Heart Thief (24 page)

“
We talk.” The teen fidgeted, flicking his fingers over the
texture of the shirts, tapping his fingers on his thigh, rubbing them up and down the frayed seam of his own commoncloth coat. “We alike, we twinnies.”

Ruis didn't like the thought that he was anything like this youth. He hoped with all his heart that Ailim didn't consider him that angry, that rough, that rude.

He took the shirt, tossed coins for the price onto the counter, and left the booth, tugging his cloak around him, knowing the youngster would follow.

They halted in a crack between two buildings, barely wide enough for Ruis's shoulders and dark enough that he squinted at his unwanted companion.

Ruis stared at the young man's wrist. A raw red wound ran beneath his right hand. It didn't look right.

“Your hand.”

“They made me cut it off, them fliggers. Healers at All Class not good, 'cept Lark Collinson. She recognized me, asked too many questions. She's noble, too.” Gleaming teeth flashed again. He rubbed the scar. “Nobles. Treat us like scum. You. Me. I have plan. Get even.”

“Where's the other two of you?” Ruis asked.

The young man angled his body so they could watch the square. His eyes darted to Ruis and back to the opening. “You have rep Downwind, Ruis Elder—TopDiss.” His nervous grin flashed again.

Ruis shrugged. He was beginning to feel old and conservative.

The triad member laughed, short and harsh, jerked a thumb to himself. “I'm Shade. Nightshade. Triad brothers gone. Nobles killed.” He spat, pointed. “Look.”

Following his bony finger, Ruis saw a line of nobles exit the colorful tent and form a parade. Since it was the month of Ivy, T'Ivy and D'Ivy led the stream. The FirstFamilies followed in month order, then the rest of the GreatHouses, the GrandHouses, and the GraceHouses, all in order of rank. Bucus would be the last of the GreatHouses, as his month was the last, the thirteenth. Ailim D'SilverFir would be third after the Elders, no doubt still paired with Holm Holly.

Gold and silver and jewels glittered, the scent of perfumes, the ancient incenses of noble houses, and the odors of expensive food wafted to fill the square with fragrance. Ruis's hackles rose at the opulent display of wealth. A visible sphere of Flair surrounded them, glowing bright in the dimness of the evening, as if marking them favorites of the Lord and Lady. As if they were Chosen, as he would never be chosen.

Shade murmured in his ear. “We talk. Twinnies work together. You will like. Get your due.”

The smile Ruis felt twist his lips had nothing to do with humor. “No one works with me.”

Feral sparks lit Shade's gaze. “We work together. Or I tell guardsmen you in Druida. Dawn tomorrow, DownwindGrove.”

“Oh?” Ruis clamped his hands on the boy's thin shoulders and felt a wiry strength. He held him still for several moments.

“Let me go. Let me go!” Shade whipped out a knife.

Ruis knocked it from his hand. “I thought so. You have Flair. It bothers you to be near me. How can we work together?” Ruis stepped on the knife blade and released Shade.

Shade narrowed his eyes. “My plan. We work together. Or else. Dawn tomorrow. DownwindGrove.”

“Wait! I know a better place, a deserted Healing Grove that will help your hand.”

Shade stared at Ruis, hesitated.

Ruis couldn't stop himself from trying to help the desperate boy. “I know where FirstGrove is, and it will welcome you.”

Shade blinked, disbelief and hope warring on his face.

Ruis knew those emotions. It was awful to hope, because when the hope died, you felt all the worse. He gave Shade directions to the FirstGrove. “I'll meet you there at dawn.”

When the boy slipped into the shadows of the darkening night, Ruis drew his cowl and cloak around him and followed. The young man headed straight for FirstGrove. Ruis circled back uptown.

A few meters from the Ship's entrance he heard a soft meow. He looked back. Samba wavered to him on unsteady, drunken paws, her plump figure swaying. Intermittent mews issued from her until she collapsed, soft and warm on his boots. She blinked slowly up at him and smiled.
Greetyou, FamMan. You got My toy?

