Heart Thief

by Robin D. Owens

  A siren screamed from the castle. A few seconds later the door flew open.

  “Intruder alert! I’ll send a scan out!” a male voice shouted.

  “I must leave,” she said.

  Her gaze searched his face, but he saw only yearning in her eyes.

  “Run,” he said.

  “You, too.”

  He grinned and she sucked in a breath.

  Before temptation to kiss her won, he said, “Go!”

  They ran.

  In opposite directions.

  Eight

  All the serenity her time with Ruis had brought vanished when Ailim entered the GreatHall and found her Family waiting. She intoned a Word, canceling the alarm, and a HouseHold wind pushed those who had hovered near the entrance firmly into the Hall and slammed the door.

  Face flushed with anger, Aunt Menzie rounded on Ailim. “Where have you been?”

  Ailim drew herself up to her full height and raised haughty eyebrows. “My actions are my own.”

  “There are certain rules that all of this household are to follow—” Menzie started.

  “Yes, and the first rule is that D’SilverFir makes all the rules. I will not be questioned regarding my whereabouts, my schedule, or my private life.”

  “You owe the Family an explanation.” Menzie’s voice spiked even higher. She and the others—Ab, Cona, Pinwyd, and even Canadena—surrounded Ailim in an accusatory circle.

  She snapped up her personal shields, hard, but not before she had seen mixed with their anger their deepest, unconscious ugly hope that a fatal accident might have occurred to her.

  That hurt. Terribly.

  Ailim stared at them. Who were these people? She shook her head to banish the discomfiting thought. They were her Family.

  Breathing deeply and controlling her voice, Ailim answered, “I owe the Family my allegiance, my protection, and my best efforts to preserve it. I am endeavoring to fulfill all my duties and responsibilities, but that does not mean you can poke into my private life—”

  “Private life?” Cona stared as if the concept was inconceivable.

  “We were afraid for you.” Canadena’s voice wavered. She clutched her Fam kitten close, heedless of its little claws snagging the expensive fabric of her gown.

  Ailim managed a smile for her and softened her tones. “I thank you for your concern, Cuz.”

  “Yes,” shrilled Cona. “Very afraid.” She patted a hand over her heart as if she still suffered from palpitations.

  Ailim leveled a glance at Cona. “Were you? And here I thought that you and I are linked on a health-knowing level so you would know whether I was ill or well.”

  “I felt danger, then hurt, then unconsciousness. Then NOTHING.” Cona lifted her hand to her head and swooned toward Donax Reed. He scooped her into his arms and onto a plush sofa.

  Being with Ruis had blanked the minor connection with Cona, and Ailim was glad. Her wondrous moments with Ruis were hers alone, private and not to be shared with anyone.

  “As you can all see, I am well.” Ailim sent a cold glance around the circle. “I went after my Fam, but didn’t find her. I’ve heard that Primrose is with the Hollys, and I’ll pick her up tomorrow. Primrose wasn’t in my care and got lost. I trust that you understand better care from all of you is necessary in providing for the GreatHouse Fam.”

  “Of course, of course,” G’Uncle Ab said.

  Ailim turned on her heel.

  “You listen to me, Ailim—” Menzie said. She stopped as Ailim walked to a small, ancient door set in a dim corner. “Where are you going?”

  Ailim looked at her in disbelief. They all knew the door led to the sacred HouseHeart. Ailim needed refuge, sanctuary, time to sort out her thoughts, and the HouseHeart would give her that.

  Menzie actually stepped back at Ailim’s gaze. She waited, unyielding, until her Family filed from the GreatHall. Then she opened the door with a spell, summoned a lightball, closed the door and locked it with a powerful chant. She wended her way deep into the bowels of the earth below her home.

  The last passage had the curved walls of a tube, and Ailim’s footsteps echoed uncannily on material never forged on Celta. She hurried through the cylinder, SilverFir’s deepest secret—their HouseHeart was connected to the Residence by an ancient Earth tunnel through the lake.

