Ship interrupted. “Since I am interested in this structure, one based on information I provided to you, I have had my satellite keep track of the progress. I have the latest data with regard to the trenches and the quarry.” A short hum came, then, “Dani Eve has been experimenting with a transport system called a mass driver that could be installed this morning from the quarry to the site. We have heavy-duty anti-grav sleds that can be used instead of Earth Mages to translocate the blocks, and large machines to lift and place the blocks. Yes. We can get this done by the deadline this evening if we start quickly. I will notify Dani Eve—”
“Wake her up,” Ruis Elder said, winking at Antenn.
“She will be excited to prove to all that she, and I, can still contribute to Celta,” Ship said.
“Seems to be a goal all around,” Antenn murmured.
“Ship, you see to everything,” Elder said, his sharp gaze on Antenn.
“I will. I have programmed the sleds and they are on their way to the quarry. I am waking—”
Captain Elder said, “Give me a time when FirstLevel Architect Antenn Blackthorn-Moss needs to be at the site—the quarry or the cathedral.”
“A septhour.”
“Good. Please continue to supervise. I’d like to talk to Antenn without interruption.”
“Very well,” Ship said, and though Antenn knew the being was as curious as any creature, it—he—they, sounded distracted.
Captain Elder rose. “Let’s proceed to the southern entrance, a good walk.”
Antenn stood, too, noting the slick of sweat of his shirt. Of course the spell wicking it away to the atmosphere and leaving a nice herbal smell did not work. He rested his hand on the back of the chair, leaned against it an instant, and closed his eyes. Said a prayer of gratitude to the Lady and Lord. Opening his eyes, he bowed to the Captain. “Thank you for your generosity.”
“Oh, we’ll charge you,” the man said, then named a price a quarter of what had been earmarked to pay Apex for the foundation.
Antenn lowered his head, again closing his eyes. “Thank you.” He breathed deeply, then met the man’s inscrutable gaze. “I must tell you that if I find another Earth Mage building company, I will hire them.”
“Instead of using ancient Earthan machines.” Ruis Elder gestured and the door opened. “We understand, but the machines remain viable for work.” He turned right and began walking down the long, long hallway. “We don’t mind proving ourselves several times. In this particular instance, we know the ultimate clients are the Chief Ministers of the Intersection of Hope, and though the notion of having colonial machines build their cathedral will please them a little, they, too, will be wary.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Antenn said.
“The Ship’s lifetime is even longer than ours, and it will see this as unexpected progress sooner than anticipated on its timeline.”
“Ah,” Antenn said. He matched pace with the Captain, though the man was taller than he by a few centimeters. Still, though they didn’t hurry, they didn’t saunter, either.
Quietly, Ruis Elder said, “We have never spoken about Shade, your brother. I knew him fairly well.”
That stunned Antenn. He stared at the Captain for several steps until Ruis Elder glanced at him. “Your brother was a very damaged person, mostly because he’d bonded with two other boys in a triad and they died.”
Flickering memories slashed through Antenn’s mind of the triad, their glisten-metal coated incisors that showed they belonged to each other. The other two for whom his brother had abandoned him . . . until the three let him tag along in their gang. He didn’t care to remember that time . . . couldn’t remember that much, and thank the Lady and Lord for it.
“I liked Shade,” Ruis Elder said. His eyes met Antenn’s in a simple glance. “He had potential.” The Captain looked away, and Antenn saw grief.
Antenn could actually share grief at the loss of his brother with this man. He’d never considered that anyone but himself remained who’d known Shade.
“The . . . timing . . . of the events when our lives tangled together was poor; if Shade had been given a little more . . .” Ruis shrugged. “He might have redeemed himself. As it was, through his acts, he let me redeem myself. He wasn’t totally bad. But he hated and that hatred killed him, and had him killing others. If there’s anything we must fight, it’s poisonous hatred of others. In our own selves and by not allowing it to flourish when we can step in and say that hatred is wrong.”
