Hearts and Stones (Celta HeartMate)

by Robin D. Owens

  G'Uncle Tab's The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon, a salle operating for over two centuries, was seen as that, a place where people of a certain social class congregated as well as a teaching center. Holm didn't think he could aspire to that, yet. In fact, he continued to fumble with his social standing and interactions. He'd managed fine today, in his studio, with business and fighting, but a reception that needed fine conversational slipping between social and business was beyond him at the moment.

  The evening brought him three more pupils, some referencing Allspice and the young men ... and eight full scry inquiries and appointments for the next day by the young men's relatives, all of whom pre-paid for individual consultations and a lesson.

  So by the time Holm's HeartMate, Lark, and the two cats sauntered into his place of business at MidEvening Bell, he'd booked a full day.

  "The rule for Fams are the same here as in The Green Knight." Holm frowned down at the young cats.

  They stared around as if they hadn't been in the rooms before, sniffing the smells of the people who'd come and gone and left their scents, particularly sweat-odors.

  "You will repeat the rule back to me, please," Holm insisted.

  His own FamCat, Meserve, looked up at him with wide eyes and lifted the top of his muzzle in a sharp kitten-smile, but said nothing. He snapped a paw at his thinner brother. You say the rule, first! Meserve insisted. This is My place and My FamMan, and You are the guest! Holm got the idea that Phyll had treated his brother as a "guest" in Gael City HealingHall, a secondary position Meserve hadn't liked.

  Phyll grumbled until Lark picked him up, and held him in front of Holm, saying, "You must repeat the Fam rule in this studio for my HeartMate."

  Fams have to stay off the main floor of the fighting room, off the mats and behind the lines, Phyll muttered mentally.

  "Yes," Holm and his beloved said in unison. "And you, Meserve?" Holm prompted.

  Fams must stay off of the main floor of the fighting room, off the mats and behind the lines, Meserve mimicked his brother. Then sent at glance at Phyll. And if a Fam breaks the rule, he must leave and can NEVER come back. And *I* can go into and out of and into the office whenever I want, and YOU can't. YOU must ask permission.

  Lark choked on a laugh, then as the young cats tumbled away and played hide-and-seek among the rolled mats, she asked, "How did it go?"

  "Fairly well. Not quite good enough to keep the business going for more than six months, even at the low end of my budget, but ... I have clients."

  She laughed, stepped up and hugged him again. "Of course you do. And six months breathing room, right now."

  "I suppose."

  "We will celebrate, I have reservations at the Brigantia on the river." She tilted her head as if listening to the shrieks of their Fams. "They have an outdoor area for Fams."

  "I'm impressed."

  "So you should be, it's the best restaurant in Gael City. Good, healthy food."

  Holm grunted. Lark leaned in and kissed him, drew back a bit and swept her tongue over her lips. "Mmm, taste of HeartMate."

  Just her throaty voice had him considering other uses of a nearby mat, but she stepped back and waved a hand. "You go take a waterfall and I will close down the place."

  "All right."

  "More than all right, we are fabulous. Both apart and together."

  That wouldn't stop her from lancing his wounds.

  As he strode to the Men's Dressing Room, his mind focused on business again. "I have a full day tomorrow, Playday, the first day of the weekend. I hadn't thought of it before, but the three weekend days might be my busiest days. I should stay open."

  Before he ducked into the room, Lark hurried up and placed a hand on his biceps. "I won't let you overwork yourself!"

  He grinned. "That's what you think. You overwork yourself." But he gave a decisive nod. "For the first few months I think I'll have to put a lot of time into this place." Even to himself, he sounded cheerful.

  Looking forward to a good future of sharing his skills, contributing to his Family, if not supporting them.

  The young FamCats teleported home before Lark and Holm finished dessert. Though the walk from the river took some time, the balmy summer night and the interesting new environs of a slower-paced town and nearly wild green space gave them both surcease for a busy day.

