She was gone, and had left so angry at him that it ripped a hole in Vinni. Numb and stiff-legged, he stalked to the wall scry panel and took care of the business of protecting Avellana.
Then he just stared at the gloomy, wide space of the ground-level tower chamber. When he’d come of age at seventeen, he’d had all the furniture in this room left over from his predecessor removed to storage. He’d planned to keep this place bare because he wanted no one except him—him and Avellana—to feel at home here.
But he wasn’t the only Vine who refused to take “no” for an answer. The housekeeper had moved in furniture a year ago, and since then he’d met here with the innermost circle of his Family now and then.
Last month the room had been refurbished with new, and a little more, furniture. He thought he—and this room—had gotten caught in some internal competition that no one would speak to him about.
But if he raised his voice in an outraged shout, it would still echo through the dim chamber.
Much shouting and yelling and yammering and arguing, Flora said as she hopped down the last step from the bottom landing she’d ’ported to. Oh, FamMan, you feel . . . very angry. She trembled so her fur rippled.
He snapped shut his bond with her, and with Avellana, whose emotions raged wildly. Walking slowly so he wouldn’t scare his FamFluff, he said in his mildest telepathic voice, hoping the love he sent enveloped her, We will work this out. He bent and petted her, then picked her up.
Because we all love each other. Me and you and Avellana and the cat Rhyz.
That’s right. But her recitation of their names had sparked an idea.
He wanted his HeartMate guarded, wanted every single greatly Flaired person watching out for her since she stayed here in Druida City.
Time to call his allies together.
• • •
He called his most powerful allies—each and every one of the twenty-five FirstFamilies—to meet that morning.
Although he’d set the gathering in GreatCircle Temple, the meeting ended in disaster. Vinni watched as the web of alliances his Family had put into place and kept for nearly a century unraveled. He kept his face impassive, but that damn well hurt.
Two Families refused to protect Avellana, obviously believing whispered rumors of her strangeness. That she was a mutant. Infuriating him.
Those two repudiated their ties with Vinni and Avellana’s Family, the Hazels. And Vinni wondered if the two Families included people who belonged to the violent fanatics, the Traditionalist Stance movement. He didn’t know where all his enemies lurked.
Now he wouldn’t be able to ask those Lords and Ladies to find them.
And the FirstFamilies Council broke into two major camps. That made him wary of the future . . . though no terrible prophecies poured through him as it had happened, thank the Lady and Lord.
Because the FirstFamilies Council must work together—or not. Clash and nothing would get done. Bring the ill will into great magical rituals over the year and the quality of life for the general society of Celta would decline.
What a wretched mess.
After everyone else left, Vinni remained to speak with Avellana’s parents, GreatLady D’Hazel and her consort Chess Rowan T’Hazel.
They had wanted to know if he’d seen danger for their daughter again. As he looked at their strained expressions—surely he and Avellana had put some lines in those faces—he answered with the truth for the first time in years. “I do feel some, but I can’t judge the amount of threat to her.”
That seemed to reassure them, and he felt a twinge of guilt that he’d misled them all these years. So he added, “My most pressing concern is with regard to the Families who cut ties with us both—” He shook his head. “They’re frightened.”
At that D’Hazel let out a sigh. “Yes, they are frightened because the world moves too quickly for them now. They see more Commoners becoming Flaired and powerful, and those two FirstFamilies believe that erodes their power.”
Her HeartMate snorted. “They don’t consider that their power and their Flair are increasing, too.”
“They’re worried about Avellana,” Vinni said.
D’Hazel slumped. “We’re all worried about Avellana and have been since she tried to fly and fell and nearly died at the age of three.”
“Hmm,” T’Hazel said. “Perhaps we could have folks spread the rumor that whatever oddness our little girl has in her Flair is because of the fall, not inborn.”
“It could even be true,” Vinni said.
T’Hazel looked at him sharply. “Could it?”
“It could be true.”
“Mincing words and shading meanings,” D’Hazel said. “But reassuring frightened people so they calm down and have a chance to think is a good policy. Let’s go home.” She linked arms with her husband, then glanced at Vinni and away. “Avellana is angry with you.”
“There’s irritation on both sides,” he affirmed.
“Relationships are like that,” T’Hazel said.
“—so we are not inviting you to dinner any time soon, Vinni,” D’Hazel ended.
He let his face fall into a pained expression. He usually ate with the Hazels at least once an eightday. “Condemning me to my own Family dinners.”
“That’s how relationships are,” T’Hazel repeated, tilting his hand back and forth. “Ups and downs.”
“Not so merrily met, Vinni,” Avellana’s mother said, altering the usual farewell phrases, “but at least we know whom to watch.”
Vinni bowed to them. “Merry part.”
“And merry meet again,” they all said in unison, and the Hazels teleported away.
Sending his pent-up annoyance into the floor to give the temple more energy to cleanse the area—physically and of the emotional distress he and his allies had stirred up—Vinni also transferred the meeting fee to the temple’s coffers. Then he teleported to his private den in his tower.
