Heart Quest (29 page)

A stooped man sidled over to Tinne, nudged him gently in the ribs. “Care to share?”

“Why?”

The man licked his lips, gaze fastened on the bottle as if it was the most expensive brithe brandy. He looked around. “Well, mebbe for a story? Sounded like you was interested in them murders.” He leaned over and said confidentially, “You know, I had a friend of a friend who actually saw that Calla Sorrel being discovered in Landing Park….”

“Give the man a glass,” Tinne told the barman.

A shot glass slid down to stop before the informer. Tinne poured chwisge to the top.

“Thankee. Yup, my friend of a friend saw that youngster, that other Clover woman—sure have a lotta people in that Family—find the body and call a guard. She was right broke up about it, but handled herself like a real gentlewoman, they said. The friend of a friend got really close and said the girl-body was all bloody, especially the chest.”

Ilex turned away. Perhaps his Flair had been wrong about there being important information here.

The informer swallowed. “An' this friend of a friend said there was a funny odor about that corpse, probably all the corpses—” He coughed.

Ilex stiffened slightly, swearing under his breath. They hadn't wanted that news to get out.

“—like smoke those Cross Folk people use in their rituals.”

By now Ilex knew about various ritual incenses. The Cross Folk used frankincense, benzoin, storax, olive, myrrh, sandalwood.

Pylor
.

Lady and Lord, why hadn't he thought of pylor incense? It was more a drug to be inhaled in smoke form, but it could be a mixed incense ingredient.

The guy coughed again, wiped his hand across his lips, then on his shirt. “T'only smell like that I ever smelt was when I was workin' on that strange turquoise house a coupla kilometers from here for that woman who became T'Blackthorn's lady.” He slid his eyes slyly toward Tinne. “P'raps ya know of her.” Smacking his lips, he said, “Mitchella. She who was one a those Clovers. Bright red hair. Body that gives ya thoughts of the best wet dream ya ever had.”

An accurate but crude description of Mitchella, Ilex thought dispassionately, then realized that most men would consider Mitchella Clover D'Blackthorn far more attractive than her cuz, Trif. He ached for Trif. A Clover woman surely could stir the passions, bemuse a man.

Tinne stared down his nose at the man. “Perhaps I
do
know GrandLady Mitchella D'Blackthorn.”

The man's eyes went wide, he choked on his drink. Covering his glass with his hand as if he thought Tinne would take it away, he scuttled to the end of the bar.

…smell like that I ever smelt was when I was workin' on that strange turquoise house a coupla miles here
. The words replayed in Ilex's mind. The hair on the back of his neck rose as connections snapped together. The turquoise house had belonged to GrandLady Kalmi Lobelia. She'd been a pylorsmoke addict, using the drug to amplify her Flair for prophecy. She'd had Straif T'Blackthorn's FamCat on an altar—ready to sacrifice?

Ilex had to investigate. Now.

He plucked at Tinne's sleeve. “Gotta piss, then I'm done here. Don't like the company.” He put a little stagger into his step as he headed to the toilet. And on his way there, he overheard even more from a table of men who looked like laborers. “Yuh, I was at that blue-colored house when that Mitchella Clover was workin' on it. That room the other lady used for them Flair consults stank sumthin' awful.”

Another man nodded. “That's the truth. I overheard the redheaded decorator say that the smell soaked clear inta the walls and even inta them spelled wooden beams. No way to get 'em completely free of it.”

Ilex had the information he came for. The clue he so needed. He used the bathroom, then found a private scry cubicle and set things in motion—asking for guards to find who Lobelia had associated with, particularly younger people; who she had purchased her herbs from, who else bought the same mixture. Excitement of the final stages of the hunt surged inside him.

A rapping came at the closet door. “You, in there, time to go,” Tinne said.

Finishing his instructions rapidly, Ilex signed off, then opened the door. He had to force himself into the posture he'd used since he'd entered the tavern.

Tinne frowned at him, whispering. “You should be more careful. You snapped out orders in there like a GreatLord.”

Ilex jerked a nod, replying softly. “You're right. My mistake.”

