Heart Quest

by Robin D. Owens

  He would not cut her life short. Yet he sensed that this affair between them would be brief too.

  She was young and impatient. He wondered how long she would stay with him, how soon she would tire of his shields against the HeartBond. Even now he sensed the mental and emotional cord that linked them beginning to fray. It seemed their connection wasn’t as strong or as pure as it had been even the night before.

  He had cherished every moment with her, and would continue to do so until she walked away.

  Bespelling a calendar ball to wake Trif in good time for her morning activities, he opened the bedroom door and found a small, absurdly multi-tinted kitten snoozing on the threshold. He scooped her up with one hand. Greyku snuffled and opened one blue eye. Sire Zanth runs far, hunts hard. I am very tired. Couldn’t even ’port through the door.

  He stroked her soft kitten fur—would he be alive to see her grow into a cat? He carried her to the bedsponge and put her near Trif. The kitten’s purr followed him back out the door, and he smiled at the simple pleasure of feeling her soft fur and hearing her small rumble of pleasure.

  At the guardhouse, he scried Tinne Holly. To his surprise, the young man answered immediately, looking worn. “Here.”

  “Greetyou, Tinne.”

  Tinne’s face relaxed a little. “Greetyou, Ilex. Can I do something for you?”

  Ilex hesitated, then set the ball rolling in the direction he wanted. “As we discussed earlier, all the victims of this cult are young Noble women and men who have unstable Flair and recurring echoes of their Second Passage. Do you know anyone else this applies to?”

  Eyes sharpening, Tinne murmured, “You’re going to bait a trap?”

  “Samhain is just a couple of days away. It’s a powerful day in our religion. I can only extrapolate that it would be equally powerful for those who attempt black magic.”

  “You’re right. Offhand, I don’t know of anyone else. No one else in my crowd, that’s for sure. I’ll think about it. Do you want me to make discreet inquiries?”

  “Very, very discreet.”

  Tinne nodded. “I’ll do that.”

  “Blessings.”

  “And to you too.” Tinne ended the scry.

  That morning, Ilex visited the various rooms the guards believed to be the best venues for another dark ritual. In every one he left a tiny Flair trip wire, sometimes two—one on the door and one to be triggered when frankincense was burned. The herb was uncommon and expensive.

  He returned to his office and recorded his report, gave one to Sawyr, who grumbled as he forwarded it to the First Families. Both he and Sawyr spent some time roughing out various scenarios to catch the cult members by using Noble bait. Neither of them was happy at the thought.

  “Nobles can’t be trusted,” Sawyr ended. “They think they know everything.”

  “Then we’ll just inform the young person that they must follow our orders…advice.”

  Sawyr snorted. “Good luck.”

  Restless, Ilex could think of nothing better than to once again visit the places where the bodies had been left, all of them except the last on their Families’ estates. The emotional Healers who had worked with the victims’ Families had advised them to close their main Residences and move to their country houses, so the estates were deserted.

  He stretched his senses and his Flair to the limit, but discovered nothing new.

  As was common now, he checked his bond with Trif. Her day was progressing much smoother than his and he was glad of it.

  Returning to his office, he leaned back in his chair and entered a light trance, trying to put what he knew together so he could find and stop these fliggers before they struck again. He visualized the list he’d made of all the people he’d brushed against in the time period—after Ginger’s death and before Calla’s, when he’d recognized the trace of a murderer.

  Unfortunately, that included his time at the Maypole, and though he hadn’t “met” everyone there, his subconscious Flair had picked up and catalogued every person.

  Ilex’s scrybowl rang. Loudly, persistently, flashing dark blue-purple-black. He stared at it. Another FirstFamily Lord about to interfere. There was only one whose heraldry contained those particular colors, young Vinni T’Vine, the prophet.

  Ilex wondered if the boy was going to say anything about Ilex’s premonition. Whether Vinni had foreshadowings regarding the murders. Like most, perhaps even more than most, Ilex tended to avoid the prophet. He was too uncanny. Which was why his scry was so loud and obnoxious.