The fundamental issue for Vinni was whether the Birches or the WhitePoplars had fanatics in their Families who would harm Avellana. He’d have to scrutinize every note, every bit of information he had on them.
But first he contacted his lesser Noble allies—the Marigolds and the Clovers and others—also requesting they increase their awareness of Avellana and any threats to her.
Since these were people he’d personally allied with, and not a part of some generational deal, he talked to them more easily because he considered them all friends. Cratag Maytree T’Marigold offered to guard Avellana, but she’d hate that, so Vinni reluctantly turned the man down, unless it became absolutely necessary in the future. And Vinni prayed that he’d get some very intense advance warning if that happened.
He’d put up with bloody nightmares if he could save Avellana.
• • •
Avellana, I sense that you did not sleep much last night,” D’Hazel Residence said in the masculine lilting tones of a long past T’Hazel. “Why don’t you take a lovely bath in your tub and have a nap?”
Avellana frowned. “You are not monitoring my physical data, are you, Residence? No one gave you such orders?”
The floor under her chair creaked in a snifflike punctuation. “I know your energy is low from the way you landed. Also, you did move through my shieldspells when you teleported, so I sensed your vitality.”
“You did not answer my questions, Residence.” Avellana had learned to be specific and persistent in her requests for information.
A longer creak like a sigh. “No, SecondDaughter Avellana Hazel, I am not monitoring your health. You requested that I stop doing that when you became an adult, and your Family agreed.”
Oh, yes, Avellana remembered that fight. Rather like something that might come up next when she announced her own new plans—after she had obtained some data.
“Thank you, Residence, for giving me the privacy you do your
other inhabitants.” She paused and repeated a heartfelt phrase that she said often, but neither her Family nor the Residence believed. “It was not your fault that I tried to fly from the second-story window and fell when I was three years old.”
“Of course not,” the Residence said. But she knew that tone. He yet felt guilty. They all did. A burden she wished none of them, including her, continued to carry.
A spritz of lilac swirled through the room. She had missed the spring in Druida City, and Mona Island’s more tropical location did not support well-blooming lilac bushes.
“Thank you for the scent.”
“You are welcome.”
“I missed it.” She swallowed hard.
“I am glad you returned. You should stay here.”
Closing her eyes, she replied, “I have missed Druida City and my Family.” She gave herself a few minutes to relax and as the soft blanket edge of sleep moved closer to envelop her, she drew in a big breath and her mind slipped to the next scheduled item of the day. She sat up straight in her chair. “I must go up to the Cathedral.”
She needed to see the progress of the decoration inside by the wood and stone carvers, the latest additions and embellishments. More, her fingertips itched to trigger her own unfinished art, four huge holo paintings. After this time away, she must consider them with regard to newly learned techniques. She had to decide which mural she wished to work on next.
“A bath? A nap?” the Residence prodded.
She would receive more solace from being in a building that resonated with her deepest-held beliefs, but she did not tell that to the Residence. This was home, yes, but she was only one of many generations of children to be born and raised here, and her destiny would be to leave D’Hazel Residence upon the event of her marriage to Muin, when she became GreatLady D’Vine.
The Intersection of Hope Cathedral had been raised no more than two years ago, and her contributions to that place could be a great and long-lasting legacy. She had no doubt the holographic murals she created would be valued until the end of the Cathedral itself, far, far, far in the future.
“Thank you for offering your suggestions, but not right now.” She paused but could not stop from adding, “A bath and nap are not on my schedule and they would put me behind on the goals that I wish to accomplish today.” She summoned her own calendar sphere to view the daily agenda for the Cathedral that the ministers published for the congregation.
Frowning, she noted the weekly “Meeting of the Chief Ministers on Hopeful Business,” set for today along with the list of the ministers—the same ministers who had commissioned the building of the Cathedral.
At that time, the idea of a spiritual path based on a journey had resonated with her. More than the religion she had grown up in. So she had studied and been accepted as a member of the Hopeful sect. Since then she had been agitating for an equal number of female and male Chief Ministers. She felt deeply that two of the four Chief Ministers representing the four spirits of her faith should be female. Probably because the dominant culture around her—the Celtic culture—emphasized the equality of the Divine Couple.
But it seemed no progress in that had occurred while she had been away.
She must speak to the Chief Ministers about this concern. A sufficient amount of time had passed so that two Chief Ministers could transition out and two new female Chief Ministers could hold the highest office of the Intersection of Hope religion.
Avellana rose and moved to her bedroom to disrobe, then to the waterfall room for a quick shower. She did not care which of the four spirit representatives became female—the childlike self, adult vitality, wise maturity, or the guardian—but she did consider her religion would be better when both women and men stood as Chief Ministers in the sacred intersection. Time to remind the Chief Ministers of that.
She scrubbed away the film of Mona Island and luxuriated under the herbed waterfall at the exact temperature she liked.