Ruis lifted her bulk with an exaggerated grunt. “Greetings, drunk cat. Yes, I have your toy.”

Samba rumbled a laugh, then stretched sinuously in his arms.
Catnip bonfire very good, D'Ash is good person. All feral Cats in Druida were there. Fifteen. D'Ash Healed them.

“Yes, D'Ash is a good woman.” Though not as wonderful as Ailim D'SilverFir. The thought might have calmed him, if he hadn't thought of her laughing and dancing with Holm Holly. He brooded as he approached the Ship.

A few septhours later in the Greensward he wiped his arm across his brow and surveyed a new clearing with satisfaction.

“Your emotional state is now within average ranges,” the Ship said. “After reviewing your records since you first boarded, it has been observed that you are making considerable progress in overcoming your problems. Your mental health is gauged to be approximately forty percent better.”

Ruis mumbled a curse.

Samba trotted out of the brush with a dead mouse in her mouth that she dumped in a small pile.
Ship's right. You not as angry. You think clearer. You don't make as many mistakes. I am good for you.

Ruis considered this new information—more new information that was being crammed into his brain every day.

He was changing.

The man he'd become was being peeled back layer by layer so he could see how life had shaped him. He also admitted that, deep inside, despite everything, he held an inherent belief that everyone was essentially good. He groaned in disgust.

The Ship acknowledging his worth, and his feelings for Ailim and Samba, had changed him.

He glanced at his watch and his heart started thudding faster. Time to prepare for his night with Ailim. He ordered a maintenance 'bot to “recycle” the dead mice. “I'm going to shower and dress.”

A few minutes later Ruis pulled his cloak and gloves on under Samba's watchful stare. “I'm going to D'SilverFir's, to help her. I'll be back just before dawn.”

“It's dangerous outside. My uncle's guards know you're my Fam, and you're easily recognized.”

Samba lifted her upper lip at the mention of Bucus, then her expression became smug and she slicked down a bit of hair on her shoulder.
It is true. I am most Beautiful Cat.

Ruis shut then opened his eyes. “Your collar's unique, too.”

She just lifted her nose.

He cast his mind around for some way to deflect her. “How about playing with your folding-oracle toy? See what your future is?”

Samba sniffed.
My future with you and Ship is good. Toy made for fingers and thumbs.

“I've seen you bat it around until it opens and shuts, peel back a corner, and have Ship read you your future.”

“Your language has mutated,” Ship said. “And the proper name for the toy is a ‘cootie-catcher.' ”

Ruis stared, but when Samba trotted to the door, he grabbed the pointed-cornered piece of papyrus. “Here.”

She swatted it halfheartedly, then indicated Ruis could peel back the folded corner and reveal the fortune.

“ ‘You shall save the world and be a heroine in your own time,' ” Ruis read, and frowned.

That's Me,
agreed Samba.
Time to go. Let's go play!

In desperation, Ruis addressed the Ship. “Ship, do you have a program that will amuse Samba for the evening?”

“We always have proper entertainment for any crew,” Ship said.

Suppressing a sigh, Ruis ordered, “Please provide, immediately.”

A colorful holo the width of the room began to play. “The History of Cats on Earth,” Ship announced.

Samba's tail waved and her eyes widened.
History of Cats!
Samba trilled.

The regal history of cats unrolled in colorful scenes. Samba looked riveted. Her purr rose to new levels.
I will tell Ship of My History, the best. And of My Sire and Dam and T'Ash and D'Ash and Princess and My littermate Drena, and the new kittens coming.

“We would appreciate the information for Our archives,” Ship responded.

Awash with nervous anticipation, Ruis smoothed his clothes under the cape and adjusted the cloak. Impulsively he pressed the Prophecy program button.

The bright blue light stream flickered on. The low, lilting female voice curled around his senses. “Program starting, please interrupt the ion stream for your reading.” Hating what he was doing, a stupid divination, but wanting to believe the night would go well, Ruis slashed his hand through the beam.

