Heart Quest

by Robin D. Owens

  “Did you ever?”

  “I—” Now her head began to ache.

  The scrybowl flashed dark green and gray on the pale wall, signifying a call from the Hollys. Mitchella answered it. The voice was too soft for Trif to hear, but she thought she recognized D’Holly’s speech pattern and stiffened.

  “We understand completely,” Mitchella said. “I’ll tell her.”

  Of course the first thing that flashed into Trif ’s head was that D’Holly had called to end their studies. Surely D’Holly wouldn’t dismiss her by a scry to her cuz? Surely not. But Trif murmured a little prayer and petted Greyku, who slept beside her, stomach full of prime furrabeast bites.

  Mitchella signed off with the formal “Merry meet again,” then glided back to her chair, meeting Trif ’s eyes.

  “D’Holly canceled lessons. There was some upset in the Residence last night.”

  They stared at each other.

  “Something more of the curse?”

  Tracing the rim of her cup, Mitchella said, “I don’t know. But she appeared over-weary. I got the impression that her daughter-in-law was hysterical, her son furious, and her husband…I’m not sure. Upset indeed.”

  When Ilex reached the office, it was easier to tuck away his devastated feelings. As a young guard, he’d often been screamed at by his mother in the mornings before he left the Residence to take up his duties. His vocation had been his passion, the guardhouse his sanctuary.

  It wasn’t quite the same. Because Trif had visited. He could envision her here. Not good. Time to become a professional. He pushed his emotions into a tiny box. He had murders to solve.

  Once again, he scried all the herb shops in Druida about incense mixtures, and mentally tested his trip wires, when a mental shriek made him flinch.

  Come! I need you! The demand flashed down the Family link, but it wasn’t his brother or nephew. The call was from Tinne Holly.

  Ilex’s heart clutched. Trif? Is she there? Did something happen to her?

  Not her. I need you as a witness. Ilex sat back, surprised. He’d never felt so close a bond with any of the Hollys. Desperation, worse, a grinding grief struck after the words, coming from Tinne and stirring up his own hurt. He couldn’t deny the young man. He stood and walked to the Chief’s office.

  Sawyr glanced up. “News?”

  Ilex shook his head. “Something else. Just got a call”—he tapped his temple—“from Tinne Holly.”

  With a grunt, Sawyr looked back down at the papyri and spheres spread on his desk. “You’re the guard assigned to the FirstFamilies. Go. Come back as soon as their newest brouhaha is over.”

  “Right.” Ilex went to the landing pad and ’ported to the exact spot Tinne had imaged. There would probably be more than one person as witness.

  Half-expecting to see bodies on the ground, instead he saw the T’Holly Household, mostly men, clustered in their livery a few meters away. Other GreatLords were there—T’Furze held his daughter, Tinne’s wife, close to his side. The older First Family GrandLord glared at T’Holly, who had a sick, gray tinge to his face.

  T’Apple, the father of T’Holly’s wife, also stood, arms crossed. T’Ash, younger and dressed in a blacksmith apron, stood, hands on hips, expression grim. Tab Holly, Tinne’s G’Uncle, stood beside him.

  As soon as Ilex appeared, Tinne turned to him. “Good, you’re here. You’ll be my witness on behalf of all the councils.” He was pale, silver-gilt hair ruffling in the cool breeze, eyes dark gray with emotion. What was most unusual was that he wore an ill-fitting bright blue trous suit. He straightened to his full height, set his shoulders, swallowed, then looked straight at T’Holly.

  “I disown you, I disown you, I disown you,” Tinne rushed out on a breath.

  T’Holly staggered back and his fist went to his heart, where the bond between father and son had been cut.

  Tinne doubled over, hands on his knees, panting, but still he stared at T’Holly. “My wife, Genista, is a Furze, and they are the most fertile Family of the FirstFamilies, yet we haven’t been able to create a child. Both her sisters were pregnant within six months of their marriages and we were two years before she conceived, and not for lack of trying. I think your broken Vows of Honor acted adversely on us in that way too.” Slowly, he straightened, looked to his wife sobbing in her father’s arms.

  “Last night we lost a babe in the womb. We will not stay in this cursed house another hour. We will not be associated with a man who breaks his Vow of Honor and is too proud and stubborn to acknowledge his wrong.”

