Heart Fate

by Robin D. Owens

  Twenty-three

  Since the old BalmHeal Residence wasn’t speaking to her again, Lahsin left the greenhouse as soon as daily upkeep was done and walked west. The land was smoother in this direction, without the slopes and terraces and occasional dramatic drop-offs of the south and east. The snow was lighter, too, and she wanted to examine the fruit groves better.

  She was running her hand over the gnarled trunk of a crabapple tree when she heard vicious growls and snapping teeth.

  Strother was ripping something apart.

  Right outside the west wall’s door. She ran, not knowing what to do. It was madness to take prey from his wide, wicked jaws.

  Yelps. Cries. She put her hand on the door latch.

  Then she heard human curses. The sizzling whine of a blazer.

  Lady and Lord!

  More cursing, then crooning, then the slight sound of someone teleporting. Away, she hoped. She found her hands over her lips, pressing her own cries back into her throat.

  A low moaning whimper came.

  Strother?

  She had to help. She glanced at the sky. It was bright and sunny. There would be no hiding from anyone outside in the small cobbled yard between the door of the estate and the back of a deserted warehouse.

  Another groan, this time fainter. It was Strother, and he wasn’t coming through the animal door. Wasn’t teleporting. Wasn’t even scratching at the human door.

  His mind touched hers, full of pain, then the mental link dropped away.

  Her heart thumped hard. The dog knew she was close, behind only a wall and spellshields. Safe in the garden. The whimpering stopped. He didn’t ask for help. Didn’t beg.

  They hadn’t been together much since they’d entered the Residence. He’d avoided her.

  She couldn’t leave him. Foolish or not, she’d come to care for him, and he was hurt. Her mind flew to her stillroom medicines, those she’d found in the old no-time there, the Healing pools themselves. She could take care of him.

  Yanking the door open, she rushed into the courtyard—into emptiness and quiet and the sun glittering on crystal rime coating empty windows. She swept the courtyard with a glance and saw the depression of footprints and paw prints in a trail in the middle of the narrow street to her right. Saw heaps of disturbed snow. Saw bright red blood on white.

  “Strother?”

  Nothing.

  “Strother!”

  Arms hugging herself, she looked around. In the shadows there was a darker gray heap. She ran over. His yellow eyes watched her. There was blood on his muzzle and claw marks along his flanks and near his thin underbelly.

  She whimpered, knelt in the snow by him. He lifted his upper lip, displaying white fangs with flecks of blood, and growled deep in his throat. She pressed her lips together, met his eyes. Not touching him, she studied him, swallowed hard when she saw that the other animal—another dog?—had gone for Strother’s bad leg and mangled it. Raw red muscle and white tendons were visible.

  Could she mend him together somehow—encourage the muscles to knit together as she encouraged plants to grow?

  She had to try.

  She looked him in the eyes again and formulated her thoughts clearly. I am going to take you back into FirstGrove. It’s a Healing place. We will see how we can fix you.

  He made a sound between a snort and a snarl.

  His mind had roiled with pain, so she spoke aloud. “I’m going to carry you in.”

  You. Can’t.

  That stiffened her backbone. She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I can. If I use Flair.” He was a big dog, almost as tall as she was when he was stretched out. Definitely too heavy for her to carry without hurting them both.

  Sliding her arms under him, she prayed that her Flair would come to her summoning. After her first Passage fugue it had turned sluggish again. Today she’d used a little of it while distilling her potions, working in the conservatory, nothing major. This would be major.

  Probing her memory of grovestudy and spells, she found a simple rhyme that should make Strother lighter. It worked, but she still grunted as she rose from her squat. She staggered a step, and he growled again. She wanted to snap at him, but didn’t have the breath for words. She was already trembling from the effort of holding him and knew she’d be counting the steps to the Healing pool, envisioned the path. Smooth. Tinne had smoothed it as some of his own grateful work to the garden. Good.

  With slow precision she turned toward the entrance.

  She’d left the door open!

  Stupid.

  But she sensed no one was near or watched from the shadows. The door being open would help her. She should have thought of opening it before she picked Strother up.

