Heart Quest (15 page)

He addressed the dark one. “Merry meet. I'm Ilex Winterberry and I'd like to speak to GreatMistrys Grove about her studies.”

She said nothing, but sent him a shy smile. The woman beside her laughed and tapped the table with pretty fingernails. “That would be me, GrandSir Winterberry.”

Since she seemed pleased instead of insulted at his mistake, Ilex allowed his surprise to show.

The band's music increased a notch, led by a silver flute. Sedwy leaned forward, and Ilex appreciated the view of ripe breasts. “I don't think this is the time to speak of ritual magic,” she said in a raised voice, gesturing to a chair near her.

He sat and hitched it closer. “You're right. May I call on you tomorrow morning?”

Her teeth gleamed white in a wicked smile. “I would be honored.”

“May I buy you and your friend a drink?”

“Yes indeed.” She tossed her head in the direction of the other woman, who smiled slightly. “My friend is Zinga Turmeric.”

“Merry meet,” Zinga said, her voice low and pleasant.

Sedwy gave him a sly glance. “I'll have black frankincense wine. Appropriate, don't you think?”

 

T
he women were flirting with Ilex. Trif was so aggra
vated she nearly steamed—her flute did, as she gathered Flair from the mass of dancers, transformed it into loud, fast music. The band had circled around her, letting her lead.

Ilex and the women talked and the pretty one sparkled at Ilex. The other sent him long glances from under lowered lashes, seeming to draw him with her beauty and graceful gestures. Both were Flaired, Noble, older. Fashionable, rich, sophisticated. They made Trif feel like a little girl and sweaty Commoner.

She began toning down her music, noticing the louder the band played, the more Ilex bent his head to speak with them. He ordered drinks and the waiter fulfilled his request quickly, even more quickly than others, more obviously Noble. But command sat on Ilex's shoulders.

Trif didn't like the women. If they were friends of Cyperus and Piana, they couldn't be good.

She liked them even less when they made Ilex laugh! Now his body had relaxed in his chair. The bit of profile she could see showed crinkles around his eyes where he was smiling. She had to do something.

A flash of memory came. Ilex's favorite tune. She knew when doors opened to listen to her play at MidClass Lodge—and knew who liked what. Meeting RedMelon's eyes, she quieted her flute and let him finish the melody with his whistle. As soon as he was done, she asked. “Do you all play any of D'Holly's compositions?”

The fiddler grinned. “We do ‘Tinne's Traipsing.' And since the man himself is in the audience….” He gestured to where Tinne sat. “It would be fun.”

The rest of the band hooted. The tune was very old, written by Tinne's mother when Tinne was two. Fast and complicated, and only the best dancers could keep up.

“Right then,” said the fiddler. “Ready?”

“On three,” agreed RedMelon.

At the opening notes, Tinne winced and the crowd roared, most standing, then flooding onto the huge dance floor. The lively lady grabbed Ilex's hand and pulled him up and into the dance. His feet were nimble and he moved with confident ease, but the lady faltered and her breasts heaved as she laughed and fanned herself with her hand, then led him back to the table.

And Ilex looked at Trif, toe tapping. She got the idea that he somehow knew that she'd engineered the situation. She used the tune to improvise, and let her notes soar above and twine between the melody. Ilex's lids lowered as he just appreciated the music.

The bright aura of T'Willow's HeartGift sparked. Flair soaked into Trif, into her flute. She wondered if she could add a little spell to T'Willow's pouch. Something that might rush it to the right woman.

Measuring the beat, she gathered her own Flair, formed the spelltune, sent it along with all her will.

Feet dance.

Ladies prance.

Men bow.

And vow.

Love forever.

Forsaking never.

T'Willow's gift

Needs a lift.

To HeartMate right.

Tonight! Tonight!

She saw a man drop the grubby pouch in his pocket and stroll out of the Maypole. The gift was now out circulating in the world. Who would it bring T'Willow? Had she helped the spell at all? She certainly felt aglow—with Flair and perspiration.