  Ilex sucked in a breath. His wits spun, and grief slammed into him from all present, most especially from Tinne, and through that bond from Genista. He sank into his balance just to stay on his feet from the pummeling emotions.

  T’Furze said creakily, “This marriage was bad business all around. I’d not have granted it if I’d known what would occur.”

  “Too damn cheap to consult with T’Vine for a prophetic vision,” T’Ash muttered.

  “I heard that!” T’Furze growled to T’Ash. “Didn’t want to talk to a child. Hadn’t proven himself—”

  Raising his hands, palm out, Ilex said, “Calm,” and sent the soothing Flair around the tense group. “I think the miasma of this place affects us.” Everyone’s auras were dim and muddy.

  T’Furze snorted. “We consulted the matchmaker D’Willow, didn’t we? Should have been enough.” Without another word, he and Genista teleported away.

  Tinne licked his lips. His gaze did not go near his father. “I will take the name—” His voice broke, he coughed, took a deep breath, and his glance went to T’Apple, his MotherSire. That Lord inclined his head.

  To Ilex’s surprise, Tinne looked at him. Ilex jerked to attention. The boy wanted the Winterberry name? He’d have to face the old besom D’Winterberry, but this could work to Ilex and his brother’s advantage. Ilex felt small that he’d had the thought. But his mother would be thrilled at the great addition to the Family. Tinne was rich in his own right. Ilex nodded to Tinne.

  “I will take the name Tinne Winterberry.” He ended on a cracked note. He blinked rapidly. “I don’t know where Genista and I will stay—”

  “You’re welcome in T’Ash Residence,” T’Ash rumbled.

  “You can make a home at D’Winterberry’s,” Ilex said. Lady and Lord help them.

  Tinne rubbed his face with his hands. “Right now, I must go to D’Winterberry and pledge my loyalty. Then…my cuz Straif Blackthorn’s wife has offered me…a peaceful place for me to…consider our options.”

  Ilex tested his faint, despised connection with his mother—more a link of distasteful loyalty than a true familial bond. D’Winterberry’s lifeforce was sluggish, then awakened with a spurt of excitement. The news of this confrontation was already being spread, by Furze no doubt. Unlike his father, Tinne was the kind of man who’d discuss major decisions with his spouse, so Genista would have known the name he preferred and told her Family.

  Yet Ilex must be honorable. “Straif Blackthorn will also accept you into his Family.”

  “He is not here to take my oath, and though I respect his lady and HeartMate and would give my oath to her in his stead, I am not sure others of the FirstFamilies Council value D’Blackthorn’s word. I want all legal matters clear and binding.”

  “Straif will be back in Druida within a couple of days,” Ilex said.

  “I prefer not to go nameless, not even for a septhour. Destiny is too uncertain and I have a duty to protect my wife.”

  T’Holly flinched.

  Tinne offered his hand to Ilex. “Shall we go?”

  Ilex stepped forward and embraced him. Grief and hurt and anger flowed between them, and Ilex siphoned as much as he could from the young man and sent it into the ground.

  “My thanks,” Tinne whispered shakily. “This is a hard thing to do, but manageable. Not as bad as enduring my HeartMate wedding another, and certainly not the worst event of my life. That was losing my child last ni
ght.” His voice grew thick.

  “We’ll go,” Ilex said, and when he stepped away from Tinne, he saw that T’Apple, Tab Holly, and T’Ash had left. “On three.” He counted down, and they arrived in the shadowed barren hallway of the D’Winterberry townhouse. At least it looked freshly cleaned, probably Dufleur’s doing.

  “Why not take the name Apple?” Ilex asked.

  Tinne grimaced. “My MotherSire has enough grief. He doesn’t need two disowned Holly sons in the Family.”

  “I think you just don’t like the name,” Ilex said.

  “They’re artists.”

  “Artists are prized.”

  “Not as manly as fighters,” Tinne mumbled. “Would be different if I was a bard, but I didn’t get my mother’s talent. Genista likes Winterberry better too.”

  “You may very well regret this,” Ilex warned him. “There wasn’t a lot of time for me to tell you the situation.”

  Smiling humorlessly, Tinne said, “My Family—” He stopped, gulped. “The Hollys know of your mother’s addiction and her unreliability. Every Noble does.”