  Live and learn.

  Strother’s pants came shallow, laced with whimpers. Would he live?

  “Ilexa!” Tinne strode through the House. His Fam liked to sleep in different rooms, but she was here. Ilexa!

  What? It was said on a yawn. You disrupted my near noon nap.

  I need you to hunt.

  Hunting! She trotted toward him, sat, and slicked a paw over her whiskers.

  “You know the Sallows, the animal trainers.”

  Caprea Sallow is a good man. T’Holly boarded some of the other hunting cats there.

  “Yes.” Tinne shook past memories off, present circumstances were more urgent. “He has dog and human tracking teams.”

  Of course.

  “I didn’t know.”

  Dogs have been used for centuries to track. They have good noses and are amenable to training.

  “Can you track the trackers? Now? Find out where they’ve been and follow their path?”

  “Yess,” she hissed, sprang to her feet, and shot out of the animal flap in the entryway.

  If they get too near FirstGrove, lead them away!

  She didn’t answer.

  Once again, Tinne checked the bond between himself and Lahsin. She was sobbing. He ’ported to the door nearest the Healing pool, opened it, and ran through the hedges.

  She was in the pool, supporting Strother, who kept up a low growl. Blood swirled in the water.

  He ran to her, into the pool. Looked at the dog and winced.

  “Tinne!” Lahsin’s teeth chattered as she mangled his name. She was cold, frightened for Strother. She’d raided her own medicines and those in the ancient no-time, ’ported them near the pool, and slathered them on the dog in spite of his protests. She’d carried him to the Healing pool and let the water bathe him. He seemed soothed, but wasn’t Healing. She’d tried the little mending chant on one of his minor slices, and it brought the flesh together, but blood still oozed from the wound. All she could really do was put a force field—a shield—over his wounds to keep them sterile and let them Heal on their own.

  She didn’t want to do that.

  Now Tinne was here, taking the dog’s weight from her. “Go to the garden shed and warm up. I’ll handle this.”

  “He isn’t Healing.” Tears left cold trails on her cheeks.

  “What happened?”

  “He got into a fight with another dog near the northwest wall entrance.”

  Tinne nodded shortly. “I see. Probably the Sallow dog tracking team that T’Yew hired to find you.”

  “There was a man, but I didn’t see him or the fight. He and the other dog were gone by the time I got out there. I was checking the fruit trees when I heard . . .” She stopped babbling.

  Tinne was eyeing Strother’s wounds, and the dog had lifted his head to glare at him, increased the threat of his growl, but Tinne ignored that. “Only one thing to do. Take him to D’Ash, the animal Healer.”

  She stood straight, but her insides quivered. “We can’t go out. Can’t go to a GreatLady of all people.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’ll take Strother myself, make up a story.” He said it easily, but she could tell he was disappointed in her, and shame welled. Was she going through life afraid?

  Resentfully she felt that he
was never afraid. Never had been afraid.

  She looked at the suffering Strother. His eyes were narrowed, distrustful of Tinne. Man stinks of cat. Always.

  Lahsin glanced around. “Where’s Ilexa?”

  “Tracking the dog and man. We’ll find out their route, see if they can report anything that can lead to you.”

  “Oh.” She stared at him and shivered again. “You want me to trust D’Ash.”

  “She’s a good woman. Once a Commoner, you know. Loves animals. The Ashes are allied with my Family. They can be trusted to keep matters confidential.”

  Tears prickled behind Lahsin’s eyes. Tears of fear and shame at that fear. “The more people who know . . .”

  “Having a GreatLady on our side can’t be bad.”

  But would she be on Lahsin’s side?

  “We can trust them,” Tinne said.

  “Them?”

  “Both of the Ashes.”

  Now he wanted her to trust a FirstFamilies GreatLord, the highest of the high, one of the most powerful in the land. Like T’Yew. She could never trust a GreatLord.

  “Not like T’Yew.” Tinne met her eyes, his own a light gray.

  D’Ash, whispered Strother.

  Lahsin glanced down at him, saw a yearning in the dog’s gaze, licked her lips. “You’d trust her?”

