Heartmate (8 page)

T'Ash picked up the inexpensive piece of jewelry and ran it through his hands. It showed marks of tooth and claw. He smiled a moment before he nodded in decision. He needed his HeartMate.

A HeartMate could decorate his Residence.

She could make it a home.

A HeartMate would be a companion.

He would not wake alone.

He'd have to visit T'Ivy for the drugs to induce Passage, and GraceHouse Rose for hints on love. This HeartMate business wasn't easy. And it wasn't going to be cheap.

 
 
Danith stirred in her sleep. Dreams flowed around her,
through her, transforming into shapes and themes she'd never had before. She wriggled, settling once more against the long, soft fur of Pansy.

A wave of determination washed over her, surrounded her, feeling both comforting and threatening with its utter intensity. Possibilities opened inside her and something deep in the core of her being altered. Forever.

 
 
The last pink streaks of Bel's rise streamed across the
blue-purple sky when T'Ash presented himself at the gates of the T'Ivy estate. He knew it was early for calling, but he could not wait another moment. Not after remembering what Majo had told him.

Danith Mallow.
She had a gallant.

The gallant, in fact, was everything T'Ash wasn't and could never hope to be. He hadn't actually asked whether Danith and this rival were lovers, but the question tormented him.

He needed a Passage, a forced dreamquest in which he could create another HeartGift. And to do that he would need the help of GreatLord T'Ivy or GreatLady D'Ivy. They were the craft masters of mind-altering drugs.

Though it was early, GreatHouse Residences supposedly were always open to GreatLords. T'Ash had dressed in full regalia. Shirt, trous, and boots in the finest silkeen of ash brown, embroidered at all cuffs with the most delicate stitches money could buy. His GreatLord cloak was of glass green, also embroidered with taste and style. He wore his blaser on one hip, a sword he had forged himself along his other thigh.

He tugged the bellpull with a dangle shaped in the form of a mass of ivy leaves. In the far reaches of his mind he heard a response. He stood in front of the greeniron gate scrystone connected to the one in the Residence.

The Ivy household was efficient. The gates were opened and T'Ash was formally greeted and led to the Residence within a few moments. He waited in the ResidenceDen for the master.

T'Ivy entered from a side door, a man just past his prime, beginning to fade in physical strength. He studied T'Ash warily. T'Ash knew T'Ivy had never forgotten the young T'Ash who'd stood over a heap of captives before the FirstFamilies Council with blood on his blade and hands, smelling of singed blaser fire.

T'Ivy nodded regally as T'Ash rose. “Please, sit. You have business with me?”

T'Ash returned to his chair. “Yes, sir. I have a request.”

T'Ivy sank into a throne-like chair behind a massive desk. He steepled his fingers. “I believe this is the first time since your Initiation as T'Ash that you have approached one of the FirstFamilies for an alliance.”

“An exchange of Flair,” T'Ash said evenly. He hated being in anyone's debt, anyone's power. T'Ivy was one of the thirteen GreatLords, of the twenty-five FirstFamilies. And those Families were the most powerful on Celta—in status, wealth, and Flair. “Yes, this is the first time.”

T'Ivy nodded, dispelled a powerful shield, unlocked a safe in the lower wall, and pulled out the T'Ivy box of Testing Stones.

T'Ivy muttered words of opening, and the case lid lifted. The Testing Stones nestled like eggs in the box, tools to measure and define the Flair of the House of Ivy.

Before T'Ash knew it, he'd drawn the case away from a surprised T'Ivy. Without conscious volition, T'Ash's fingers danced over each stone, feeling the power, caressing the polished rock.

“T'Ash!”

He stopped and withdrew his hands.

Too late. Every single stone glowed with mage power.

T'Ash compressed his lips. He'd not been so completely fascinated by stones since he'd been a child with his Flair beginning to bud. Then, he'd been unable to keep his hands off the T'Ash stones despite several whippings. None of the T'Ash stones survived the fire.