Then the tune was over.

 

F
inally having himself well in hand and braced for the
emotions that would inundate him from a meeting with Trif, Ilex stood and bowed over the ladies' hands in turn. Raising his voice, he said, “I thank you.”

Sedwy's eyes twinkled at him. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at my mother's Residence….”

The serene beauty said nothing, but inclined her head. “A pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you in the future.”

He nodded to Zinga. “Perhaps.”

Then he wound his way to Trif's table, and Tinne stopped playing with Greyku and greeted him.

“Where's Genista?” asked Ilex.

Tinne waved to the dance floor. A huge circle dance had started, which would break into two circles, then become smaller and smaller, until only couples rounded the floor in pinwheels. Ilex caught sight of Genista, laughing. “She looks happy.”

“She is, for now,” Tinne said in a repressive tone, and Ilex left the topic alone.

Without looking at Trif, Ilex made a show of taking the round gold box from his pocket and placing it on the table, where Greyku immediately pounced on it, rolled onto her side, and clutched it to her with her forepaws.
Something good inside!
she purred.
Smells-tastes-feels like FamWoman.

Tinne gave a low whistle. “Nice box. Family heirloom. What's in it?”

As an answer, Ilex reached under Tinne's collar and flicked out the amulet he wore, also made by T'Ash, an Earth hematite.

“Oh.” Tinne frowned. “For Trif? I got mine because the Hollys were dueling and I was missing a kidney. The Clovers are solid, upstanding middle-class people. They don't duel. So why the amulet?”

Leaning down to speak in his ear, Ilex said, “Trif Clover is single, has a Fam, and her Flair is unstable.” He straightened.

Tinne's eyes had widened. “She's not of the Nobility as the others were.”

“I'd rather not take a chance.”

“I don't blame you.”

Genista joined them. She tickled Greyku's stomach and touched the box.

Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!
Greyku sent telepathically, and everyone around them laughed, looking at the kitten curled around her prize.

“I'm afraid not, Greyku.” Ilex brushed a thumb over her head.

Mine!

“It's Trif 's.”

“Not the box,” Trif said on a ragged breath.

Ilex had known when she'd stopped playing, of course, but hadn't looked up. He didn't need to. With every step closer, he felt the link between them thicken as the distance between them diminished. The bond that he hadn't wanted to make, but that grew every time they spent time together, and had doubled during their brief kiss.

Trif laid her silver flute on the table and scooped up the kitten, turning her so their eyes locked. “The box is not yours. Not mine either. It belongs to…someone.”

“D'Winterberry,” Tinne said helpfully, picking up the box and handing it to Ilex.

He really didn't want to touch it since the necklace inside still radiated of Trif. But he took it and flipped the latch open with his thumbnail, revealing the gold chain necklace. The pink calcite glowed, along with a tiny polished white bead of stone from MidClass HealingHall. The necklace rested on a bed of plush dark green velvet. “Trif 's retrieval amulet,” he said.

“Ooooh!” Trif placed Greyku on her shoulder. “Stay!” she said to the kitten, and since the word was a spell too, Greyku grumbled but subsided. “How beautiful!”

“T'Ash does fabulous work,” Genista said with a sigh.

Tinne took his wife's hand. “Does that mean I need to buy you another trinket?”

She looked at him from under lowered lashes. “Only if you want to. But you're always well rewarded when I get something from T'Ash, aren't you?” Her purr was almost as good as a cat's.

Chuckling, Tinne squeezed her hand, then let it go.

“Put it on!” said Genista.

Trif touched the chain, then uncurled it from its nest and brought it over her head to dangle between her breasts, a shining pink stone against filmy chiff. Ilex glanced away, then flinched when her fingers covered his, sending sexual energy through every nerve as she offered the box. “It's a beautiful case.”

He wanted to give it to her. Knew it was too valuable and special a gift to offer publicly without comment, so he pocketed it. Damned if he'd give it back to his mother. He had no right to visit the Winterberry HouseHeart without permission, so he couldn't return it there. He'd send it to his brother.

