Heart Fortune (Celta) (33 page)

“Later.” Jace strolled from the workshop tent, wanted to run, fast, to the ship. But he also didn’t intend to tip anyone off that he was after Lepid.

He wasn’t sure what kind of security the Hollys had around the hole since most everyone had left the camp. And once the opening was off-limits he hadn’t tempted himself by hanging around it.

Someone had been making forays into the ship, Jace just knew it. And now that someone had hurt Lepid.

And might want Jace, himself. He’d have to be careful.

The Elecampanes’ whole “going to the Deep Blue Sea” thing could be a ruse, too, to find out who might betray the owners and biggest shareholders. He wasn’t privy to their decisions. Glyssa might be. Irritation nearing anger riled him. He hadn’t played his cards well for this whole thing. Had let his stupidity get in the way. He could have been as respected as she was . . . and she was. He remained a lowly adventurer.

Somehow that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Not that all Glyssa had said to him was true. He tried not to think of all the word darts she’d aimed at his heart that had struck dead-on.

And this particular adventure could end his career. If he was found in the ship, he’d be thought the thief. He’d be proven untrustworthy, no matter the reason. He’d have broken the contract with the Elecampanes he signed, forfeit all his gilt.

His rep would be trashed. No one would hire him on again.

End of his career. Maybe it wasn’t much of a career, but he liked the camaraderie of ventures like this, the risk, the excitement. Didn’t matter that he had some sort of inheritance, he loved his life.

In his tent, he stowed his knives, murmured a security spellshield. He took a minute to loosen his tight muscles, consider his options. The person in charge of the camp was the head Holly security guard, and she didn’t like him. Not that he thought she liked anyone . . . but she got on with Glyssa and the Elecampanes all right.

He didn’t think the Holly was a snob so much as she’d decided who was trustworthy and who was not.

Lepid hadn’t made that grade, either. Zem had.

Think!

If he told the Holly woman, what would happen?

Nothing. She might not even believe Jace. Lepid had proven he could be anywhere in the camp at anytime. She certainly wouldn’t let Jace go down into the ship to find Lepid. Not alone, because he could steal artifacts, and she wouldn’t risk someone to go with him. He didn’t know her, couldn’t anticipate her thought processes like he might others he’d been with for a while.

Would she be in telepathic contact with the Elecampanes? Probably not, but scry pebbles would work. All the Elecampanes carried scry pebbles. Jace had one, somewhere.

Time was dribbling away. The urge to act stampeded across his nerves. Even taking this time to think, instead of blindly acting and trusting to luck, was a change for him.

Due to Glyssa.

Fligger it.
Act!

He didn’t know what he might need, took an all-purpose Flair-imbued tool and slipped it in one of his trous pockets. After a minute’s hesitation, he folded two bespelled air masks into another pocket. He didn’t believe the snotty Comosums. He thought the air in the ship along the corridors under the girder was fine.

Keeping his connection with Lepid open, trusting in it, he strolled from the tent to a place where he could see the former hole. Stood in the shadow of a group tent.

Thirty-five

O
nly weathershields and spellshields and canvas covered the hole leading down to the inside of Lugh’s Spear. One male guard, plump and
bored, walked back and forth.

The spellshield set to prevent human and animal access was a problem. But Lepid had obviously gotten through it . . . and so had the mystery person. Had the villain set a trap and Lepid fallen into it? Or had the bad guy actually been on scene? Maybe closed a door, several, after Lepid?

Jace knew how the fox had gotten in. Teleportation into the hole beyond the localized spellshield’s reach.

If Lepid could do it, Jace could. He forced his mind to quiet and sank into his balance. Jace had been in the hole at the time of the forays of Lepid and the cat, before the arrival of the Comosums. He remembered how the area looked. Held a strong image in his mind of the dimensions, the angles. The light.

It would be darker now, not open to the sun. But he’d lived under canvas and at the camp for a long time now. He could extrapolate.

The fox was still unconscious. Jace had to take a chance.

His
mind
, his
balance
was better. His center core stronger. He was more self-aware—all gifts from Glyssa, too, that would be better for teleporting. He shut her and the pain at the thought of her from his mind.

Taking breaths as he counted down, he muttered, “One, Lepid Fam. Two, Jace Bayrum. Three, to the rescue!”

And lit hard, soles stinging, bending his knees, teeth snapping shut. He’d been too high—a couple of inches. He coughed instinctively, expecting dust to rise around him.

No. The area was suspiciously clean, no footprints. So the lurker was better at teleportation than most? Damn, who knew? Jace wasn’t the kind to hide his talents from everyone else. People knew up front that he had the general, minor Flair of most people, that he was a skilled leatherworker . . . and storyteller.

But other people did keep secrets like their true ability with Flair, and it looked like this character had. Who knew what else he or she had concealed? Probably had been pilfering objects all along, hiding them and keeping quiet, ready to sell them and get rich when the camp broke up for the winter.

