Heart Quest

by Robin D. Owens

  “No.”

  Tinne flapped his hands at Trif. “Go!”

  “Greyku’s had a lot of milk, she may need—”

  “Trif, we raise hunting cats. I can take her outside, if need be,” Tinne said.

  That was all Trif waited to hear. She dug out her silver flute and went up to the stage. This was going to be fun!

  The fiddler stuck his instrument under chin and raised his bow, looking at her. RedMelon had told her the tunes they’d be playing, and let her know she’d have time for a little improvisation at the end of the first dance set and before the next. Zow!

  Energy filled the room, swirling around her. She could almost see streams of Flair emanating from the Nobles who had great gifts. The fiddler drew his bow, and they were playing!

  The Maypole specialized in ancient country line dances, along with an occasional slow one, dances everyone learned as young children. Trif swirled into the music, letting her flute sing, send Flair out, and receive it. Fabulous.

  During the middle of the dance, her eyes half-shut to appreciate the flows of Flair, she noticed a bright golden glow around a small object. T’Willow’s HeartGift. Even from the stage, she saw the pouch had gathered a few stains and the strings no longer looked like pristine scarlet braid. She watched it as it was casually, almost abstractedly, picked up and moved from table to table until it landed where Cyperus Sedge and Piana Juniper sat along with four others, now and again including a couple of women at the next table in their conversation.

  As Trif took the lead in a reel, she noticed Cyperus poke the pouch with a finger, jerk his hand back, then wipe his finger on a softleaf from his pocket, sneering something. Piana picked it up, turned it over in her hand, her nostrils flared. Then she shuddered and passed it to the next table.

  The striking brunette weighed it in her hand, frowning. Her beautiful friend leaned forward and was given it. That lady grimaced and tossed it aside. The pouch landed on a server’s tray and was carried to the bar.

  Interesting. Not the way she’d want to find her HeartMate—sending an intimate part of herself out into the world. She much preferred using her charmkey.

  Then the dancers came to a laughing halt, bowed and curtsied to their partners, and the other instruments stopped.

  RedMelon stepped forward to claim the crowd’s attention and introduce her, but Trif shook her head. She was ready to play solo, but not to be singled out as a musician.

  She held a long note and thought rapidly. The dancers were hot, tired; perhaps a dreamy improvisation would suit them, something with a special rhythm. Something yearning, something hopeful—like the rounds of Saille T’Willow’s HeartGift, calling, calling.

  Trif played, and gradually the room fell silent. Every note she sent out echoing into the large room, laden with Flair, returned to her along with a bit of buzz until she felt full of light, of energy.

  Then Ilex Winterberry walked in.

  He stopped, stunned at the power of her music. His heart wrenched from him and flew to her. Hers forever.

  He couldn’t move, struck still by the sight of her—dreamy expression on her face, nearly vibrating with energy and Flair. All the emotions she churned up inside him, she expressed with her music. The yearning, the passion, the love.

  He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  A flash of the vision he’d had only that morning shrouded his eyesight. Himself dead. He couldn’t do that to her.

  Gathering all his courage, all his strength, he moved into the room. His eyes met her widened ones only for a second. Her breath and music faltered, then wound down.

  Furious clapping shook the room. Trif flushed.

  The fiddler struck up another fast dance and all the musicians, including Trif, picked up the tune. Dancers swung onto the floor.

  Ilex tore his hungry stare from Trif and shifted his shoulders, settling into a more professional manner. He scanned the room for Tinne Holly, and found him and his wife sitting at a table. Genista was idly amusing Greyku. Tinne studied Trif with a considering look.

  Striding through the crowd, Ilex reached the table, but the words that came from his mouth weren’t about his investigation. “She’s phenomenal, isn’t she? Do you think your mother would consider taking her on as an Apprentice?”

  Tinne turned to Ilex. “More like a Journeywoman, but I think it would be very, very likely that my mother would be interested in her. And it would be good for Mamá too.”

  “I have some casual recordings of her music,” Ilex said.

  “Oh?” Tinne’s eyebrows raised.