They walked along in silence until they came to a cart, and Ruis gestured Antenn to get into it. “I know you’re anxious to get to work. This is programmed to head straight for the southern door.” The Captain offered his arm again, and this time Antenn took it and kept the clasp for a good half minute.
“For your brother, and for yourself, count me as a friend,” Captain Elder said. He smiled. “You are always welcome here.”
All Antenn could say was, “Thank you.”
Then the cart sped him from the Ship, and he teleported to the cathedral.
* * *
Tiana took the public carrier to GraceLord T’Equisetum’s business address . . . which was close to the Intersection of Hope’s city office and Antenn’s architectural firm. Perhaps the proximity irritated the GraceLord.
Her pulse beat fast. She’d filed the complaint and Garrett had filed their petition. The NobleCouncil Clerk would have processed the petition and sent it to the NobleCouncil. Had word of her complaint gotten to T’Equisetum’s ears, yet? Only a matter of time. She’d been advised to hand it to the man herself, as a victim confronting one who’d harmed her and accompanied by witnesses. The other option was to let an impartial guard take care of the duty. She hadn’t quite decided what to do.
She walked into a medium-sized room full of people from the newssheets and the new viz channels. GraceLord T’Equisetum stood behind a tall lectern. Just looking at him caused her stomach to roil. Though lines of dissatisfaction—hate and bitterness?—had carved deep in his face, he appeared invigorated by the thought of fighting the construction of the cathedral. She studied him from the back of the room. Yes, the passing years showed more on his visage than on her father or mother.
“Your attention please, Lords and Ladies, GentleSirs and GentleLadies,” said a slender man of about Tiana’s age, no doubt GraceLord T’Equisetum’s current assistant, and a member of his Family. He shared features with that man.
“Greetyou, all,” GraceLord T’Equisetum said. “As I said when I called this newssheet conference, we of the Traditionalist Stance do not want a Cross Folk cathedral near Druida.”
“It’s out of the city,” someone pointed out.
“I’ve seen the plans, I very much like the idea of such a structure, another large sacred space like our GreatCircle Temple and the Great Labyrinth in the north,” a man who sponsored the arts—and spoke about them in viz reports—said.
“How can it be sacred if it is not of the Lady and the Lord?” GraceLord T’Equisetum asked.
“How can the Traditionalist Stance movement be acceptable if it is not accepted by all Nobles, and so new?” someone else fired back.
“I will speak of the Traditionalist Stance movement in a moment.” The GraceLord leaned on the lectern. “Why, this building will be larger than our GreatCircle Temple.”
Tiana just couldn’t stop her tongue. “So what?” she asked. “It’s only men who believe larger is better.”
That got a laugh from the press. The people in front of her moved to the side, leaving an aisle for her to walk toward the podium where T’Equisetum sneered.
“Ah, it’s the little Cross Folk lover.”
There was a short gasp from someone in the crowd at the rudeness.
Tiana lifted her chin. “Yes, my mother practices the Intersection of Hope faith, and I deeply love my mother.” She turned to face the room, blinking when she saw Chief Minister Younger dressed as an innocuous journeyman. Letting her glance graze over him,
she scanned the rest of the people.
And Younger’s mind brushed hers. We have decided that we don’t care for the name Cross Folk. We would prefer “Hopefuls”; can you offer that name now? His gaze had sharpened and Tiana suppressed a sigh. It appeared as if everyone continued to test her.
She lifted spread hands. “You know, Cross Folk is such an old nickname. We’re in the third decade of the fifth century. New Flair techniques are being developed every day, some of which I’m sure the FirstLevel Architect will be using in this structure.” She smiled widely, and, she hoped, disingenuously, noting that most of the people there were more her age than GraceLord T’Equisetum’s. Because he didn’t rate the older reporters? “I think we should call the Intersection of Hope people ‘Hopefuls.’ I know it’s a quality that my mother has.”
“Hopefuls,” someone said.
“It is a stupid label,” GraceLord T’Equisetum said.
“As opposed to ‘Traditionalist Stance’?” Tiana asked. “‘Hopefuls’ can be a shortened form of ‘Intersection of Hope members.’ ‘Traditionalist Stance’?” She shrugged and spread her hands.
