Heart Search (44 page)
“I doubt that.”
Realization was beginning to set in. Nausea splashed through her, settled in her throat. “You have no reason to doubt that. He looks like you.”
Her father just shrugged.
The Clover in the bedroom called, “You’ve got a mangled wall here. I can patch these gouges around the safe. Will cost extra. You sure you want the wardrobe in front of the safe?”
“Yes. Go ahead and patch and deduct the cost from my account,” she yelled back, choosing to deal with the easy problem first.
“Pay attention!” snapped her father.
“Listening,” she said.
“The boy means nothing to me.” Her father smiled. “Little to me, or rather not as much to me as to you and the gilt you can bring me.”
It felt like she stood in winter snow, she was so cold, her mind frozen. “What do you want?” she asked, but she knew. Tears were frozen deep within her, too. She was going to lose the possession she prized the most.
“The tea set. It belongs to me and your uncle. Never should have come to you.”
No reason to tell them again that they never would have found it or been able to claim it on their own. That didn’t matter. And no tea set, as much as she loved it and however incredible its value, was worth a life.
The Clover walked out of her bedroom, dusting his hands. “You’re good.” With a last nod, he left.
“We have a buyer for the set,” her father said. “You can translocate it and your brother will remain fine.”
“You’ll kill him anyway,” she said listlessly.
“Why should we do that? And we aren’t going to kill him. If you don’t comply, he’ll just have an unfortunate accident.”
“How much hard gilt would you take for Senchal, for the tea set instead?” Finally her brain was working. If she raided all her accounts, sold everything she could . . .
Her father named a figure.
She gasped. Hard, hard, hard, but doable.
“I can get that.”
Her father’s eyes widened. “My, my, my, you have been busy, haven’t you?” His face twisted. “I see we’ve been too easy on you.”
Camellia thought her heart might shrivel hard in her chest, it hurt so much.
“You have a septhour and a half to give us the gilt, otherwise you’ll have a dead brother and more consequences.”
“I can’t get it by then. I need to sell . . .”
He shrugged. “Borrow the gilt. Or you can get the tea set from T’Reed’s Residence vault by then. He and his Family are out of town, but the Residence will let you in. I have it on good authority that it doesn’t
care for any matters save the Reeds’
so it won’t help you or report us.”
care for any matters save the Reeds’
so it won’t help you or report us.”
Unfortunately that was true, not that she wanted to be indebted to the Reeds, which she would be if she asked for help—for her brother, she would, but impossible now. “Give me the address where he is, first.”
Her father laughed in her face. “So you can muster the guardsmen? After all those times you threatened me—threatened us—with them? No.” When he finished laughing his smile was sharp. “I’ll scry you in a septhour and three-quarters and give you the address where we’ll meet. Bring along a noncancellable gilt scrip from the NobleCouncil for the gilt.”
They’d planned well. All her accounts with a—she figured numbers in her head—a nontransferable assignment of her annual NobleGilt and most of the profits from the teahouses for seven years, and she’d have enough to ransom her brother.
“And just understand, if anything happens to us, your brother is in a place where he won’t survive the night.”
Camellia shuddered. “Use my perscry.”
“Sure. Better hurry.” He laughed again, tapped his wrist timer. “Minutes are counting down.”
She hurried into the bedroom, flung off her clothes, and yelled, “Whirlwind spell, max professional!” She spun and her clothes stripped from her, her body was scoured with a hot wind and herbs to cleanse her, her hair tugged into a fashionable style, and clothes wrapped around her, tabs fastened. By the time the spell was finished, she was panting with stinging eyes. She glanced in the mirror. Looked good enough to convince anyone, including the NobleCouncil evening clerk, that she wanted to assign all her gilt to her father. An acid hole gnawed the pit of her stomach.
She ignored it, shook her sleeves to check her pockets, and sent a mental sensing to determine she had everything she needed. Then she walked to her teleportation pad and scanned the signal of one of the pads outside the NobleCouncil office at the Guildhall. Free.
Camellia visualized the pad and the coordinates and the light and was there. She’d be using a lot of energy this evening, probably would exhaust herself and all her Flair, but her lips began moving in a silent prayer that she’d say every minute she was alone.