Something in his eyes or his voice alerted Tinne and he caught the excitement.

“You think you know—” He broke off as a woman stumbled into the short hallway leading to the toilets and the scry cubby. They moved out of her way, through the tavern, and into the night.

Vertic joined them, swallowed with a large gulp, and smiled at them.
FamMan is hunting!

“Yes.” Ilex wanted to hiss it like a cat. Like Greyku. Yessss.

I see the turquoise house in your mind. The place where the female who now lives in the house near my old den worked. I have been to that blue house often.

“Can you get to the turquoise house from here, Vertic?” Ilex asked aloud for Tinne's benefit.

In response, the fox waved his plumed tail and took off in a ground-eating stride.

“That animal is
fast,
” Tinne remarked.

“Faster than a dog or cat,” Ilex agreed.

“Do we run or 'port?”

“I've never ported to the place at night. I don't know the light and shadows. Mitchella D'Blackthorn doesn't have the Flair to teleport and I doubt she hired any workers who could. I sense no landing pad—with or without a light.” He began to run, following the fox.

“Just as cautious as I originally thought.” Tinne loped beside him.

Ilex briefed him as they ran through the night. The exercise swept more of the cobwebs of depression sticking to his heart away. His mind felt clear and focused, his body strong and tireless. The twinmoons were ripening to full, which would be Samhain, the new year.

T
hey arrived at the house that had once belonged to the
Lobelia Family, a now defunct line. The courtyard was clean and cobbled. Large skeletal trees were black against the dark blue stars-and-moons-bright sky, hiding a portion of the front aspect. Neat and tidy flower beds ran along each side of the paved courtyard and against the house itself.

The place stood, solid and beautiful with an architecture of times gone by, but the aura from it was young and fresh and cheerful, and reminded Ilex of Trif and Greyku, and he couldn't speak.

Tinne rubbed his hands. “How do we get in?”

Ilex just slanted him a look. “Legally. All building identify spells include access for Druida guards.”

“Even deep in the night?”

“Especially deep in the night.”

“Ah. Well, I really wouldn't have wanted to mess up D'Blackthorn's work in restoring the place.”

“Not to mention that the spellshields will be top-of-the-pyramid. Put in by T'Blackthorn himself at least.”

“Not to mention that. Probably would have gotten a shock that bounced me to the Cave of the Dark Goddess and back.”

“Probably.”

It hears you,
Vertic said.

They hadn't kept their voices down and the house began to glow turquoise.

“It's
becoming,
” Tinne said with awe. “Becoming a Residence. A real entity.”

“Yes,” Ilex said. The house was changing from wood and plaster to a sentient being.

It takes time for a Residence to be born,
Vertic said. His mental voice was projected enough for Tinne to hear it. The young man must have passed some internal Vertic-test.

Tinne glanced down at the fox. “So it does. I've never seen it before.” He shivered a little. “I've never been in a place that was
becoming
.”

It won't eat you
. Vertic grinned.
It loves company
.

“Huh,” Tinne said.

Standing and flicking his bushy tail, Vertic trotted up to the door. He sniffed around the threshold.
It is a good place now
.

Ilex and Tinne exchanged glances. Tinne shrugged. They walked to the square front door, new and wooden and shining with black tint. Ilex placed his hand in the depression and touched the cold identify. “Guardsman Ilex Winterberry and associates, FamFox Vertic and Tinne…Winterberry.”

Tinne twitched, but Ilex ignored him. The door opened smoothly and quietly. As they swept over the threshold, pretty spell lamps set in wall brackets lit, glowing gold and picking up the creamy wall color.

“Welcoming,” Tinne said.

Thank,
said a tiny voice in Ilex's mind. The voice of the house-becoming-Residence.

Vertic's claws snicked down the red tiled corridor and he turned left…and the sound disappeared.

“He's doing that on purpose?” asked Tinne, setting his hand on his blazer.

“Yes.”

No danger here. Never, never, never…again,
whispered the house, unhappiness in the sound of its words, and radiating from the walls.