Confronting the Chief Ministers meant more conflict. She gritted her teeth in a smile. Last night and this morning with Muin, later this week or next with her Family, and now with the Chief Ministers.
She was becoming downright fierce.
Six
Four evenings later, Vinni paused his glider at the foot of the Vines’ hill before the switchbacks upward to T’Vine Residence. Like many FirstFamily colonists, the first Vine had gone overboard when constructing a home. So grand he didn’t want to live inside the city. He’d claimed the hill and spent his gilt in paying for help raising the gigantic castle.
Or maybe Family legend was correct. Only one of the originally psi-gifted Family that became Vine made it out of the walled ghettos of Earth, and he never wanted to be caught like that again. Thus the hill outside the walled Druida City, the winding road, the three gatehouses, and his own wall around the castle with many towers.
Vinni’s forebears also recorded that the initial T’Vine had a smidgen of the psi power of foresight, but mostly a great gift for earth-moving and translocation of objects. He should have gone into the construction business, but he tormented himself for not seeing the future and the deaths of his clan.
So he concentrated on—and married for—the Flair of prophecy.
As with the other pioneers who’d funded the starships and landed here, the first T’Vine had believed that his descendants and the general population of Celta would burgeon as humans had on Earth. He’d built a home to house the huge Family he planned to beget. Now Vinni and his Family of thirty-five lived in a massive castle modeled after one on old Earth. A place that would house the couple hundred of the Clover Family easily.
A beautiful and intelligent Residence that had always supported him, been more parent than his mostly female relatives and the Vine guards who’d raised him after his predecessor had died. He’d never known his parents, who’d passed on to the Wheel of Stars soon after he’d been born.
Now Vinni supposedly ruled the household. He certainly held the title, but he didn’t order his older relatives around—much. But he stood firm when necessary.
Like when he was thirteen and after Avellana’s First Passage to free her Flair, when someone in the Family had tried to kill her. He’d demanded another Loyalty Ceremony. Some of his relatives had abandoned the Family rather than take an oath to him.
No, he led his Family. Which didn’t mean they couldn’t manipulate him as he did others.
“Glider, return home, minimum speed.”
“Yes, T’Vine,” it replied. Unlike the Residence, the vehicle wasn’t intelligent—yet. Vinni had just spent another session with the oldest Alders of the FirstFamilies. They designed and created gliders, and none wanted the title.
Being responsible for the whole Family burdened each individual, and Vinni could relate to that—but at least, even at six, he’d known that he’d be the next prophet. In fact, he could recall his great-MotherDam very well.
Because somehow she’d figured out her own death. He still didn’t know how she’d done that, though she’d had over a century to learn how to sift the details of others’ futures and understand how they might impact her own.
Vinni shuddered. Her death had not been kind.
And there remained recordspheres she’d coded against him opening until—or if—certain things happened. Apparently she could see his future well enough, at least some of the later years. He didn’t have memory spheres addressed to him before he’d turned adult.
One would be when he reached his thirty-fifth birthday.
One after he HeartBonded with his HeartMate.
Now and again he’d stare at that glass sphere and ponder what advice might be in it.
He both anticipated and dreaded watching it.
As he reached the first front gate, the shieldspells dropped as the glider sailed through. The arms on the front of the vehicle and the side of the car resonated with the sp
ells, and, of course, the Residence sensed him. With the extension of the walls all around the castle, the sapience of the Residence had expanded to the outermost stone.
Vinni’s schedule had continued to be heavy, and he’d managed to skip more than one dinner. He’d also avoided any questions from his Family regarding Avellana and why she hadn’t come around after she’d returned from Mona Island. He had, of course, briefed the inner circle of his relatives—those who held the most responsible jobs in the Residence and for the Family—on the defection of their allies and the golden favor tokens he’d collected from the Birches and the WhitePoplars for breaking their agreements.
He sensed something in the atmosphere that warned him that his more proper relatives weren’t happy with his long hours . . . and his dodging of the rest of the Family.
He was right. His G’Aunt Bifrona awaited him in the garage. The portly and elegantly dressed woman who carried herself with grace addressed him the minute he emerged from the glider.
“Greetyou, Vinni, my dear. It is too bad of you to make me await you like this in the garage just so I can have a few minutes of your time to discuss a simple matter.”
Stifling a sigh and not bowing, he said, “Good evening, G’Aunt Bifrona.”
Bifrona held the position of the female Head of the Household, having won that honor among her age-equals in subtle, sophisticated warfare decades ago. He wasn’t supposed to have been aware of skirmishes, then or now, but he’d watched and learned. And even at nine, he’d managed to clean up some of the resulting mess and found other estates or mates for the vanquished.
She held out an imperious hand. “Let’s speak about this in the bottom of your tower.”
Trouble with his Family. Great. “Speak about what?”
Her brows rose at his curt tone, but he decided to be unmannerly to his eldest female relative and jerked his head toward the hallway linking the garage to the large ground-level chamber of his tower. He sensed she wanted a business discussion, so a more businesslike setting she would get.
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