“I will explain the Traditionalist Stance movement,” GraceLord T’Equisetum said in a condescending tone, staring at Tiana. “We must maintain the high standards for admission into the Noble class. With the onset of greater Flair by everyone, the Testing standards must be raised—and any unusual Flair must be scrutinized.”
“I think you might have a hard time convincing T’Ash, who does the best Testing, of that,” someone drawled.
GraceLord T’Equisetum flushed. “We of the Traditionalist Stance have members in the FirstFamilies households—”
“Does that mean that everyone currently in the NobleCouncils, such as yourself, will be re-Tested? To make sure you meet the new standards?” someone asked.
The GraceLord’s mouth opened and closed. “That is not necessary. The current Nobles should be accepted as is.”
“In perpetuity?” someone else questioned.
“Yes, as is.” T’Equisetum glanced down at his papyrus of prompts and stated, “Another item we wish to institute to provide stability in our society, in our Councils, is that Lords and Ladies should be required to follow our majority religion that our ancestors crafted for us, the duality of the Lady and the Lord.”
Several people gasped. Then a man stood up and pointed a finger at the GraceLord. Tiana recognized him as Majus T’Daisy, also a GraceLord, who liked a fiery debate in his newssheet.
“Are you bringing up that old lie that the Intersection of Hope people were involved in the Black Magic Cult murders? Everyone knows that’s not true.”
“Is that so?” GraceLord T’Equisetum murmured.
GraceLord Majus T’Daisy rocked back and forth on his heels. “Well, I tend to believe the statements and interviews of the guards involved in the investigation. Or do you not believe the guards?”
“I think the guards might be mistaken.”
“In that particular matter?”
“Yes.”
“As opposed to all the other matters since you voted to increase the percentage of gilt going to them from the gilt the All Councils disperse to various governmental entities.”
“We need a strong guard.”
“All right.” GraceLord T’Daisy scratched his head and Tiana got the feeling he disliked GraceLord T’Equisetum personally. She didn’t keep track of Council politics, but there had to be bad blood between T’Daisy and T’Equisetum.
“Hmm. You think those who govern us”—he winked at the rest of the reporters—“or those of us who govern should all believe the same way, in the Lady and Lord.”
“Yes.”
“The way you believe.”
“Yes.”
“That’s interesting, too, since no one has seen you at a public ritual for some years.”
“What?”
“Why is that?” GraceLord T’Daisy set his feet as if he prepared to roll out a speech, and began. “Is it because of the fact that your intolerance had the High Priest and High Priestess refusing to allow you to participate in rituals that an ordained priest or priestess conducts? Because the High Priest and High Priestess don’t believe that you show the compassion they expect in a person who spiritually accepts the religion our ancestors crafted? Just what religion do you believe in? And, you know, this whole string of shit you’re handing us today just reeks of intolerance. Me? I think I’d like people with compassion and mercy in my life more than I’d like rigid rules.”
“That’s because you have a ThirdDaughter who wishes to Test to establish her own NobleHouse,” GraceLord T’Equisetum snapped.
GraceLord T’Daisy flung out his arms. “Yeah, that’s right. Unlike you, I’m hiding nothing. My ThirdDaughter is hiding nothing. She was counseled by GreatCircle Temple to be ambitious and strike out on her own. I’m very proud of that. Because, you know, she can Test and show she is worthy to make her own House, and be accepted as a GraceHouse, too.” Daisy rubbed his chin. “Sure would like to see your most recent Testing.”
“That is not the issue here,” GraceLord T’Equisetum said in freezing tones.
“Yes, let’s get back to the original reason for this show,” someone said. “The cathedral.”
GraceLord T’Equisetum jutted his chin, lips quirking in a smug smile. “Oh, I don’t think it will be built.”
Younger tensed, glanced at Tiana. She shrugged. She didn’t know any more than he.
Thirty-two
Oh, wow. Oh, zow.” A boy of about twelve bolted into the room and up to GraceLord T’Equisetum. “FatherSire, you told me to watch the cathedral foundation being laid? It is so fascinating.”