Jace’s eyes adjusted to the dimness. The little space seemed the same as it had the last time he’d been here, rubble gone from underfoot—gone altogether. He angled under the crumpled wall.

“Hey, hey! What are you doing? Get away from there!” The guard’s voice sounded too close. Jace froze.

“What are you
doing?
” the guard roared.

Glancing up, Jace saw a boulder plummet through the canvas, ripping a huge and ragged hole. It hit the girder and split into two. Jace jumped backward.

“Why did you do that, you fligger?” yelled the guard. “You come back here!” His voice huffed and diminished as if he ran after the person.

A tingle zipped down Jace’s spine. Had he been seen? Was that boulder aimed for him? Was his enemy in the camp? Or in
Lugh’s Spear
? Or were there two or more working together, a whole gang?

Returning to the edge of the entry space, he peeked into the area. The tarp flapped in the wind, flickering the weak sunlight from a clouded-over sky. Canvas slapped against the ground, the hole tearing farther.

On the floor, the boulder had broken into several large and jagged pieces, one shard as tall as his knees. The rock must have been thrown with Flair.

Jace grimaced as he looked at the messy entrance, glanced up at the ripped covering. If he came back this way, he’d have to clean it up before he teleported—No. He’d just teleport to his tent.

For now, though, the entry area had changed so much that whoever was outside wouldn’t be able to teleport past the spellshield, not to mention what other covering they’d put over the hole. It looked as if the girder had moved a little, too.

But he had to get Lepid, so he turned toward the hallway. A few steps into the wide corridor and the darkness that infused the ship enveloped him and a shudder worked up his spine.

Like most other people, he could summon light-spells. He kept them dim until he was well away from the hole in case the guard was more alert than he thought.

His footsteps echoed as he walked on a floor that had nothing of Celta in it. Another odd-feeling thing—the darkness, the sound of his steps in a huge ship that had been home to Earthans several centuries ago, but had no human in them for so long.

He sniffed cautiously, smelled nothing unusual, but he sure didn’t have Lepid’s nose. As he trod through the eerily silent ship with deeper-than-night darkness just outside the circle of sun-white light provided by his spellglobes, he could understand the atavistic fear this atmosphere might have had on the two noble Comosums. They were women who moved in high strata where they knew everyone. Women who thought they knew everything there
was
to know about their topic.

But they knew nothing about how their ancestors lived—never had
felt
how the colonists had lived—as alien people.

The Comosums would have been unnerved and prejudiced. He wondered if they’d ever visited the starship in Druida City,
Nuada’s Sword
, more than during a couple of grovestudy trips.

Not that he had before he’d gone with Laev.

Glyssa had visited
Nuada’s Sword
often. This shouldn’t be the time to think of her, either. He
wouldn’t
.

He passed through the corridor, and the longer he was in
Lugh’s Spear
, the more settled he became. Yes, the Earthans were alien to current Celtans, but they’d had the scope to dream huge. Like he did.

His strong link with Lepid told him the Fam remained unconscious, a concern, but Jace sensed no terrible harm had come to the fox. Yet.

Straining his ears, he listened for any sound, nothing. He walked softly, rolled tension from his shoulders, but couldn’t determine whether anyone else lurked in the ship or not. The distance to Lepid was farther than he’d anticipated . . . more than a kilometer. Jace called up the blueprints in his mind, figured that the fox lay near the Captain’s Quarters.

* * *

A
n hour before NoonBell while they rode through a wide meadow, a
baby’s cry split the air. Both Glyssa and Camellia flinched and looked at each other. From the beginning of the line, Del D’Elecampane took a scry pebble from a leather trous pocket.

Three minutes later she rode back to Glyssa and Camellia, her expression tight.

“Jace Bayrum has packed his tent and left the camp.”

Shock zinged along Glyssa’s nerves. She opened her mouth to deny he’d do such a thing . . . but shut it again. Blinking, she said, “Didn’t he arrive by airship?”

Del nodded. “Yes, but he has the skills to travel back to Druida on his own.”

Glyssa shook her head. “Over thousands of kilometers? I don’t know that he’d do that.”

“Or maybe he’s on our backtrail?” Camellia added. “Maybe he decided to join us.”

Grunting, Del said, “There’s also been some problems with the hole down into
Lugh’s Spear.
Someone flung a boulder past the weathershields and spellshields and into the entrance. Ruined the canvas.”

Glyssa lifted her chin. “I’ve never seen Jace move heavy objects with Flair. In fact, when I loaned him my no-time for Zem, I was the one who set the anti-grav spell on it. Jace wouldn’t vandalize the camp like that.”

Del still scowled.

“He’s bought into the venture,” Glyssa added. “And he signed contracts. He wouldn’t violate them.”

