Heart Fortune (Celta)

by Robin D. Owens

  “Oh, yes,” Glyssa said. “Laev is working with Nuada’s Sword and Dani Eve Elder, a commander of that Ship, to put an artificial satellite into orbit around Celta, based on ancient Earthan data, since our Celtan science is not like the old tech.”

  Jace stopped. “Put equipment into space!”

  “Yes.” Glyssa stopped frowning at the straight line of gauze and looked up at him with a smile. “Curious?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  She sighed. “I’m sure that Nuada’s Sword will viz the launch of the satellite for all of the city of Druida, and maybe the closer towns, to see.”

  “We’ll miss it,” Jace said, disappointed.

  “Yes, we will.” She handed him the next peg and he set it in the ground, repeated the spell aloud for her so she could do the last one on her own.

  Glyssa stared at the outline of Lugh’s Spear. “This ship wasn’t sentient like Nuada’s Sword.”

  “No, a pity,” Jace said.

  “You think?” She shook her head. “I don’t. How horrible it would have been for the ship to have known it was dying . . . that no one could save it. None of the colonists had the means to rescue it.”

  Jace shuddered. “Hadn’t thought of it that way. Trapped and unable to be saved. Terrible, all right.”

  She’d stopped when he’d kept going and his step brought him close to her. Closer than any but lovers should be. He took a pace away, didn’t like how his heart leapt when his body had brushed hers. He thought he saw disappointment in her face.

  Glyssa was disappointed. Reluctantly she placed the last small spike, pointed end down, checked twice to make sure it was in line with all the other corners, and murmured the raising spell. The gauze stretched to two-meter-high walls, took on a purple tint—Laev T’Hawthorn’s color—as they became opaque. There was even a pointed top to the pavilion and what appeared to be vents. Occasional markings showed and as she studied them, she saw that they looked like spaces for windows.

  Even as she turned to Jace, he’d walked to the eastern side, narrowed his gaze, and dragged his finger in a rectangle high in the tent wall where the sun would angle as it rose.

  Lepid jumped to his feet, shook himself out and yipped, running straight into the door opening.

  Our space! Ours! It is a big tent!

  “A pavilion,” Glyssa corrected automatically. She went to the door, gestured for Jace.

  He tucked his fingers into his belt, rocked back on his heels and shook his head.

  Her smile faded and her jaw clenched, but she pushed through the light shield of the door—had Laev tuned it for her and Lepid? Amazing Flair—to see her FamFox prancing around.

  It is big for the camp, he said, but not as big as our house or our library.

  He leapt up and she caught him in her arms, snuggling with him, and took him on the very short tour. The pavilion was nothing short of impressive. It actually had three rooms. An outer room like a sitting room, complete with space for the no-time food storage unit, a bedroom only slightly smaller, and her very own tiny toilet and waterfall room. What luxury. When Laev T’Hawthorn bought something, it was the most lavish item possible.

  She went back out to exclaim her pleasure to Jace, and see what other furnishings might be in the huge bag, but he was gone. Dammit!

  And she barely saw him the rest of the day. She ate in the Elecampanes’ tent, discussing the new communications instrumentation and her duties, the new communications system and Maxima helping her, Nuada’s Sword launching the communications satellite, and the excavation.

  By the time they were done hashing out the security for the new hole down to Lugh’s Spear, and the revised plan for earth removal from the site, night had fallen and she’d dragged herself and a snoozing Lepid into their pavilion . . . where she’d increased the size of the furniture and set it up, along with lovely rugs for the sitting room, and the latest in thick, portable bedsponges, big enough for the two of them, though her FoxFam headed for his own basket.

  As a finishing touch, she hung the mobile containing a thousand colorful cranes she’d made a while back using her creative Flair for origami.

  With the last spurt of Flair energy she had, she contacted Camellia telepathically. I am here and doing well.

  Lovely to hear! Her friend sounded cheery, lively . . . well, it was a couple of hours earlier in Druida City. So strange, this time difference, something Glyssa had never had to consider or take into account before.

  Is he as gorgeous as you remember? asked Camellia.

