Heart Fortune (Celta)

by Robin D. Owens

  “Yours?”

  That Shunuk fox and those Elecampane cats are going away. I will be the alpha Fam of the camp. I want to stay with my friends Zem and Jace, too. Lepid’s glance slid away from hers.

  “You broke up with Jace?” Camellia entered the pavilion. She grimaced. “I think it’s the right thing to do and the right time to do it. You’ll have the trip to put a little distance between you.” Glyssa sighed and shook her head. “But Del sent me to get you. We’re leaving now.”

  “Lepid wants to stay in camp,” Glyssa choked out.

  Camellia stared down at him. “He is little.”

  Glyssa decided not to whine that she wanted him with her. So unattractive.

  “And my Fam decided to stay home at T’Hawthorn Residence,” Camellia smiled. “Where it’s safe and she can be pampered. So did Laev’s.”

  You see, I will be the primary Fam of the camp! Lepid pranced in place.

  Camellia chuckled, then aimed a stern gaze at Glyssa. “Come on.”

  Glyssa looked around at the pavilion and winced. “I’m running late. This place is a mess.”

  “Maybe Jace will clean it up after he moves his things out,” Camellia said.

  “Dream on.”

  “Let’s go. It will be better for you on the road. You can put your troubles and Ja—the past behind you.”

  “D’Hawthorn! Licorice!” Del Elecampane yelled.

  Swallowing hard, Glyssa bent and rubbed Lepid, scratched his head. “I wish you’d come with me, and I’ll miss you.”

  He swiped his tongue against her cheeks more than once. Salty, he said.

  “Yes.” She grabbed the full saddlebags she’d packed. “I love you, Lepid.”

  I love you, too, FamWoman, he said, and trotted out the door beside her, heading in the direction of the ship.

  Camellia put her arm around Glyssa’s waist. “Let’s go. It gets better, I promise you.”

  Well, Camellia’s and Laev’s HeartMate romance had been rocky, too, so Glyssa’s friend knew what she was talking about.

  Pulling a softleaf from her riding tunic pocket, Glyssa dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, said a cleansing word and tucked it away again. She’d be using it some more.

  Del D’Elecampane gave her a sharp look, but said nothing as Glyssa mounted the stridebeast and they rode out of camp.

  Glyssa had to admit that she didn’t pay much attention to the scenery. Camellia let her quietly weep and mutter about Jace and everyone else ignored her, which was fine. Later, no doubt, she’d be embarrassed.

  She’d handled herself well with Jace, but with Camellia’s sympathetic ears and soothing murmurs, she broke down. Glyssa would rather have hidden in her pavilion, but being away while Jace moved his property back into his own tent would be best. Not that she thought it would take more than one trip. He hadn’t left much of his stuff, of himself, in her pavilion.

  To be honest, the scenery they passed through looked a lot like that surrounding the camp—pristine forests with a winding path wide enough for two stridebeasts, rolling land too low to be called hilly, ponds and lakes.

  As the septhour wore on, Camellia stayed beside her, talking and making Glyssa think about her answers. Her shoulders relaxed—her whole body relaxed and she moved better with her stridebeast, though neither she nor Camellia were experienced riders. Good thing that they both knew minor Healing spells. They’d need them at the end of the day.

  Glyssa’s emotions evened out, and she repeated the mantra that all rejected HeartMates must—life was long on Celta and people changed, their minds and their emotions.

  But she was done with chasing after Jace.

  He would definitely have to come after her in the future.

  * * *

  Help, FamMan, help! The frantic call came from Lepid late in the morning while Jace was embellishing a woman’s pursenal in the workroom. He jerked, sliced his thumb with his knife, swore at the thin, hurting cut, but better than ruining the piece.

  What? he mind-yelled back, putting down his tools.

  Help, FamMan. I am trapped in the ship!

  What! You shouldn’t even be in the ship! Too late to scold the FamFox, even as fear sourly coated his tongue.

  There was a smell! the fox whined, but even his mind-voice quavered. He was scared. I followed it. Someone trapped me. Locked me in!

  Jace put away his knives with trembling hands, rolled up his work and stowed it in a satchel. What about the retrieval spell on your collar?