He looked up and kept his face impassive as he met T'Ivy's hard glare, deciding to rationalize his actions. He gestured to some dim stones. “Some of your stones need to be recharged with the proper energy.” He pointed to three. “These should be replaced with more efficient stones; the lattices within are not quite correct to hold and funnel power. I can handle both responsibilities for you, as partial payment for my request.”

T'Ivy still stared at him, face set in harsh lines.

T'Ash continued. “And the sky-crystal—” He clamped his fingers together to stop from touching the exquisite stone that radiated incredible magic. “The sky-crystal is close to shattering. Its structure is too weak for any further use.”

T'Ivy cleared his throat, but when his voice emerged it still grated. “The sky-crystal has been the prime testing tool for our Family since Landing.”

T'Ash breathed deeply. “Sir, to use the sky-crystal further will kill it. I could reshape it into several jewels for your Flaired Family members. That way some of its power would remain and it would still be useful, decorative, and cherished.”

T'Ivy's eyes blazed as blue as the sky-crystal they were speaking of. “Large quality sky-crystals that will hold power for generations of Ivys are scarce.”

T'Ash scanned his memory of each and every such stone that had crossed his path. “Southeast, two days from here by glider, Gael City has a merchant that deals in fine gems. He has several great sky-crystals. I would travel there to choose one for you, and shape it. Again, at my own cost, for your expertise now.”

T'Ivy's steel gray brows rose. “You would do that? This business means that much to you?”

T'Ash leaned forward. “Yes.”

T'Ivy nodded.

“My situation must remain confidential.”

T'Ivy slapped a palm on his desk at the insult. “Do I look as if I tattle of GreatHouse business? You question my honor?”

T'Ash inhaled. “No, of course not. But my circumstances are—difficult. The matter I come to you about concerns the survival of my House and is of the gravest importance. More important than my vengeance.”

Now T'Ivy's brows knit. “I see.” He met T'Ash's eyes once more, then his lips moved in a small smile. “A veiled threat. I can't recall when someone last warned me. It is almost refreshing.” He shook his head. “Ah, the young. I will tell only my wife. She is my HeartMate and a discreet woman. Your—request—will go no further.”

“A HeartMate?”

Now T'Ivy raised his brows in slight correction. “You left GreatHouse training when just a lad. No matter what you think, the FirstFamilies believe in wedding HeartMates more often than arranged marriages. It is only logical. With HeartMates, troubles are met and overcome, marriages bind the House and Family together, and are not a cause of concern or strife. It has also been realized that the merging power of HeartMates increases the magic and Flair of the House.”

T'Ash nodded. He had paid precious pennies to be taught by an old GrandLady who lived in a shanty Downwind, but she'd had no stories about honorable GreatHouse marriages. He took a deep breath and plunged into the story.

A few moments later T'Ivy looked stunned. “A Null.” He shuddered. “Lady and Lord, a thieving, GreatHouse Null. Horrible.” T'Ivy shot a sharp glance to T'Ash. “The guard didn't give you a name?”

T'Ash felt a feral smile twist his lips. “You jest.”

T'Ivy stared. “No, of course he wouldn't.” He touched the T'Ivy sky-crystal as if in reassurance, then met T'Ash's gaze again. “Perhaps we should put a little pressure on him—”

“Winterberry is a good man. He agreed to keep the nature of the necklace confidential, and I don't want any pressure that might cause leaks.”

“You will actually wait for him to return it?”

T'Ash waved a hand. “No, that is why I am here. I intend to force another Passage and create another HeartGift, more in keeping with the man I am now.”

T'Ivy's face stilled. “That is very dangerous.”

“But necessary.”

T'Ivy scowled. “Perhaps.” He measured T'Ash with penetrating eyes. “You are not at the height of your energy or power.”

T'Ash shuttered his gaze. “I have a demanding commission.”

T'Ivy glanced at the still glowing Testing Stones ironically. “No need to validate your Flair, or the strength of it.” He clicked the box shut and manually locked it with an ornate key. “But you must be at your peak when you take the herbs that will stimulate another Passage. Finish your work for HollyHeir, then come to me after resting three days.”

“So long?”

Smiling, T'Ivy shook his head. “Youth. I'd imagine you didn't like Holly's immediate demands, either.”