  Ilex shrugged. “I’m her neighbor. Most everyone on the first floor of MidClass Lodge opens their doors to listen when she plays.”

  “I’d imagine so.” Tinne shook his head. “Trif Clover, the next great Celtan composer. Who’d have guessed? Life is a wonderful thing.”

  The statement reminded Ilex why he was there—on a matter of death. “Lady Genista, can I take your husband aside for a moment, please?”

  She looked up and graced him with a smile. “Of course.”

  Tinne rose, accompanying Ilex to a corner near the bar. Then Ilex was distracted an instant again—T’Willow’s HeartGift, looking the worse for wear, lay on the bar’s surface. He shuddered at the thought of what the man might be going through tonight. His own HeartGift would stay safely in the bank.

  “Winterberry?” prompted Tinne.

  Ilex lowered his voice. “Your Vow of Honor that you will repeat nothing of what I tell you to anyone—without my leave.”

  Paling, Tinne jerked a nod.

  “It looks as if the killings are ritual murders. For black magic.”

  Tinne just stared unblinking at him for a moment. “Cave of the Dark Goddess,” he breathed.

  “I don’t think She’d be pleased.”

  With a hard swallow, Tinne said, “What do you want of me?”

  “I’d like you to find out the name of the best scholar of the occult in Druida, and hopefully in Celta.”

  Eyes widening, Tinne said, “Funny you should ask that. Sedwy Grove just came to Druida from her dam’s country estate.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Ask her yourself, she’s right over there.” He angled his chin.

  Ilex followed his glance, muttered under his breath.

  “What?” asked Tinne.

  “When the Lady and Lord take a hand, you find your destiny whether you want to or not.”

  Tinne’s smile was unamused. “Isn’t that the truth.”

  Trif watched Ilex walk over to the table where Cyperus and Piana had been sitting. They’d left shortly after her solo piece. Ilex looked good, more virile than most of the men in the room. He asked one of the remaining women at the table something and she gestured to the other table of two women—the striking, flirtatious one and the quiet beauty. He nodded his thanks and went over to the two women. Trif blew a sour note, and when RedMelon looked startled, she sent him an apologetic expression.

  Ilex’s face had been expressionless when he’d met her eyes. She was right, it would be very difficult to get back onto a good footing with him. And she wanted him in her life, wanted his respect.

  Ilex bowed to the two women sitting at the table. One was laughing and vivacious, with golden brown wavy hair and green-blue eyes. The other had a creamy complexion, dark hair and eyes, and was simply beautiful. Both of the ladies’ auras showed great Flair. Since Sedwy Grove was a daughter of GreatLady D’Grove, her Flair would be great.

  He addressed the dark one. “Merry meet. I’m Ilex Winterberry and I’d like to speak to GreatMistrys Grove about her studies.”

  She said nothing, but sent him a shy smile. The woman beside her laughed and tapped the table with pretty fingernails. “That would be me, GrandSir Winterberry.”

  Since she seemed pleased instead of insulted at his mistake, Ilex allowed his surprise to show.

  The band’s music increased a notch, led by a silver flute. Sedwy lea
ned forward, and Ilex appreciated the view of ripe breasts. “I don’t think this is the time to speak of ritual magic,” she said in a raised voice, gesturing to a chair near her.

  He sat and hitched it closer. “You’re right. May I call on you tomorrow morning?”

  Her teeth gleamed white in a wicked smile. “I would be honored.”

  “May I buy you and your friend a drink?”

  “Yes indeed.” She tossed her head in the direction of the other woman, who smiled slightly. “My friend is Zinga Turmeric.”

  “Merry meet,” Zinga said, her voice low and pleasant.

  Sedwy gave him a sly glance. “I’ll have black frankincense wine. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

  The women were flirting with Ilex. Trif was so aggravated she nearly steamed—her flute did, as she gathered Flair from the mass of dancers, transformed it into loud, fast music. The band had circled around her, letting her lead.

  Ilex and the women talked and the pretty one sparkled at Ilex. The other sent him long glances from under lowered lashes, seeming to draw him with her beauty and graceful gestures. Both were Flaired, Noble, older. Fashionable, rich, sophisticated. They made Trif feel like a little girl and sweaty Commoner.

