Heart Fire (Celta Book 13)

by Robin D. Owens

  “Oh.”

  “Will you abide with our decision and deal with the arrangements we have already made?”

  Sternness lived under the soft aspect of the High Priestess’s face. Her plump hands had gestured with sharp movements.

  Despite what her mentor had said, Tiana knew she had to decide.

  Now.

  Stay at this level, or go forward. She bowed her head to hide the resentment filling her. Though she believed the High Priestess and High Priest hadn’t manipulated her, the situation had done that; she hated that she had to make a life-changing decision on a few moments’ notice.

  Pretty much anything but “Yes, High Priestess,” would poorly influence the career she loved, had worked at for years. One she wanted to rise in.

  She took another long, long breath and raised her head. “I . . .” Dammit, she couldn’t get the words out in one sentence! Had to clear her throat. “I don’t need to take two days. I agree to your task.”

  A fast, beautiful smile came from D’Sandalwood, one that lit her eyes, and an open expression of great approval . . . with a touch of surprise. “Excellent.” She paused. “A Temple glider is waiting to take you to your meeting with the architect.” Several heartbeats’ pause. Definite dismissal.

  “Thank you for this opportunity,” Tiana mumbled as she stood and fluttered the folds of her elegant, richly formal robe slightly. She’d worn the garment to honor the High Priestess.

  Tiana suppressed tears as Lady D’Sandalwood came and embraced her in a soft and caring hug.

  “You need to work through your anger, dear girl. Think how you might take steps to release that, more than you have done.”

  “Yes, High Priestess.”

  Holding her at arm’s length, GrandLady D’Sandalwood smiled in sympathy. “You can do this, Tiana. This is an extremely important situation to us, and we know you will represent us well.”

  Pride had Tiana’s shoulders straightening, and the tears coating her throat drying.

  “We know this will be a personal trial to you.” The priestess searched Tiana’s face. “But we think it will serve your soul’s growth well.”

  Tiana was just fine with her soul as it was. “Yes, Lady Sandalwood.”

  “Good. You will do fine.” She dropped her arms and stepped back, tucking her hands in the long sleeves of her equally formal gown. At least hers was shifting shades of blue; Tiana’s was white.

  “Go to your appointment with GentleSir Blackthorn-Moss, and don’t forget your meeting with my HeartMate this afternoon.”

  As if Tiana could. Again she bowed her head, and words came from deep inside. “I appreciate your confidence in me.”

  “Honor your mother and her religion, and us and ours, and yourself, Tiana. Blessed be.”

  “Blessed be.” She concentrated on steady steps to the door and down the hallway, turned to one of the four main entrances, the southern one, and saw her rival, Lucida Gerania, smiling as she left High Priest GrandLord T’Sandalwood’s chambers, obviously happy with her assignment.

  Tiana had to squelch envy hard.

  Lucida beamed at Tiana, and then her smile took on a hint of glee. “You don’t seem pleased with your new assignment.”

  A good thing that irritated words stuck in Tiana’s throat. She rearranged her expression, lifted her chin a little. “It’s a challenge,” she said, and, to her discredit, liked the beginning of the frown she saw. “And I’ve been named an assistant and graduated to a two-room suite.”

  The other’s nose lifted. “So have I.”

  Of course she had.

  Lucida said, “I’m just going to check my new offices out. See what furnishings they might need . . . or whether I should tint the walls first . . .” She lifted blond brows.

  “A Temple glider is waiting to take me to a pressing appointment,” Tiana said. The amount of gilt she could spend on any refurbishment of her new offices was nil.

  Envy flashed in Lucida’s eyes. For now. Tiana knew the woman would be crowing when she heard of Tiana’s duty.

  “Blessed be,” Tiana said.

  “Blessed be.” Lucida nodded, then hurried down the wide and curving corridor.

  * * *

  A long, sleek, dark-blue glider with the sigil of the GreatCircle Temple sat under the portico. As Tiana advanced, the door opened upward and she slid into the luxury of soft furrabeast leather. The door whispered shut and the glider accelerated. No driver sat on the front bench, so the vehicle had already been programmed to take her to the offices of the architect, Antenn Blackthorn-Moss. Just from his name, Tiana knew he was adopted by one of the twenty-five FirstFamilies, the Blackthorns, a GrandHouse.

