Heart Fortune (Celta) (13 page)

“A lot of bad luck going around the camp,” Jace said tightly. “And most of it man-made bad luck aimed at me.”

“Well, we don’t want it smeared on us!” Funa sniffed.

Jace’s jaw hurt from his gritted teeth.

Sanicle lifted and dropped his shoulders. “Even though you spent time in the tent with the sexy librarian who has FirstFamily friends and the owners’ kid, that doesn’t count for much.” Sanicle’s gaze went past Jace. “And there the new pretty lady is.” He gave a hum of approval. “All that prissy manner bottled up under a redhead. Gotta be interesting.”

A quick spear of jealousy stabbed through Jace. He knew for a fact that when Glyssa dropped the prissy manner in bed, she was all fire.

“Think I might try
my
luck with her,” Sanicle said.

Funa dropped her arm from the man’s waist and bumped him off balance with her hip. “I’m right here.”

He glanced at her. “We don’t have an exclusive arrangement.”

Anger came to Funa’s eyes and she simmered in it.

“Move, Bayrum,” Sanicle said. “Leaving now.”

Funa glared at him, then slanted a glare at Jace. “He’s right about the luck thing. I don’t want your bad luck rubbing onto me.”

Jace just lifted a brow. Then he nodded and crossed into the middle of the main lane between tents. People continued to ignore him and Sanicle strode past him trying to catch up with Glyssa who walked toward the mess tent.

Face pouty, Funa took to the road, swinging her hips and gathering other male gazes. Another guy joined her and she broke into animated conversation.

Jace’s mood dimmed by the continuing stickiness of “bad luck” and the accusation of theft, he reached the dining tent.

Unlike all the days before, no one called to him. No one even met his eyes.

Talk stopped when he came in, and after he got his clucker and greens, whispers hissed through the tent.

He ate in stoic silence,
not
looking to where people gathered around Glyssa to ask about her dictionary and the recordsphere and the box.
Not
listening for her laughter.

Too many people,
Zem grumbled from the top rung of a wooden chair. His mental voice sounded thin. Jace studied him, didn’t see that the bird appeared much different, but he was still learning what a healthy bird might look like. Jace reached out with his forefinger and stroked the bird’s good wing. “Easy, now.”

Feathers rustling, Zem tipped his head and stared at him, blinked.
That feels good.
His wing lifted a bit, went back to his side.
Bring me more food, please.

“I’ll do that.”

Zem gave a mental sigh.
It will be dead but filling.

“We’ll get you well. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Jace vowed. He already loved the bird fiercely.

Thank you, FamMan.

Just that had him forgetting that people avoided him. He, Jace Bayrum, had a
Fam!
A wonderful, beautiful
Bird
Fam unlike any other telepathic companion Jace had ever heard of.

Head high and with a steady step, Jace walked past all the tables, ignoring more whispers and over to the cook again. Trago the Healer jerked his elbow into Jace’s path but with a fancy bit of footwork, he dodged. Trago cursed at him anyway.

Without actually looking Jace in the eye, the cook scraped some raw ground clucker and furrabeast onto Zem’s plate and Jace returned to the end of the table where he and Zem sat alone.

So what if the others thought he was bad luck? Even resented him enough that they preferred to think him a thief? He had Zem, and Maxima believed in him. That should be enough.

He’d accept it as enough.

Raz Cherry T’Elecampane stepped into the tent and walked straight to Jace. Though the actor’s face wore a mild expression, sparks of ire danced in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Jace asked.

“I don’t know how the rumor started and how it passed around so quickly, but your ‘bad luck’ has tainted my,
our
, project.”

Thirteen

W
hat happened?” Jace asked.

Raz T’Elecampane scowled down at him. “Gossip has already circulated the camp that it would be dangerous to open the box because it might have deadly Earth spores in it. A terrible virus from Earth that will kill Celtans . . . or something.”

Jace choked on a bite of clucker. “What!”

Raz nodded. “Who knows what we might open and release? Stories of cursed camps and expeditions are making the rounds, too. I take it you did not start this rumor?”

Jace stood, kept his expression mild because others were watching. He spoke in a low tone, “No.”

“Gossip also stated that you instigated that notion.”

Jace shrugged, trying to appear less angry than he was. “Someone has a hate on for me . . . and I didn’t have much time to start such a rumor. I took Landolt to his tent, neither he nor one of his partners talked to me. I didn’t talk to them.”

He raised his voice so it echoed throughout the tent. “On my way here I talked with Andic Sanicle and Funa Twinevine, both of whom are here. They are the only ones I spoke with. They know what I know.”

“You fligger!” Funa yelled, then rose from her place, dumped her metal plate and utensils into the cleanser with a clatter and stormed out.

Jace nodded at Funa. “She thinks I’m bad luck, so does Sanicle. I wouldn’t put it past either one of them to talk me down, and Zem and I reached here after they did. Did the gossip come from this direction?”

Raz shrugged. “Who knows? Everyone here has enough Flair to be telepathic with good friends or lovers.” His smile sharpened with teeth. “You’ve had several lovers here.”

