Heart Fate (6 page)

“Dunno.”

There was silence except for their breathing.

“Gettin' cold, snow's comin' t'day or t'morra.” There was more boot stomping. “My feet are cold. Nothin' but big plants here. Pro'bly got big thorns.”

Another snort from the first one. “You afraid'a that shadow beast they talking about?”

“Ain't no shadow beast, some big tomcat, mebbe. Don' believe nothin' 'bout no big beast at all.”

“Yeah. This trashy strip runs quite a way atween the wall and the backs'a those buildin's.”

“Mostly deserted, those buildin's. Don' know what might be livin' in or 'round 'em.”

Lahsin couldn't keep the spellshield up, it was slipping, but the door was shrouded by tall bushes and set deeply into the wall. She ran and fell into the dark corner of the door.

“That was def'nitely a sound,” one guard said loudly. “The beast?”

“Thought you said you didn't believe in the beast.”

“Changin' my mind. Should we 'vestigate?” He sounded nervous but determined.

“Yeah.”

Fumbling, Lahsin found the door handle and pressed the thumb latch. Nothing.
Oh, Lady and Lord, oh, please, please, please
, she prayed. Sensing the strong shields—more like force fields—set in the walls, she fiddled with them. She'd always been good with shields.
Lady and Lord, please, I need in
—

“Guess we better look down there, 'least 'til it narrows.”

“Them plants are too high, too wild.”

I need in now!
Tears streaked down her face. She breathed through her mouth.
Lady and Lord, in!

The door opened, and she plunged into a tangle of bushes. “What's that?”

“Nothin'. Nothin's here,” the second man said loudly.

Lahsin watched with wide eyes as the door swung silently shut. On the back was a plaque that caught the sun and read, “BalmHeal.” She slumped in relief.

There came thrashing beyond the door, the crackling of bush branches and swearing.

“You said the guards used to patrol in gliders?”

“On Earthan, yeah.”

“Guy at Northgate owes me. Might wangle the gate glider.”

“Yeah? Can't go no farther. Sure looks like a place where that shadow beast might lurk. Look, gotta rip in my coat sleeve. Nasty plants.”

“Yeah, you're a reg'lar sophisticated city boy.”

“Glider.”

“Sounds good.”

Lahsin ran down a twisting path, showing patches of stone underneath the overgrown ground cover, and through a couple of tall, mazelike hedgerows, in, in, in.

She stopped, panting, when the vista spread out before her.

The measure of a garden is its beauty in winter, and this one was glorious. Or had been glorious once upon a time. A pool of irregular curves lay before her, wide and long enough to swim in. Steam rose from it in fragrant drifts. It was bordered with crafted white marble. A couple of bays were obviously made for Healing specialities—a headrest of stone filigree, a round curve that looked like it had an underwater seat. Wooden benches were grouped in threes around the pool, some set in stone, some in the ground. An arbor and a small garden shed were near.

A whimper fell from her lips. Best of all was a deep curve of land jutting between two rounds of the pool. It was a mound of emerald green permamoss. Surely the last bit of green in all of Druida. Permamoss was used in bedsponges, and the soft springiness and the color called to her. She walked to the green, set her sack down, and stretched out. Yes. Perfect.

The humid warmth drifted over her from the pool. Mist covered her, enveloped her, wrapped her.

All was quiet. There was no sound except the natural movement of leaves, of water lapping at the sides of the pool. The moss beneath her smelled herbal and comforting and drained her lingering anxiety. Her bruises and aches eased.

She let the grayness of the mist thicken into sleep.

 
 
Tinne thought he'd lost a few pounds already, expending Flair,
running patterns between the tests to keep himself going.

Next his relationship with Genista would be examined. Since he'd requested two days of testing, the Healers had decided to change the order of the examinations. They probably knew he was trying to deny his failure in his marriage.