  Ilex touched the tip of his forefinger nail to the bowl. That was all it took to have Vinni’s image materializing in the water mist above the bowl, frowning. He turned his head, taking in Ilex’s office. “Close your door. I’ll be there transnow.” He signed off before Ilex could reply.

  Shrugging, Ilex stood and walked from his desk to the door, shut it, and bespelled it for privacy so that even the Chief wouldn’t know what was going on.

  With a small “pop,” Vinni materialized sitting in the visitor’s chair.

  Good Flair. But from all reports and rumors, the young T’Vine was the strongest Flaired person on Celta. Still keeping his hand on the door latch, Ilex asked, “What can I do for you?”

  For once, the eleven-year-old had no flip comment. His eyes were deep blue bordering on purple, and pure fear pulsed from him.

  Ilex went over and crouched before him. “How can I help?”

  The boy gulped and gulped again. With a snap of his wrist, Ilex summoned a cylinder of water for Vinni. He took it in both hands and drank. “I read the reports of the cult killings,” he said.

  Ilex wanted to swear, but not in front of the child. He straightened and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have.”

  “I had to know! Find out what was going on.” He plunked the cylinder onto Ilex’s desk, not noticing the water slopping over the rim. Slipping out from under Ilex’s hand, he paced the room—a serious boy with title and Flair and concerns that more befit a mid-aged man. Vinni stopped in a corner and turned, lifting his gaze to Ilex.

  “You said that you’d asked Tinne Holly which person was most at risk from the murderers.” His voice rose, and Ilex kept an eye on him.

  “That’s right.”

  Vinni paced the small office again. “There isn’t one. No one struggling with their Second Passage.” The boy’s hands fisted. “They’ve already taken them all.” Something like a whimper escaped him. “All. And I couldn’t stop it.”

  “Pardon me, GreatLord T’Vine, but your age precludes you from stopping adult murderers.”

  “I should have been able to see! I didn’t even know something dreadful was going on until the second murder!” His voice caught on a sob.

  “So you didn’t foresee the murders?” demanded Ilex.

  “No.”

  “You got no solid visions?”

  “No!”

  Ilex went over to the boy and picked him up and plunked him to sit on the edge of the desk. “Then why do you think you could have stopped what happened? How can you demand so much of yourself and your Flair?”

  “I am the prophet.” His changeable eyes were hazel now.

  Pulling up the visitor’s chair, Ilex sat in front of the boy. Vinni was now physically at a higher level than himself. Ilex didn’t think Vinni was often in such a position with an adult. At a greater level in Flair, in foresight, but not physically.

  “You can only work with what you are given. And in this instance you were given nothing.” He handed the boy the water again and watched him sip. “You’re very mature for your age, but you aren’t a deity. You aren’t all-knowing, all-seeing. You’re a boy, a human being. You won’t see events. Or you’ll misinterpret what you see. It’s human nature. So get accustomed to it.”

  They stared at each other for several breaths and Vinni’s eyes stayed the hazel hue. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath, then another. “There isn’t a good victim for the killers—
Noble with great, unstable Flair, having problems during their Second Passage. But there is…there is someone….”

  “You?” Ilex asked gently.

  Drinking, Vinni shook his head. He finished the draught and wiped his hand across his mouth. “No. I won’t have Passages. My Flair will grow, but…” He shrugged. “I just won’t. Passages are not for me in this lifetime. My Flair will always be under control and stable.”

  “Who then?”

  Vinni licked his lips. “My HeartMate, Avellana Hazel.”

  Ilex stilled to immobility. “She’s only five.”

  “Yes,” Vinni said, and his voice had risen to a squeak again. “She had a head injury when she was three. Her Flair will be unstable until we HeartBond.” He waved. “Many years in the future. If she lives through her Passages.” He turned now-dark-blue eyes to Ilex. “Her Flair is stronger than mine. She is the perfect victim. Little. Female. Has a Fam. I wish I hadn’t convinced her to get a Fam.”

  “Have you told the Hazels?”

  “They won’t listen to me. Not me as Vinni. They’ll listen to you.”

  “I’ll make sure they take Avellana away from Druida.”