“Yes,” Jace said. “I’m friendly with a lot of people. Doesn’t mean that someone didn’t set me up for theft and isn’t smearing my name. Someone wants my rep blackened.”

Raz rocked back on his heels, also seemingly casual. “Perhaps.” His blue stare met Jace’s. Cold, considering. “Once a project gets a reputation as being unlucky, it’s hard to keep it going, keep staff.”

“And any little thing that goes wrong is blamed on bad luck . . . or me,” Jace said. Since his appetite for the rest of his meal—overcooked greens—had been spoiled, Jace picked up his metal plate, took it over to the garbage, scraped off the leftovers, and slipped his plate in a track of the cleansing bin. When he turned back toward his place, Raz was gone.

Jace felt the gazes of everyone else in the tent. Bending down, he offered his arm to Zem and left.

Not wanting to gather with the others to watch the communications set up—he knew no one in Druida and had on a good brood—he spent time using a shovel. He dug with others at the place where the Elecampanes believed the main entrance to the starship to be . . . who knew how many levels down? They only had two big earth-movers that anyone with a little Flair could power. Jace wasn’t given the option to use those, either.

* * *

A
fter lunch, Glyssa strolled with most of the camp to the new communications center, which still didn’t look like much to her. Lepid coursed
ahead of her and ran back.
Everyone is coming. All the peoples
.

He barked in excitement. About two-thirds of the folk looked on indulgently, but the rest scowled at his behavior. Nothing she could do to curb him right now, but she got the idea that they should take walks—all right, she’d walk and Lepid would run—a couple of times a day. The exercise would do her good and she’d explore more of the camp, maybe even walk along the outline of the ship that was within sight of the tents.

Soon she headed back to work, stretching her legs as she sauntered in the open air, enjoying the sunlight. In Druida City, she spent most of her time in the PublicLibrary and teleported home to her Residence, hardly ever getting outside . . . and forgetting about time as it passed.

She already knew that here in the camp she’d be very aware of the time. Unlike in the city, nature affected people’s lives greatly here. Breakfast began near or at dawn, lunch at midday and dinner just before dark. A couple of septhours after dark and campfire stories everyone retired. Meals, sunrise, and sunset were the main time distinctions of the day.

She smiled, knowing she’d fall into that mind-set, too.

After dinner, Lepid deserted Glyssa again, saying that Zem needed more food, hadn’t been eating enough. Since her small fox appeared unaccustomedly serious, she thought he told the truth. So she agreed he needed to hunt more for his “good friend.”

She had no illusion why Lepid liked Zem so much. Her FoxFam had saved the bird and loved being the hero. Something she sensed was true of her HeartMate, too.

Not something she had ever considered important, like knowledge, or learning a new skill.

Had to be an aspect of self-identity. She didn’t need to be a hero, didn’t much—
hadn’t
much—cared what others thought of her before today. When she thought of how the gossip had spread that she’d fallen into immediate lust with Jace . . .
that
had been humiliating. She’d formed and implemented a plan to poke gentle fun at her newness to the camp, her naïveté in living here, added a tiny touch of bumbling scholar. People had thawed toward her.

But if she had to divide them into groups she believed there were three: one bunch liked her for herself, was amused by Lepid, liked animals. Such as the Healer Symphyta.

One group thought she was snobbish, too fussy, and believed she embodied a number of other negative characteristics, or these folk simply
didn’t
like animals. Trago, the Healer.

A calculating third portion thought she could be useful to them, maybe manipulated by them—a scholar who understood esoteric, uninteresting matters, but with little innate cleverness. Funa Twinevine.

She found herself building a persona to shield herself, not being completely open, for the first time in her life—outside her Family.
Glyssa at
“Lugh’s Spear” as opposed to
Glyssa the SecondLevel PublicLibrarian
that most of her friends knew. Or
SecondDaughter
, in her Family.

Even after hours, duty called. Today she’d started work and it was time to set down her first day in a log.

With a few moves, Glyssa changed the large table into a smaller desk, no Flair needed, all excellent workmanship by one of the top luxury furniture providers, Clover Fine Furniture.

It felt odd to sit in the middle of the room at a little desk, but her desk in the PublicLibrary was larger than this pavilion room, with plenty of space to move around. Rolling her shoulders, she admitted a new discovery. She liked a lot of space around her as she worked, and preferred that to a huge desk. Trade-offs, something she should have anticipated she’d have to make, compromises with regard to her living space, but she hadn’t because she hadn’t correctly envisioned her space.

She’d have to keep this desk and her files—both papyrus and recordspheres—ruthlessly organized.

She’d known she’d have to compromise with Jace. She hadn’t handled that well, either.

Early days.

She glanced out at the to-ing and fro-ing of the camp at sunset. This was one of the weeknights that a huge bonfire was lit in the circle and people gathered around it.

Though she wanted to be there, she was also tired of so many people being around her all the time and the lack of privacy.
That
she’d foreseen, but hadn’t anticipated how naturally solitary she was and how much she stayed within her own little social circles. Though she had decided she wanted to change that. She wanted to experience the frontier and all the sorts of people drawn to a project such as the excavation of
Lugh’s Spear.

