Heart Quest

by Robin D. Owens

  “Sensed or saw?” he asked.

  She wriggled. “Both. It…cuz Ilex, it glowed.” She glanced at him and must have seen his raised eyebrows. “I know that sounds odd, but it glowed golden.”

  “Where was this?”

  “It was in the gutter.”

  “Where were you located? What is your usual path home? Take me through it, step by step, starting with where you work.”

  “I work in the shop, Dandelion Silk.” She sat straighter and flexed the fingers on both hands. “I am the best embroiderer in Druida.”

  “Dandelion Silk is in Pomegranate Place.” The cul-de-sac held the most expensive shops in the city.

  “Yes. Well, I closed the shop…I prefer to work there instead of at D’Winterberry’s.”

  “Understandable.”

  Dufleur drank a bit more. “And I left by the back door.”

  “That would open onto Manyberries Road.”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “Dark and narrow and a blind curve, cuz. I don’t like it.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself!”

  “Which is why you are here, in Noble HealingHall.”

  “Noble HealingHall!” She sat up straight, her voice rising high enough to rouse her Fam, who looked at them with glinting eyes.

  D’Ash says I am to rest and not be disturbed.

  “Sorry, Fairyfoot, but we need to get out of here,” Dufleur said.

  Fairyfoot sniffed. I am comfortable.

  “Cuz Ilex,” Dufleur whispered. “I can’t pay for this.”

  “I’m taking care of the cost.”

  “Oh, no!” Her mouth primmed, then she said, “I can only promise to pay you back. I have some savings.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “They did some intricate Flair Healing!”

  He waved a hand. “I’m sure you could take it out in trade—look at that gown you’re wearing, it’s top-of-the-pyramid. T’Heather treated you, and his HeartMate has a fine eye for luxuries. I’d imagine she’d enjoy some embroidery.”

  Dufleur lay back on the pillows. “That’s true.” She frowned. “She’s a glassmaker, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her skills wouldn’t be compatible with embroidery then.”

  “I wouldn’t know. Dufleur stop worrying about gilt and help me solve some abominable murders.”

  “Murders!” Now her voice was a harsh whisper. She paled further, her eyes went flat. “There was another woman there. Where I was…the dark room.” She gulped, settled herself back in bed, clutching her water glass. “I don’t remember much, but…” Her eyes filled. “I thought I heard praying…from someone else, a younger voice.” She touched her temple with shaking fingers. “I was blindfolded.”

  Ilex was up and brushing her hand away. “If I might touch you? I might gain an impression of the blindfold from your skin.” He noted her temples were very faintly abraded.

  “Of course.”

  He grazed his fingers over her temple. “The Healers didn’t pay attention to here….” He sent his Flair questing and received information. “A woman tied the blindfold on you. It was bespelled and drugged. Made of black silkeen. Handled by two others—men.” He’d know it again if he saw it; more, he finally got a brief impression of personality, someone he’d met lately…he couldn’t place it. It wasn’t the same woman who had dumped Sorrel. Two women. Two men. Another poppet to be made.

  He looked down into Dufleur’s wide eyes.

  “Excellent job,” she said. “I hope they pay you well.” She looked around the room. “Really well.”

  “I get by.” He sat down near the end of the bedsponge. “Back to your story.”

  “I’d just reached the end of Manyberries Road when I saw the…thing.”

  “Sensed the golden glowing thing. And you picked it up.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Just tell me you wouldn’t have been curious, cuz.”

  He considered her a few seconds. “I can’t.”

  “Anyone would be.” She swallowed. “Then…it began.”

  “What began?”

  “The strangeness. It clung to my hand. I went hot, then cold. Felt dizzy and…dizzy.” She turned away and set the glass on a nearby table. “The instant I touched the soft leather, my Flair went wild—rushing through me as if I hadn’t used any at all during the day. A flood. I…I fell down, I think.” She petted Fairyfoot. “I saw the pulsing blue light of the public carrier coming and managed to stand up and make it to the plinth. People looked at me funny.”

  “Which people? How many?”