  She took a moment to scan the walls for cracks. Tiny threads laced the end of the tube. Much of her personal energy and the energy of the Residence was used to keep the passage stable. Other Noble households could run their entire Residences for a year on the energy the SilverFirs used just to maintain the corridor. So other common spells had to be purchased at a high rate.

  Ailim sighed. The only way she could reveal this to Donax Reed so he could work with good figures was to get his consent to a selective “forget” spell. Then he’d know that a certain amount of personal and household Flair must be allocated to a powerful spell, but not exactly what the spell was. She hoped to wait until his own goals aligned with the SilverFirs and not the Reeds—or his uncle, Bucus Elder.

  At the end of the tunnel, beyond several illusions, she faced the huge stone door of the HouseHeart. Again she breathed deeply, preparing herself. She had only visited this place once since becoming D’SilverFir, to affirm to the Residence that she was now head of the household and to set her own personal lockwords and preferences. Earlier it had been too difficult to admit that she now led the Family, not her mother or MotherSire. At the moment the HouseHeart offered blessed peace from the rest of her live-in Family.

  The stone door was different from the redstone of the castle, made of black and white marble—Earth marble—set in an intricate pattern. She touched a black square and the door opened with a soughing. Warm air issued from the chamber, bathing Ailim in the sharp scent of pine with a dark underlying note of resinous amber.

  Hesitantly she slipped inside. The door shut behind her. Before she stepped from the square threshold, she disrobed. A gentle breeze caressed her, a welcoming touch from all the shades of her ancestors. The HouseHeart beat in a rhythm Ailim had felt since before she was born.

  “Blessed be,” she said.

  “Blessed be to us all, and to you D’SilverFir,” replied the rich tones of the HouseVoice, the voice of a FatherSire generations gone. Like all the D’SilverFir Heirs and the heads of households, he had been called Ailim.

  “Thank you,” Ailim said, and the HouseVoice subsided until she wished to address it again.

  She looked around the HouseHeart, her glance touching the four elements: the everlasting fire in a small sconce; the purifying waterfall that rushed in from the lake; the thick, soft moss that comprised the floor; and up to the wind chimes that tinkled before the main air vent.

  One by one, Ailim let her inner shields down, until she was only aware of the life pulses of her Family and the ancient beat of the Residence itself. Thoughts and feelings were distant, though not as wonderfully absent as they had been with Ruis Elder.

  Heartache twisted inside her. How could she be so attracted to the man after so short a time in his company? He had placed his own life in jeopardy to rescue her. He had saved her life. He had cared enough to do that. She owed him gratitude and more.

  Here, at the core of her Family Residence, she could concede that she’d found being with him exciting and touching. But there were many facts to consider.

  He was kind to his Fam and to herself. He was handsome, and charming, and virile, and just thinking of him caused her blood to simmer through her veins. The time she spent with him, not being able to feel anyone’s thoughts, yet able to explore her physical senses, was completely relaxing, energizing, and fascinating. Better than even being here, in the HouseHeart. He treated her with such gentleness and respect—her, Ailim SilverFir, not thinking of her only as a judge or a telempath or a GrandLady, but as the individual she was.

  Ailim sensed a deep anger in Ruis. She shivered. And he was banished from Druida. She’d sworn to uphold the laws o
f Celta, and if she told of his presence, when he was caught, he would die. But if she didn’t tell of his presence in Druida and this was later discovered, the FirstFamilies would be enraged. She’d be disgraced and her career as a Judge ended. But worse, the FirstFamilies Council would cancel the loan to D’SilverFir and take the Residence estate. The Family Ailim was fighting so hard to bind together would be shattered.

  She moaned.

  She yearned to spend time with Ruis, unburdened by any press of emotions and thoughts of others, not only to explore her physical senses, but to be completely free in her own emotions, knowing that whatever she felt was true and real and came solely from her.

  A thin gold chain caught her eyes, and she glanced up to where it fastened to the ceiling. The chain was the original and best D’SilverFir divination device—a pendulum. Her breath stopped. Her knees gave out and she plopped onto the moss. She sat and looked at the chain with unfocused eyes, wondering if she had the courage to see what it would prophesize and whether she had the energy to use it.