And she
would
be more extroverted. Tomorrow.

She set a stack of papyrus to her left and pulled out a writestick. Those tools were traditional and her Family, that is, the
First Level PublicLibrarians
insisted on such a written record so that old ways were not lost.

There came a wild, gleeful shriek in her mind, Lepid with feelings following closely:
I have it! I have the mocyn! Kill! Yum! Food for Zem, too!

She withdrew fast, but knew her wonderful Fam had dealt bloody death. And was feasting on mocyn—the Celtan equivalent of Earthan rabbit.

Rubbing her face to block any images, she tried sinking her mind into a meditative state.

But anxious vibrations came to her from the Elecampanes’ tent. Should she go over there or not?

Her nose twitched. They could always refuse to talk to her.

She headed to their canvas pavilion, stopped outside the threshold guarded on one side by two cats and the other, the older FoxFam, Shunuk. The cats eyed her and twitched their tails, said nothing.

Greetyou, GrandMistrys Licorice,
Shunuk said. He peered around as if searching for Lepid.

“He’s out hunting,” she said. Lifted her chin. “He just caught a mocyn.”

Shunuk lifted his upper muzzle in a sneer.

Ignoring him, she called, “Here!”

“Come in,” Raz said.

He and his HeartMate sat on the inflatable twoseat. Maxima wasn’t with them. The couple held hands, their expressions were smooth—rather like the expressions on Glyssa’s parents’ faces when an emergency came up at the PublicLibrary.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, then winced.

The Elecampanes shared a look, then Del D’Elecampane got up to pace the short length of the sitting room and back, letting herself frown. “The rumors about a damn cursed project aren’t dying. More like spreading like wildfire.”

“Negative ideas are always easier to entertain than positive thoughts,” Glyssa said.

Del laughed shortly, aimed a forefinger at Glyssa. “That’s damn true.”

Raz said, “And it can get boring here. We are, after all, essentially an isolated small town. We had all the crew we needed, so we haven’t signed on very many this year.” He smiled at her. “You’re the newest face we’ve seen in months. The airship pilots don’t tend to stay.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Del said. “But I don’t like how some of the crew are spooked. Some people might have left already except that they’d have to walk out across the plains. Not much between here and Verde Valley, our place, which is the closest real civilization.” She ran a hand over her HeartMate’s head. “Because of you.”

“Because of us.” He reached out and snagged Del’s hand, kissed it.

Thousands of kilometers, and they’d walked . . . or ridden it themselves with Maxima.

“I don’t doubt some are considering heading back to Druida when the next ship comes in,” Raz said.

“The cowardly ones,” Del agreed. She stopped her pacing to sit next to her husband.

Raz chuckled and a not-quite-nice gleam came to his eyes. “Most of our staff are adventurers, mercenaries, those who don’t fit well in cities and like the risk of the frontier.”

Like Jace.

“Usually they live from paycheck to paycheck, and to get them out here, we offered a deal.”

“Oh?”

“We’d fly them in. But if they wanted to leave, they had to find their way back. We offered to take the cost of their return trip out of their first paycheck.”

That sounded a little bit mean to Glyssa. “Clever.”

“Very. Only about twenty-five percent accepted that.”

“So now some of them are stuck.” D’Elecampane glanced at Glyssa. “Including Jace Bayrum. Until they get their next check and make an appointment with the airship company to pay for their return flight.”

Raz cleared his throat. “Cherry Shipping and Transport, my Family’s company, is leery of taking I.O.U.s from our staff.”

“Understandable.” But sneaky. Glyssa ached for Jace. Trapped. He wouldn’t like that. She didn’t dare offer him gilt.

“Of course, a lot of barter for goods and services goes on,” Del said. Again her light green eyes met Glyssa’s. “Jace Bayrum does quality leatherwork.”

“Beautiful,” Raz said. “I’ve purchased a few of his items myself recently.”

“Have you?” Del perked up.

Raz winced. “For holiday gifts. Don’t tell Maxima.”

“Of course not.”

Glyssa thought of the wallet she had tucked away in her most private no-time storage unit. How often she’d taken it out to look at it, tried to sense the vibrations of the man who’d made it. “I have an item of his work,” she murmured.

“So do we,” Raz said. He shared a significant look with his wife. Hesitated, then gazed back at Glyssa. “We have his HeartGift.”

Glyssa stopped breathing. “What?”

Del swept a hand around them. “When you travel a lot like Jace, bunk down in camps like this, or merchant caravans, or whatever, you keep what’s important to you with you. We offer a very secure vault for our staff. He put the HeartGift in there.”

Raz said, “Naturally, since neither of us could see it well, and it radiated intense Flair beneath the excellent spellshield, we knew what it was when we stowed it.”

“The HeartGift he made for me,” Glyssa breathed. It was here. At the camp. Where Jace could offer it to her and she could accept it and they could be legally and formally mated. For a moment she was dizzy with the possibilities. Then her dreams crashed. He was barely speaking to her. If she thought hard, she’d still be irritated at him.