Heartmate (10 page)

“No kittens.”

Zanth twitched his whiskers.
Last word. Big purple stone in old fountain on hill.

T'Ash frowned. “A purple stone from a fountain on a hill?” He thought hard, every stone that might fit the requirements flickering through his mind.

“The old T'Blackthorn estate? The fountain of the Dark Goddess?” He stared at Zanth, eyes widening at the memories.

T'Ash didn't like being reminded of that. “I was only six! And the twinmoons were full. That place is haunted. And they say the stone is cursed.”

It had been the largest, most beautiful lambenthyst he had ever seen. It still was.

Zanth looked at him slyly. He lifted a forepaw and began to lick it casually.
You best with stones. You stop curse.

The Lord and Lady preserve him from a clever Fam! Zanth knew all T'Ash's weaknesses. “Straif T'Blackthorn might have something to say about your taking the lambenthyst from the fountain.”

Zanth settled solidly on his rump.
He's gone long time. Your Family dies, you stay. His Family dies, he goes.

T'Ash shuddered. He didn't like to think of Straif, either. As Zanth had said, their circumstances were too much alike. The last he'd heard, Straif was making his way in the world as a mercenary—a fate T'Ash had narrowly escaped.

T'Ash glanced at Zanth, who still guarded the pink diamond. The cat's eyes glowed like radiant jade.

“Done. The Dark Goddess lambenthyst for the diamond.”

My gem now.
Zanth picked it up in his mouth.

“Yes. I'll give you until a cycle of Cymru and Eire twinmoons to obtain the lambenthyst. Be careful. If you have problems retrieving the stone, we will discuss another price.”

Zanth ignored T'Ash's caution.
We go to shop. I show you how to make My gem into good toy.

T'Ash thinned his lips. Now he was taking a commission from his Fam. Where had his steady, rational life gone?

He muttered a few moments before glancing at his wrist timer and scrying the flower shop. The manager assured him the rose had been delivered. As T'Ash paged through the courtship book, Zanth jumped up and nosed at the volume, lifting his lip at the heavy rose smell.

T'Ash looked at the posies and frowned. Zanth plopped a paw on a button, activating a three-dimensional image.
Pansy. FamWoman's cat once female. Is named Pansy.

T'Ash stared at Zanth. The cat rippled his back in the equivalent of a shrug.
Not Pansy's choice. Cat has funny face, looks like flowers. Would rather be called Princess.

Zanth preened.
Cat loved My collar.

T'Ash smiled. “Is that so? What color are her eyes?”

Zanth went over to a workbench and clawed through some yellow gems, then picked out a piece of citrine.
Use this. Pansy has no taste, not like Me.

T'Ash looked at the other gems. “What jewel on this table is closest to the shade of her eyes?”

T'Ash raised his eyebrows. He wouldn't want his pet termed an “it,” even if the animal was a neuter. He was sure that both Danith and Pansy would be offended at labeling the cat an “it.”

One of the few lessons he recalled from his mother was that if he was offended by something—such as having a muckworm crawl around and slime his bedsheets—he should also expect his brother Gwidion to take offense. Even if Gwidion was five years older and should have controlled his temper. But a black eye had been worth seeing Gwidion, the precociously Flaired one, jump screaming from his bedsponge and climb the bedpost.

T'Ash smiled. Odd, he'd long forgotten that incident.

Zanth whipped a paw at the stones, demanding his person's attention. T'Ash caught several gems as they shot off the worktable. “Nevertheless, we will refer to Pansy as a ‘she.' Now, what color are her eyes?”

Zanth looked guileless but flexed a forepaw. T'Ash picked up the paw and plucked the EarthSun away from the Fam.

Zanth growled.
EarthSun too valuable for Pansy.

“Perhaps so.”

“EarthSuns are more precious than those emeralds you wear.”

Zanth turned his head away.

“I will make her a collar of matched citrines, varying in color from pale yellow to dark orange. And someday, perhaps, give her an EarthSun pendant. But for now I'll merely put the citrine on a breakaway chain.”