  She kept an eye on Holm and their HeartBond wide open for any smudges.

  Animated and enthusiastic, Holm told her of his students, and as she glanced at his profile in the sunset she realized at a visceral level that he'd changed, wasn't the man he'd been before the Hawthorn-Holly feud.

  He'd never be that man again.

  Even now she didn't think he'd ever have become so unforgiving as the current T'Holly. For one thing, Holm's composer Mama raised him with music and creativity and beauty. For another, he'd experienced the nearly inconceivable ordeal of being shot into space in a starship escape pod, landing far north of Druida City, and managing to trek with his brother all the way back.

  He hadn't spoken of that experience to her, and she thought it might only dribble out of him during the rest of their lives. Since she believed he'd worked through any emotional issues the tribulation had caused, she wouldn't prod him about them. But she would continue to reveal and help him cleanse his current distress and welcome the future with little thought of the past.

  Stopping on the top of a high arch of a bridge over a river, she tugged at him to pause, too. He glanced down at her with a quizzical expression.

  "You will never be as intransigent as your father," she said.

  He blinked, his eyes shuttered. When she sent her continuing stream of love to him, he pulled her close, then turned with her and they watched the river burble by, leaves and twigs carried along in a rush.

  "That is probably true," he said.

  "You've had a harder life, as well as a more difficult time in claiming your HeartMate."

  He squeezed her waist. "Got her, though."

  "I have you, too."

  "That is true."

  "You are now, and will be, a far different man than if you hadn't been excised from the Holly Family."

  She noted the new unsteadiness in his breathing, but continued to spur him to work through his heartaches.

  "That's also right. I've changed in two months, drastically." He sounded bitter. She ignored that. He paused. "And though you've been very supportive in my time of trial," his mouth twisted, but he went on, "you won't hesitate to inform me when you think I'm going wrong."

  She leaned her head on his arm. "I love you, unconditionally, but I want a whole and happier you." But she knew he'd referenced his mother. "And, yes, I will let you know if you falter in any treatment of our children."

  He flinched. "We'll have children."

  "I have no reproductive problems, nor do you. Your parents engendered two children, and so did mine. We should be able to count on two, also."

  "Not ready," he mumbled.

  "The environment of our beloved planet has limited human expansion through sterility and sickness. I'm sure by the time the Lady and Lord gifts us with a child, you'll be ready." She felt ready at any time, but didn't believe she'd quicken soon.

  Before she could stop herself, as she had so many times before, she said, "Your mother was wrong to stand by and let your father disinherit you."

  "My Mama—"

  "Is wrong." She sucked in a breath, let it out, but he already disentangled himself and moved away. Not quite loping down the steep bridge. She envied him his sure-footedness. When she caught up with him, she grabbed his hand. He didn't pull away, but he didn't look at her, either.

  And she felt his anger at his parents. "I know you've worked on ridding yourself of anger at your parents—"

  "Yes. And it's returned. Perhaps because you're angry at my parents, too."

  "Yes, something to work through, together." She let a smile twitch on and off her lips. "But I have an upside that I don't dislike my fa
ther nearly as much as I did." Her turn to pause. "And I grieve that my brother died when we were estranged and I was angry at him."

  Holm grunted and she felt the quick pain that shafted through him at the thought of such an event. "All right, you've got a point."

  They walked fast, both of them expending the energy of their anger. One way of handling it, she understood. Activity first for Holm, then meditation and contemplation, and finally the tremors of emotions wracking him. She rarely saw that particular stage, unless she prompted it like a few evenings before.

  She couldn't help thinking about the mother he loved, and how she'd chosen to stand with her husband and allow the disinheritance of her son.

  Lark would never let that happen, and she'd have to work on her own anger at his parents at hurting her HeartMate. Maybe she'd try Holm's process.

  She managed to keep pace with him and not lose her breath ... noted when the anger burned away, and the tarnish on his self-confidence had diminished. Still, the smear lingered.