  I outgrew my collar and Trago gave me another without the spell. I did not want the spell and I knew he wouldn’t make me have it. Nobody noticed.

  Hell! Can’t you teleport to the pavilion or my tent?

  You . . . an . . . FamWoman . . . have . . . been . . . movin . . . stuff . . . arounnn.

  Too true. It was emotional pain that slashed him hard and deep, now. He set it aside. Lepid?

  Fun-ny smell. Sleep-py.

  Then Lepid’s voice disappeared from Jace’s mind. Sucking in a breath, Jace opened himself emotionally to all his bonds . . . winced as he noticed the connection between him and Glyssa might be down to a stream of a few molecules. His link with Zem showed huge, about the thickness of his heart, sizzling light blue like the freedom of the skies.

  What is wrong, FamMan? asked Zem.

  A villain trapped Lepid in the ship. I think he’s unconscious. I’m going to get him. He’d made the decision.

  Zem hesitated. Jace sensed the hawkcel perched on a high tree limb, kilometers from the camp.

  Do not come, Jace said.

  This is dangerous. If they got the fox, they could get you. You must tell the Elecampanes. They are alphas. They will help.

  They are gone to the Deep Blue Sea. Like Glyssa. Jace tested his bond with Lepid . . . the fox was still alive, he could tell that . . . and that link was solid and fox-red and as wide as his wrist.

  He felt his Fam’s hesitation, then Zem said, I will eat and work a little on my nest, then go back to camp.

  Fine.

  Be careful! Zem said.

  I will.

  Andic Sanicle strolled into the workroom at that moment, nodded to Jace. The man was whistling, seemed too cheerful. Especially since he’d been downright surly to Jace for weeks. Maybe it was the fact that Laev T’Hawthorn called Jace by his first name last night and this morning, but who knew?

  Had Sanicle been the one to lure and lock the FamFox in the ship? Whoever had done so must know the ship better than everyone thought . . . still, venturing down the hole the Comosums had condemned while the rest of them dug and dug for the main entrance? How was that possible?

  Jace jerked a nod. “Sanicle.”

  “Bayrum,” Sanicle said lazily, stretched languidly. He’d just had sex? Or was pretending that? No question that Sanicle remained for whatever gilt, big score, that could happen. He hadn’t bought into the project.

  “Later.” Jace strolled from the workshop tent, wanted to run, fast, to the ship. But he also didn’t intend to tip anyone off that he was after Lepid.

  He wasn’t sure what kind of security the Hollys had around the hole since most everyone had left the camp. And once the opening was off-limits he hadn’t tempted himself by hanging around it.

  Someone had been making forays into the ship, Jace just knew it. And now that someone had hurt Lepid.

  And might want Jace, himself. He’d have to be careful.

  The Elecampanes’ whole “going to the Deep Blue Sea” thing could be a ruse, too, to find out who might betray the owners and biggest shareholders. He wasn’t privy to their decisions. Glyssa might be. Irritation nearing anger riled him. He hadn’t played his cards well for this whole thing. Had let his stupidity get in the way. He could have been as respected as she was . . . and she was. He remained a lowly adventurer.

  Somehow that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Not that all Glyssa had said to him was true. He tried not to think of all the word darts she’d aimed at his heart that had struck d
ead-on.

  And this particular adventure could end his career. If he was found in the ship, he’d be thought the thief. He’d be proven untrustworthy, no matter the reason. He’d have broken the contract with the Elecampanes he signed, forfeit all his gilt.

  His rep would be trashed. No one would hire him on again.

  End of his career. Maybe it wasn’t much of a career, but he liked the camaraderie of ventures like this, the risk, the excitement. Didn’t matter that he had some sort of inheritance, he loved his life.

  In his tent, he stowed his knives, murmured a security spellshield. He took a minute to loosen his tight muscles, consider his options. The person in charge of the camp was the head Holly security guard, and she didn’t like him. Not that he thought she liked anyone . . . but she got on with Glyssa and the Elecampanes all right.

  He didn’t think the Holly was a snob so much as she’d decided who was trustworthy and who was not.