Genista's brows knit. “It's a retrieval amulet?” She glanced at Trif.

Trif sighed, fingering the stone. “Yes, I promised to wear it when…uh…when I went out by myself.”

“Good idea.” Genista nodded. “So, does it work?”

Dropping the necklace she'd been studying, Trif said, “I don't know.”

“T'Ash made the amulet, so that would be solid. Who did the spell? D'Alder?”

“D'Winterberry,” Ilex said.

“That unreliable old hag?” Genista said, shot a look at Ilex, and winced. “Sorry.” She lifted her chin. “But the amulet should be tested.”

Trif pulled a bag from under the table, encased her flute in a shieldspell, and put it inside. She straightened to her full height. “I agree. We should test the amulet. Greyku, you should—”

I will go with you.

“Ha! Really—” Trif winced as Greyku curled her claws into her dress.

Tinne folded his arms. “Don't look at me to hit her.”

“Of course not,” Genista said. She tipped her head toward Ilex.

He shook his head. “Not me.”

Genista rolled her eyes and sent a grimace to Trif. “You men—” She swung a fist at Trif 's jaw, taking her by surprise. The blow connected audibly.

Trif crumpled.

Then vanished.

G
enista dusted her hands and looked at Tinne, whose
mouth had fallen open in shock. “It had to be done,” she said.

“I didn't think—” Tinne began.

“I've lived in Holly Residence for two years and a season, Tinne. During that amount of time, even
I
learned a thing or two about fighting.”

“You certainly did,” Ilex said, sending a telepathic probe down his link with Trif. She was already being revived by a Healer.

“Where do you think she went?” asked Genista.

“The amulet is bespelled to take her to Intake at MidClass HealingHall first, then any other close HealingHall.” He knew she was at MidClass HealingHall through their bond.

“Let's find out,” Genista said cheerfully. She walked over to the small teleportation pad, waited until some Noble newcomers departed, and flicked the safety light off. The three of them stepped onto the pad and Genista held out her hands. “I don't 'port well, so why don't you take us, Tinne?”

“One, Genista. Two, Tinne Holly.
Three!
” Tinne whisked them away and they arrived at MidClass HealingHall Intake.

“I've never been here,” Genista said, looking around at the pale pink walls and pastel art. She shrugged. “Not much to see. Bland decorating.”

“Greetyou,” Trif said, rubbing her jaw as if in remembered pain.

Greyku mewed a greeting. Then Trif smiled at a hovering FourthLevel Healer. “As I said before, you can charge Genista Holly for the fee.”

Genista looked surprised. Tinne laughed.

Trif walked up to Ilex and linked her arm in his. “Now, I will 'port us home to MidClass Lodge.”

“Trif—”

Her eyes flashed up at him. “Ilex. I have something to prove to myself and
you.
I won't fail this time.”

Behind the determination, he saw just the hint of anxiety, and something more—hurt, as if his abrupt departure that morning had injured her feelings. Her lips trembled, then firmed. “You promised to teach me teleporting. And we're not done yet.”

I will help,
Greyku said.

He found his hand grasping hers, and the bond between them grew from thread to braid. “Very well.” In the back of his mind, he'd had strategies to implement to mask himself from her if she got too close to finding him. She was
far
too close.

They crossed to an area designated for teleportation. Trif turned off the light and they stepped inside black lines. Before he could say anything, she sent an image to him of MidClass Lodge—with additional senses, the faint odor of dinners that drifted through the halls the quiet of the shadowy lobby at this time of night.

“One, silver flute. Two, Greyku kit.
Three.
”

Her Flair took them fast and strong and correctly. They materialized on the landing pad of MidClass Lodge Lobby.

Trif smiled triumphantly. “I did it!”

I helped,
Greyku added, though she hadn't.

Ilex could do no less than acknowledge her feat. “Well done.”

She looked away. “The program says that for some people there is one last fumble just before the teleportation skill is learned.”

“You're right. I'd forgotten.”

