Heart Sight

by Robin D. Owens

  She felt just as human as anyone around her, any woman of her age, any other artist she had met or worked with in Toono Town or on Mona Island.

  Do not think of all the negative slurs. Do not accept negative energy in her life. Muin and her Family acted on that; she would not.

  She stood, being mindful of all the positive aspects of her life: She was home with her Family and Muin, she was having a new and personally designed home built for her tomorrow, and, best of all, Muin and she would be wed within two and a half months.

  Keeping the delight of these thoughts flowing, she walked with deliberate pace down the gray flagstones toward the Residence.

  When she entered the intelligent house, she opened all her senses to soak in the atmosphere.

  Her mother and father conversed in the sitting room of his suite, minds gently busy with surface thoughts and the deeper feelings of the HeartBonded. Avellana bit her lip. She wanted that togetherness and life-and-death link so much with Muin.

  Be positive. In two and a half months they would hold wedding rituals, and perhaps HeartBond in loving before that.

  Her sister and her HeartMate walked through the newly refurbished suites they would move into after their marriage in the autumn. Their plans proceeded well.

  Not one small buzzing tendril of a mind focused on her or worried about her. Not even the Residence itself.

  Nearly dancing up one staircase after another, she reached the storage rooms at the very top of the small castle.

  She opened the door to the chamber the Family currently used, and one of her first holographic murals showed as a faded outline on the wall. She had installed it here herself, and wondered about leaving the holo painting in that particular place, where it could be the first thing people could see if it activated.

  Stepping over to the mural, she touched the side of the outline. The seaside holographic painting swirled on, heavy surf breaking against a jagged line of rocks a couple of meters away from a short, sandy beach. It looked like high tide. She had programmed the painting to reflect the tides at that slice of coast thirty kilometers away.

  Her mind flickered with disjointed thoughts—how she could revise the holo now and make it better. How it would remain here in the storage area. She would not move this painting to her new home.

  Most of all, how she looked forward to her very own place—an abode made especially for her by a person who had consulted her, like nothing else in her entire life.

  Even her Fam, Rhyz, had not been hers alone.

  A house, hers alone. One that she would place HouseStones for. Eventually those HouseStones would gather enough energy from the earth and the atmosphere and the Flaired people living within it, and would become an intelligent Residence. That usually occurred within two centuries.

  But the length of the current amount of time for a sentient house to develop might change, shorten. HeartStones continued to gather Flair and evolve and mutate just as people did.

  No. Not mutate—develop, or, perhaps, evolve. She did not like the word mutate because mutant had been applied to her.

  Avellana? the Residence itself whispered to her mind.

  She stopped her winding progress to the door to the older storeroom and answered aloud, because the House liked that. “Yes, Residence?”

  Have I failed you? It continued the telepathic conversation, though she knew it had a virtual voice and speakers.

  “Of course not, dear Residence.”

  But you leave me.

  She considered, then said, “I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, Residence, but it is not you who has been . . . problematic for me. The other members of my Family have either too few or too many expectations of me. They do not let me be myself, walk my own path. I believe—believed—that I had to prove to Mother and Father and Coll that I am an adult—”

  We celebrated your adulthood after your Third Passage, the Residence said.

  “Yes, but that has not stopped any of my Family—my human Family members—from instructing me in how I should live.”

  A pause, and dust rose and whirled as air moved in a change of atmosphere. What you say is true.

  “So I wished to invest my gilt in a good project, and I heard of Multiplicity, and the idea of a planned multi-status-level community appealed to me.”

  Druida City is a planned multi-status community, pointed out the Residence.

  “That is true, but it is not new. I—” Do not say wanted or yearned for. “—liked the idea Antenn Blackthorn-Moss had for an individual and personal dwelling for me.”

  Now the door she headed toward rattled. That is a very strange notion. A house holding only ONE person.

  “And my Fam,” Avellana said. “And I will not be there long,” she soothed. “I will be moving into T’Vine Residence within two and a half months. I am telling you this in confidence, and only you.”

  I am a very trustworthy Residence. I have known, and now know and hold many secrets.

  That almost distracted her. She cleared her throat. “I intend to wed Muin within two and a half months.”

  The atmosphere seemed to hum around her. You will have the wedding ceremony here in the Great Hall?

  “Muin delivered his final negotiations today, I believe. I do not know the contents of that document or what my parents and Coll wish in this matter.”

  I deserve to have the wedding and the ritual! This is your home and I am YOUR Residence. T’Vine Residence will have you for the rest of your life, and so I will tell it.

  “Ah, yes. In any event, I will convert my home in Multiplicity into a studio for when I wish to . . . create in a totally peaceful atmosphere that reflects only my style.”

  T’Vine Residence has many more people residing within than I do. People who could bother you. I commend your foresight.