  Vinni relaxed a little. “Good. You have many links with the FirstFamilies—distant relative of the Hollys, HeartMate of Trif Clover, who is connected to the Blackthorns. You know Straif Blackthorn well, refused to kill Captain Elder, worked with T’Ash.” Vinni nodded. “They’ll listen to you.” He bit his lower lip. “Will you tell the Hazels now? While I’m here?”

  “Yes.” Ilex went to sit behind his desk and Vinni took the visitor’s chair.

  “D’Hazel Residence,” Ilex said. “Request communication with D’Hazel herself. Guardsman Ilex Winterberry.”

  The GreatLady appeared above the scrybowl. “Here,” she said. She looked strained. Ilex wondered how many of the FirstFamilies were secretly overwhelmed by the case.

  “Greetyou, GreatLady.”

  “What do you want?” It wasn’t like her to be rude.

  “I have been informed of a threat to your daughter.”

  “Avellana, our Avellana?” she gasped.

  “Yes. And you may have heard that I have certain presentiments.”

  “Yes! We’ll go away. Today.”

  “Before Samhain.”

  “At once. We’ll leave at once,” she said, and the scrybowl water rippled as she ended the spell.

  Head tilted, Vinni looked at Ilex. The boy seemed much more in control. “Now for the second reason I came to you.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to be bait.”

  “What!”

  “That’s the best way to stop these killings.” His young face set in grim lines. “No one knows the consistency of my Flair. We can spread the word that it’s unstable.” He tapped the corner of one eye. “My eyes change, so people think my Flair is irregular. It’s not. I haven’t lost control of it for two years.”

  “I don’t think—”

  Vinni went on persuasively. “They’ll underestimate me. No one knows the limits of my Flair.”

  “They’ll drug you, and they may overestimate the dosage.”

  “I want to do it. I insist.”

  Ilex leaned forward. “Do you? And have you had a foreseeing of this?”

  At his words, Vinni’s eyes glazed—and became gold green. A vision was upon him.

  Softly, softly, Ilex said, “And do you see success for this action of using yourself as bait?”

  Vinni trembled violently.

  Ilex sprang from his desk and caught the boy close.

  Colors, shapes, rushed by him—the blackness of the night sky and hurtling stars, twinmoons so bright they hurt his eyes, red of fury, piss-yellow terror.

  Both of them shook; then the vision passed and feeling uncommonly weak, Ilex placed Vinni back in the chair, then tossed him a softleaf to wipe his perspiring face, as Ilex did himself. Keeping himself well in hand, Ilex said, “So?”

  Rubbing his face with the softleaf, Vinni blew out a breath. “You didn’t get that?”

  “No, thank the Lady and Lord.”

  A crafty look came over Vinni’s face.

  “Don’t even think about lying. I’ve been a guardsman for many years. You can’t lie to me.”

  His shoulders sagged a little. “Guess not.” Then he frowned. “I didn’t get it all either, but…me being bait is right.” He glanced up, his eyes hazel. “I will come to no harm. This I know.” Leaning back, he crossed his arms, as if challenging Ilex to disbelieve him.

  The images of Vinni’s vision had been couched in the symbolism that specifically spoke to the boy. Yet from what Ilex had felt, nothing in the vision indicated danger to Vinni. The emotions of fury and terror had surrounded the young Lord, but had not been his or threatened him.

  “What of your Fam?” Ilex asked. “That housefluff has been traumatized enough.”

  Vinni licked his lips. “I’ve thought of that. I found a regular housefluff that looks like my Fam.” He glanced away, and Ilex received a clear throb of love between Vinni and his Fam. “It will not be good for the housefluff, but it won’t be as terrifying as it would be for my Fam. And people don’t always recognize when a housefluff is a Fam.”

  “You are a minor,” Ilex said.

  “I am a GreatLord.” He uncrossed his arms and threw his shoulders back.

  “Your Family guards—” Just as Ilex said that, a pounding came on the door.

  “Guardsman Winterberry!” Chief Sawyr roared. “There are several guards wearing T’Vine colors here to see you—and the GreatLord.”

  Vinni sighed. “They found me. They always find me too soon.”