“What!” barked T’Equisetum.
“Nuada’s Sword sent city-building machines. Really, really old ones. They are so interesting. Half of Druida City is watching, and all of my GroveStudy group! Gotta get back!” As quickly as he popped into the room, he zoomed out.
“Nuada’s Sword,” GraceLord T’Equisetum snarled.
“Something not going according to plan?” GraceLord T’Daisy asked trenchantly.
“This conference is over.” GraceLord T’Equisetum picked up his notes and marched toward the side door.
“I certainly hope so,” GraceLord T’Daisy said. “I hope your whole ‘movement’ is over. We don’t need people who hate some folk making rules for all folk.” He hitched his trous up over his substantial belly. “’Cuz, you know, if you hate Commoner Joe on the weekday of Mor according to your own personal rules, how do I know you aren’t gonna hate GraceLord T’Daisy on Twinmoonsday? And use everything you got against me until I gotta cry ‘feud’ on you? Myself, I’d like to go with folk like the High Priest and Priestess and the Chief Ministers of the Intersection of Hope who love Commoner Joe on the weekday of Mor . . .”
Laughter rippled through the room as GraceLord T’Equisetum stormed out.
GraceLord T’Daisy beamed. “By the way, colleagues and friends . . . well, colleagues. I am writing a nonfiction book on the Black Magic Cult murders . . .”
More laughter at his promotion.
Tiana tipped her head at Younger and, still smiling, left and took the public carrier back to work.
When she walked into her chambers at GreatCircle Temple, she faced the accusing gaze of Felonerb. You left Me alone in TQ. Who smoked Me AGAIN! I had only kilt three little mousies outside in a stinkbush.
“I did tell you when I left for CityCenter.”
He grumbled, No glider today.
“Not yet.” Though her stomach tensed at the idea she might be assigned one to serve her complaint.
Now that the ordeal of the press conference was over and the complaint yet to come, hunger spiked through her and she went to her near-empty no-time. She might have to eat a meal placed there to share on a holiday ritual altar, but she needed a snack.
She opened it and gasped. It was full. Every section. And she had no idea who’d stocked it, since, like many, s
he didn’t keep her chambers or the no-time locked. If anyone—priestess, priest, or visitor—needed a place to sit and think, or food and drink, they were welcome to hers.
Staggered, she pulled out a piece of dense brown bread and butter that she believed would soak up any remaining acid in her stomach nicely, put it on a plate, and indulged in hot cocoa with white mousse.
Felonerb, meowing at her feet, got a steaming plate labeled “Protein for CatFams.”
As she munched, she studied the Intersection of Hope ritual set for this evening, reading the praise and prayers so she could commit them to memory. Simple enough.
She’d just put the two dishes in the cleanser and had taken her seat again when great Flair washed her way.
GreatLord T’Ash and GreatLady D’Ash stood on her threshold. He was big and swarthy with startling blue eyes; she small and brown-haired. Both radiated intensity.
At his slightest glance, Tiana found herself rising.
He had a piece of rolled and wax-sealed papyrus in his hand. “Your complaint has been approved by the general clerk of all the JudgementGroves as pertinent.” He stalked forward and laid the scroll on her desk. “We think that the best strategy in this action would be for you to present the complaint to GraceLord T’Equisetum at NobleCouncil this morning.”
“We?”
T’Ash scowled as if unaccustomed to being questioned. She hadn’t had any interaction with him but had heard that though he was a very tough man, he wasn’t unkind. Anyone who grew up in the slum Downwind wouldn’t have a sense of entitlement. That included T’Ash as well as Antenn Blackthorn-Moss.
“Me, Winterberry, and T’Blackthorn, whom I consulted.”
“SupremeJudge Ailim D’Elder, whom I consulted,” Danith D’Ash said.
“Oh.” Tiana gestured to her two patron chairs. “Please, sit.”
He inclined his head and lowered into the one closest to the door, and Tiana got the impression it was a fighter’s move to guard her and his HeartMate.
“I am pleased to help you in this matter,” he said gruffly.
Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) Page 28