  Lepid hadn’t made that grade, either. Zem had.

  Think!

  If he told the Holly woman, what would happen?

  Nothing. She might not even believe Jace. Lepid had proven he could be anywhere in the camp at anytime. She certainly wouldn’t let Jace go down into the ship to find Lepid. Not alone, because he could steal artifacts, and she wouldn’t risk someone to go with him. He didn’t know her, couldn’t anticipate her thought processes like he might others he’d been with for a while.

  Would she be in telepathic contact with the Elecampanes? Probably not, but scry pebbles would work. All the Elecampanes carried scry pebbles. Jace had one, somewhere.

  Time was dribbling away. The urge to act stampeded across his nerves. Even taking this time to think, instead of blindly acting and trusting to luck, was a change for him.

  Due to Glyssa.

  Fligger it. Act!

  He didn’t know what he might need, took an all-purpose Flair-imbued tool and slipped it in one of his trous pockets. After a minute’s hesitation, he folded two bespelled air masks into another pocket. He didn’t believe the snotty Comosums. He thought the air in the ship along the corridors under the girder was fine.

  Keeping his connection with Lepid open, trusting in it, he strolled from the tent to a place where he could see the former hole. Stood in the shadow of a group tent.

  Thirty-five

  Only weathershields and spellshields and canvas covered the hole leading down to the inside of Lugh’s Spear. One male guard, plump and bored, walked back and forth.

  The spellshield set to prevent human and animal access was a problem. But Lepid had obviously gotten through it . . . and so had the mystery person. Had the villain set a trap and Lepid fallen into it? Or had the bad guy actually been on scene? Maybe closed a door, several, after Lepid?

  Jace knew how the fox had gotten in. Teleportation into the hole beyond the localized spellshield’s reach.

  If Lepid could do it, Jace could. He forced his mind to quiet and sank into his balance. Jace had been in the hole at the time of the forays of Lepid and the cat, before the arrival of the Comosums. He remembered how the area looked. Held a strong image in his mind of the dimensions, the angles. The light.

  It would be darker now, not open to the sun. But he’d lived under canvas and at the camp for a long time now. He could extrapolate.

  The fox was still unconscious. Jace had to take a chance.

  His mind, his balance was better. His center core stronger. He was more self-aware—all gifts from Glyssa, too, that would be better for teleporting. He shut her and the pain at the thought of her from his mind.

  Taking breaths as he counted down, he muttered, “One, Lepid Fam. Two, Jace Bayrum. Three, to the rescue!”

  And lit hard, soles stinging, bending his knees, teeth snapping shut. He’d been too high—a couple of inches. He coughed instinctively, expecting dust to rise around him.

  No. The area was suspiciously clean, no footprints. So the lurker was better at teleportation than most? Damn, who knew? Jace wasn’t the kind to hide his talents from everyone else. People knew up front that he had the general, minor Flair of most people, that he was a skilled leatherworker . . . and storyteller.

  But other people did keep secrets like their true ability with Flair, and it looked like this character had. Who knew what else he or she had concealed? Probably had been pilfering objects all along, hiding them and keeping quiet, ready to sell them and get rich when the camp broke up for the winter.

  Jace’s eyes adjusted to the dimness. The little space seemed the same as it had the last time he’d been here, rubble gone from underfoot—gone altogether. He angled under the crumpled wall.

  “Hey, hey! What are you doing? Get away from there!” The guard’s voice sounded too close. Jace froze.

  “What are you doing?” the guard roared.

  Glancing up, Jace saw a boulder plummet through the canvas, ripping a huge and ragged hole. It hit the girder and split into two. Jace jumped backward.

  “Why did you do that, you fligger?” yelled the guard. “You come back here!” His voice huffed and diminished as if he ran after the person.

  A tingle zipped down Jace’s spine. Had he been seen? Was that boulder aimed for him? Was his enemy in the camp? Or in Lugh’s Spear? Or were there two or more working together, a whole gang?

  Returning to the edge of the entry space, he peeked into the area. The tarp flapped in the wind, flickering the weak sunlight from a clouded-over sky. Canvas slapped against the ground, the hole tearing farther.

