“A mistake to run instead of fight.”
“Like fighting a mob is easy! Or honorable. Or right.” Anger flashed through her. “You’re a fighter. I know that.” She angled her chin. “We had Flair, no weapons. If we used our Flair to fight, we would have further stirred the mob. What would have happened when we ran out of energy? We’d have been killed.”
A short nod from Garrett, who still frowned. “You escaped.”
“We escaped,” she said softly. “And those Lords and Ladies in the NobleCouncil who had believed the lies that people of the Intersection of Hope had conspired with the Black Magic Cultists stated they were wrong.” Her smile felt more like a grimace. “They didn’t, quite, apologize, but they admitted they were wrong. All except T’Equisetum. I don’t know what twisted in him, if he thought reparations might be made to us if he didn’t stand solid against us. Or whether he was twisted in the first place, but he stood his ground that the Intersection of Hope members were evil.”
“He lost his influence.”
Tiana couldn’t stop her lip from curling. “He lost some of his influence . . . and no rational person really likes a fanatic unless they are of the same hue as the fanatic . . .”
“And there aren’t many of the same hue.”
“Thank the Lady and Lord, at least not that darkest hue. But he belongs to the Traditionalist Stance.”
Garrett flipped the coin, snatched it from the air, and grunted. “Like insisting on no change to the current councils is going to work when people are gaining more Flair all the time, when Walker Clover, a former Commoner, will someday be Captain of AllCouncils.”
She let a breath out, sat back against the chair. “Different than you does not mean evil.”
“It doesn’t even mean worse than you. Just different,” Garrett said. Now the silver coin disappeared into his palm; he waved and it was gone, and then it appeared in his other hand. No Flaired tricks, all manual dexterity. “And, after your year of—”
“Poverty.”
“After a year of poverty you landed on your feet.” He smiled. “More, you . . . thrived.”
Garrett wouldn’t—couldn’t, because of a confidentiality spell—mention FirstGrove and BalmHeal estate.
Tiana nodded. “We found a new home. Artemisia was accepted at AllClass HealingHall and began to rise in her career . . . under the name of Panax.” Tiana jutted her chin.
“You were accepted as an apprentice in GreatCircle Temple.”
“Yes. Artemisia and I are doing relatively well. Mother practices her craft on those who . . . find her . . . office.”
“It’s an open secret that your father writes cogent and well-respected articles for legal journals.”
“Yes.”
“So T’Equisetum didn’t keep you down.”
Pure fury flashed through her. “That doesn’t mean what he did was right. My parents—”
The silver coin spun and flashed in Garrett’s fingers. He set it on the desk. “You’re damn right. Your parents have hidden for too long. This wrong needs to be righted. Now. But I can’t accuse the man without evidence, though I’d love to confront him with a formal complaint about his actions. After all, he harmed my woman, my HeartMate—he set events into action that crippled her Flair—I, we, can’t prove it yet. If we do, a complaint would be better coming from you.”
She saw her career vanish before her eyes.
“If you’re strong enough and gutsy enough to do it.” He paused. “And I don’t think, with this new Intersection of Hope cathedral, that T’Equisetum will remain quiet. You know that he brought up the matter in the NobleCouncil and was quashed by others, don’t you?”
Tiana wet her lips. “I think Antenn Blackthorn-Moss mentioned something. I hadn’t heard specifics.”
Garrett nodded. “A man who hires others to rile up mobs to hurt or kill a rival cannot be allowed to prosper.” His gaze locked on her. “Your mother and father won’t prosecute. Artemisia is happy with me and our life.” A slight smile. “But you . . . you want justice, don’t you?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You want something more like revenge.”
He shrugged big shoulders. “Sure, I want him ground into the dirt and never able to raise himself out of it. I want him banished from Druida City, Gael City, and public life. I want his title stripped from him, and reparations times three paid to you from his wealth. I’d like to beat him until he’s bloody and begging.”