Cards fluttered and fell in a colorful heap to disappear and leave only one holo image. The Captain who looked like Ruis and a small rounded lady with long dark hair and dancing gaze toasted each other with a gold and silver cup. After they drank, the Captain took the goblet from the Lady and placed both cups gently aside. Then he picked her up and whirled her around and around. They laughed together, a set as matched as the cups. Ruis tasted bitter envy at the couple in love. He could never be so free with his own lady.

He narrowed his eyes. At first the setting looked like a Grove, but he could see shimmering, slightly curved silver walls through the leafy branches. It was the greensward on the Ship.

“Follow your heart and you will triumph.” The breathy female voice said, still holding a hint of laughter.

Ruis's insides contracted. How he wished it were true. But he watched the image cycle again and again until he knew he had to get out. “Prophecy program dismissed.”

“Blessed be, Captain Ruis Elder,” the Lady said.

He sucked in a breath and left his quarters, striding to the door to Landing Park. He was the Captain of
Nuada's Sword,
not merely the despised Ruis Elder.

The Ship was helping him with the anger. He was growing in skill and confidence.

Who was he becoming?

He didn't know.

But he would learn.

Maybe he could even save Shade.

And Ruis vowed to follow his heart. The first thing it demanded was that he make love to his lady. Tonight.

 
 
With a wave of her hand Ailim extinguished the glowlights
in her bedroom. She didn't know how she'd managed to survive the day. Because she was D'SilverFir, no doubt. She'd been trained to survive days like this, but sincerely hoped there wouldn't be many more of them in her future.

She shuddered. Always mindful of the strings to the D'SilverFir loan, she had agreed to the public show. Let the other nobles observe Ailim D'SilverFir and regard her as a GrandLady worthy of respect and consideration. The more nobles she could win to her side, the better.

She undressed and put her casual dress into the cleanser, then took out the shift and robe she'd worn early that morning. Lifting the cloth to her nose, she inhaled deeply and imagined that she could smell a whiff of him—the outlaw she wanted.

Her heart sped with giddy delight that he might come to her, touch her, help her, love her.

Or perhaps it wasn't delight that thundered through her veins, but apprehension.

Sex was not something she'd often enjoyed. Not since she realized that if she lost herself in passion, her Flair spiraled wide. Then she knew exactly what the man she was being intimate with thought and felt.

She shuddered as memory spun out her first sexual encounter. She'd believed her first man was making love with her.

But in uncontrolled passion, she'd found out otherwise. He was just taking the edge off a physical hunger. With a jerk of her head she banished the past. No need to think of that man—who had considered her strange and not nearly as beautiful as the woman he really wanted. At least the old emotions of shock and shame were mostly gone.

But Ruis would be different. Though she couldn't read him, she sensed that he was an honorable man, obeyed his own rules. That those rules might not march with the standard laws of Celta bothered her, but she couldn't fault him for acting outside them since they had never protected him.

Now he was banished. When she shivered again she knew it was fear at his daring, at the thought he might be caught.

Unable to stop her shudders, she donned her shift, then went to glance out the French doors that opened onto the terrace over the music room. The moons were high and would be full the next day. Nothing moved in the grounds.

He shouldn't come. He couldn't come. He wouldn't be able to avoid all her relatives or reach her rooms. With that gloomy conclusion she walked over to the platform of the huge four-poster bed draped with curtains and canopy—the empty, lonely bed—and climbed the small steps to get in.

Primrose lingered downstairs in the GreatHall soaking up admiration and love. Ailim smiled. It was so long since she'd spoken with a member of the Family who approved of her that tears came to her eyes. She shook them away—merely tiredness and self-pity. Now she'd formally sworn to lead and protect her Family. It was her duty, and hopefully her duty would transform into pleasure once she made this transition and the Family's loan was completely approved in six months.

The only part of the day that had been enjoyable was the evening Mabon ritual she'd conducted with her Family in the sacred Grove on the estate grounds. She'd chanted incantations and gathered the combined Family psi power to fashion spells for prosperity. During the ceremony soothing renewal had flowed into her, uplifting and inspiring her. The Grove had shimmered with magic and holiness, and she wondered how she could have considered selling the home that called to her heart.