  “The plinth is near a couple of private clubs on Aghra Way. There were some people lingering outside the doors.” She shrugged. “Both men and women. I stumbled into the public carrier, some other passengers helped me, a…a woman, I think; then the next thing I know, the driver—he knows me—was helping me out at my stop, you know where, near D’Winterberry’s. I don’t remember anything…like I was in a fever.”

  “Or drugged.”

  She shivered. “Perhaps. I sure was a few minutes later, I’d just turned onto our street when I felt hands on my arms, smelled…something dark and heavy…and everything went black.”

  He leaned forward. “May I place you in trance and share your memories?”

  Another woman said, “I think not.”

  Ilex stood and bowed to FirstLevel Healer Lark Hawthorn Apple. “Greetyou, GentleLady Apple. I didn’t know you were here in Druida.”

  “Greetyou, Black Ilex Winterberry. My husband Holm and I come up from Gael City at least once a month. This time, because my best friend’s Family wanted me to dissuade her from a HeartQuest.” Her smile sharpened.

  Everything in him went on alert. He froze. He’d forgotten this woman was nearly a sister to Trif Clover. Had lived in MidClass Lodge once upon a time too. Cave of the Dark Goddess, he didn’t need this complication now!

  He stepped back from the bedsponge, gestured to Dufleur. “My cuz, Dufleur Thyme.”

  “Greetyou, GentleLady Thyme,” Lark said with an easy smile to Dufleur. The Healer sat down on the bed, staring at Dufleur with unfocused eyes, then nodded. “You will do very well.” She touched Dufleur’s chest. “No permanent damage.”

  “Thank you,” Dufleur said. “And T’Heather too. Does D’Heather like embroidery?”

  “She does.”

  Dufleur sighed. “Then I can pay off—”

  “No.” Lark raised a hand. “The FirstFamilies Council is funding your medical needs.”

  “But—”

  “If you want to protest, I’ll be glad to speak to my father, Captain of the Councils, T’Hawthorn.”

  “Perhaps.” Dufleur’s voice was stiff with pride.

  “The FirstFamilies Council has an obligation in this matter,” Lark said. “But if you want to embroider a softleaf for D’Heather, she’d cherish one with bees.”

  “Bees. I could do that.”

  “I’d like to examine you more closely—those slight marks on your temples, for instance.” Lark smiled not quite nicely at Ilex. “There will be Healing done here, Ilex, you’d best go.”

  He eyed her. “Have you spoken with Trif Clover today?”

  Her smile widened. “Oh, yes. Yes indeed.” She gestured to the door.

  A feeling of doom slithered down Ilex’s spine. Still, he went over to Dufleur and brushed her cheek with a light kiss, then straightened. “You take care.” He eyed Fairyfoot, perhaps she’d remember something….

  As if sensing his intention, Dufleur picked up the cat and held her close. “No, Ilex. Not today.” Her voice broke. “Perhaps tomorrow. Truly, I don’t remember much of anything, and Fairyfoot was drugged too. She didn’t wake until my…my heart was…” Her voice broke. “Anyway, that’s when she woke and screamed for you and everything went black again until I woke up here.” She clutched Fairyfoot even closer.

  The ex-feral cat glared at him. You upset her, go away.

  He looked at Lark. Her arms were cro
ssed.

  It seemed as if he’d irritated every woman he’d met that day…starting with his HeartMate.

  Lark moved back to the bed. He gazed at both women. “Merry meet.”

  “And merry part,” they replied. Merry part, echoed Fairyfoot.

  “And merry meet again.” He bowed formally, then left.

  Holm Apple—once Holm Holly—fully armed with blazer on one hip, long sword on the other, pushed away from the wall with a grin. He clapped Ilex on the shoulder. “Rumor is traveling around that you’re Trif Clover’s HeartMate. What are you going to do about it?”

  Nineteen

  “Run away and hide?” Ilex said sardonically.

  Holm snorted. “I don’t think so. Not a distant cuz of mine.” He sounded more than matter-of-fact, cheerful even, as he alluded to his birth Family—who had disowned him. Ilex observed him. He looked good. Healthy and at the top of his form, which had always been formidable and formidably charming—except for those few weeks when he’d bumbled through winning his HeartMate. He was the only Holly that looked healthy.

  “Gael City agrees with you.”