  D’Ash, he said reverently, then stiffened, his gaze going beyond them. He snarled.

  Every Fam or animal would trust D’Ash, said Ilexa.

  Lahsin glanced over her shoulder to see the cat sitting in a cleared space near the pool. The hunting cat lifted her nose. You are all in water. Can’t be good for you. Then she tilted her head. I suppose the dog likes water. Strange creature.

  Strother’s growl echoed from the marble sides of the pool.

  Ilexa slid her eyes toward Tinne. I deserve a treat from D’Ash for my work this morning.

  Lahsin looked helplessly at Strother, who was not getting better. At Tinne, who was expecting her to overcome her fears and act like a woman who cared more for a friend than herself. At Ilexa who knew Lahsin’s secrets. She didn’t trust the cat.

  Blood trickled down onto Lahsin’s hand from one of Strother’s wounds. That made up her mind. She was growing stronger. She was learning self-defense. Not ready to leave FirstGrove altogether, but she should be able to go outside now and then, not hide away like a frightened child. “Let’s go.”

  “Clasp my hands under Strother. On three, I’ll ’port us. I have a good visualization of D’Ash’s office teleportation pad.”

  I can ’port myself, Ilexa said. Don’t need to go into that nasty water.

  “Of course you can,” Lahsin said, teeth chattering.

  “I think I can dry us all off on the way.” Tinne smiled crookedly at her.

  That would be a fine spell indeed. She shrugged. She still didn’t know all the man’s capabilities. “Thank you.”

  “One Strother-dog, Two Strother-dog, Three.”

  There was a whoosh, more air movement than Lahsin was used to when someone ’ported her. But they landed on a large teleportation pad that smelled of stridebeast.

  “Emergency here!” Tinne called through an open door. The room beyond, an office with several doors, was empty.

  A small brown-haired woman shot into the room as Tinne and Lahsin moved carefully off the pad. The woman bustled up to them, frowning. “Dogfight wounds. I just treated Vimin Sallow’s dog and sent them home,” D’Ash said. “Who is this?”

  “Strother,” Lahsin said.

  “Hmmm, bring him into my surgery.”

  Tinne scanned the pad, the room, and lowered his voice. “Holly business, confidential. I claim secrecy on behalf of an ally.”

  D’Ash looked up from Strother, glanced at Tinne, rolled her eyes, and said, “Residence, lock down my offices and initiate all privacy spells. Inform all callers and visitors that I am unavailable for a septhour or so.”

  Incredible that she could Heal Strother in a septhour.

  “Done,” said the Residence in a female voice.

  “Follow me,” D’Ash said.

  They took Strother into a dim blue room and put him on the thick permamoss examining table. Tinne went to shut the door, got hissed at by Ilexa, who trotted in and took a corner chair as far from the table as possible. D’Ash spared her a look. “You didn’t inflict these wounds.”

  I am with my FamMan. We are working together.

  D’Ash stroked Strother, shook her head. “Dogfights. Not enough dogs to have them fighting.” Shook her head again. “Vimin Sallow’s bloodhound, now this guy. Not good at all.”

  “Males fight to protect their territory,” Tinne said.

  D’Ash snorted. “Sallow’s dog got too close to Strother’s den?”

  “That’s right,” Tinne said. “Can you Heal him?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll pay the bill from my personal funds.”

  “No,” Lahsin said. “I’ll pay.” She could somehow, even a large bill. Give D’Ash her necklace? No. Definitely not. Her HeartMate had made the necklace, would know who it was for. Lahsin would pay somehow. Now the decision had been made and her immediate fears were gone, she was focused on Strother—as she should have been all along.

  She swallowed as D’Ash checked his eyes, tsked, and shook her head over his leg. Lahsin found herself holding Tinne’s hand.

  Strother thumped his tail once, something Lahsin had never seen him do. He’d been quiet the instant they’d arrived. It’s D’Ash, he said in awe, as if meeting a legend.

  But his gaze didn’t go to her, instead he looked at Lahsin. You brought me to D’Ash. For the first time she saw approval, gratitude . . . love? Then he closed his eyes and went limp.