  All right, a definite rivalry here that Avellana had known nothing about. She said, “But I do want to see this interesting house in Multiplicity built, and place HeartStones in it so that it can become an intelligent House—”

  I can give you a pebble or two from my own stones to use!

  Avellana infused her voice with sincerity. “I am deeply grateful for that. I hesitated asking you for them last night.”

  Can I see the aspect and plans of this new house?

  She let a relieved breath whisk quietly from her. It appeared she and the Residence had gone beyond hurt feelings. “Yes, absolutely.” With a Word, she translocated a roll of papyrus plans to land within the curve of her fingers.

  A light-spell flickered on, illuminating an old, scarred table set in the middle of the room.

  When she reached the table, she cleared off a large area, then unrolled the plans, accepting the fact that the Residence could perceive the drawings, though she did not know exactly how.

  Creaking came from a multitude of places in the room, a wall joint, the floor, even the door she had been walking to . . . the lock clicked and it opened.

  That is a small house. D’Hazel Residence sounded pleased.

  “Yes, the space cannot compare to you.”

  And of an unusual shape, octagonal.

  “That is right.” The Celtan culture preferred circles, but Avellana found straight lines cleaner and wanted something unique.

  With too many windows. Now the Residence sounded disapproving.

  Avellana loved that each wall consisted of mostly glass.

  Not good enough security. A small snifflike crack. Too much light.

  She had always thought D’Hazel Residence too dim. She kept her mouth shut as she turned over the page for an artistic rendering.

  Another house-sniff and comment. Two-dimensional. Did you not do a three-dimensional holo?

  Surprise spurted through her that D’Hazel Residence had guessed a secret only Antenn Blackthorn-Moss knew . . . She had done all the three-d
imensional renderings of the model houses and client homes that Antenn had provided to his other clients and the newssheets.

  “Yes,” she squeaked. “Here is the holo of my house.” With a finger flick she activated the mural embedded in the two-dimensional drawing, and the three-story octagonal house sprang into being. As the Residence had commented, her new home consisted of mostly windowed walls on the first story, then a smaller second story stacked atop the first and a third cupola space. She smiled just looking at it.

  Acceptable for an art studio, D’Hazel Residence said.

  “Yes.”

  And for living for a limited time period. Not at all good for a Family, he ended dismissively.

  Avellana shuddered once as memories she had inadvertently received from Antenn Blackthorn-Moss’s mind rippled through her brain—he had grown up in the defunct slum Downwind in a small shanty made of thin metal and wood materials, and that had housed his mother, himself, and his lost mad older brother. She understood that many Earthan Families would have been pleased to live in her home that would be built tomorrow.

  Avellana? prompted the Residence, as if needing reassurance.

  “No,” she murmured. “I would not raise children in that house. It will be enough for me and Rhyz.” She paused, then said, “D’Hazel Residence?”

  “Yes?” This time he replied aloud.

  “As you know, the humans are having trouble negotiating our wedding and I am getting impatient.”

  “It has been no long amount of time,” he stated.

  “That is true for you. But I think the human members of the Hazels and the Vines are simply fussing over unimportant details. I am sure if you and T’Vine Residence consulted together, you could, ah, guide Muin’s and my Families better.”

  “That is a thought,” D’Hazel Residence said. “Neither your parents nor Coll looked at the new proposal that T’Vine delivered today.”

  Avellana found her teeth clenched. Obviously her wedding was not a priority for her Family; the notion had probably been around so long, it was taken for granted. She loosened her jaw and replied, “Thank you for telling me, Residence.”

  “You’re welcome, Avellana. I have been unable to view the documents myself.” Some rustling around. “I will wait and watch . . .” His words faded out, but general sounds continued as if the Residence murmured to himself.

  With a smile Avellana closed the holo painting of her house and rerolled the papyrus sheets, once again glad she had invested in Multiplicity. She had surprised her Family and Muin with her actions, the financing of the new community, the design and purchase of her house, and the news she would live away from D’Hazel Residence.

  Though she thought that each of her Family members would definitely check out her home and the town of Multiplicity.

  Glancing around the chamber, she saw a few items she wanted for her home . . . and it occurred to her that neither the Residence nor her Family cared what furnishings she might take from storage. As a member of the Family she could have what she wanted. She vaguely recalled ornate and garish furniture gilded with gold leaf, too expensive to dispose of, and knew if she wanted she could have a houseful of that, doubling the value of her home.

  No. Instead, she moved to a corner that held very light summerlike furniture of rattan and bamboo formed into fanciful shapes. This would do well for a house of many windows.

  At first, she had considered filling her new home with many plants but had decided that she could not trust so much in the future in which she would be able to care for them. Even now, she believed that Muin might whisk her away to some other town.

  But better for Muin and her to confront all their problems, whether with their Families or the fanatics of the Traditionalist Stance movement, or whatever issues the FirstFamilies had with her, than to leave again.

  She would stick.