She brushed his mouth with hers, and once again fire flooded his veins. He fisted his hands and hid them from her.

“Thank you, Ilex. I'm glad we're friends again.”

She walked down the hall, her hips swaying under the fluttery dress.

The kiss must have meant nothing to her. Just as well.

Still, Ilex was glad he didn't have to pass her room to reach his own.

 

T
he next morning, Ilex stared at the recording spheres of
Trif 's music on his home desk. There were more than twenty. He had no idea he'd made so many. He'd promised Tinne Holly a few to give to his mother, D'Holly, the composer who might be interested in teaching Trif. Part of Ilex's plan to distract Trif from her questing.

So he sorted his spheres, and realized he didn't want to give up a one. Muttering under his breath, he chose the three he liked the least—more renderings of Earthen tunes than Trif 's own—and sent them to the T'Holly collection box.

Then he walked into the hallway and used all his disguising spells on his apartment door. It
would
open to Trif 's charmkey if she tried, but he hoped that his threshold resonated of impressions of others he'd layered on it, as well as an avoid spell. In the past, he'd been grateful that his space had been closer to the lobby than Trif 's and he wouldn't have to pass her apartment door all the time. Now he wondered at that strategy.

His wrist timer vibrated, notifying him of his imminent appointment with Sedwy Grove. Vertic trotted up. Ilex had never actually seen the fox teleport, but there was no way his Fam could be in some places unless he used Flair. Maybe he walked through walls—a talent no one had ever mastered. Ilex frowned, making a note to ask a Healer about how a heart could be removed from a body with no trace…lifted through chest walls? The thought made him shudder.

“Greetyou, Vertic.”

I wish to accompany you.

“Oh?”

Last night I saw this woman you visit. She had an interesting smell.

Ilex raised his brows. “What sort of interesting smell?”

She walked through grass full of insects and mice and voles.

“Ah.”

Where she lives would be an excellent hunting ground for my kind.

“I see.” He held out his arms and Vertic sprang into them. Vertic's fur wasn't nearly as soft as little Greyku's, but his presence was much more comforting to Ilex than the kitten's. He and his Fam understood and respected each other—something he wasn't sure was possible with a small, vain, female kitten.

“Since you're with me, let's 'port from the apartment.” With a Word, Ilex opened the much-bespelled door, entered, and kicked it closed. He sent a mental questing to D'Grove's estate and found it secured against teleporting inside, with only a spot by the front gates accessible. “Ready?” he asked Vertic.

Yes
. Vertic hummed a little in his throat.
It is always a pleasure traveling with you.

“I'll return the compliment.” His Fam felt warm and vital in his arms.

A moment later, he was addressing the scrystone outside D'Grove's greeniron gates, and Vertic had melted between the bars and into the estate, already lost to view, even in the bright sunlit grassyard. Ilex tapped the scry a second time, deepened his voice, and added an authoritative note. “Guardsman Ilex Winterberry to see GentleMistrys Sedwy Grove.”

The scry projected a holo inside its crystal planes, and cool blue eyes in a haughty face studied him. “I believe GreatMistrys Sedwy is under the impression that this meeting is a social appointment.” The butler enunciated each word precisely. “By T'Winterberry, or WinterberryHeir. She wasn't sure of your exact title.”

Or lack thereof. “You know me,” Ilex said steadily. “I consulted with D'Grove fairly often when she was Captain of the FirstFamilies Council.”

The butler's nose lifted. “You may teleport to the atrium of the round tower. No one is there at this time.”

“My thanks.” Once more, he glanced around for a hint of red fur or plush tail. Nothing. Vertic was on his own business.

The butler met him in the round tower's small entryway. “Lady Sedwy is in the top dormer room. I'll lead you.”

Ilex had never been in that room, but was sure the man was taking him there to keep an eye on him instead of showing him the way. They wound up two flights of stairs spiraling around the tower wall. When they came to a large, old oak door with leather straps, the butler rapped sharply, then opened the door and strode in. Ilex followed.