  Ilex heard the snick-snick of heels descending the stairs. “I’m SecondSon, as you are. My brother is back in town and will be challenging my mother for the title. Unless you want to do that honor.”

  “Pledge loyalty, then challenge? I don’t think so. I’ll leave it to your brother.”

  “Won’t be difficult to prove neglect,” Ilex murmured.

  Tinne shrugged. “I don’t think D’Winterberry’s demands will be much. I’ll be of a Family, but my own man.”

  “Good thinking.”

  D’Thyme appeared, smiling broadly. Carefully, she lowered her heavy body into a curtsy. To Tinne. She ignored Ilex.

  “Welcome, Tinne H—welcome. I am D’Thyme, a cuz, D’Winterberry awaits.”

  “Greetyou,” Tinne said politely.

  “Please follow me. Everything is ready for the loyalty ceremony.”

  They went up the stairs and to the Head of Household’s suite. To his surprise, Ilex found his steps lagging. He hadn’t thought his mother still had that much power over him and his feelings. Wrong.

  D’Thyme threw the door open and Ilex’s eyes stung with sharp cleaning herbs. He got the idea that his mother, ensconced in her thronelike chair, had been washed where she sat.

  Tinne strode forward and bowed to her, outwardly courteous, but a tension around his eyes bespoke a difficult duty. His wife’s Family had not offered to make him theirs. That would hurt too. Fliggering shame that Blackthorn was out of the city.

  The loyalty ceremony was brief, and only had a little hitch when Tinne said, “My wife is not well enough to vow loyalty in person to you this day,” Tinne said. “I have her token, please accept it.” He slid a gorgeous golden ring with an equally golden earthsun stone into D’Winterberry’s hand.

  She goggled at it. D’Thyme’s eyes sharpened.

  Tinne cleared his throat and with another gesture, a stream of large many-gilt coins poured into D’Winterberry’s lap. “I pray for an additional, unusual stipulation in this loyalty oath. I most humbly request that if my former father, GreatLord T’Holly, mends his broken Vow of Honor, that Genista and I are released immediately from our oaths to you and allowed to return to that Family—distant relatives of your own, my lady.”

  D’Winterberry stared at the gold, then looked up at Tinne. She was shrewd enough to know that granting Tinne any favor would enrich her more than in just gilt. “That stipulation to your loyalty oath to me is granted.”

  “Food and drink, D’Winterberry,” Ilex prompted.

  His mother jerked, then motioned to a small plate of cookies that Ilex’s nose told him were stale. She drank deeply from the House goblet, passed it to Tinne. Face expressionless, he took a tiny sip. She took a cookie, then offered him the tray. He chose the smallest, popped it in his mouth, crunched, and swallowed.

  “You are now blood of my blood,” D’Winterberry intoned.

  A thin, but strong link formed between Tinne and Ilex himself and Ilex welcomed it. Welcomed Tinne and Genista through it, though Genista’s thread was unsteady.

  Ilex stepped forward and embraced Tinne again. This time leeching despair from the younger man. It helped them both, since much of Ilex’s own depression flowed away, through the house into the ground of their old Family estate below. Ilex couldn’t force optimism that he himself didn’t feel.

  He stepped back, bowed to his mother. That emphasized his distance from her, and in turn echoed the distance he was from his HeartMate. How he longed for Trif ’s cheerful presence.

  His mother spoke, “Our cuz, D’Thyme, has the consort’s suite, but you and your wife can have the Heir’s rooms.”

  Tinne stilled. More changes for him. He’d probably always had a suite of his own, and his wife too. He bowed. “Thank you, my lady. Though my oath is to you, my wife and I don’t want to impose. I pray you take no offense if we live somewhere closer to her Family.” He meant in Noble Country where the great FirstFamilies were.

  D’Winterberry’s thin mouth twitched in a smile as she nodded, obviously relieved. Ilex deduced she was glad she wouldn’t have to pretend to be sober and responsible around this newest member of her Family.

  “If you’ll excuse us, D’Winterberry,” Ilex said carefully. “We must return to our duties.” Lives. Not the stagnant existence in this house.

  Tinne bowed again. “Unless you have any business for me to attend to?”

  She looked blank.