  On the floor, the boulder had broken into several large and jagged pieces, one shard as tall as his knees. The rock must have been thrown with Flair.

  Jace grimaced as he looked at the messy entrance, glanced up at the ripped covering. If he came back this way, he’d have to clean it up before he teleported—No. He’d just teleport to his tent.

  For now, though, the entry area had changed so much that whoever was outside wouldn’t be able to teleport past the spellshield, not to mention what other covering they’d put over the hole. It looked as if the girder had moved a little, too.

  But he had to get Lepid, so he turned toward the hallway. A few steps into the wide corridor and the darkness that infused the ship enveloped him and a shudder worked up his spine.

  Like most other people, he could summon light-spells. He kept them dim until he was well away from the hole in case the guard was more alert than he thought.

  His footsteps echoed as he walked on a floor that had nothing of Celta in it. Another odd-feeling thing—the darkness, the sound of his steps in a huge ship that had been home to Earthans several centuries ago, but had no human in them for so long.

  He sniffed cautiously, smelled nothing unusual, but he sure didn’t have Lepid’s nose. As he trod through the eerily silent ship with deeper-than-night darkness just outside the circle of sun-white light provided by his spellglobes, he could understand the atavistic fear this atmosphere might have had on the two noble Comosums. They were women who moved in high strata where they knew everyone. Women who thought they knew everything there was to know about their topic.

  But they knew nothing about how their ancestors lived—never had felt how the colonists had lived—as alien people.

  The Comosums would have been unnerved and prejudiced. He wondered if they’d ever visited the starship in Druida City, Nuada’s Sword, more than during a couple of grovestudy trips.

  Not that he had before he’d gone with Laev.

  Glyssa had visited Nuada’s Sword often. This shouldn’t be the time to think of her, either. He wouldn’t.

  He passed through the corridor, and the longer he was in Lugh’s Spear, the more settled he became. Yes, the Earthans were alien to current Celtans, but they’d had the scope to dream huge. Like he did.

  His strong link with Lepid told him the Fam remained unconscious, a concern, but Jace sensed no terrible harm had come to the fox. Yet.

  Straining his ears, he listened for any sound, nothing. He walked softly, rolle
d tension from his shoulders, but couldn’t determine whether anyone else lurked in the ship or not. The distance to Lepid was farther than he’d anticipated . . . more than a kilometer. Jace called up the blueprints in his mind, figured that the fox lay near the Captain’s Quarters.

  * * *

  An hour before NoonBell while they rode through a wide meadow, a baby’s cry split the air. Both Glyssa and Camellia flinched and looked at each other. From the beginning of the line, Del D’Elecampane took a scry pebble from a leather trous pocket.

  Three minutes later she rode back to Glyssa and Camellia, her expression tight.

  “Jace Bayrum has packed his tent and left the camp.”

  Shock zinged along Glyssa’s nerves. She opened her mouth to deny he’d do such a thing . . . but shut it again. Blinking, she said, “Didn’t he arrive by airship?”

  Del nodded. “Yes, but he has the skills to travel back to Druida on his own.”

  Glyssa shook her head. “Over thousands of kilometers? I don’t know that he’d do that.”

  “Or maybe he’s on our backtrail?” Camellia added. “Maybe he decided to join us.”

  Grunting, Del said, “There’s also been some problems with the hole down into Lugh’s Spear. Someone flung a boulder past the weathershields and spellshields and into the entrance. Ruined the canvas.”

  Glyssa lifted her chin. “I’ve never seen Jace move heavy objects with Flair. In fact, when I loaned him my no-time for Zem, I was the one who set the anti-grav spell on it. Jace wouldn’t vandalize the camp like that.”

  Del still scowled.

  “He’s bought into the venture,” Glyssa added. “And he signed contracts. He wouldn’t violate them.”

  “Lepid stayed with Jace,” Camellia said, smiling at Del’s FoxFam, Shunuk, who watched them from his seat behind Del.

  “That’s right,” Glyssa said. “Jace wouldn’t leave camp for Druida City with Lepid.”

  “So it’s more likely he’s coming after us.” Camellia beamed.

  “I asked him not to,” Glyssa mumbled.