Her mouth dropped open at the list Garrett had obviously put a lot of thought into. “Oh.”
“But I’m not a priest. I can allow myself revenge.” Again he picked up the coin, staring at it as he made it disappear and reappear through his fingers of both hands. “And, I think, you might be the one who observed most that terrible night.” When he looked up, his stare pinned her. “Didn’t you? You looked out the windows, saw the people surrounding your house?”
Her breath caught, then came out creakily. “Yes. I watched the fire. Horrified and fascinated.” She squeezed her fingers tight as she slipped back into memory. “I saw faces.”
“And your parents?” Garrett asked quietly.
Tiana felt the blood drain from her face. “They were running around . . . teleporting to gather things we might need, translocating items—”
“Making sure their children were safe. Artemisia?”
She glanced at him. “She stayed in the middle of the room, the long ResidenceDen in the back of the house, under the desk where they told us to hide.”
“But you didn’t. You went to the window and looked out.”
“More than one window. All. All of them, front and back, all the ground-floor rooms.” Her fingers twined together. “I couldn’t help myself. We were surrounded.”
“And you saw. Faces. People.”
“Yes.”
“All right.” He slapped the desk, pulling her from the near-trance. “I’m going to arrange for some people to witness you as you go into a trance and remember that night, record it on a memorysphere.”
“I’ve done that before.”
His brows went up.
“Did you?”
“Yes. The priestess who counseled me requested I do that. Years ago. Within a week of the incident . . . as soon as I was accepted into the apprenticeship program . . . my application had been before the Temple, but was approved quickly after the . . . incident.”
Garrett’s smile was slow. “Good. Then we can compare the two. They’ll be excellent evidence.”
A sigh came from the bottom of her gut.
“I know it’s going to be hard. But you can do it,” he said.
“Yes.” She set her feet under her, made sure her legs would support her, and rose. “You think we can really obtain justice for my Family.”
“Oh, yeah.” He smiled and there was an edge in it that made her wary. With a flash of insight she thought that if legal means didn’t work, the man in front of her might . . . use his influence? Call in favors? . . . to ruin T’Equisetum.
She should have felt bad about that.
She didn’t.
Garrett stood, too, came around his desk and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “I’ll walk you to the front door. I think I can get everything set up for your session in a couple of septhours with several witnesses, including a guard. Who has your previous memorysphere?”
“High Priestess GrandLady D’Sandalwood.”
“Ahem.” Then he shrugged. “I’ll scry her . . . or her assistant.”
“I should do that, authorize that.” With relief, Tiana recalled that the High Priestess was busy with a small wedding ritual in two septhours. She pulled out her scry pebble and requested that a verified best copy of the memorysphere be forwarded to Garrett’s office cache.
“With you being a priestess and all, you won’t need anyone to talk you into a trance,” Garrett commented.
“I can handle that myself,” Tiana agreed, tucking the tiny scry pebble back into her sleeve.
The front door thinned, revealing Antenn Blackthorn-Moss sitting on the stoop and petting one of the feral cats.
Twenty-one
Antenn glanced up, and it seemed to Tiana that his automatic smile brightened when he saw her.
“Blackthorn-Moss,” Garrett acknowledged.
Antenn stood and nodded to Garrett. “Primross.”
The ginger cat sniffed Antenn’s boots and sauntered down the steps, and Felonerb bounded into sight. A low growl emanated from the cat and he flicked the tip of his tail as if demonstrating to Tiana’s Fam that he had a tip to his tail.
FAMWOMAN! Felonerb said. He leapt straight for her, trusting she’d catch him. So she did. He licked under her chin . . . his breath was bad but not the hideous odor of when he’d killed and eaten prey.
He snuggled in her arms, twitched his whiskers, and said, Hello, Antenn. You see how much My FamWoman loves Me? Felonerb cocked his half ear at Garrett. Hello, Garrett. You see how much My FamWoman loves Me?