“Lepid stayed with Jace,” Camellia said, smiling at Del’s FoxFam, Shunuk, who watched them from his seat behind Del.

“That’s right,” Glyssa said. “Jace wouldn’t leave camp for Druida City with Lepid.”

“So it’s more likely he’s coming after us.” Camellia beamed.

“I asked him not to,” Glyssa mumbled.

Camellia lifted her chin. “Coming after us to apologize.”

Glyssa caught her breath at the hope surging through her. Hope destroyed was so very painful, the worst experience in the world.

“Maybe you should contact your Fam,” Del said.

Glyssa feared to. Worse scenario was that Lepid had left her, too, preferring the more adventurous Jace.

CELTAROON NEST!
Shunuk FoxFam yelled, leapt off Del’s stridebeast and headed down the path toward a spot on the right.

“They’re poisonous!” Glyssa gasped.

“He’ll be fine,” Del said. “He loves to kill them. Good skins for boots. But, hell, we can’t leave something like that near the path ready to hurt human or animal.” She followed fast, mobilizing the small party to stamp out the vermin.

* * *

A
dventure sang in Jace’s blood and he jogged lightly down the hall,
ignoring open doorways he glimpsed on either side.

He even refrained from the temptation of examining objects along the corridor. Sacks, boxes, other items dropped by the colonists.

Finally he stopped before a huge bronze door. As he studied it, he gulped. Engraved on the door was a list of the Captains of the ship. What a find! He wished he had a recordsphere. He’d definitely acted without too much consideration. But who would have thought the fox would be so deep into the ship?

Legend had it that people had rushed back into the ship when it began to plummet. Thankfully he saw no human skeletons—no skeletons at all. But the ground access doors were stories beneath him. This hallway housed officers, those higher up in the status of the ship.

Jace shifted, trying not to think of the amount of dirt lying atop the ship, or the distance he’d walked from the only open entrance. The hair on his body rose. Once more he stretched all his senses for anything, anyone, any inimical feeling aimed at him. Still nothing.

He reached out, but stopped before he laid his hand on the doors . . . could they be booby-trapped? Maybe, maybe. And anyone with an iota of curiosity would yearn, as he yearned, to see beyond those doors, the most wondrous furnishings of the ship. This cabin might have the most valuable items.

Everything in there would be the property of Camellia Darjeeling D’Hawthorn, with a finder fee going to the discoverer and the Elecampanes. Camellia was Glyssa’s friend. The one she laughed with as they rode with Del D’Elecampane toward the Deep Blue Sea.

That had his fingers curling, hands fisting.

A slight whimper came, more heard mentally than with his ears.
Lepid?
he projected.

FamMan.
Now a loud whine,
not
behind the great door. A few doors along the hall, deeper into the ship. Dammit, why had Lepid gone so far?

Because the young fox had wanted to be a hero. Wanted to reach the Captain’s Quarters, see what treasures it contained, who wouldn’t? Then, like many young things, had been distracted by something else, in this case, an intriguing spell.

Shrugging, Jace turned away from the engraved door, tilted his head.
Talk to me, Lepid. I am close.

You are here? In the SHIP? For ME?

Sure.

Jace
felt
relief panting from the fox.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! WONDERFUL FamMan.

Jace smiled, found the closed door on his right and knocked.

Wild barking came from behind it.

With effort, Jace enlarged his light-spells until they showed long meters before and behind him . . . and no one else in the corridor. Several dark squares in each direction showed open doors, but he noted no movement in them.

FAMMAN!

Now Jace could hear the frantic scratching of claws.

Calm down. I want to check some doorways first, and this door, too.
He could already tell it wasn’t spellshielded. No Flair to stop him from going in.

Unlike the starship in Druida City,
Nuada’s Sword,
Flair worked fine here.

He powered up his spell lights so the bright brushed metal walls gleamed and the colonist-abandoned objects on the floor cast hard shadows. Retracing his steps, he paused outside each open door, sent another spell light in, and resisted the desire to explore when a gleam of an artifact or an odd shape teased his curiosity.

Behind his eyes a headache at the amount of Flair he was using began to build. He turned back, then headed farther down the hall to check out those doors. Even when one of the usually empty nameplates announced Umar and Dayo Clague, the former Captain and his lady, he didn’t stop. Narrowing his gaze, he placed the location on the blueprint in his mind’s eye, then turned back to the door that Lepid yipped behind.

As he returned, he banished his secondary light-spell and let the first shrink. When he reached the correct door, Jace ran his hands all over it, from top to bottom, along the recessed panel that would slide aside.

He felt nothing unusual, saw, heard, sensed nothing strange. The palm control panel came off easily in his hand, showing electronics and the manual door crank. That moved readily, too, as did the door sliding open.

Lepid’s barks rose to a crescendo when Jace stepped in. He didn’t see the FoxFam in the medium-sized room.