Heart Secret (13 page)

“The temperature was fine! Now it's far too cold!” Artemisia repeated, warming a scarf and putting it on Garrett's head. Still not enough.

Her gaze focused on the machine next to the FirstLevel Healer, an experimental med-tech. It was a thin, meter-high domed metal construct with two spindly arms ending in tri-pincers, and an extruded antenna. A light blinked green. “Warning! This unit's previous recommendation to reduce the temperature in the patient's room is not being implemented! Cooling
must
take place. Waiting for confirmation from FirstLevel Healer to drop forcefields so unit can enter the Healing area. Warning, the room must be cooled,” it said in a tinny voice.

“No!” Artemisia countermanded. “TQ, keep raising the temperature. Primross is too chilled.”

Nothing for it, she'd resort to basic body heat and body-to-body warming spells. She stripped and flung her clothes on the floor. Crawled between the linens. They were cold.

Quickly, quickly
lift
! Garrett and the kitten floated. And
warm
! She warmed the bedsponge beneath. Nice, toasty.

She lowered the two and spooned around Garrett. His skin was clammy, but he felt like he belonged with her.

“TQ, follow the recommendations of the med-tech,” Heather said. “It's not that cold in here.”

“The temperature in the sitting room is twenty-two degrees Celsius,” TQ said.

“You see!” Heather said. “Stop the heat!”

“Warning, the temperature in the adjoining room is too high for good health. Warning. Warning,” the machine said.

“The temperature in the master bedroom is thirteen degrees Celsius,” TQ said.

“What!” Ura Heather slapped her hand on the top of the small machine.

“Perhaps the med-tech's readings are wrong due to the forcefields,” Artemisia mumbled. She shivered against Garrett, spending Flair profligately to heat him.

His breathing stuttered. Wrapping her arms around him, she squeezed.
I need you to fight!
she snapped, aloud and telepathically.
FIGHT!

Twelve

G
arrett heard the command. It wasn't Dinni, but he sensed the need
came from someone with a claim on him. More sounds—a small animal whimpering, shivering. Another need he must fill.

But he was so cold.

Let the sleet take him. Follow Dinni down that foggy path.

FIGHT!

He was tired of fighting.

Something bit his ear. Ouch! Warm blood trickled down it, and then the cold faded and the rain and sleet and ice and fog stopped and bright primary colors swarmed behind his eyelids.

Warmth. He shuddered. His muscles were all bunched together and warm was becoming hot. Groaning, he straightened his legs. Sighed as they felt better, as a small furred shape snuggled near his chest, just right. Sighed again as the heat behind him lessened as a mass moved away.

Covers settled around him. He was on a bedsponge. He'd made it to the clinic. He'd need to wake soon to check on Dinni, but for now he'd take a little sleep. He could do that, set an alarm in his brain to wake him in a few septhours. Dinni was in good hands.

Doom hovered, and he knew when he woke he would face rending teeth, but darkness tugged at him, offering sweet relief, and he let it suck him into sleep.

*  *  *

A
rtemisia crawled from Garrett's bed, bent to pick up her clothes. She
let her hair fall over her face until she could control her seething anger so it wouldn't show in her expression. Her fingers trembled as she dressed. She knew why FirstLevel Healer Heather had brought the med-tech. To care for Garrett instead of Artemisia.

There had been talk of Flair-tech mechanical servers to replace Healer assistants and low-level Healers. No doubt the FirstLevel Healer thought she might combine two experiments in one, make more efficient use of funds.

A soulless consideration that might have had terrible consequences.

Self-preservation and confrontation avoidance warred with fury that the Healer would take such a risk at this time.

“I—” she began, but her throat was so clogged with ire that she barely heard herself. She pulled in a large breath and marshaled her wits.

“I've silenced the med-tech. Report on the patient, Turquoise House,” Heather said.

“He is breathing well again,” TQ said.

“What! He'd stopped?” the older Healer demanded.

“Yes.” Artemisia's face was hot and tight, but expressionless, she hoped. Keeping her voice equally impassive, she continued, “Perhaps this isn't the right project with which to test a med-tech.”

“I agree,” TQ said austerely. “After I followed your insistent instructions to cool the room, GentleSir Primross stopped breathing. Since I have mitigated the chill in the room, GentleSir Primross's heartbeat is no longer slow and erratic, and his body temperature is acceptable.”