  Finally she crawled over to the end which suspended a “bob” made of obsidian about twenty centimeters from the floor. Embedded in the floor was a large square piece of cream-colored eternastone with the words “Ready, Yes, No,” and ancient signs to be used for interpretation of the prophecy, and letters. Circling around the square were the eight different colored sliding Subject Question Wheels.

  The atmosphere of the HouseHeart throbbed. The chimes tinkled in a sudden gust of air, the water tumbled with an increased flow, the scent of rich moss saturated the air. Small tremors spread from inside her, and Ailim knew she’d utilize the divination device. A true moment of foreseeing enveloped her.

  She stood and went to the altar, opening the small door with a mighty Word. She got the large silver band and held it between her palms—the programming ring for the D’SilverFir Pendulum, set to her own vibrations. After licking her dried lips, she murmured a chant to set word/synapses into the ring. It updated the connection between her conscious mind and her unconscious.

  When she returned to the chain and the stone, she slipped the thin band in to frame the Question Wheels. With a metallic snick, the divination device was ready.

  The outermost royal blue Wheel showed the Celtan year. Automatically Ailim adjusted the wheel so it aligned with the greeniron pointer. Today was in the middle of the month of Ivy, a few days before Mabon, the Autumnal Equinox. The Wheel was old enough to call the first day of the New Year, Samhain, by its ancient Earth name of November 1.

  She firmed her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering and folded her hands over the chain and the bob stone. Muttering a brief prayer, she held her breath until the chain vibrated between her hands, and the Divination Spell hummed around her.

  Her fingers brushed the light-blue Family Wheel, to also align it with the Pointer. The chain slowly stopped and changed direction to swing over the “Ready” indicator.

  She breathed deeply and cleared her mind. “I think I will see Ruis Elder again,” she whispered, stating what she wanted, and what she thought he wanted also, aloud, safely here where all the secrets were kept. “Can I trust any of the Councils to give him justice?” It ached in her, this conflict. Her true belief in the rightness of Celtan law versus her intuition that Ruis would never be judged fairly. No one could see past what he was to understand who he was.

  The chain started swinging slowly.

  Ailim shivered, knowing her subconscious was connected with the ALL that contained every answer. Her brain formed the question, but the ALL funneled through her to guide the minute energy in her hands into small motions that directed the chain.

  The bob settled into a pattern over the “No.”

  Ailim shuddered. “What should I do regarding Ruis Elder?” The words tumbled from her lips without thought.

  The pendulum swung long and energetically over a symbol. “Two paths,” murmured Ailim.

  “An irrevocable decision must be made,” said the HouseHeart.

  Tremors started deep inside Ailim. “Show me the first path,” she rapped out.

  The pendulum swung over the diamond-shape. Duty. Duty was diamond hard. She knew what that meant. She bit her lip. The chain jerked into a different motion and began tapping against a small metal pin Ailim hadn’t noticed before. Ping. Ping. Ping. Then harder. Ping-ping-ping-ping-ping-ping. Her eyes widened.

  “Danger to the family and the House lies down this path.” The HouseHeart intoned, “Do you hear, Ailim D’SilverFir?”

  “Yes.” She clenched her hands.

  “The second path,” she whispered.

  The bob slowed, then changed direction again, until it slowly swung over the heart-shape.

  “What?” she asked, surprised.

  The obsidian pendulum-bob circled the letters, spelling: “Follow your heart.”

  The chain picked up speed and changed angles. Ping-ping-ping.

  “Danger to you and the House lies down this path,” the HouseHeart intoned.

  Ailim clutched her head, trying to formulate the right question. “What is the best possible outcome!”

  The stone began to glow with dark inner fire, sparking black. Then the pendulum swung over the “I” ancient Celtic ogham letter, which meant Ioho, Yew, representing rebirth.

  “Great Changes for the Family,” the HouseVoice said.