  “D’Ash!” Lahsin cried, fingers tightening around Tinne’s.

  “Busy here,” D’Ash said absently, running her hands down Strother’s skinny body, stroking the coarse coat.

  Tinne murmured in Lahsin’s ear, “Strother’s just resting. He feels safe.” Tinne lifted her fingers to his mouth, kissed them gently with warm lips. “He trusts you to protect him.”

  By the time they all returned to Balm Heal Residence, Lahsin was exhausted. She’d insisted on paying for Strother’s care by setting new shields around T’Ash’s workroom walk-in safe. She’d been nervous that her Flair wouldn’t come or wouldn’t be sufficient for the task, and T’Ash increased her unease by watching her with an inscrutable stare, arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t think he—or D’Ash—believed her when she said she was a visiting relative of a minor GraceHouse. She was sure they recognized her from the newssheets, but she continued to lie. Despite everything, she couldn’t force herself to trust them. They were too powerful.

  Still, she’d felt the shields of T’Ash’s vault and known they were very good, placed by old Alder who’d left his mark.

  But when she finished, hers were better.

  Now, as she stared down at Strother bedded on soft permamoss in the closet he’d chosen, she couldn’t stop the fine trembling of her muscles. She had the lowering feeling that the only thing that kept her upright was Tinne’s steady arm around her waist.

  And she didn’t mind that arm. It was incredibly strong and muscular, but not constraining. All she had to do was move a step away, and it would drop. Nor was Tinne projecting anything but mild friendship. Definitely no dark lust.

  She didn’t want lust from him, though she enjoyed rubbing salve on him and took her time. She frowned. Tinne wasn’t capable of dark lust like T’Yew. That conclusion itself was a relief.

  D’Ash had sent Strother into a deep sleep. Lahsin hadn’t watched when the GreatLady had rebroken Strother’s bad leg and reset it. It looked straight under Lahsin’s own protective shields. New red mended flesh that would become scars showed the recent wounds, fur wouldn’t grow there. Tooth punctures were on his muzzle. Strother had not been a handsome dog; now he was ugly. Also as part of her payment, D’Ash had taken DNA from Strother to trace his
heritage. There were very few feral dogs.

  Suddenly the small room, the smell of astringent herbs used on Strother, even Tinne’s musky masculine scent caused Lahsin to go dizzy, go hot, then cold. She shuddered hard.

  Tinne looked at her with lowered brows, concerned. “What?”

  Lahsin wrapped her arms around herself, couldn’t prevent a moan or manage a smile. She was afraid she knew what this was. “Passage.” The next psychic storm was on her in earnest.

  Twenty-four

  “Fligger,” Tinne said roughly, and swung her into his arms.

  “Wha—?”

  His intense face filled her vision. “I’m staying with you. No one should experience Passage alone. Give me leave to stay.”

  A mist seemed to veil his face, all except his eyes, which had turned a brilliant, shining silver. How was that possible? Maybe it wasn’t his eyes. Maybe it was her own. What color were her eyes turning?

  He jiggled her, and her bones ached, and she whimpered. She was so cold! She needed a shield against the chill. She could build a shield to block it, couldn’t she?

  Loud jumbled words assaulted her ears. She winced, then sorted them out. “Give me leave to stay and help you.”

  Help? That sounded wonderful. Help. But a price was always paid for help, except for her brother Clute. He was the only one who had ever helped without counting cost. Because he loved her, and when you loved there were no balance sheets, no counting of cost. She loved Strother, now.

  “Lahsin!” The demanding word blew through her head. She moved and was caught by his silver gaze again. Not Clute, Tinne.

  “Help,” she said, and didn’t know whether she was asking his price or accepting him without it. Then she knew the cold would kill her if she didn’t start building her shields, and she reached for her Flair, and it came so lava hot she thought she’d incinerate, and then she didn’t think at all.

  Passage was different for every person, Tinne reminded himself as he carried Lahsin down the halls of BalmHeal Residence to her room. The Residence had snapped directions to him and now appeared to seethe in silence.