risk both hands being useless. At least it was a stunner blazer instead of a fire blazer.

  “Move and there will be no way to help her,” Hanes said.

  Signet! he shouted along their personal bond, tested it. She vaguely acknowledged him, was deep in trance. At a fliggering fair? That he hadn’t even known about.

  Vinni! he yelled mentally.

  Hanes snorted. “I heard that. Muin is at Bright Brigid’s Day Fair.” Hanes’s voice hardened. “He didn’t go to the FirstFamilies fair with the women of our Family. No, he went to the Women of the Arts gathering that Signet attends. She—and you—have been a bad influence on him.”

  “Just a boy growing up, Hanes.” Cratag thought he saw Avellana wiggle. Hang on, he sent her, hoped she heard. But now, now he could sense his bond with her. Her mind was dim and sluggish, as if she’d been drugged. He needed to face Hanes, see which blazer the man carried. If it was the one with the range to finish Avellana off.

  Slowly he turned. Yes, a blazer shot could hit her. If he didn’t divert Hanes, take him out.

  “A pity I’ll have to kill you, too,” Hanes said. “You’re a good guard, for a fliggering outsider.” Insult laced Hanes’s tones. “Would have been my match if you were from a noble Family and had good Flair.”

  The sneer slid off Cratag. No time for emotions, he was ice inside and totally focused on Hanes. “I thought you loved Avellana.”

  “I did love Avellana. We loved her. Until we discovered she was a mutant. Can’t have a mutant in the Family.”

  “Vinni, too?”

  A rough laugh rolled from Hanes. “Outlander. Of course not Vinni. He’s her HeartMate and forgives all, even things that shouldn’t be forgiven, like being a mutant. Pity, the alliance with the Hazels is first class, but that might remain if they all grieve together after Avellana’s tragic death.” Hanes held the blazer too steadily. He was a trained guard.

  Cra-tag? Avellana whispered in his mind.

  Hang on. Distract, distract, distract. Until the moment was right.

  “We are all mu
tants.” Cratag knew that, though few ever talked about it. “As a people we continue to mutate as we live on Celta and our gifts grow.”

  Hanes’s lip curled, he jerked a chin at the river. “We’re not like her. Bringing the dead back to life. That’s not right. It’s against everything our society believes in.”

  “It’s against everything you think our society believes in,” Cratag said. “For myself, I cherish life, and Avellana has been given a great gift.” He could sense her struggling to stay conscious. The river was cold.

  “You.” Hanes laughed again. “An outlander. Lord and Lady know what they teach you in the southern continent.” He looked down his nose, the blazer unwaveringly pointed at Cratag. “Raw, uncivilized, ignorant. Didn’t even know about Brigid’s Day.”

  That arrow struck home. Another Druida City tradition he hadn’t learned of until it was too late. Cratag didn’t let his anger at himself, the tendrils of despair, show.

  Hanes sent him a sharp-edged smile. “We’ve been keeping track of your schedule here, just awaiting an opportunity, and today is it.”

  “We who?”

  “You don’t need to know. But we can’t have a thing like her in the Family. Too bad you came back too soon.” His finger tightened on the trigger.

  “So you pushed her and poisoned her food.”

  “I pushed her.” His lips thinned in a smile. “Mingled on the busy sidewalk, pushed Avellana then ran from the direction of a teleportation pad.”

  “It was poison?”

  Hanes shrugged. “We knew she had a sensitivity to sweetplant. The Hazels use sugar, we Vines use sweetplant. The icing on the cake was made with a high concentration of sweetplant.”

  “Who else?”

  Hanes’s finger stroked the trigger.

  Time’s up. Cratag glanced in Avellana’s direction, smiled widely.

  Hanes glanced away an instant.

  Cratag leapt. He was bigger, stronger, often had fought for his life. Hanes hadn’t. Advantage. But would he be in time to save Avellana?

  He slammed into Hanes, took him down. The man kept his grip on the pistol. Cratag grabbed that wrist, squeezed hard, felt bones rub together, pressed a thumb on a nerve. A moan rattled from Hanes. His fingers went limp, his blazer clattered to the deck.

  Hanes bucked, rolled, but Cratag was heavier, used gravity to pin him.

  Shrieks pierced the air. Vinni and Signet. Here. Finally. Thuds as they landed on the boathouse deck. A splash.

  “Muin, no!” Hanes yelled. He thrashed again, freed his hand. His fist slammed against Cratag’s head, just missing Cratag’s temple as he ducked. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

  “Help!” cried Vinni.

  Signet was there, swept up Hanes’s blazer, pointed it at him.

  “Cratag, help. Not. Powerful. Enough. To. Teleport. Avellana. And. Rhyz. And. The. Tree.”

  Easy choice. Cratag jumped from Hanes, ran to the boathouse, vaulted over the rail.

  The frigid water took his breath. He didn’t think, only swam with powerful strokes, pushing himself with his Flair, to the log, and the three caught in the branches of the dead tree. Some roots were still firmly in the ground. No, no chance of teleportation.

  Behind and above him he heard Hanes mock, “You won’t shoot.” A whoosh as someone ’ported and the hum of a blazer.

  Vinni was holding Avellana as high as he could from the water, tears running down his white face. Her tunic was snagged on one thick branch and several smaller ones. A wet and limp Rhyz was propped in another branch fork.

  Cratag angled himself, kicked at the big branch, snapping it with a loud crack. He swam close, wrenched the branches trapping Avellana. They broke in his hands.

  “She’s free!” Vinni said, grabbing her. “Primm-arr-yy. H-h-healingH-hall!” His teeth chattered on the words, then they were gone.