  The altar fire popped. The chain leapt in her palm. Ailim snatched at the stone, but the black bob hit the outer edge of the Question Wheels with a clack and rolled. It paused and wobbled on the rose colored Heart Question wheel, then continued to the eternastone, stopping on “Yes.”

  “A matter of the heart will bring great changes to the Family,” HouseVoice said.

  “Great changes for the Family,” Ailim said. That usually meant transitions—a completely new direction, or a new head of household. With all the danger surrounding both decisions could it mean absolute destruction?

  Follow your heart.

  Her body wanted Ruis. She ached for him.

  But what did her heart want?

  Ruis found himself whistling as he opened the door to his quarters. His spirits had revived. He would not think of the future—GrandLady Ailim D’SilverFir could never be his in the long run. So he would concentrate on the now, when he could be in her life.

  And what a lady. She looked like icefroth—too cool and reasoned to be passionate. A lady who would always put duty first. Yet she tasted of dark, rich sweet cream—and she trembled with passion in his arms.

  He shucked the light-bending cloak and carefully examined it for tears. It was solid, so he set it in the cleaning closet.

  “Samba,” he called. No answer. His Fam cat was nowhere to be seen though she’d preceded him to the Ship. He believed she sometimes enjoyed being in the great artifact alone, and being the Queen of All She Surveyed. He felt sure her curious nature had lured her into surveying much more of the Ship than he.

  “Captain?” the Ship questioned.

  “Yes?”

  “Your energy levels are slightly high, the innate field that surrounds you has expanded to a meter and a half from your skin—”

  Ruis flung up a hand. “What field are you talking about?” The Ship replied in its usual courteous tones. “We have perceived that you have a personal energy field. This is not the same sort of psi manifestation that others who visit Us in our Museum Rooms evidence. We understand that the other natives vary from Our colonists by the encouragement and mutation of psi powers. This is not the case with you.”

  “I know,” Ruis said with a clenched jaw. He took off his clothes. When he found the softleaf Ailim had used, he sniffed at it, smiling. It held her scent. His body tightened with desire. He set the cloth aside, and tried not to be distracted. “You mentioned an energy field?”

  “Indeed. We have measured it to be a standard sixty centimeters surrounding you. It moves as you walk. It affects Celtan made energy-objects and Celtan psi powers, and the effect is exponentially c
umulative. That is, the longer you are stationary, the larger the area your forcefield affects and the stronger it grows—”

  “I know this.”

  “Your field promotes more efficient connections in Our trons and so causes smoother transitions in the workings of Our mechanical parts. In five Celtan decades all Our levels will be affected.”

  “Oh,” Ruis said blankly.

  “We perceive that you have minor scrapes and bruises. This is new to Us. . . .” There came a pause that for any other being, Ruis would have called embarrassment. “We regret to say that We have requested, and received, orders from you in general housekeeping and processing Our engineering sectors and that We have proceeded to stock and repair these areas. However, We have not yet recommissioned the sick bay or the small emergency medbeds in the escape pods for the crew.”

  Ruis blinked. “Ah—”

  “But We will make that Our highest priority.”

  “Be sure to include supplies and information for Samba.”

  “Of course. Though sick bay is not functional, perhaps in the interim, you could visit the herbal gardens in the Greensward and the stillroom you set up.”

  “Good idea.”

  The Greensward held a fascination for both Ruis and Samba, with its tangled Earth plants, insects, small animals, and even birds. The horticultural expanse comprised fully a third of the Ship, a huge natural area designed for the mental health of the crew, the production of necessary gasses and nutrients, and the genetic stock of Earth plants to be used by the colonists.

  Ruis had a direct private portal from his quarters. “Do you sense my Fam?” He’d grown used to having a companion to share things with. He’d shared much with Ailim this night and wanted to share more, much more.

  Having his Fam had spoiled him for a solitary existence. Being alone no longer appealed. He realized that he’d never been alone by choice. His isolation had been forced upon him, as most everything else in his life. Now he had command of the Ship, that was power. He had its respect, and status as its Captain, but he began to feel that without others, living would be just as sterile and intolerable as before.