Sighing, Ilex lifted his hands. “Calm.” He sent the feeling through the house like a soft, warm breeze.

Thank
.

Tinne shifted his shoulders. “Yes, well…”

They turned the corner, but there was no sign of the fox.

This way
. Vertic sent a map with a fox-red color trail. Ilex was grateful since he was near the end of his Flair energy for the day. Tinne didn't seem much better. Emotional storms played hell with Flair. Finally, they found Vertic sitting at the end of a narrow hall, before a door.

No one goes here. The room is still not ready for a den, not even for humans
.

“Ah,” Tinne cleared his throat.

Sorry,
the house sobbed. The atmosphere in this corner of the house was oppressive.

I will not go in,
Vertic said.
Smells are too strong, FamMan
.

Since Ilex was sensitive to odors, he decided to play it safe, and took a bespelled triangle of cloth and put it gently against his nose and mouth. It formed around them and he breathed in sweet pine.

Tinne sniffed. “There's a lingering heavy odor, but nothing too bad.” He opened the door.

Emotions poured out, engulfing Ilex. Though they had faded, he still sensed the fight-or-die feelings of the three who'd battled for their lives…knew where each had been at the moment death had overcome.

“Lights,” Tinne said, and several sconces lit. Strolling in and around, Tinne said, “A nice room.” He went to the far end, then paced back, rolled his shoulders. “This part doesn't feel the same, though.” He tapped a faded line scarred on the wooden floor. “Used to be a wall here.”

“Yes,” Ilex forced from his throat. He stepped in, and more layers of people coming and going flowed around him, more recent. Workers. Mitchella Clover. He withdrew a record orb from his belt, went to the middle of the room, and hung it in the air with a spell.

“The guy at the bar was right,” Tinne said. “That incense Lobelia used soaked into the walls and floor. Hard to get out, even with a cleansing by a Temple priest and priestess.”

“I think there's already been a molecular cleansing.”

“You'd have to tear out the walls and floor—”

The house whimpered. Tinne stiffened, bowed. “Sorry, house.”

Tinne sighed. “The place is a nice size, but Genista would never live here.” A slight drift of air held depression. “Sorry, house, you are quite lovely, but my wife wants something bigger and in a more titled neighborhood.”

“I think it is unique, has definite possibilities,” Ilex said truthfully.

“Nothing here,” Tinne said.

“Yes, there is.” Ilex had completed a circuit around the room. He went to a corner where the scent of incense was the heaviest. Gesturing to the right-hand wall, he said, “There was an altar there.”

“All houses have altars, though I wouldn't have said this room was a good Ritual room.”

“Not an altar dedicated to the Lady and Lord. One to the Negative Force. To Evil.”

“Like the current murders?”

“Perhaps,” Ilex said. Palms up, he crouched in the corner, running his hands down the walls, sensing energies. “There is an extra shieldspell here, slight, but noticeable, of Lobelia's making. Difficult to unlock.”

Tinne joined him and ran his hand where Ilex had. “Maybe you can feel it. I can't.”

“Illusion spell to cloak the shieldspell,” Ilex muttered, thinking of possible spell-breaking codes.

“Very tricky.”

“Yes.”

“Ilex…the last Lobelia was an oracle, right?”

Ilex stopped concentrating on the corner and looked at Tinne. He'd forgotten that. “Yes.”

“You wouldn't want to trigger anything that could, uh, send a blast of that sort of Flair at you, right?”

“No, I wouldn't want any sort of prophetic Flair melding with my own.” Ilex stood. “I don't have the time or the Flair to deal with this tonight.” He plucked the record sphere from the air, turned it off, and sent it to Chief Sawyr's desk in the guardhouse. Staring at the corner, he narrowed his eyes. “But this is one of the keys to the case, I know it.”

Tinne nodded. “Good. We might be able to end it before the new year.”

“I hope so. I'll come back tomorrow morning and root it out.”

Thank,
said the house.
Was ordered. Not able to say about hole. Thank
. The air thickened around them as if gathering energy.
I will be clean. Someday
.