  She began toning down her music, noticing the louder the band played, the more Ilex bent his head to speak with them. He ordered drinks and the waiter fulfilled his request quickly, even more quickly than others, more obviously Noble. But command sat on Ilex’s shoulders.

  Trif didn’t like the women. If they were friends of Cyperus and Piana, they couldn’t be good.

  She liked them even less when they made Ilex laugh! Now his body had relaxed in his chair. The bit of profile she could see showed crinkles around his eyes where he was smiling. She had to do something.

  A flash of memory came. Ilex’s favorite tune. She knew when doors opened to listen to her play at MidClass Lodge—and knew who liked what. Meeting RedMelon’s eyes, she quieted her flute and let him finish the melody with his whistle. As soon as he was done, she asked. “Do you all play any of D’Holly’s compositions?”

  The fiddler grinned. “We do ‘Tinne’s Traipsing.’ And since the man himself is in the audience….” He gestured to where Tinne sat. “It would be fun.”

  The rest of the band hooted. The tune was very old, written by Tinne’s mother when Tinne was two. Fast and complicated, and only the best dancers could keep up.

  “Right then,” said the fiddler. “Ready?”

  “On three,” agreed RedMelon.

  At the opening notes, Tinne winced and the crowd roared, most standing, then flooding onto the huge dance floor. The lively lady grabbed Ilex’s hand and pulled him up and into the dance. His feet were nimble and he moved with confident ease, but the lady faltered and her breasts heaved as she laughed and fanned herself with her hand, then led him back to the table.

  And Ilex looked at Trif, toe tapping. She got the idea that he somehow knew that she’d engineered the situation. She used the tune to improvise, and let her notes soar above and twine between the melody. Ilex’s lids lowered as he just appreciated the music.

  The bright aura of T’Willow’s HeartGift sparked. Flair soaked into Trif, into her flute. She wondered if she could add a little spell to T’Willow’s pouch. Something that might rush it to the right woman.

  Measuring the beat, she gathered her own Flair, formed the spelltune, sent it along with all her will.

  Feet dance.

  Ladies prance.

  Men bow.

  And vow.

  Love forever.

  Forsaking never.

  T’Willow’s gift

  Needs a lift.

  To HeartMate right.

  Tonight! Tonight!

  She saw a man drop the grubby pouch in his pocket and stroll out of the Maypole. The gift was now out circulating in the world. Who would it bring T’Willow? Had she helped the spell at all? She certainly felt aglow—with Flair and perspiration.

  Then the tune was over.

  Finally having himself well in hand and braced for the emotions that would inundate him from a meeting with Trif, Ilex stood and bowed over the ladies’ hands in turn. Raising his voice, he said, “I thank you.”

  Sedwy’s eyes twinkled at him. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at my mother’s Residence….”

  The serene beauty said nothing, but inclined her head. “A pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you in the future.”

  He nodded to Zinga. “Perhaps.”

  Then he wound his way to Trif’s table, and Tinne stopped playing with Greyku and greeted him.

  “Where’s Genista?” asked Ilex.

  Tinne waved to the dance floor. A huge circle dance had started, which would break into two circles, then become smaller and smaller, until only couples rounded the floor in pinwheels. Ilex caught sight of Genista, laughing. “She looks happy.”

  “She is, for now,” Tinne said in a repressive tone, and Ilex left the topic alone.

  Without looking at Trif, Ilex made a show of taking the round gold box from his pocket and placing it on the table, where Greyku immediately pounced on it, rolled onto her side, and clutched it to her with her forepaws. Something good inside! she purred. Smells-tastes-feels like FamWoman.

  Tinne gave a low whistle. “Nice box. Family heirloom. What’s in it?”

  As an answer, Ilex reached under Tinne’s collar and flicked out the amulet he wore, also made by T’Ash, an Earth hematite.

  “Oh.” Tinne frowned. “For Trif? I got mine because the Hollys were dueling and I was missing a kidney. The Clovers are solid, upstanding middle-class people. They don’t duel. So why the amulet?”