She couldn’t call Tiana or the Licorices at GreatCircle Temple. She couldn’t endanger them.
The next septhour passed in the agonizing slowness of bureaucracy, covering Camellia’s skin with a thin layer of the cool perspiration of fear. The NobleCouncil clerk consolidated all of Camellia’s accounts at various banks to one the Council would monitor. Camellia didn’t like all of her gilt in one place, another price she would pay for her brother. She signed papers to send the flow of her NobleGilt and most of her profits to her father.
Of course the clerk asked if anything was wrong, and of course Camellia denied it. Then, pleading the fact that she was overdue at a ceremony at GreatCircle Temple, she hurried from the Guildhall. The precious scrip was in the hidden pocket of her sleeve seam. CityCenter was quiet and Camellia crossed to the round park and sat tensely on a bench, her perscry orb cupped in her palm. She wished she could return home and change, her tunic and trous felt like a burden instead of clothing.
Her perscry pinged. “Here,” she said as her father’s face curved weirdly in the glass.
He grinned and she flinched.
“You got the scrip?”
“I do. All the papyrus are in order at the NobleCouncil.”
“Good. Meet me at SouthGate Temple transnow.”
“I don’t know the coordinates.”
“I’ll only wait five minutes, then your brother will suffer. More than he is now.” Her father shook his head. “Such a weak son. No use to me at all.”
Unlike her. She’d paid and paid and paid again. “You do know that you have most of my gilt and future income.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“For now,” her father said, cheerfully, expansively. Shook his head. “Damn shame your HeartMate T’Hawthorn dumped you, otherwise you’d have a lot more.” He shrugged. “But the Hawthorns can be stubborn. He’ll be back, and Takvar and I will have plenty of gilt to live on until then.” He rubbed his hands.
Camellia sat in shock. “How did you know?” Her voice was nearly a whisper and she glanced around the park, no one was there.
Her father snorted. “You’re my daughter, linked to me. Didn’t you think I could tell you’d forged a newer, larger link with a HeartMate? Didn’t take much watching or listening to know who he is.” He rubbed his hands again.
“Besides, you always keep your eye on the main chance,” Camellia said bitterly.
He nodded. “Always.” Again he tapped his wrist timer. “SouthGate Temple.”
“I don’t know the coordinates!”
“Teleport to South Park pad and run, then. I’ll meet you in ten. Wait for me.”
“The address where Senchal is—”
But the orb went dark.
Camellia dropped the perscry into her sleeve. Her face was wet. Tears, and she hadn’t even known she was weeping. Dammit! She would never be free of them, and they’d bleed her and Laev dry, too. Take more pride from her than Nivea had stolen from Laev, more gilt from him than his ex-wife had dreamt. Her relatives would brew up more scandal, keep them in a tempest.
Somehow she’d stop them, but there was no time to think of that now. Survive this latest contretemps and figure out what to do later. Tomorrow.
A thought occurred to her. Why wasn’t her uncle with her father? It took only a second to know. Her uncle would be at her house, stripping it of anything of value.
Shock, anger ran through her. But her father had said ten minutes and to wait. Oh, that man had other plans, too. She didn’t know what, but he’d make her wait while he finished carrying out his plans, and her uncle raided her house.
Oh, no, they wouldn’t!
She hurried to the CityCenter park teleportation pad and went
home
.
home
.
And saw her uncle stuffing Laev’s gift into a large furrabeast satchel. Probably had been a couple of other items she’d ordered in the house cache, too. He must have sensed the most valuable pieces were there and raided that first.
“Fligger,” he growled. “Guri was supposed to keep you busy.” His eyes narrowed, using his Flair, scanning her. He leapt for her and she whirled away, but he caught the sleeve of her gown that held the scrip, yanked, and the folded papyrus fell to the floor. He pounced on it.
She yelled and surged forward, but he fended her off with hard blows from his feet and elbows as he flipped open the papyrus and read it. Then he swung out an arm, and she had to duck before it connected with enough force to put her down and out.
Angry blood suffused his face. “Fligger, you made it out to your
father.
I told him it should have been me.”
father.
I told him it should have been me.”