Artemisia sucked in another cleansing breath. Her anger had made her alert. But what was done was done, and she was sure that the FirstLevel Healer wouldn't press the matter further. Nothing to be gained by pointing out her error.

“That's good to hear, TQ.” Artemisia kept her tone mild. She looked at the med-tech machine. Its arms and antenna were down, its light off. Poor, stupid piece of junk.

“TQ, do you think that the decontamination and forcefields skewed the med-tech's readings?” she asked.

“I think the med-tech machine is not as close to completion as many believe. It is obviously a thing without true intellect. I was not informed that it might be used during this project and do not approve. Nor will I accept any further instructions based upon its recommendations. Not enough study has been done for the thing to be used in real-life trials,” TQ said. “Especially one as delicate as this.”

Ura Heather's roundish face flushed and she banged a fist on the machine. “Defective thing.” She narrowed her eyes as if in warning when she met Artemisia's gaze. “I will leave you to your regular duties and teleport back to Primary HealingHall. I don't think this small incident needs to be reported to anyone else, does it, SecondLevel Healer?”

Garrett kicked aside the covers, stretched, and rolled over. His color was healthy; Artemisia sensed he was in an almost natural sleep. The fever would return, but for now they had a respite. “No, FirstLevel Healer.”

“I also expect you to be discreet, Turquoise House.” Heather and the machine disappeared before TQ could respond.

“I'm sorry, Artemisia,” TQ whispered. “I was interested in the med-tech machine. I should not have listened to it or obeyed the FirstLevel Healer's instructions.”

Artemisia let her weak knees fold her onto the bedsponge. “No lasting harm done, TQ?”

“I will do a full scan.”

Artemisia nodded and rearranged the covers again, then glanced at the timer and saw it was NoonBell. Three cats slept on the windowsill of the bedroom, and beyond in the grassyard lounged the rest of Garrett's ragtag band.

“No, Artemisia, no lasting harm was done to Garrett.”

“That's good.”

“From my studies of the Iasc sickness, it seems this might have been the main crisis for Garrett and the sickness will progress more smoothly?”

“Perhaps, but there could very well be more than one crisis.”

“I will watch him very closely.”

“I'm sure you will. So will we all.” She stretched. “What you need to recall, TQ, is . . .”

“Yes?”

“You don't mind me giving you advice?”

“Please do, Artemisia.”

“Many Nobles aren't accustomed to personal failure, so sometimes they ignore risks,” she ended softly. She was all too aware that bad things could happen, that personal failure could be inflicted from outside forces.

“I will remember that, Artemisia.”

“Our main goal is to keep Garrett Primross safe, our secondary goal is to observe him and study his blood to help find a cure for the Iasc sickness. Anything else is of minor importance.”

“I will not allow anything to threaten him again,” TQ said.

“Good.”

“And I will not allow anything to threaten you, either.”

Artemisia managed to curve her lips, but shrugged. That wasn't in TQ's power. She did know that she'd have to step carefully with regard to Ura Heather.

*  *  *

A
gain the fragrance of hidden forests teased his nostrils. He was
aware of floating free. Shouldn't he be doing something? Driving?

No, he'd made it to the clinic. Dinni was in good Healers' hands. This was a dream and he could go where he pleased.

With that thought he found himself liberated from the endless trip and struggle. No longer spring, it was full, hot summer and he was walking toward rusty iron gates that framed a secret garden. A cool turquoise pool beckoned, since he was beginning to get hot again.

Maybe if he reached it, the fever would not come.

Lovely thought.

He shifted his shoulders. He wore a fighting harness more appropriate for an arena sword bout—yeah, his longsword was angled across his back, and a blazer at his hip—than for traveling or guarding a merchant. Or being a private investigator, which he was now.

But hadn't someone demanded he fight?

Yeah, he remembered that.

And he remembered he'd have to.

But not until he got a peek at the garden.

The wonderful fragrance wrapped around him again and spun him away.

*  *  *

N
ear MidAfternoonBell during the third day, Garrett went completely
still. It took a minute for Artemisia, nearly dozing in her chair, to realize his breathing had quieted, he no longer thrashed. She leapt up, papyrus medical records falling out of her lap, and lunged toward Garrett.

For an instant her breath stopped as she thought he'd died. A crushing sense of loss pervaded her. Worse than when she was a teenager and her Family had lost everything.

His face dribbled sweat, but when she put her hand on his cheek, it was cool. Breath fast, she moved her hand to his heart. The strong and steady thump reassured her.