  And she assured herself that the gift she'd ordered for him would shrink his self-doubt further.

  The next morning, Holm ate lightly and kissed his beloved Lark before he left, holding her, sinking into the kiss for support and comfort more than lust. He muttered, "This second day of my business being open is as daunting as the first. Even though I have a full schedule and think more people will come since it's the weekend. I might be able to put together a few on-the-spot melees. Fun for all."

  "If you say so."

  "When do you think this, ah, apprehension at going into my work might stop?"

  "When do you?" She'd sent the question right back at him. Firstly, when he could support himself and her and their kittens and Clam, their household. Which he didn't say aloud.

  Then he seriously considered the question. "Maybe, if I ever get enough students to hold the business together for a full year ..." He knew his budget down to the last item now, and the golden figure that would mean success ...

  "You'll do it," she murmured, hugged him tighter. They stayed together, embracing and rocking, until Meserve whined, It's time to teleport to MY studio!

  Lark laughed and released him, stepped back, but trailed her fingers down his cheek. "I'm working today until standard WorkEnd Bell at the HealingHall to study how it runs over the weekend, but I'll come over to your place this evening and bring supper."

  "I still have some sandwiches in the no-time." He paused, considered whether mature men might want to snack on those during the morning and decided they would. He'd have to check the inventory of the no-time and restock it.

  And though he'd mostly signed up boys and men as students, he should consider including pretty and delicate pastries that might tempt women. Maybe he should buy a larger glass-fronted no-time, especially if Dica Allspice and other children came to train. Lark would be glad to tell him what to keep for young and growing bodies.

  She pecked a quick kiss on his cheek. "Should I bring dinner?"

  "Yes, I'll take you up on your offer, my Lark, thank you."

  "And I'll have a surprise gift."

  His heart gave a bump. He treasured the gifts he received from her, always wonderful. "Great."

  A press of his love's soft lips on his mouth, then she patted his face. "Later."

  "Later."

  We go now! Meserve projected as he hopped to Holm's padded shoulder. I will see all the new clients and observe how inferior they are to My FamMan.

  Holm snorted and Lark laughed.

  Phyll lifted a leg and began grooming. I am HealerCat, I will go back to HealingHall today and check on all Our patients.

  Smiling at the sibling rivalry, Holm counted down and teleported into his tiny office in his studio. He'd already memorized the light of the windowless office, as well as the scent, but it would take time for him to know the training room in all its sun and shadows and seasons.

  And today he found his rhythm, managed to be a lot like his previous self. He did not pretend he interacted with clients in The Green Knight ... that could only lead to heartache and disaster.

  His manner must have been congenial enough, because he signed up every one of the pupils who came to him. In the afternoon, the lords related to the teenagers who'd come in the day before also paid for a full-year's membership and the highest level of the social athletic club. Holm only had to deflect a few comments regarding the Hollys and the Apples and his circumstances—through a smile with gritted teeth.

  Meserve, of course, enjoyed all the admiration and questions aimed at him, and confirmed this was his studio, but he would allow other Fams to visit.

  The place was busy enough that he called in a trio of good people from the merchant guard guild to help him with students in the afternoon and evening, and he oversaw everything, moving from group to group ... when groups came and lingered.

  His new clients ate all the food he'd stocked, so when Lark arrived with a basket of hot pasta and green sauce, herbed warm bread and fruit for dessert, Holm's stomach rumbled. He stowed the meal in the no-time as he led her into the training room where three groups of students worked

  Along the far wall drilled and tumbled an advanced group of men who'd trained together since grove-study and usually met in parks during good weather. They seemed interested in an actual formal training center, but put the notion in Holm's head that he should make an outdoor area in the overgrown grassyard behind the building to keep them coming. More gilt to spend.

  A few beginners practiced settling into their balance off to one side. And the young nobles he'd met the day before who came with their fathers had stayed to hang around. Now they occupied half of the mat as they squared off in twos as sparring partners.