“A breakaway chain. Just in case she chases you from her territory.”

Insulted, Zanth sat straight up.
Pansy knows who Me is. Me Fam and Noble. Pansy common Cat.

T'Ash scrutinized Zanth. Cats didn't get any more common looking than Zanth. From Zanth's manner, T'Ash was willing to bet that Pansy was one beautiful cat.

He looked at the citrine, the images of flowers in the courtship book, and stirred the scrybowl. He ordered a posy of pansies to be delivered at once.

T'Ash noted the time and started stripping, ready once more to work in the forge on the main gauche for Tinne Holly. After another couple of hours T'Ash could order a bouquet. Later, a small arrangement in an elegant vessel. He wondered exactly what constituted an elegant vessel. He shrugged. He'd have that delivered just as twilight became night, he decided.

He pondered whether to continue the gifts during the night, since he'd be up. No, by that time, he would have practiced enough to call. And he would scry her, just a couple of times. He nodded, a good plan.

Tonight flowers, tomorrow gems.

 
Late in the afternoon Danith waited in her best friend's
workshop behind Mitchella's showroom. Mitchella Clover, a gifted interior designer, was out charming a customer into changing his mind from draping his bedsponge in scarlet to encasing it in an elegant celtawood frame. Danith smiled at the overheard conversation. As cheerful as her brother Claif, Mitchella's Flair included a subtle charisma that made her an especially good saleswoman. And she was genuinely interested in people.

On the shelf of Mitchella's desk, Danith caught sight of a deck of divination cards. The images drew her and she picked up the pack. She leafed through the flexipapyrus cards. She liked the colors, and the modern drawings were exquisitely detailed.

She glanced at the name of the artist on the cardbox and nodded. This was the controversial set crafted by the recently discovered Downwind artist who, disdaining botanical names, called herself Painted Rock.

Danith stared at the Heir of Wands—a blond young man flying across a fertile plain, highlighted by a shaft of golden sunlight from between grayish clouds. The soft voluptuous clouds formed curves of a woman, full in breast and buttocks.

The sensuality of the card reminded her of T'Ash's jewelry. She shivered. She'd accessed the small amount of information available about him from PublicLibrary. He'd come late to his heritage and had a Downwind background.

Slipping the cards though her hands, she scanned them rapidly. Some images were quite disturbing, some almost viscerally erotic, yet they spoke to her.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the deck. There was no echo of magic that even a person with the least amount of Flair could feel. Mitchella obviously hadn't had the cards keyed to her vibrations by a Diviner. The pack was pure.

Danith squared the cards between her palms and focused, not asking for anything more than a hint of her future. She cut the cards then spread them in the ancient pattern—Cross of Present, Past, Future; Lady's Crescent-Bowl of Family, Prosperity, Career, and Love; Lord's Staff of Feelings, Obstacles, Assistance, and Final Outcome.

As she stared at the images, a blossom of disquiet bloomed inside her.

Mitchella, a tall, curvy redhead, walked in. “Ah, I see you've found my Discovery Day gift to you. An interesting pack, isn't it? And an old-fashioned two-dimensional deck instead of three. I don't care for the pictures but knew that they'd appeal to you. Let me know which Diviner you want to tune them, and we'll go together, my treat—” She stopped as she saw the spread.

“Ah.” She cleared her throat and followed Danith's gaze to the Heir of Wands, the card closest in temperament to Claif, Mitchella's brother and Danith's gallant. The card was placed in Danith's immediate past.

Mitchella sighed. “I was going to speak to you about that.”

“Oh?” Danith said, her voice higher than she wanted. She met Mitchella's emerald gaze.

“I love you like a sister, I really do. But I don't think Claif is the right man for you.”

Danith's heart started thudding low and heavy. She froze the expression on her face, hoping it was pleasant and not showing too much hurt.

She had been rejected before. Several times. When childless couples came to the Saille House of Orphans and adopted other girls. When the childhood playmate who had shared her dreams married another. When the Seekers of Flair shook their heads at her eager requests. When Maiden Brigit had told Danith she must depart Saille House. She'd hoped rejection would hurt less now. “I think I should leave.”