  Everyone knew the Blackthorns had problems with sterility and a vulnerability to some common sicknesses, so the couple had adopted several—many?—children. She thought Antenn was the first, but T’Blackthorn hadn’t chosen an Heir, from either his children or a cuz and a secondary line. She’d do some research later.

  Now she concentrated on resting since she hadn’t slept well the night before, nervous about her meeting with High Priestess GrandLady D’Sandalwood. And she’d teleported to a couple of stops from the hidden sanctuary where she lived to GreatCircle Temple. Then she’d had to add spells to her dress. Weariness pressed on her.

  Still, it wasn’t often she’d ride in such classy comfort. One of her best friends, Camellia D’Hawthorn, had married into the FirstFamilies, but Camellia’s HeartMate and husband preferred small and jazzy sports vehicles. Tiana’s Family had no vehicle at all.

  Stooopppp! Let me IN! screeched a mental voice.

  Reacting instinctively, Tiana snapped, “Stop the vehicle immediately.”

  The glider whooped a warning to others, jerked still, deployed the landing brackets, and rocked back and forth on them.

  Windooww! yelled something. Tiana turned toward the sound and jolted as something dark and furry showed beyond the tinted window.

  “What are yo—” she began, but saw a whippy cat tail. All right. She commanded, “Thin the back windows to air.”

  The spell took hold, and the furry animal bolted through, landing close to her. She put out a hand to keep the cat from tumbling onto her and thought she saw drool or spittle flying toward her, too.

  Yay! Look at Me! I am with My FamWoman! I have CATCHED her!

  Tiana stared at the brindled cat of drab shades of brown and gray. One of his ears was half gone. Obviously not a pampered Fam, but a feral.

  He smiled ingratiatingly, showing a broken fang, too, and then his loud and rumbling purr filled the glider.

  “FamWoman?” Tiana asked faintly.

  His head bobbed. A white scar showed the length of his head and disappeared into the fur near his neck. I am your Fam.

  “Do you even know who I am?”

  The Fam snorted. Acourse I do. You are the priestess who lives in the secret place that welcomes the really scared or sad.

  Her heart thudded and her mouth dried. That was true.

  You are not the Healer who lives there and who has a raccoon Fam. The tom lifted a paw and flicked it as if dismissing such a creature. But Tiana’s sister’s Fam was young and pretty, especially compared to this one.

  So was everyone else’s Fam.

  Light-green eyes fixed on hers. I am a good fighter. Like you.

  “I see.”

  He preened and turned his head and licked a mat by his shoulder. We will be good together. I have been smelling you for the last two weeks, and knew I had to find you.

  That simply appalled Tiana. “Smelling me?”

  He sniffed. Yes. You are my FamWoman.

  Well, he had no doubt about that.

  “I take it you haven’t come from GreatLady Danith D’Ash’s Fam Adoption Rooms.”

  The tom made a disgusted noise. Bunch of soft pussies.

  “We are now ten minutes late to the appointment,” the mechanical voice of the glider said.

  “Oh! Resume driving!” Tiana ordered. />
  This is a nice glider, the tom said, looking around, flexing his claws. I have always wanted to ride in a glider!

  “Don’t you dare put your claws in the leather seat—”

  But in went the claws and Tiana bit her lip as she watched the cat knead, but when he pulled out his claws, his whiskers turned down at no holes in the leather. A very good trick.

  “Ah,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  The cat sat proudly. I am RatKiller. All the Fams in the world know RatKiller!

  Tiana just stared.

  But you may give me a human-gift name, too. A Mugwort name. That will be good. Then I will be Something RatKiller Mugwort.

  “Wonderful.”

  “The destination is in one block on the right,” the vehicle said. “Prepare to disembark.”

  I will ride around in this for a while and see you at your home when you are done.

  I am going to T’Hawthorn Residence after the meeting, she replied. To celebrate . . . or at least tell her two best friends how the morning had gone. Everything was already arranged.