Antenn laughed. “I do.”
She asked Me to come with her and I did!
“A little late, cat,” Garrett said. “But it’s good that you’ll be with her when she recalls the firebombing of old T’Mugwort house in two septhours.” Garrett looked at Antenn. “You’re here and convenient, and don’t have any personal tie to the Mugworts, so you’d be a good witness. What do you say?”
A flush darkened over the architect’s cheeks. He glanced at Tiana. “I asked Felonerb where you were, and I came to say I’m sorry I prodded you to do this.”
“No. You aren’t.”
He grimaced. “You’re right.”
“No personal ties to the Mugworts at the time of the Black Cult murders,” Garrett repeated.
“My cuz was nearly a victim!” Antenn shot back.
“Just so,” said Garrett. “And you do have an interest in keeping T’Equisetum under control.”
Antenn stared aside. “I had a run-in with him yesterday morning.” Worry lines showed around his mouth. “He is not a pleasant person.” Then Antenn’s head came up. “I also just checked out what he said yesterday in NobleCouncil with some friends of mine who attended. The man needs to be stopped,” Antenn said. “Yes, I’ll witness.”
“We three agree about stopping T’Equisetum,” Garrett said.
I think he is a nasty man, Felonerb stated.
Tiana petted his fur, still rough and matted in places. She’d have to be more diligent in grooming him.
I can groom myself just fine, Felonerb said telepathically, and she thought it was only to her. He wiggled and she let him jump down to the stoop, where he sat on one corner and preened as if he owned the whole building.
“Have you even met GraceLord T’Equisetum?” Garrett asked Felonerb.
No, but he makes FamWoman tense, so he is a bad man. He aimed his muzzle toward the building. Are we going to stay here?
“I’d planned on going back to GreatCircle Temple,” Tiana said. She had some lunches left in her personal no-time there, and the public carrier line was a straight shot. “I’m not finished arranging my new chambers.” A couple of friends who had chosen to move to their own Temples told her that she could take their extra furniture. There’d be enough to make her sitting room and office look cozy, not barren. She thought the quality of the items might be better, too.
Garrett rolled his big shoulders, frowned at the building. “I was planning on using the conference room here, but I suppose we could do this at GreatCircle Temple.” He didn’t sound thrilled, but he’d had his own deep counseling session there.
Tiana flushed at the thought of hosting people in her rooms, counting people in her mind: Garrett, Antenn and another witness, a guard . . . and whoever might be interested enough to drop in . . . which several of her friends might want to do. Even with the donations, she didn’t have enough chairs. She didn’t even have enough floor pillows, yet.
Let’s do it at Turquoise House! Felonerb said. The House can be a witness, too. He would like that.
Now both Garrett and Antenn flinched.
“I understand if you don’t want to revisit the place, Garrett,” Tiana said softly. “You did live through the plague there, after all.”
But everything is new and clean and smells goood! It’s not like it was when you was sick! Felonerb grinned at Garrett. I saw you there when you needed Healing!
Garrett bowed stiffly at the Fam. “Thank you for the energy you sent me. You must have been with the other feral cats.”
For a while. You needed everyone on that one night. Felonerb licked his paw and rubbed his ear.
“I suppose,” Garrett said. He looked at Antenn. “That all right with you? Turquoise House in a little less than two septhours?”
“I can make it.” He seemed to grit the words through his teeth.
“Fine.” Garrett nodded. “Later.” He went back through the door that solidified into spellshield-with-illusion behind him.
A long sigh Tiana hadn’t known was trapped in her lungs whooshed from her.
Antenn raised his brows, rocked back on his heels, and considered her. “This event . . .”
“Going back in trance to the night the mob surrounded our house and firebombed it.”