  More. Older, more muscles. Glyssa laughed. She recalled her first glimpse of him that had dazzled her. He looked like a poet or a dreamer, narrow face with dark brown hair and deep auburn highlights . . . but, of course his bold and wild silver gray eyes gave him away.

  He wasn’t a dreamer, more like a swashbuckler.

  A wonderful word, ancient and Earthan. Glyssa rolled it in her mouth. Swashbuckler. She just wished it didn’t apply to her HeartMate. She didn’t think swashbucklers were all that stable as lovers. Well, she’d already found that out, hadn’t she?

  Is he kind? demanded Camellia.

  More like dangerous, but Glyssa wouldn’t tell her friend that. Dangerously exciting. Camellia prized kindness in men. He helped me set up the pavilion.

  Oh, good! Camellia said.

  Glyssa yawned. Her weariness must have been transmitted along the sister-friendship-bond because Camellia said, You’ve had a very long day. Thank you for letting me know all is well.

  Welcome, Glyssa said. Merry meet and merry part.

  And merry meet again, love you.

  I love you, too. ’Night.

  Her FoxFam gave a fake snore even as she petted him.

  “Good night, Lepid,” she muttered as she changed into her nightgown and fell onto the bed, pulling up the thin and bespelled covering that wouldn’t keep her too warm or too cold.

  Good night, FamWoman.

  The last thing she said was, “I worry about you, please stay in the tent.”

  * * *

  Help! Help! Something pawed at Jace. He opened his eyes to too-close predator muzzle and bad FoxFam breath, sat up so the fox tumbled from his lap, felt the slightest dig of sharp claws in his groin and woke fast.

  Help! the fox yipped again.

  Jace scanned the animal in the gloom of his tent. Looked okay to him. “What?” he grumbled.

  There is a hurt Fam. Come!

  Grunting, Jace threw off the bespelled and padded cover and rolled off the bedsponge. For an instant he envied Glyssa her wonderful tent that she could stand up in instead of hunch. A hurt Fam. The crew had a few, he thought, though they kept close to their people and tents. Fams were still rare and prized.

  The most adventuresome were, of course, those companioned with the owners: Shunuk the FoxFam, Rosemary and Carolinia the cat Fams. Shunuk had more experience than Jace, so he figured the wounded Fam wasn’t him. In any case, saving any Fam would be a heroic thing to do.

  Which was why Lepid was here, he was sure. Nipping at Jace’s ankle as he drew on a shirt.

  Come, come! Lepid sunk his teeth into the bottom of the old, soft trous Jace wore to bed and pulled, ripping.

  “Stop that. I’m coming as fast as I can.”

  HURT.

  Okay, that was a cause for concern. He tugged on half boots, hoping he wouldn’t have to travel far, wished he could dress a little more in protective clothing. “Why aren’t you bothering Glyssa?” Jace grumbled.

  She would scold. She told me to stay in the tent. Place is too little.

  Yeah, right. No doubt she was sleeping right now on a bedsponge big enough for two. Where he’d like to be.

  And you and I shared an adventure, already! Lepid dashed out of the tent and danced impatiently. Most of the local animals had been scared away from the encampment area and there were wards against the dangerous ones. Still, Jace strapped on his old blazer that could only stun and hoped it would be sufficient. A wounded animal—Fam or n
ot—would bring predators.

  With another grunt, Jace exited. Lepid took off running, as fast as his young and small legs could take him. Jace started out at a trot, feeling older this morning just from watching the Fam. They headed south, in the direction of the Deep Blue Sea.

  Oh, yeah, Glyssa would like that her FamFox had left the camp entirely.

  The morning light spilled over the horizon in long shoots of sunlight. Another beautiful summer day.

  Frantic FamFox barks sounded and Jace put on speed, stretching his muscles. Felt good. He saw Lepid scaring birds, as big as he was and with wicked beaks, away from a dark lump on the ground. FamFox didn’t have much sense. Glyssa would not approve of this adventure, either.

  Jace lengthened his stride, his breathing a little rapid, but not too bad. Still in good shape. Could run for another couple of kilometers.

  He is here! Lepid had turned in Jace’s direction and bounced up and down on his paws. Hurry!

  “Who does he belong to?” asked Jace. Something odd about the fallen animal.