  The cat stopped licking his foreleg and grinned at her. Yes, one fang definitely had a jagged top. Even better, he said. Tell this glider to go there.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Then I will! GLIDER, AFTER YOU LEAVE CITY CENTER GO TO NOBLE COUNTRY!!

  “What!” Tiana sputtered.

  “Orders acknowledged,” the glider said. Apparently it had spells set to receive Fam telepathy.

  Every portion of this day had spiraled out of Tiana’s control.

  * * *

  The Turquoise House hummed to himself, happy with his existence as much as he’d ever been since his HeartStones had wisped into awareness twenty-two years ago. The tune wafting through his walls was one of the latest that Trif Winterberry had composed for him. He was beloved of the FirstFamilies and had had many wonderful guests.

  But he was impatient and it was time to gather in his Family.

  He was no longer an adolescent, but a mature adult. He was wealthy from his leases and the belongings his previous Family had gathered over two and a half centuries, but most of all, he was beautiful, with a gorgeous, shiny light turquoise exterior.

  No one, not even the person he’d been luring and who had not come back, could resist him now.

  And TQ was brilliant. He’d set his plans. Soon he would have his Family, and everything would be perfect.

  * * *

  The priestess was late. Annoyingly unprofessional.

  Antenn Blackthorn-Moss wanted to pace the flagstoned sidewalk in front of his business, a nicely elegant building with tall rectangular windows set in rough-cut red sandstone that he’d recently redesigned and rehabbed. But he couldn’t show his impatience or tension because his client, a Chief Minister of the Intersection of Hope, a stocky man but with an innate elegance, remained serene.

  Antenn couldn’t even look at his wrist timer, though his preliminary engineering crew awaited them at the building site, a dusty piece of land at the edge of the Varga Plateau, the geographic area Druida City was built on. His forewoman knew what to do, so hopefully they had started without them.

  Finally a glider stopped near them and the door rose. A woman gathered a formal robe and stepped out before Antenn could take the couple of paces to offer his arm. When she turned to them, her face seemed flushed with irritation, which immediately annoyed him. They were the ones waiting on her . . . but his frustration simply dropped away as he got a good look at her. She’d made an attempt to tame curly brown-black hair by putting it in a bun that might have once been smoothly elegant, but tendrils wisped in fine strands around her oval face.

  As she’d exited the vehicle, the fabric of her gown had tightened here and there and he’d seen she was slender but with nice, and nicely proportioned, breasts and hips. Her fine-boned features eased into a standard priestess pleasant expression.

  Elegant, dainty. Out of his league. And exasperatingly late.

  Chief Minister Custos moved toward her, stopped, and bowed four times. “We of the Intersection of Hope had requested you be our liaison but had not hoped you’d agree. The High Priest and High Priestess stated it was your decision.”

  The priestess’s emerald eyes flickered and Antenn guessed that the Powers-That-Were in the Temple hierarchy had put pressure on her. Yet her manner held the strength and serenity of most priests and priestesses he’d met, along with steely determination.

  She inclined her torso. “My deepest apologies, Chief Minister and FirstLevel Architect Blackthorn-Moss, for keeping you waiting.” Her lips twitched up. “I was only offered this experience this morning.” She pivoted toward Antenn, and he searched for her name, dredging up the knowledge that she traveled in a pack of three: Camellia D’Hawthorn, Glyssa Licorice Bayrum . . . , got it! He gave her his best bow. “No problem, Priestess Mugwort.”

  Her eyes narrowed as if she heard the hint of his lie. With an automatic smile, he continued, “My team is already at the land at the edge of the Varga Plateau that belongs to the Cross Fo—Intersection of Hope. Perhaps we should teleport?”

  She whirled to look at the glider that had taken off a few seconds before, and flushed again. The pink tinting her cheeks added lovely color to a pale complexion that showed she worked inside.

  The Chief Minister offered his beringed hands to both of them with a smile. “I have visited the land often and can visualize it in any light, so I can handle the teleportation of the three of us.”