  Teeth flashing, Holm laughed. “I’ve built something of my own there, with my own hands and brain and heart…and only a little bit of funds from my beloved Lark. It’s a good feeling, but you know that already, don’t you?”

  Ilex shrugged, but Holm’s hand stayed on his shoulder. He shrugged a little harder and Holm let his hand fall, then rubbed his hands together. “So what are you doing about the delightful Trif Clover?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  Ilex looked Holm up and down. “You can’t intimidate me.”

  Holm laughed. “Maybe not.” He caressed the hilt of his sword. “But I can challenge you to a duel and carve you to bits if you make Trif unhappy. Because, you see, when Trif is unhappy, my Lark is distressed, and I don’t allow that.”

  “Do your worst.” Ilex took off down the hall to a teleportation pad. The HealingHall was too busy to casually ’port in and out of.

  Holm caught up with him after a meter, and matched his pace. Now he appeared puzzled. “You aren’t going to make me challenge you, are you?”

  “Maybe.”

  Setting a hand on Ilex’s arm, Holm stopped him. Their eyes met. After long heartbeats of quiet, Holm said, “This isn’t a laughing matter, Ilex. Trif is disturbed and talked to my lady. Lark has few close friends, so she cherishes Trif. To play with a woman’s emotions—and your HeartMate’s—that isn’t like you, Ilex. Or wasn’t when I left Druida. What of your honor?”

  That arrow hit its mark. Ilex waited until the red haze of anger faded before he said, “You know nothing of this. Don’t interfere. I am doing what is best for us both.”

  With a few easy steps, Holm blocked his way and fell into a stance that meant business. “You don’t claim your Heart-Mate. You are making your HeartMate suffer. There’s nothing you can tell me that will excuse your behavior.”

  A harsh laugh exploded from Ilex. “That’s what you think.”

  Holm took a step back, a considering look in his eyes. “I think we’d best discuss this outside—in the Healing Grove.”

  “As you please.”

  A few minutes later, they sat side by side on a cool bench, and Ilex found the huge trees and ancient spells that lived in the Grove unexpectedly calming. “What would you do knowing your death would claim your HeartMate?” He finally looked at Holm, who had paled. He briefly told Holm about his prophetic visions.

  “It’s a hideous thought,” Holm said finally.

  “I’ve come to live with it. I won’t claim her. I won’t let her claim me.”

  “You’re hurting her.”

  Ilex flinched. “I know. But better her emotionally hurt than dead with me. And my time is coming soon. Within the year, I think.”

  Holm shuddered. “Don’t say that.” He hesitated. “Did you talk to the prophet Vinni T’Vine?”

  “Yes. He told me he couldn’t see. Matters are too much in flux,” Ilex said flatly.

  Holm sucked in a breath. “Bad situation.”

  The door to the HealingHall opened and Lark stepped out. “There you are.” She frowned. “You look too serious.”

  “I’ll tell my lady what you said,” Holm said.

  “As long as she doesn’t tell Trif.”

  “No, I think you’d better tell her yourself.”

  Lips twisting, Ilex said, “Not something I’m looking forward to.”

  D’Holly smiled at them all. Her energy seemed to have grown in the few hours they’d played in the Clover Compound, and her skin had taken on a slight flush. Greyku had stuck close to her, openly adoring of the older woman, and that too seemed to please the GreatLady.

  Trif felt awkward. Her fingers had stumbled. Her breath had gone ragged now and again and her Flair was all over the place, never in her control. She couldn’t stop thinking of Ilex. And the murders. And her Family, who hovered around the courtyard. Every little thing distracted her until she was sure that D’Holly would just stand up and say that she’d made a mistake and that Trif shouldn’t study with her after all.

  When the GreatLady did rise from her seat, dread gripped Trif and her tune squealed to a halt as her breath stopped.

  “This morning has been a pleasure, but I have instruments and lessons that would be better for Trif if taken at T’Holly Residence. So we should adjourn there for afternoon study.”

  Trif ’s mother, Pratty, bustled forward, curtsied. “We have lunch, GreatLady. Please stay.”

  D’Holly blinked. “What a lovely offer. Yes.” She glanced at her wrist timer. “But we should only take a septhour. I told my household I’d be back one septhour after Midday Bell, and if I don’t arrive on time, they worry.”