“No. No!” Mitchella reached out and took her hands. “I do love you. And I like you better than Claif. He isn't good enough for you. He's not . . . not
substantial
enough for you.”

“I don't care.”

“But you
should.
I don't think he could ever give you the deep love that you need.”

“I won't ask for that.”

Mitchella sighed more gustily and rolled her eyes. “You need love, you deserve it, and Claif simply isn't the right man for you, not this twinmoons-phase, probably not ever.”

The conversation ripped at Danith. Now she knew that Mitchella would never approve of a marriage between her best friend and her brother. Another illusion shattered. “I'll be going now,” Danith said.

“No, you won't.” Drawing herself to her full inches, Mitchella was a head taller than Danith. “I love you. The family loves you. I would welcome you as a sister. The family would welcome you as a daughter. But Claif is not the husband for you.”

“Goodbye.” Danith didn't even try to smile. She just wanted to go home and hide. She started past her old friend.

Mitchella stepped in front of her. “You're not
hearing
me. The family will always welcome—”

Danith bit her lip to keep the tears burning at the back of her eyes from falling as she shifted to brush by Mitchella.

Mitchella grabbed her by the upper arms. They scuffled. Mitchella slipped off-balance and her hip hit the edge of her desk. She planted her palm in the middle of an empty space surrounded by the cards.

Danith heard her gasp but hurried to the door.

“Goddess! Oh, and God, too. Danith, did you look at these cards? Other than the Heir of Wands?”

Danith made her way to the door, more slowly now, since tears started to blur her eyes. It was a good thing that she knew her way around the room crowded with furniture.

“
Dan
-ith, don't you go! What a LoveFortune you have here. You
must
see. Love, Danith. Love, love, love,” Mitchella caroled, trying to tempt her.

Danith stopped to dig in her pockets for a softleaf before she stepped out into Mitchella's newly refurnished showroom. Danith found the tissue and dabbed at her eyes and nose. Behind her she heard Mitchella chuckling, her feet tapping in a little dance that she always did when extremely pleased. The sound made Danith think instead of feel. She hadn't looked at those cards much.

“Love, thrice repeated in the spread,” Mitchella said. A shaft of pain stung Danith. Mitchella knew how much she wanted a family and a man. A large family, like the Clovers.

Danith heard swishings as if her friend was straightening the pattern so the cards would be perfectly regimented and neat. Some things never changed, and one was that Mitchella preferred order and tidiness. Another was Danith's love for Mitchella. Could Danith really just walk out on her closest friend in the middle of an argument, no matter the hurt? Simply because Mitchella told the painful truth?

“
And
you have a goodly amount of the GreatSuit here—the Crimsonnuts of Knowledge, the White Flower Maid, Avalon Apple Island, the StoneMarker of Fate, the Cave of the Dark Goddess—well, maybe we shouldn't speak of that. . . .”

Without willing it, Danith turned back. She wiped her eyes once more on the softleaf. The first pang of her heartache had diminished. She knew it would return again, when she was home alone, but right now it was manageable, and curiosity dulled it.

Danith sniffled. Mitchella stood tapping her finger against her lips and voicing a creaky hum. The woman could dance, but her singing endangered the ears.

Danith found herself joining her friend at the desk. Mitchella grinned at her and pointed to the Love card location. “Look at this. Who is this guy? Is there something you're not telling me?” she teased.

Surprise jolted Danith as she gazed down at the card—the Lord of Blasers, a dark man of great intensity. T'Ash's visage immediately sprang to mind and was hard to banish since the Lord on the card had a passing resemblance to the man, with long black hair, olive complexion, and sky-crystal eyes that literally emitted a blue-beam blaser ray to the edge of the flexipapyrus.

And that wasn't the only place he appeared. His GreatHouse card, Ash, the World Tree, was placed in the position of Assistance. She stirred uncomfortably.