D'Sea and T'Heather had left. Saille T'Willow, the matchmaker, was conducting this test. Saille was nearer to Tinne's own age, no gray in his chestnut hair. He was new to his title, and understanding softened his blue eyes.

“I need to walk around,” Tinne said. He preferred to be moving between the actual tests. If he sat in the chair, he'd try to relax, then pain or anger would sweep him, and his body would prepare to defend him from threat.

All the threat—and blows—had been mental and emotional, and he wished he'd gone through a week of hard fighting with his G'Uncle Tab instead.

Saille T'Willow crossed to the desk where he'd placed a case upon his arrival. “Please feel free to walk around.”

The window had been lightened and revealed a smattering of large snowflakes drifting down. Tinne paced the room, loosening his muscles, did some stretches, and saw Saille eyeing him.

Saille murmured, “I need to sign up for exercise at the Green Knight.”

Considering him, Tinne said, “You look in good condition.”

“Thank you.” Saille hesitated. “I have already formally allied with the T'Holly Family—with your father and brother. I would ally with you, too.”

This took Tinne by surprise. He was a SecondSon, his descendants—his mind grappled at the thought of having no descendants, then gave up. “My Family is close. Alliance with them is alliance with me.”

“Nevertheless, I would ally with you and your G'Uncle Tab.” Saille sat behind the small desk and unrolled a thin, flexible pad of compressed permamoss in a dark, forest green color. He opened the velvet bag and poured out some runes made of pottery fired a deep green with the incised symbols in real gold.

They were different than most runes Tinne had seen. Instead of individual glyphs they had single and double lines, forks, and branches, as if they'd connect into patterns.

“Pull up a seat,” Saille said.

Relief washed through Tinne. He found a regular chair and sat.

Saille gathered the runes and held them in his hands. “We ask the blessings of the Lady and Lord in this consultation. May all that is revealed here be for the greatest good of Tinne Holly and Saille Willow.” Glancing at Tinne, he continued. “Hold your hands over the pad on the desk, then I want you to find your center.”

Tinne rubbed his hands to hide the fine trembling of his fingers. Saille dropped the runes into Tinne's cupped hands.

The pieces of pottery tingled, but Tinne used that to take him to a place deep within himself. The still place, his center.

“When you are ready, we will proceed.” Saille's voice was low and soothing.

Tinne closed his eyes and cleared his mind, imagined the pale green light of a forest morning, his favorite image based on a spot at Tab's small country estate. He welcomed the lack of thought and emotion, sank deeper into the serene peace. But he couldn't quite let himself escape. Someone else was near. Someone who wanted something from him, a link to the outer world with all its heavy burdens. A word escaped his lips, “Ready.”

“Think of your wife, Genista, and your marriage.”

Tinne's fingers spasmed over the runes, his hands cracked open, the pottery clattered to the pad.

He opened his eyelids. Even to him the pattern looked ugly and jagged and was definitely in two different parts that didn't seem like they could ever align.

A jolt of pain shot through him as he considered the runes more closely. The runes appeared as if there had once been a pattern, bold and vibrant, and the very skewing of it hurt his heart. He studied Saille's face instead and found it expressionless, but his mouth had thinned.

Tinne's insides clenched. His back had tensed, he sat straight and focused on steadying his hands. Saille picked up the runes, his breath expelled, his fingers trembled. The man curved his hands over his prized tool—surely something he'd crafted himself—and chanted several couplets, then scowled. Apparently he didn't feel that was sufficient to cleanse the runes—was the energy so negative? Tinne winced, breathed deeply, and shoved the edges of depression away.

Saille opened his box, sprinkled herbal water on the runes, and replaced them. He took another small embroidered bag and tipped it, streaming runes Tinne knew, with proper symbols of gold and backs of deep metallic red. Again Saille blessed them, then gave a halfhearted smile. “Ready?”

Again Tinne found his center. He lingered a while in the pale green, moved even deeper to where the glade was dappled with sun and the leaves rustled a little, changing the light. Finally he said, “Ready.”