  I . . . be . . . long . . . to . . . my . . . self. Large . . . man. The voice in Jace’s head came high, with sighing air-notes.

  “Who’s his companion?”

  Seven

  The FoxFam just shook his head, and as Jace took the last few meters, the lump became a bird. A large, predatory bird. Jace slowed his run. He didn’t know of any BirdFams. Not in the camp, not at all.

  He stopped and squatted by the bird, a Celtan bird called a hawkcel, as long as his forearm. He didn’t look good. Blood on his chest and one wing was broken. Beautiful bird with rust-colored, black and white feathers, a touch of yellow around the glazed eye. Made Jace’s chest hurt. “How are you doing?”

  With . . . care . . . I . . . will . . . live, he said.

  Jace wasn’t too sure. He seemed to be breathing too fast. Who knew?

  Take him to camp! Lepid insisted.

  “Of course,” Jace said, a little too heartily. He sucked in a breath through his nose. “I’m going to lift you now.”

  The bird’s eye closed.

  Jace slid his hands under the bird, lifted, trying to ignore the wicked beak that could rip his arm open.

  Thank . . . man. The bird went limp, and Jace tensed. He cradled him against his chest and ran fast back to the camp, that had begun to stir. The Healers—two—who manned the medtent got up early. People liked to walk at dawn and look at the pretty scenery and sometimes came back injured from the wilds.

  He got to the clinic and found the flap tied back, a small wavering spellshield against dust and bugs showing in the opening. Hunching his body over the bird, he pushed through.

  “What’s wrong?” asked the Healer, standing behind a high table with a bedsponge.

  “Bird,” Jace said.

  “A bird! We don’t treat birds here.” The Healer stepped back, a disgusted expression on his face.

  “He’s a Fam,” Jace said.

  Lepid hopped onto a stool, mouth open and tongue lolling. We will take him to D’Ash! She is a wonderful Fam Healer!

  Jace spared Lepid a glance. “D’Ash is a long way away.”

  “There are no BirdFams in camp,” the Healer said decidedly.

  “He’s sentient,” Jace insisted. “Can you please look at him? Maybe splint his wing?”

  “Birds are dirty and carry disease,” the Healer said.

  “Lepid, go wake the other Healer. They share the green tent, the one that—”

  Smells like Healers. I know that one! I saw it last night when I explored. I go! He hopped down and ran out the door.

  “Wait,” the Healer protested. “She didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Wonder why,” Jace grumbled. They’d had sex and he hadn’t. He felt deprived. “I’m putting the bird down.”

  Carefully, he set the FamBird on the bedsponge table on its uninjured side. “Bird, can I wipe down your chest with a wet cloth—water?”

  The bird struggled a little. Jace stroked his head with his finger. “Steady, you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Breast . . . does . . . not . . . need . . . outside . . . care. I . . . can . . . Heal . . . myself. Jace hadn’t known that FamBirds could lie so well. Obviously the hawkcel was too much of a predator to allow himself to show weakness. Then he moved slightly, turning his head and Jace saw the gleam in his eye—as if just being away from outside gave the Fam hope. He trusted people for some reason, and for a hawkcel in this area, that was puzzling.

  Wing . . . hurts. Perhaps not as alpha as Jace thought.

  “I heard that, I think,” said the female Healer, bustling in with a cheerful smile. She glanced at her colleague and snorted. “Your scared-of-animals thing slow you down?”

  “Look at that beak and those claws!” the man protested.

  Lepid followed and hopped back up on the stool, yipped. HE IS NOT AN ANIMAL! HE IS A BIRD.

  The Healers winced. “And I definitely heard that, FoxFam. Don’t project so loudly,” the woman said, then cooed over the bird, stroking the feathers around the puncture in his breast. “We’ll take care of you.” She touched the wound and Jace sensed her sending Healing Flair into the bird, mending tissues. The avian Fam relaxed a bit more.

  “How did you get hurt?” Jace asked.

  The hawkcel rolled his eye. Fighting two others for a wounded groundruck. They are tasty. I lost.

  “How come you’re intelligent?”

  We have been intelligent for generations. We have watched the camp and the people. Most humans have good energy.