  Ilex tapped his fingers on his desk. “I think we can work with them.” He smiled. “I know a couple. If they weren’t your Family, they’d be Druida guardsmen.”

  “We can do it?”

  “We need to do something. Let’s see what we can put together.”

  Twenty-five

  As usual these days, Ilex had pushed himself as hard as possible, used up most his Flair, and returned home very late. He was weary, but his step still lightened when he entered MidClass Lodge and knew Trif awaited him. He glanced at his wrist timer and made up his mind. It wasn’t too late for a romantic dinner. Hurrying into his apartment, he chanted the verses that would set the stage for him to show Trif how much he cherished her.

  When he was finished with a brief stand under the waterfall and dressing in casual trous and tunic, he entered the mainspace. A slight illusion spell had transformed his ordinary furnishings into priceless antiques—a Funchal carved dining table of gleaming reddwood, with a shimmering cloth and napkins of silkeen gold. Pale green celedon china plates and transparent green wineglasses stood on the table, perfect.

  At that moment Trif rapped on his door. He smiled at her usual impatience. With a Word, he lit a fat green candle that smelled like clover.

  He opened the door and stepped back with a wide gesture for her to come in. “I’ll have dinner ready in a moment,” he said, enjoying the way her eyes widened and mouth dropped. He closed the door and took her hand. “My lovely Trif.” He kissed her fingers.

  “What…what is this?”

  He stiffened. “I know I haven’t shown you much tenderness or romance. It’s exactly what it seems, a dinner for two. I don’t see Greyku.”

  “Hmmm? Oh, she and your Fam are exploring the beach. She heard from Zanth last night that if a cat is quick and cunning, she can catch sand burrowers, which are apparently quite tasty. She enjoyed hunting last night and wants more.” Slowly, Trif turned around, staring at the windows, which now had glowing murals painted on them in rich hues, then at the set table and candle.

  “I didn’t want to waste that champagne we never tasted last night,” he said, drawing her further into the room and tasting her wrist, the inner skin of her elbow that held her flavor, the curve of her neck.

  “Ilex.” She sighed his name and she felt her simple pleasure in being roman
ced—and an undertone of sparkling anticipation that made his body go hot and hard.

  “You are so beautiful.” So young. So fresh.

  “No, I’m n—that is, thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome. And it’s the truth.”

  “I’m not dressed for this.” She swept a hand down her body, and Ilex barely noted the old, soft, shapeless robedress. Instead, he saw her high, round breasts, her full hips.

  “You’re perfect.”

  She laughed and patted his cheek. He liked how her fingers lingered a bit before she stepped back. “No, I’m not, and you know it.”

  He took both her hands. “In this moment, there is nothing more perfect to me than you.”

  Her smile trembled on her lips, her lashes lowered, but he thought he saw the sheen of moisture. “Thank you,” she said.

  Kissing one of her hands, then the other, he led her to the table and seated her. He went into the kitchen and pulled the champagne bottle from the cooler. It had had time to settle a little and would be all the better for that. He poured the wine in her glass, his own. “To—” Why hadn’t he thought of the damn toast before? To love? They loved, but it would not last. To HeartMates? That was true, but a conflict between them. To life? Both of them knew how short he expected his own to be. He kept a smile on his face, clinked her glass gently. “To tonight.”

  She picked up the wineglass with an unsteady hand. “To tonight,” she barely whispered.

  He turned back to the no-time and opened the heated-foods section, pulling out a platter with slices of roasted turkey, covered in rich gravy, all of it steaming. Another dish held mixed vegetables. He placed them on the table and sat opposite her, noticed her glass was half empty. “Do you like the wine?”

  “It is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “I think Vinni T’Vine is quite expert already in his field.”

  Her fork stilled on the way to her mouth. “In prophecy?”

  “In knowing wine.” He did not want to talk about premonitions.

  She nodded and finished her bite. “Hmmm. This is wonderful. Did you make it?”

  “No, I’ve had the meal for a while, awaiting a special occasion. Tonight I wanted things to be…very special…between us.” Until he said that, he didn’t realize that he was sure he would not live another full month. No need to tell her. He wished he had even better food to serve her.