  Antenn shrugged and took the minister’s right hand, leaving the man’s left for Mugwort. For some reason he didn’t want to touch her—if her touch was as stunning as her looks, she’d be a major distraction for him. He said, “I’ve got a pretty good image of it, too. The center point with the brass inset, right? I’m contacting my crew mentally to make sure the area is clear.”

  Chief Minister Custos smiled placidly. “I can send a mental claxon noise also to warn everyone.”

  Nodding, Antenn said, “Please do.”

  FirstLevel Priestess Mugwort—what was her first name, something pretty—said, red deepening her cheeks, “I’m sorry but I won’t be able to contribute much Flair to our teleportation.” Her breasts rose. “I’ve used a lot of psi power this morning.”

  “Both I and the boy”—Custos gestured to Antenn—“have sufficient Flair for this.”

  “Thank you,” she said, but Antenn knew she gritted her teeth.

  “Let’s go.”

  Three

  A few seconds later the three of them landed on the edge of the plateau where Druida City was built . . . but outside the city walls. A wind had picked up and flung gravel and dirt around, tugging at Tiana’s hair despite the spells. She bit her lip to stop a cry of protest at tromping around in the empty field full of dead brush and rocks.

  She’d better focus on serenity, on clearing her mind and the irritation from her manner. Chief Minister Custos was as knowledgeable as the High Priest and Priestess with regard to people. Tiana was a FirstLevel Priestess and able to order her emotions, so she should act like one. Custos was probably already aware of her feelings. She had to shape up.

  The three of them walked around much of the jut of land, significantly higher on this southwestern edge than Druida City. The architect and minister discussed the area and the views.

  The Chief Minister and she were introduced to Blackthorn-Moss’s small crew. Tiana knew her new shoes, at least not nearly as expensive as her gown, would be ruined.

  Blackthorn-Moss stated, “The site and the underlying rock is such that I don’t think we can give you the cathedral in the exact spot you and your Elders wished within the budget you wanted. Heavy-duty Flaired building-mages would have to be used, or we would have to rent the old Earthan machinery from the starship Nuada’s Sword and its Captain.”

  Chief Minister Custos frowned, lines snaking across his wide forehead. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. If we progress with the original plans, due
to the composition of the land, the cathedral would have to be angled several degrees from the northeast-southwest axis you prefer.”

  “That is not acceptable.” Chief Minister Custos tilted his head toward Tiana and said, “Absolutely one of the reasons I wanted FirstLevel Priestess Mugwort to work with us. I’m sure you have reviewed your notes on our religion, FirstLevel Architect Blackthorn-Moss, but you would not have a feeling for us as Priestess Mugwort does. Can you briefly explain our religion to the FirstLevel Architect, Tiana? And may I call you Tiana?”

  Another test! Tiana dipped a tiny curtsey. “I’m honored, Chief Minister.” More stiltedly than she wanted, she said, “Pursuant to the Intersection of Hope beliefs, there are four parts to one divine being.” She cleared her throat, calmly crossing her arms so her hands disappeared into the opposite sleeves, a more formal pose. “It’s a religion concerned with the individual, and compassion to all. A belief system set in terms of a journey that rose during the long voyage here.” She smiled at the Chief Minister and saw approval in his kind eyes, and the architect seemed to be actually listening to her. “The four aspects of the divine are the childlike self always open to possibility; the mature individual full of vitality and purpose; the older and wise guide; and the inner guardian spirit. All four points of a cross that meet in the middle to form the perfect human being, the ideal spiritual person whom each member of the religion strives to be.”

  “Very good!” Chief Minister Custos said. Glancing at Blackthorn-Moss, the cleric spread his hands. “The northwest-southeast axis must be precise, because it is the absolute symbol of our hope, first the stars in the sky in relation to the original voyage, then the direction the starships lifted off.” He shook his head. “It is impossible to change the axis.”

  The architect smiled, and Tiana finally realized he was an attractive man when he wasn’t scowling. She thought his resting face wasn’t flattering since his expression seemed to shade toward melancholy and older than his years. She couldn’t quite gauge what his age was.