  Leaning down to speak in his ear, Ilex said, “Trif Clover is single, has a Fam, and her Flair is unstable.” He straightened.

  Tinne’s eyes had widened. “She’s not of the Nobility as the others were.”

  “I’d rather not take a chance.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  Genista joined them. She tickled Greyku’s stomach and touched the box.

  Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine! Greyku sent telepathically, and everyone around them laughed, looking at the kitten curled around her prize.

  “I’m afraid not, Greyku.” Ilex brushed a thumb over her head.

  Mine!

  “It’s Trif ’s.”

  “Not the box,” Trif said on a ragged breath.

  Ilex had known when she’d stopped playing, of course, but hadn’t looked up. He didn’t need to. With every step closer, he felt the link between them thicken as the distance between them diminished. The bond that he hadn’t wanted to make, but that grew every time they spent time together, and had doubled during their brief kiss.

  Trif laid her silver flute on the table and scooped up the kitten, turning her so their eyes locked. “The box is not yours. Not mine either. It belongs to…someone.”

  “D’Winterberry,” Tinne said helpfully, picking up the box and handing it to Ilex.

  He really didn’t want to touch it since the necklace inside still radiated of Trif. But he took it and flipped the latch open with his thumbnail, revealing the gold chain necklace. The pink calcite glowed, along with a tiny polished white bead of stone from MidClass HealingHall. The necklace rested on a bed of plush dark green velvet. “Trif ’s retrieval amulet,” he said.

  “Ooooh!” Trif placed Greyku on her shoulder. “Stay!” she said to the kitten, and since the word was a spell too, Greyku grumbled but subsided. “How beautiful!”

  “T’Ash does fabulous work,” Genista said with a sigh.

  Tinne took his wife’s hand. “Does that mean I need to buy you another trinket?”

  She looked at him from under lowered lashes. “Only if you want to. But you’re always well rewarded when I get something from T’Ash, aren’t you?” Her purr was almost as good as a cat’s.

  Chuckling, Tinne squeezed her hand, then let it go.

  “Put it on!” said Genista.

  Trif t
ouched the chain, then uncurled it from its nest and brought it over her head to dangle between her breasts, a shining pink stone against filmy chiff. Ilex glanced away, then flinched when her fingers covered his, sending sexual energy through every nerve as she offered the box. “It’s a beautiful case.”

  He wanted to give it to her. Knew it was too valuable and special a gift to offer publicly without comment, so he pocketed it. Damned if he’d give it back to his mother. He had no right to visit the Winterberry HouseHeart without permission, so he couldn’t return it there. He’d send it to his brother.

  Genista’s brows knit. “It’s a retrieval amulet?” She glanced at Trif.

  Trif sighed, fingering the stone. “Yes, I promised to wear it when…uh…when I went out by myself.”

  “Good idea.” Genista nodded. “So, does it work?”

  Dropping the necklace she’d been studying, Trif said, “I don’t know.”

  “T’Ash made the amulet, so that would be solid. Who did the spell? D’Alder?”

  “D’Winterberry,” Ilex said.

  “That unreliable old hag?” Genista said, shot a look at Ilex, and winced. “Sorry.” She lifted her chin. “But the amulet should be tested.”

  Trif pulled a bag from under the table, encased her flute in a shieldspell, and put it inside. She straightened to her full height. “I agree. We should test the amulet. Greyku, you should—”

  I will go with you.

  “Ha! Really—” Trif winced as Greyku curled her claws into her dress.

  Tinne folded his arms. “Don’t look at me to hit her.”

  “Of course not,” Genista said. She tipped her head toward Ilex.

  He shook his head. “Not me.”

  Genista rolled her eyes and sent a grimace to Trif. “You men—” She swung a fist at Trif ’s jaw, taking her by surprise. The blow connected audibly.

  Trif crumpled.

  Then vanished.

  Fourteen

  Genista dusted her hands and looked at Tinne, whose mouth had fallen open in shock. “It had to be done,” she said.