  “Of course, of course,” Pratty said. “Please, sit.”

  Subsiding in her seat again, D’Holly seemed amazed as a table was brought before her and Trif and set. She looked at Pratty. “Surely you and your wonderful Family will join us.”

  Pratty laughed. “Some of us anyway.”

  Washed and dressed in their best everyday clothes, the women of the family, some of the older children, and a man or two, including Trif ’s father, who’d come home from the factory, filled the large table. The awe at having a GreatLady in their midst held only a moment or two before D’Holly charmed them all.

  Trif picked at her food. Maybe D’Holly was just waiting until they got to T’Holly Residence to break it to her that she’d never be a real musician, let alone a composer. The lady was kind and wouldn’t dismiss Trif in front of her family. And what was Ilex doing? And how was Dufleur?

  And what was she going to do about a HeartMate who didn’t want her?

  “Time, Trif,” her mother whispered in her ear. She frowned at Trif ’s plate, where even dessert stood untouched, but said nothing more. D’Holly was up and strolling to the teleportation pad—a new teleportation pad of the highest quality—and Trif scooped up Greyku and hurried to join D’Holly. Trif wanted to offer to ’port them to T’Holly Residence, but she didn’t have the Flair reserves and didn’t think she’d been cleared to teleport inside the secure fortress.

  D’Holly took her hand. “On three. One Trif Clover, two make music, three!”

  And they arrived in D’Holly’s sitting room.

  Zow.

  “Please sit, Trif. I’ll order caff.” She did so, then turned and sat down, gazing at Trif.

  Greyku stared at them both. FamWoman, D’Holly needs Me here more than you, she mind-whispered to Trif.

  Yes, Trif sent back.

  Greyku went to settle on D’Holly’s lap, and the woman smiled and pet her. “Something troubles you,” D’Holly said.

  More than one something, but Trif wasn’t going to breathe a word to D’Holly about the murders. She didn’t want to think about them herself; they just nibbled at her mind anyway.

  The door opened and a young man came in with a tray. As soon as T
rif had her cup, and the servant was gone, Trif said, “Man problems. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was so terrible this morning. I know—”

  “Trif, Trif.” D’Holly’s soft voice stopped her. “When we’re disturbed our playing suffers, that’s the way of it. And it’s harder to focus.” She gave a little laugh. “And it’s harder still for the young to focus when agitated.”

  “You’re not that old.”

  D’Holly laughed again, relaxed back in her plush twoseat. “Thank you for that. You have a wonderful Family, and I think it is a good idea that we work a couple of hours in the morning at Clover Compound. It’s good for us. They’ll settle down once it’s an everyday occurrence.”

  Trif didn’t think so, but…“You aren’t going to tell me I’m not ready?”

  Frowning, D’Holly asked, “Not ready for what?”

  Waving a hand, Trif replied, “Not ready to be a musician, a composer. That I’ll never be ready.”

  “Trif, you are a composer. Naturally. I wouldn’t have expected you to be so lacking in confidence.” She laughed again. “The artist’s fragile ego, I suppose. And so very tender when we are just beginning our career.” She shook a finger at Trif. “You’ll be playing in public for your Journeywoman Gilt, so you’ll have to toughen up.”

  “I’ve got a family,” Trif muttered. “They’ll laugh at every sour note.”

  “So they will. Now, I’ve put out papyrus and writestick so you can set down your HeartMate call and we will work on it.”

  Trif ’s heart clutched. “I…I don’t think I can do that today.” To her horror, her voice was teary.

  D’Holly tilted her head. “No? Man troubles.” She sighed. “Men can be very trying.” D’Holly tapped a finger on the arm of the twoseat. “Perhaps we should stick with something more cheerful and a little easier. I thought I heard a jig or two in your music. Let’s see if we can refine them.”

  Trif stared at her blankly. “I don’t recall a jig.”

  With a flick of her fingers, D’Holly had a music sphere floating into her raised hand. “Kitten jig,” she prompted the ball, and Trif ’s tin whistle played a lively melody. Trif chuckled, remembering how Greyku had been tumbling around after a little lightwisp spell-toy. It lightened her heart.