  “Good morning, Symphyta, Trago, Jace.” Glyssa walked in. She stared at Lepid. “Where have you been? I thought I asked you to stay in the pavilion.”

  Lepid turned his head to Jace. We went on a walk. We found a wounded BIRDFAM!

  So FoxFams could lie, too. But were damn clever. As Lepid no doubt expected, Glyssa’s attention focused on the hawkcel on the table. “Oh, poor thing.” She used almost the same coo as the female Healer, Symphyta, had.

  The man stalked from behind the table. “Too crowded in this one-table, backwoods, forsaken clinic. I’m getting breakfast, maybe hear some more about those boxes you discovered.” He nodded to Jace. “Much more interesting and lucrative than treating some stupid hawkcel.”

  “I’ll join you,” Jace said, turning for the door opening.

  A screech came from the bird. NO! My FamMan stays!

  Catching his breath, Jace pivoted back. “FamMan, bird?”

  He clicked his beak. Yes. I like you. You have nice hands. You are my FamMan. Another small click. I need a human to help me.

  Warmth settled around Jace’s heart. Fams were still uncommon and prized and went to nobles first. Usually. He inclined his torso a little. “Honored.”

  The male Healer, Trago, snorted and left.

  “BirdFam, Jace will grasp your wing and hold it out so I can look at the bones that need setting, then place them correctly. You will not bite or claw me,” Symphyta said, gesturing to Jace for him to take the two steps to the table. Glyssa faded back near the stool where her own Fam sat and rubbed his head. Lepid blinked slyly at Jace. Yeah, they’d gotten around the sexy librarian.

  Tentatively, Jace found the bones at the end of his new Fam’s wing, gently stretched it out as the female Healer moved the hawkcel onto its back.

  My name is Zem, the bird said, fixing his eyes on Jace.

  “Thank you,” Jace said.

  Humming tunelessly and working quickly the Healer examined the wing Jace held. He didn’t break his gaze with his Fam . . . a connection was spinning between them and he realized the bird gained strength and calm from him. So he lowered into his balance and concentrated on keeping steady.

  The bird flinched. Both women murmured soothing words louder. Lepid hummed nasally. Jace sent calm and energy to Zem.

  A few minutes later, the female Healer said, “Done. The bones are set and I gave them a little Healing boost.” Her smile cur
ved her lips and faded fast. “I’m not an animal Healer.”

  “Thank you,” Jace said. “How much do I owe—”

  “I’m not an animal Healer,” she said as if affronted, but her eyes were kind. “No charge.”

  Zem hopped to his feet, looking much better, and walked over to Jace. Keeping an eye on sharp talons, Jace folded his left arm across his body for a perch, then lifted his Fam, who settled against him with a tiny exhalation. FamMan.

  “Yes,” Jace said, petting the bird’s head. Such soft feathers. He thought that was why the women cooed. Despite beak and claws, the bird’s body looked soft.

  Symphyta briskly cleansed the table with a spell couplet, looking in the direction of the dining tent where the other Healer was. “I think I need to acquire a personal tent of my own, and my judgment in men is not as good as I’d believed. Being a Healer doesn’t automatically mean you’re a good person.” She sounded as if she scolded herself, then glanced at Glyssa, who had an arm around Lepid. The FoxFam leaned against her.

  “I’m here for the adventure like most of us, sure,” Symphyta said. “But I’m a Healer, first and always, not a treasure hunter.” She switched her gaze to study Jace. “You’re not still sleeping with Funa, are you?”

  Glyssa jolted.

  Jace kept a smile on his face. “No.” He didn’t look at Glyssa, and unlike the other males in the room, didn’t want to lie. “But I’m not available.” He wasn’t sure of his feelings, especially for Glyssa. She seemed to want to get closer, but the remote camp wasn’t like an anonymous social club in Druida City you could just walk away from. Sexing with someone always sent ripples through the community. He didn’t want that.

  Symphyta said, “Pity you’re unavailable. I heard you’re a better lover than Healer Trago.”

  Why did women talk about these things?

  “Well, when they get the communications thing going, I’ll order a tent from Druida and have the pilot bring it the next time a flight comes.”