“Think of sex.”

Again his hands clamped and broke apart, the runes hit the pad, this time accompanied by a guttural sound Tinne wished he could call back. Opening his eyes, he saw a pile of red-backed runes, no glyphs showing. Precariously atop the pile was one rune gleaming with a gold sigil that Tinne knew. “I'm not impotent!” He shoved from the chair, turned his back on Saille, but knew his red neck would show his humiliation.

“There are other meanings to the rune,” Saille said in his professional voice. Tinne heard the clicking of the runes, then muffled sounds as they went into the velvet pouch. Thank the Lord and Lady that was done! “I would say that you have suppressed sex and are frustrated.”

Because it was the truth, Tinne said nothing.

“There are three more questions we could ask, but I don't think they are necessary, do you?”

“Anything to get this over with,” Tinne muttered.

“Please, sit.”

Before he turned, he surreptitiously wiped his forehead with his arm, letting the sleeve absorb dampness. Then moved to the edge of the chair.

“The next part of the examination will test your sexuality. I've conducted many HeartMate and wife findings, so anything you might experience I've seen before.”

“You mean orgasm.”

Four

“
That's right, orgasm.” Saille smiled, and Tinne didn't trust it.
The smile was more charming than his Mamá's or brother's when they were being devious.

Tinne
hated
these tests, and to be told that the next one might induce a sexual release just so he could be studied shivered his bones. His heart was simply torn. He wanted Genista and his marriage— but he wanted them the way they were in the past, before the loss of the baby, and that simply would not happen. That life was gone forever, and the pain of it lingered.

But to divorce—that would smear his and the Family's reputation for generations in many ways—from losing clients at The Green Knight to having other Families preferring not to marry into the Holly Family.

But to insist Genista remain married to him and bound to his Family when she didn't want to—no. Not an honorable choice.

All he knew, now, was that he wanted these tests
over
.

Tinne smiled back, a ferocious smile, mocking the insincere one Saille had given him.

Saille shook his head. “Very well, you are not pleased. I can construct the next examination to take place privately.”

Heat rose to Tinne's face. “Thank you.” His nerves twanged, and he banished thought and controlled the fear the best way he knew how, executing the last, most difficult fighting pattern. When he'd finished and was breathing hard, Saille walked in front of him and bowed; as he would after sparring, Tinne bowed back.

Then Saille gestured to the comfortchair, which was tilted back and hovering two feet above the ground. Tinne winced but climbed back into it. He hated it more than the starship lifepod, and that had been the worst experience of his life.

Until Genista had come into his rooms this morning.

The windows darkened and the light dimmed more than it did when the Healers did their tests.

“Just relax,” Saille said.

“I've heard that too often this morning.”

“I'm sure. Could you hold this please?” Saille handed Tinne a memorysphere, empty and ready to record. Bad enough that he was being tested, but to have his emotions recorded was horrible.

“I'll be writing my report immediately after we're done,” Saille said. “The memorysphere will be destroyed in two septhours, maximum.”

“Promise?” Tinne asked thickly. The orb was throbbing under his fingers, a drum rhythm he often played, sending him again to that still center of himself.

“I promise,” Saille said. “Close your eyes and center yourself.”

Tinne did. This time he went deep. To the forest at midday, light and shadow dancing on an emerald bed of permamoss where he lay, watching the leaves, the peeks of deep blue sky. Everything was wonderful here. A sigh escaped him.

Saille's voice slipped into Tinne's world, but didn't disrupt it. “I want you to think of love. More, I want you to know love, experience it.”

Tinne distantly heard a door close.

Think of love.
The words dropped like floating leaves in a breeze upon Tinne. The air of the summer's day enveloped him.

Love. His mother was the first scene, her cradling him as a child, which segued into scene after scene of his boyhood. More of her came, the scent of her, his love for her that was returned. His father joined her.

His father—images, feelings, of just his father and him in the fighting salons. His respect and love for his father.