  With hands numb from the cold, Cratag lifted Rhyz and curved the cat around the back of his neck. Keeping his shoulders out of the water, he paddled around the tree to the side of the river where Signet stood on the steep bank that had crumbled. She still held Hanes’s blazer, but dropped it, flung herself on the ground, and reached out her hands. “I can lift you with Flair.” Tears streaked her face.

  He doubted, but grasped her wrists. A second later he was on his feet on the bank and the gentle breeze felt like a blizzard wind.

  She wrapped her arms around him, and they stood shivering together. Her body felt hot to him, but he’d chill her.

  “He’s gone. I failed,” she wept into his chest,

  “Not as badly as I did,” he said through cold lips. All of him was cold, inside and out.

  He grabbed a fast waterfall and changed his clothes and armed himself with most of his weapons. Signet did a whirlwind spell to clean and dress herself, and Cratag was glad that he didn’t have that much Flair because it looked painful. Because Signet had drained most of her Flair during the fair and this emergency, they took the glider to Primary HealingHall. Of course they stayed there for a couple of septhours while the Healers worked on them all. While Avellana and Vinni were being treated, Cratag and Signet told all three Hazels and a Druida City Guardsman the whole story. Hanes had returned briefly to T’Vine Residence, packed his things, cleaned out his bank account, and disappeared once more.

  Everyone was concerned that he was still on the loose, though when Vinni was consulted regarding his bond with Hanes, he thought the man had left Druida. Hanes had tried to break the bond, but being Family and so close to Vinni, it was hard to do. He could and did hide his thoughts and might misdirect them. An unusually grim Vinni said that he would always monitor the bond.

  Even more disturbing was the fact that there were others in Vinni’s household who had conspired with Hanes. Vinni hoped to weed them out during another Loyalty Ceremony where all would swear solemn Vows of Honor to never harm him or his HeartMate, but Cratag wasn’t sure that would do the job. Though the whole planet had recently seen the kind of curse that came when people broke Vows of Honor, people who would plot to kill a little girl didn’t have much honor.

  Cratag kept his mouth shut. He certainly wasn’t in a position to advise anyone on anything. The adrenaline rush from the fight had faded and so had the warm glow from the Healers easing his muscle strain and bruises. Physically he felt fine.

  Emotionally, he’d crashed. He had failed in his job, to keep Avellana safe, had, in fact, been preoccupied with his own personal business instead of watching over her. Had failed the Hazels, T’Hawthorn, and, most of all, Avellana herself. Just like he’d failed his sister. He was lucky no one had died.

  Avellana had sobbed out that Hanes had called her telepathically from the garden, saying he wanted to talk about Vinni, holding a sweet box. She had gone, he’d drugged her, and the whole thing had deteriorated from there.

  The villain had been perfectly right about Cratag, he was an outsider and low in Flair. He didn’t know all the capabilities and flaws of Residences, he hadn’t known about Brigid’s Day and that Signet would be gone. Still didn’t know what a Bright Brigid’s Day Fair was.

  Next to him, Signet squeezed his Healed fin gers. They were waiting for the final word on Avellana before returning to D’Marigold Residence. The best mind Healer of Celta was talking privately to the girl. The Hazels were on the other side of the lounge, and Vinni was brooding.

  Both Cratag and Signet thought the Hazels would whisk Avellana home as usual, bring her back in a few days. He wondered if T’Hawthorn would recall him, if new guards would replace him. He wondered if he’d ruined his own and Signet’s careers.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Signet whispered. She was leaning against him, and he liked it. “No one could have foreseen that someone we all trusted would betray us because of Avellana’s Flair.” She stopped abruptly, and they both glanced at Vinni, the best prophet in generations, the oracle of Celta.

  He caught their eyes, left the twoseat, and came over to stand before them. When he di
d, he fle xed his knees so he was totally balanced, straightened his shoulders. Good lines.

  “I supposed you figured it out.”

  “What?” asked Signet.

  Vinni stuck his hands in his trous pockets, took them out. Hands in the pockets was not a good thing for a fighter or a man trying to explain himself. Chin firm, Vinni looked Signet straight in the eye. “I don’t often get good visions about myself or Avellana. But I knew that her best chance to survive Passage was, is with you. That’s proven true.” He angled his head until his green brown eyes met Cratag’s. “I also knew she would need a trained guard. I didn’t know why. And you’re the best. I told D’Hazel, and she checked you out, too.”

  The door to the examination room opened, and the mind Healer appeared. Vinni nodded at them and joined the Hazels—parents and sister—as they strode over to the Healer.

  Signet touched Cratag’s cheek, and he turned his head to look at her. “Your training saved her. If you hadn’t been there today, Avellana would have had a ‘terrible accident’ and drowned.”

  But his ignorance had put them all in danger.

  Before he could say anything, D’Hazel called out to Signet. “Avellana’s having her Passage!”

  Signet rushed to the door, was stopped by the mind Healer, who was a FirstFamilies GrandLady, of course. A little shorter and rounder than she, the matron said, “Avellana’s Flair has spiked. I believe it to be the trauma of surviving death today. Naturally she summoned all of her Flair.”

  “Yes,” Signet said, looking beyond her to see Avellana shivering and moaning on the examination couch. A Healer and PerSun were beside the girl.

  “Avellana is fine for now. I calculate that the peak of her Passage won’t take place for several septhours. She is a very unique child. I’d like a moment of your time, D’Marigold.”

  Signet suppressed a grimace. Probably was going to tell her all the ways her bumbling had harmed Avellana, but Signet stepped aside and let the Hazels and Vinni flood the room. D’Hazel drew her daughter into her arms, T’Hazel embraced them both, Avellana’s sister sat on the foot of the bedsponge and curled her fingers around her sister’s ankle. Vinni stood near, still in that fighter’s stance of his, but with his hands in his pockets. Like previously, he’d only link with Avellana when the worst would come. Avellana could not become dependent on him.