Then his eyes opened and a piercing gaze pinned her. His hand covered hers. She said the first thing that came to mind. “I'm not Dinni.”

“I know that.” His voice was low and raspy. “The lovely Artemisia Panax, SecondLevel Healer.”

“You are awake and aware!” TQ said joyfully. “You have survived the sickness once again.”

Garrett grunted. “Guess so.” He tried to lever himself up and Artemisia put her arm behind his back and helped. He was a big and muscular man and she used Flair.

“I have informed the FirstLevel Healers,” TQ said. “GrandLord T'Heather and Ura Heather and Lark Holly are arriving.”

“Great,” Garrett muttered.

“And I will initiate the celebratory actions.”

“Huh?” Once again Garrett looked Artemisia in the eyes. She shrugged.

His hands went to the fluid belt.

“Let me do that.” Artemisia moved his fingers away.

“I don't want you—”

But she'd dispelled the suction and whisked it off him and into the container to be studied before he finished his sentence.

He drew in a long and uneven breath, seemed wobbly sitting up, but she wasn't going to say a thing.

“Want a waterfall,” he grumbled. “Feel filthy.”

“You had a full sponge bath a septhour ago,” Artemisia said.

This time his gaze was hot and deadly. “Did you do it?”

“Of course.”

His jaw flexed.

“You must be examined by the FirstLevel Healers,” TQ admonished.

Garrett mumbled a curse.

The alarm from the decontamination field sounded loud and raucously and three people stepped into the bedroom. Artemisia withdrew to her chair as Lark Holly rounded the bed to take her place, and the Heathers stopped on the other side.

“Incredible.” GrandLord T'Heather's shaggy eyebrows rose. “You're awake and sitting up. Look a little rough, though. I suppose it felt as if you crawled down to the Cave of the Dark Goddess and back.”

“Exactly,” Garrett said, and his shoulders relaxed. Artemisia wasn't sure whether it was having the greatest Healer on Celta in the room or having another man with him that changed his attitude.

“Don't need all these people in my bedroom right now,” Garrett said. He stared at her, then switched to Lark Holly.

T'Heather rumbled a laugh, snagged a large water bottle, gave it to Garrett. “Must be dry; drink up, son.”

“Thanks. My fluid belt is in the damn canister.”

“Of course,” said Ura Heather.

“TQ, can you report?” Lark Holly asked.

“Garrett Primross's levels of the microbes of the Iasc sickness are decreasing. If his recovery follows the same steep arc of his succumbing to the illness, he will be free of Iasc by NightBell and could leave here by NoonBell tomorrow.”

Garrett made a satisfied noise.

TQ continued, “This room has a medium level of the Iasc sickness microbes. I will sterilize it after everyone leaves tomorrow. The sitting room has a very low level of Iasc, and the dressing room and Artemisia's bedroom has a low infestation of the microbes.”

Everyone stared at Artemisia. She stood straight. “I followed all the procedures and am perfectly fine.”

“That is correct,” TQ said. “The levels of the sickness in the dressing room and adjacent bedroom are below our original projections. SecondLevel Healer Panax herself has no microbes of the virus within her.”

“Success!” Ura Heather said.

“Yes, but the whole reason for this experiment was to study GentleSir Primross's blood and determine how he survived the most virulent sickness and whether we could develop a precautionary serum or cure,” Lark said. “And Artemisia should be examined, too.” Lark went toward the door of the sitting room and gestured to Artemisia. “Come along, I'll check you in here.”

Garrett grinned at her with a certain amount of glee. Then he yelped and his expression turned to surprised horror as he stared at a small lump under the cover by his foot. “What is it? Get it off me!”

T'Heather yanked up the cover and roared with laughter at the beige kitten with brown spots sitting on Garrett's foot.

I am his Fam,
the little cat said.

Glaring, Garrett said, “I don't recall agreeing to that.”

The kitten ignored him.
I was very helpful, wasn't I?

“Very,” Artemisia murmured, returning Garrett's smile with an overly sweet one of her own as she entered the sitting room.

Stubby tail straight up, the kitten walked up Garrett's shin and to his thigh before T'Heather's hand engulfed him. “Why don't you sit on the table here.”

“You can supervise,” Lark Holly said, sounding as if she said those words often.

“Continuing my report,” TQ said, “I have scanned all my space and have no cell of the illness beyond these rooms.”