  D’Thyme stepped forward, eyes sharp, hands fluttering. “Not at all, not at all. You go to the Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon? That’s yours, isn’t it?” Greed laced her voice.

  “It is Tab Holly’s for now. I am unsure of the disposition of the business. I do intend to continue with my teaching there.”

  “Of course.”

  “I have an appointment with Mitchella D’Blackthorn.”

  “Yes, you must go,” Ilex’s mother whispered, her eyes lowering as if she’d fall asleep momentarily.

  Ilex bowed to the women, drew Tinne from the room, then took one last look at her. She was his mother, but he felt nothing but disgust. As he walked Tinne back down to the teleportation pad in the entryway, he knew he ached for the Residence, for the estate, more than he cared for his mother. He was glad his brother would wrest it away from her.

  He led Tinne to the landing pad and watched him ’port away to the clean, beautiful home of T’Blackthorn Residence. Where Trif might still be. Ilex swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair. This was a very bad mess.

  Before he could ’port away himself, another demand roared down his Family connection with the Hollys. Black Ilex to me now! commanded T’Holly.

  T’Holly paced on his estate’s mown dueling field. If Tinne had been there, Ilex wouldn’t have given much for his chances. T’Holly grunted at Ilex in greeting, continued to measure the square with his steps. Ilex joined him and said nothing.

  “I won’t let that boy dictate to me!” T’Holly insisted.

  Ilex whirled on him. “Wrong. If you want the Holly line to flourish instead of die out, you will change your ways.”

  “I didn’t ask you.” He eyed Ilex. “And you’re more my generation than his.”

  Inside, Ilex flinched.

  T’Holly continued. “You should understand my position more than his.”

  A crack of laughter came from Ilex. “You’re a GreatLord and have never bent your will to anyone else’s. Not even to destiny. First an Heir, then the Lord, you don’t know what it is to take any orders.” Ilex stared into his distant relative’s flat pewter eyes. This man could break his career so easily. Perhaps. It was one thing Ilex would fight hard.

  “And you lie down for your destiny,” T’Holly shot back. “You don’t fight for your woman, your HeartMate.” A curl twisted his lip.

  T’Holly had always been good at delivering crippling blows. Ilex felt the verbal punch straight to his gut. “This isn’t
about me. This is about you and your Family. Other Families have died out since we colonized Celta. My own brother has walked away from the Winterberry title, considered founding his own Family in Brittany because of my mother’s action.” Ilex shrugged. “Now your sons are gone. Holm is crafting a good life in Gael City, happy and whole. I saw him a few days ago.”

  Pain flashed in T’Holly’s eyes.

  “Tinne will be welcomed wherever he and Genista decide to live. As a SecondSon, his income was provided for by your own mother. They will flourish.” Ilex pointed at T’Holly. “You will continue to wither and die.” The words reverberated in his own head, but he dismissed them.

  “I…I…” T’Holly sputtered in denial.

  Ilex grabbed the man’s massive shoulders and shook him. “Look at what your broken Vow of Honor has cost you. Look at yourself. You’ve aged twenty years since that duel with T’Hawthorn. You’ve lost the Captaincy of the FirstFamilies Council; they won’t vote for you as the leader when you’re under a curse. You’ve lost both sons. You’ve lost a grandchild.

  “And if you don’t care for yourself or your children, what of your HeartMate? She has never fully recovered from her wound because she cleaves to you. You harm your woman. Can’t you see this? Here she comes now.” D’Holly had left the Residence and was crossing toward them. “Look at her. See how she’s aged too. How her Flair and energy have diminished. See how she walks with slow and careful steps.”

  T’Holly’s gaze fixed on his HeartMate. Her expression nearly hid her devastation as she tried to smile at her husband. Her aura was slight, her pace cautious. A fine trembling existed in every muscle.

  “Lord and Lady, she doesn’t run to me,” T’Holly said under his breath. “She doesn’t dance. Passiflora has always danced. Music always plays in her mind. Have I driven that music away?” It was a tortured question. Then T’Holly ran to her, scooped her up in his arms.

  Ilex saw her frame his face in her hands and her lips move. The whisper of her voice drifted to him. “We’ll survive.”

  The big Lord clamped her to him, rocked them both, sorrow radiating from them.