He winced, tugged at the collar of his tunic as if he needed to breathe better, and she recalled he’d said he’d been in a house that had gone up in flames, too. His hand dropped and he shook out his whole body. “Firebombs, the weapon of choice of criminals on Celta.” His curved lips were not a smile, especially since his eyes looked tragic. “Including my brother.”
She ached at that and said the first thing that popped into her head to distract him. “As an architect, can you tell by looking at a house from the outside whether it is sentient? Or becoming intelligent?”
Interest sharpened his gaze. “Maybe. Sometimes. What do you have in mind?” He descended the steps, held out a hand to her for a second, and then dropped it.
She paused and stared at him for a couple of breaths. His brown hair gleamed in the sun and his hazel eyes appeared even darker . . . though that might be because he was gazing at her with admiration. Perhaps the reason he affected her more each time she met him was that he seemed very interested in her.
Could he have been the man in her sex dream last night? Her HeartMate? Her breath caught . . . she was forgetting the dream and her lover already! Too many emotions had crammed into her this morning; too many memories, too many thoughts had blurred the nighttime sex. She bit her lip to stop an incoherent protest at this new memory fading—when she could remember the old so well. Surely dream sex with your HeartMate was as life-changing as a firebomb.
But it couldn’t be Antenn, could it? In the back of her mind, foggy as it had been last night during sex and the mind-twilight before waking, she’d thought that the man must have just come to town, that distance had kept him from claiming her until now.
She was confused. She had a lover, a HeartMate. But he hadn’t wanted her until now and she didn’t know what might have changed. If that had changed. He still might not want her, just be unable to suppress the sex dreams.
And this man was attracted. As no man had been in years. Feeling the weight of his regard, she descended the steps . . . her body moving in a more graceful manner than she was accustomed to. And then she was close to him, nearly touching . . . and felt a tiny static-shock-fizz as she hit his spellshield. She blinked and stepped back.
He flushed. “Bad sunburn.” Then he coughed. “Potion took care of the color, but skin’s real sensitive.”
She thought he lied but said nothing.
Where ARE we going now? Felonerb asked. He hopped down the stairs and wove between their legs. Antenn nodded to her.
“I thought . . .” She glanced at Antenn.
“I’m with you.” He grimaced. “I scried the Chief Ministers for their approval to start the real work, laying the huge blocks of the foundation, and was informed they aren’t available. Probably still dis
cussing when the spellshield ritual will be. But I’m not taking the next step without authorization. So I’m with you.”
“Oh . . . all right.” She spoke around a new lump in her throat. “I’d like to look at the old Mugwort Family estate. My childhood home.”
Felonerb sniffed. Bo-ring. Past is past. I will tell TQ of Our decision. HE is our present and future. Her Fam slid her a sly look. Time for lunch and better food at the Turquoise House. The cat stropped her ankles, then ’ported away.
Now Antenn’s smile faded and his expression went blank. “Are you sure you want to go to your old home?”
Tiana made a moue, thought about walking away from the man and to the public carrier hub. She still knew what carriers went past her old home.
But she stayed instead. A bit of understanding trickled through her. She trusted him. “My reviews pointed out that I have not progressed as well as I—or others—believe I should in getting over my childhood trauma.”
Her next swallow was more of a gulp. “I haven’t been back to look at hom—at the place—since a couple of weeks after the event.”
He reached out toward her hand, then stopped and turned the movement into a gesture. “If you feel you have to do this—”
“I do.”
A shrug. “All right. Do you think you remember enough of how the light streams at this time of year and day and all the rest to teleport?”
The question took her breath in an emotional blow and tears sprang behind her eyes. Dammit! She didn’t want to wobble in front of him. She cleared her throat, blinked hard, and used Flair to banish the tears. “No. I don’t recall enough.” She thought she did, saw her old home in her mind’s eye, but couldn’t risk their lives if her recollection was wrong.
He grunted in an almost absentminded fashion and she thought that under his manner she felt a twisty hurt from him. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, then decided he didn’t want to talk about whatever pained him.
Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) Page 19