“No, your name isn’t on it,” she gasped, stripped off her tunic to stand in her undershirt, ready to fight. Waiting, watching him. “Maybe he doesn’t trust you as much as you think he does.”
“He loves me more than anyone else in the world,” her uncle said matter-of-factly. “Certainly better than you or your brother.” He plucked a small piece of paper from his trous pocket. “Don’t you want to save your brother? This is the address. You love him.” Her uncle shrugged. “The stup.”
“And you only love yourself,” she said.
“I’m the center of the universe.”
“You’re a warped criminal.”
The musical note of the teleportation signal sounded and Mica was there, all her fur on end.
FamWoman needs Me!
FamWoman needs Me!
Her uncle jolted. His gaze fastened on the scrip with her father’s name. “You fliggering flitch . . .” Evil lit within him and glowed from his eyes. He lunged.
He wasn’t the size and shape of her father, of Lemongrass, but her body reacted as it had been trained. She knocked his arms aside with a blow of her own, spun, and bumped his body until he was off balance and down. He was stronger, his muscles leaner and tougher than her father’s.
I will get him!
Mica screeched. But she miscalculated her pounce and he struck her and she went limp. Takvar laughed, raised his foot to kick.
Mica screeched. But she miscalculated her pounce and he struck her and she went limp. Takvar laughed, raised his foot to kick.
“Mica!” Camellia screamed. She’d been pushed too far. Now she would push back. “I will
kill
you for that.” She rushed him and time slowed. She was aware of her balance, of her trajectory. Of the amount of force she’d hit him with, how they would fall.
kill
you for that.” She rushed him and time slowed. She was aware of her balance, of her trajectory. Of the amount of force she’d hit him with, how they would fall.
The jolt of surprise formed on his face in slow motion. As if he finally saw in
her
something of himself and her father. His head turned back and forth as if searching for a way to evade her. Then he vanished and a hideous scream was cut short. She hit the floor.
her
something of himself and her father. His head turned back and forth as if searching for a way to evade her. Then he vanished and a hideous scream was cut short. She hit the floor.
Panting, Camellia rose and strode over to Mica, gently checked the cat’s head. No terrible dents. Mica whimpered and Camellia thought that was a good sign. She picked up the cat—who wasn’t quite limp, a tensile energy in her body that Camellia also thought was good—and put her in the corner of the sofa. Then Camellia limped into the bedroom where the shriek came from. There was a terrible smell and she stopped, stunned, on the threshold, her hand over her mouth in horror.
Thirty
H
er uncle had teleported to the wall in front of her safe.
Into
the
wardrobe the Clover had set there. After one shocked glimpse, she just stood stunned. She’d never seen anything like it—a mixture of splintered wood and shredded flesh and bone. Another brief glance and she knew her uncle was dead. Half of his bloody face was inset in the wardrobe door. One hand, too. Neither moved.
er uncle had teleported to the wall in front of her safe.
Into
the
wardrobe the Clover had set there. After one shocked glimpse, she just stood stunned. She’d never seen anything like it—a mixture of splintered wood and shredded flesh and bone. Another brief glance and she knew her uncle was dead. Half of his bloody face was inset in the wardrobe door. One hand, too. Neither moved.
She gulped and ran back to the mainspace. Mica was stirring, softly moaning, tilting her head back and forth. “Be careful! Don’t hurt yourself more. I think we need to take you to the animal Healer, D’Ash.” Better to concentrate on her live and beloved Fam than her hated and very dead uncle. Camellia was cold and tugged on her tunic.
Nooo.
An ear twitch, then a pink tongue sticking out.
Don’ want to go nowhere. ’Specially don’ wanna ’port.
An ear twitch, then a pink tongue sticking out.
Don’ want to go nowhere. ’Specially don’ wanna ’port.
“All right, rest a little. I can call a glider and you’ll go.”
Very slow glider.
“All right.” Camellia scooped up the scrip, ran to the hidden notime—which was standing open, stuck it inside under
refreshing potion
, and locked it. She saw the papyrus with the address, one in the warehouse district, where Senchal was kept.
refreshing potion
, and locked it. She saw the papyrus with the address, one in the warehouse district, where Senchal was kept.
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