 

T
rif woke in her childhood room and was disoriented for a
few minutes, then remembered all that had happened. Pain washed over her and she shoved it away, refused to feel it, to think about Ilex. What with the big Holly Family crisis and Tinne Holly…Winterberry coming to Mitchella at T'Blackthorn's, all her attention had been focused on helping him and settling him in a guest suite and preparing one for his wife. So she hadn't had time to strategize how to get Ilex to change his mind and come to her.

Going to him would not accomplish what she wanted, but living without him was painful. The bond between them remained the thickness of a fine hair, barely noticeable, and that hurt too.

She slept late, then rose for a late breakfast, leaving Greyku sleeping on a pillow next to hers. Neither her mother nor her aunts scolded her because they were eager for first-hand information about the Holly scandal. Then they had to discuss whether the Clover Compound should remain a venue for D'Holly's lessons with Trif.

“Yes!” Trif said, spitting bread crumbs and hastily covering her mouth with a softleaf and swallowing.

Since no one commented on her manners, she knew they listened. They, the matriarchs of the family, were listening to
her
. She
had
grown up. After another swallow, she said, “D'Holly is a wonderful woman, but she's a HeartMate and supports her husband. Lark told me that D'Holly sent a note blessing the marriage, so her broken Vow of Honor doesn't weigh on her as much. It's T'Holly's that seems to be the curse. He's head of the household, after all. She needs us, needs this place, and I want her to have it.”

“Well said,” replied one of the aunts. “I agree.” There was a murmur around the table and by the time it was done, Trif knew that the Clover women would stand behind D'Holly. Not that she'd thought any differently. The GreatLady had charmed the women.

“To lose a child is ravaging enough, without being ostracized,” one of the aunts said. Again, everyone agreed.

Trif 's mother gave a little cough. When Trif looked at her, she'd flushed. “I did want to say that there was a scry from T'Holly Residence canceling your lessons again today, Trif.”

“I see,” Trif said, though disappointment shimmered through her. What was she going to do to keep her mind off Ilex?

“And there was also a scry from the Noble Council for you!”

“Me? Trif said blankly.

“You are to play for a two-hour set during the New Year Celebrations, in GreatTemple roundpark.”

“Me!” This time she squeaked.

“Yes. I saved the scry, the details are in the cache.”

“Oh.”

But before she could scurry over to the bowl, her mother leaned forward. “What of your HeartMate?” Trif felt like a child again. As she'd expected, they wormed the story from her.

At the end, her mother sighed, frown lines creasing her brow. “I don't like this premonition of his, and if it was anyone other than you, I'd say wait and see.” Her voice caught. “But being who you are, you won't wait, will you?”

“No. I'm figuring out what to do next.”

“You're right in that if you two are to have a future as equal mates, he must come to you.” One of her aunts nodded.

“Thank you.”

Picking her words, Trif 's mother said, “What of this man's mother? Could you speak with her?”

“I don't think they get along.”

Her own mother folded her hands, nodded. “All the more then. See the mother and you may understand the son better.”

“Perhaps. But I don't know that I want to intrude into his life that much.”

“He should know you wouldn't give up on him and your love. You will continue to be in his life, affecting him.” This was punctuated with a jabbing finger.

“You may be right.”

They all told Trif what to do and she left the dining room with her mind spinning, as well as a list of tunes that she would perform on New Year's according to the scry message. She escaped into her room, but just before she was about to leave the compound, the men clumped home from work for lunch and insisted on a noontime concert.

After that, the women commandeered her efforts for the preparations for Samhain and New Year's; then the children were home from grove study and she had another, more critical audience. The break for afternoon snacks was welcome, and flung her back to her childhood with kids of all sizes jostling for their favorite foods, telling jokes and stories of the day, playing with Greyku. It was impossible not to fall into old habits.

By the time she left in the late afternoon, she'd practiced her pieces and variations on them long and hard enough that she was ready for the performance. She'd taken part in the daily household rituals and the long family traditions in planning for Samhain. All this steadied her, made her think of her connections to her family, and how she wanted to shape her future. With Ilex.