  As the sun slanted lower into the room, she let her own pleasure sift into the motes of light, and thought of Muin, and how very serious he had become.

  How long had it been since she had heard a big laugh from him? She could not recall.

  Perhaps the continual bad dreams of threat to her, and his own nature, had dimmed what she had believed to be an innately positive nature.

  But she thought, as she considered the furnishings around her, that Muin’s responsibilities weighed heavily upon him. His duties to his Family, to his lineage and his ancestors.

  The need for the people of Celta itself to have a good prophet to guide them.

  Sitting in a lightweight fan-back chair made of heavily woven plant stalks that would look good in her new home, Avellana considered the times she knew of when Muin had steered someone into a better personal future. He had helped those individuals take a path that had led to a better result for their Family, for the city itself, and more.

  Not only she, but their society itself was blessed to have him. She wondered if he knew that. She did not think many people gave him positive comments; certainly not as many enthused about his work as her own. Easier to love a holo painter. She smiled.

  But did Muin realize he got little emotional support and positive reinforcement from his peers? Did others? What of his Family?

  Though the last few days had been full of contention between them, she did not doubt that he loved her deeply. As she loved him.

  Not being together had been a mistake. One she should have corrected years ago.

  Now that she remained in Druida City, she would encourage Muin to embrace a more positive nature.

  And she would make sure he received his due from others, too.

  That decided, she understood she wanted to be with Muin. Right now. Her lips curved as she considered the vitality of the energy of The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon, so different than the serenity of a loving Family home—where three of the four main inhabitants were female.

  Running down to her own suite, she took a quick waterfall and dressed in expensively casual clothes. After all, The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon catered to those of the highest status of society.

  One last minute of checking her clothes and hair—and appreciating her own sparkle of eyes and big smile at the thought of seeing Muin again—and she teleported away.

  Seventeen

  Vinni stood close to the line separating the fighting area from the rest of the room, enjoying the ambience of a place where he knew his exact status and people gave him the respect due to his training. In fifteen minutes the bell would ring for the general melee of advanced fighters. A couple of times a month, he attended Open Melee for his class—the best fighters in the world.

  His thoughts circled back to Avellana. She rarely came here, nor did she participate when her class—intermediate—held Open Melee.

  She’d trained under the best but had never reached higher than intermediate. She didn’t think well on her feet and, more, didn’t consider fighting a priority in her life.

  Of course in the villages where she’d lived there hadn’t been an excellent fighting salon. He didn’t know if there had been local clubs or not. He’d concentrated on getting her away from the city and into places where her artistic ability would be supported.

  And, of course, when they’d spoken, it was rarely about training to fight.

  Still, he wished she’d come to be with him.

  And with that thought, he felt her presence nearby. He turned away midconversation with Tinne Holly, a FirstFamily second son, the owner of the place and one of the premier fighters of Celta.

  Staring at the doors to the lobby, Vinni waited for Avellana to appear.

  • • •

  She had been right. Even before she took the steps up to the main door of The Green Knight Fencing and Fighting Salon, she saw people—dressed as expensively as she was—lingering outside the building. Most of the noblemen carried swords on one hip and blazers on the other—
elegant and costly lethal weapons studded with jewels.

  She had not even thought to strap on her long dagger or small blazer, though other women wore such deadly accessories.

  Avellana hurried up the steps and opened the door to the lobby. Even the best herbs could not totally mask the scent of sweat.

  Here, too, people stood in clumps of conversation, though most of them wore fighting robes with colored belts indicating their status. Some of the robes showed hard wear and tattered hems, but all of them held the hum of costly bespelled cloth and appeared tailored for the individual. Not only those of the highest Nobles, but also their guards, who sported the colors of their houses—Holly, of course, Ash, Ivy, even a couple of Muin’s Vine guards.

  Glancing around, she saw that the walls had been retinted in a light golden-yellow color and the teleportation areas fitted with new pads since she had been here last.

  A good thing that she had teleported to Antenn Blackthorn-Moss’s business’s back courtyard a few blocks away, because she knew that light. She had not been in The Green Knight for three years.

  To her right, writing above the double door stated, “Shooting Range.” An area she had never visited.

  Before she took more than a step inside, the older man behind the appointment lectern said, “The little Hazel girl, isn’t it? Avellana?” and she froze. Her gaze had skimmed over him, just noting that someone stood there, but now she realized she had made a mistake.

  Immediately she sank into a curtsey for FirstFamily GreatLord T’Holly as he came forward, his big, toned body moving with athletic ease.

  The whole room had gone silent and people stared at her. She fought a flush down with sheer will and a tiny spell.

  “Greetyou, T’Holly.”

  “Yes, it’s Avellana.” T’Holly nodded. Had her FatherSire or MotherSire lived, they would have been a little older than the man. His white-blond hair showed no gray.

  “You aren’t dressed for fighting, though I am sure you had classes here.”