It was a small room, tucked under the conical roof of the tower, lit by two small dormer windows opposite each other. The furnishings were cherished antiques, with a few scars that showed family living—the chairs were of deep brown wood and pale green velvet; the carpet was thickly woven with a background of beige to a deep green grove of leafy trees. Sedwy Grove sat on a twoseat.

“Guardsman Black Ilex Winterberry,” pronounced the butler. Then he withdrew, more rapidly than Ilex expected.

“A guardsman, how interesting,” she said, and her considering gaze made Ilex think that this interview could tip one of two ways, chilly and polite and uninformative, or flirtatious and social and very informative.

He swept a flourishing bow and caught her lips twitching. “I'm afraid the music at the Maypole last night wasn't conducive to good conversation.” With as much grace as he could muster, he walked to her and waited for her to offer her hand. When she did, he took it, pressed her fingers and lightly brushed his lips across the back, then released it with a lingering squeeze.

Her flirtatious smile was back. Since she seemed to expect it, Ilex took the seat next to her. “And last night I
had
asked Tinne Holly about you.” Ilex smiled and shook his head. “He said you were a scholar of the occult, and that piqued my interest. Hard to believe.”

She threw back her head and laughed, spread her arms wide. “You don't think of me as a scholar?”

He was a man, and appreciated her lush breasts and hips, and let her see his interest. “I am sure no man would look at you and think ‘scholar.'”

Eyes twinkling, she said, “Thank you.” She gestured to a nearby table. “Caff?”

“My mouth is watering.” He gazed at her.

Chuckling, she opened the cabinet, and Ilex realized it was a no-time storage. She pulled out a silver tray with caff pitcher and cups.

As they drank, they spoke of Druida, and Ilex scraped his memory for stories of the social scene of her class. It wasn't his class, but he was assigned to the FirstFamilies, so he tried to stay informed. Of course, the biggest news was the killing, but he couldn't bring that up without violating his orders from the FirstFamilies Council to keep the murders confidential.

After his last swallow of caff, he cast her a puzzled glance. “You really are a scholar.”

She smiled. “I really am.”

“And of the…occult.”

Placing her cup in the saucer, she leaned back and said, “Yes. The dark side of our religion has always drawn me. It's so forbidden.” She slanted him a look. “And being a guardsman, you wouldn't know much of it?”

“Not much. I attend ritual circles.” He gestured. “Healing circles, Sabbats. Full and New Moons celebrations. But those are all…open, sanctioned. And being a guardsman, I'm curious about everything.” He smiled slowly, wondering if she'd take the bait.

She leaned forward, face animated. “Yes. Every child is taken to Celtan rituals, taught our culture, but we don't talk about what could be done with Flair outside our ceremonies. Black magic.”

“Why?”

“Why don't we talk about it, or why participate in black magic?” She smiled. “As I said, it's forbidden. As for practicing black magic—inverting our psi power of Flair into a purely negative force—simply, Power.” She flicked her fingers. “The use of Flair always demands a price, physical or mental exhaustion, and from my experience it's difficult to form a great ritual with all minds in harmony for the same purpose.”

“Straif T'Blackthorn had a Residence Renewal ceremony last year.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “And how many favors and alliances did he have to promise?”

Ilex shrugged. “I don't know.”

“When it comes to doing something major, few agree on all the particulars…like cleaning up the slums Downwind. That's what we all think of rituals…for the common good of a Family or our society.”

Her smile turned a little cruel. “But with black magic, it calls to the basest emotions in all of us. We can agree that we want, oh, a boost in Flair, more energy, more vitality.”

“And…sacrifice?” asked Ilex.

“In our societal GreatRituals, we all sacrifice a bit of ourselves—our energy, our Flair, to power the changes we want. In black magic, it could be animal sacrifices.”

Or human. “The greater the sacrifice, the more the benefit.”

“Of course.”

So whatever the participants of this particular group were doing, they were worse than the triad gangs that had preyed Downwind.

She looked at him from under lowered eyelashes. “Sex would most certainly be a part of the rite.”