  Stopping with Lark in the center of the room, Holm studied her. The Healer robes she wore gave her good range of movement, but not as much as fighting robes. "Time for your first lesson," Holm said.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "All of our women learn to fight," he stated.

  "All of your women."

  "The women who wed into our Family. And if guys marry my female cuzes, they have to hone their skills, too." He knew his grin held an edge. "The FirstFamily GreatHouse Holly has run to male Heads of the Households for generations."

  "Maybe that's part of the problem."

  That rocked him back on his heels. "You think?" Actually made him pause. But he could still feel the press of emotions behind his eyes. A lack of control here and now was not possible even with his beloved HeartMate.

  "Perhaps you're right," he said roughly.

  She stared into his eyes, said, "That's the first time you referred to the Hollys as your Family and your traditions. I'm proud of you."

  "They're my former Family."

  Her head tilted. "Perhaps you don't have the name anymore, but no one can deny that you have the blood, or the Flair that comes down through the blood."

  He grunted, stretched tense muscles. "You stretch, too."

  She nodded. "All right."

  And she did, very well, and he thought of something else. "How long has it been since the Head of your House, the House of Hawthorn was a female?"

  Chuckling, she shook her head, "Too long, I think, also, but we are not them. We're younger, more flexible mentally and emotionally." Her chest rose and fell and she said, "Being able to speak of the Hollys in a near conversational tone, is a big step in our Healing."

  "Ah." He slanted her a glance, took her hand and sauntered back to the middle of one pad. "Show me your best defensive moves."

  She blinked. He smacked a wet kiss on her lips, murmured to her, "See, you'll grow, too. You won't be the same woman as you were before the feud between our Families."

  Her eyes widened. "You're right. Though since I've received my HeartMate and experienced and Healed during the feud, those events changed me, too. As will being the Head of the Gael City HealingHall and living here, living with Clam, two Fams and you." She brushed a kiss over his jaw. "But,
yes, through this activity alone, I'll change. I'll change directly because of you. Because I never would have trained for fighting before."

  He offered the smile he saved for her, along with a little heat in his eyes and through their bond. "You'll learn better balance and defense ..."

  "And personally experience how a body moves and feels in a fight," she responded ruefully.

  He angled his head in agreement. "That's right."

  She stroked his cheek. "Worth it." Then narrowing her eyes, she said, "I still know more anatomy than you."

  "Perhaps."

  Holm glanced around the area, and people who'd been watching them, most faces showing approval. He took a couple of paces back. "All right, let's see it."

  Appearing flustered, she adjusted her Healing robes, then did an acceptable basic self-defense drill.

  Before she turned her flushed face to him, Holm let out a quiet sigh, glad to his marrow that the feud ended.

  Then he went up and worked with her quietly for a half-septhour, focusing on her, but aware of most watching his teaching methods. Luckily, he felt as if his G'Uncle Tab looked over his shoulder ... and patience came easily for his lover.

  She smelled of all the best herbs when they walked back toward the atrium, her Healing robes having released scent when she sweated. When he sniffed, he figured she might just have more herbs bespelled in her clothes than he. And a couple he didn't recognize as anything except Lark ... or Healer.

  With one clap of her hands, she gathered their Fams, who'd been jumping and rolling with the beginners and their trainer, and said, "I'm using your office scrybowl."

  "Right."

  He watched her hips move under her long tunic and trous as she entered his office and closed the door.

  Then people thronged around him.

  The full club of men came up to him and each bought a year's membership in the social club. A few asked about training classes for their wives, who would feel welcome here, in Holm's Training Studio, where they hadn't in the more informal club.

  When he'd filtered through them, the remaining three lords attached to yesterday's youngsters quizzed him about Family memberships. Holm calculated quickly and gave them a figure, changed their memberships and said he'd notify the Family when he anticipated scheduling women's classes.