T'Ash simmered. He stood. T'Ivy also rose. T'Ash inclined his head, one GreatLord to another.

T'Ivy hesitated, then spoke. “My wife will prepare the potion—harvest and grind the herbs, and make the infusion. She will need an object imbued with your vibrations.”

T'Ash frowned. “I have a ring I wore as a child.” Reluctantly he pulled it from his shirt and took it off the chain. He held it out to T'Ivy. It glittered, tiny and precious on his large palm.

T'Ivy opened a drawer and placed a square of dark blue velvet on the desk. “Put it there. I can feel the emanations, strong and vital. My wife will deal with it.”

Rising and bowing formally, T'Ash thought that he'd somehow manage to obtain the potion as soon as the main gauche was finished. “Merry meet.”

“And merry part,” T'Ivy replied.

“And merry meet again.” T'Ash inclined his head and left.

As soon as he was outside the gates, he teleported to his shop. At T'Ash's Phoenix he put up a sign in the window that he would not open until evening. The first day of the weekend, Playday, was one of his best business days, but forging the main gauche was too important to delay, not to mention courting his lady. He didn't have enough septhours, not even enough microns in the day, to accomplish all he needed to do.

He smiled ironically. Lord and Lady,
when
would he get her?

 
 
Danith stepped into her small back grassyard with dry
food for the stray cats' breakfast.

Sitting tall, tail wrapped around his haunches, was one of the largest cats she'd ever seen in her life. It looked as if it was genetically descended from a regular domesticated—no, a battered alley cat. But it was more the size of the hunting cats being bred by some of the GreatHouses, at least two-thirds of a meter long.

It was undeniably male. The size alone told her that, but also the attitude. Somehow it—he—managed to swagger even while sitting. As she shook her head in near disbelief, the bag of food rattled in her hands.

He swiped a long red tongue over his whiskers. He didn't run at her appearance like most of the feral cats that fed at her back porch.

Of course not.

She dumped food in the heavy ceramic bowl and stepped back to the porch stoop.

He sauntered over to the food and noisily crunched a few bites.

Danith smiled at his enthusiastic appetite.

He sat back and licked his paw to groom his whiskers.

Danith grinned. The action was too delicate for his appearance—flattened, tattered ears, splotchy black and white coat, crooked tail.

Danith sat down on a step. “Greetyou.”

He looked at her and his whiskers twitched. Then he ambled over and butted her hand with his scarred muzzle.

She rubbed his head. It was far larger than her hand and almost perfectly round. A rusty purr rolled from the tom.

“Look at you. A real pussycat, aren't you? How huge you are. What a nice cat.”

He flopped on his side and offered his belly to be scratched.

Danith giggled and obliged. “What a lovely tomcat.”

He was one of the ugliest cats she had ever seen, but that made no difference. She had a little syllogism that she adapted from her early lessons in geometry. Danith loves all cats. Tom is a cat. Therefore Danith loves Tom.

“What a big guy.” She saw the glint of something around his neck. “You have a collar?”

She bent close to look, but the cat wriggled from her grasp to run a few feet and jump to the crosspiece of the fence. He perched there, his bottom too large for the small beam. Discomfort passed over his face before it settled into a haughty expression. That was spoiled by a sneeze.

Danith laughed. She walked over, knowing from experience to stand outside paw reach. He bobbed his head. She took a couple of steps to him and lifted her hand. He sniffed. Once more she rubbed him, this time above his pink nose and along his jaw.

“Rrrow.” He stood and walked along the fence crosspiece, turning to face her at the corner. “Rrrow,” as if it were goodbye. He blinked, then, with a gracefully muscular jump, disappeared on the other side of the fence.

 
GrandLady D'Rose, all fluttery, with a plethora of
gushing, unfinished sentences, led T'Ash to her ResidenceDen herself. “My dear boy. Lady and Lord, so good to see you.” She looked up at him, her soft, round face beaming. “How very large you are. Quite like your father. Yes, dear me, quite. I had a most
wonderful
flirtation with that man. Yes. Indeed. Before he met your dear mother, of course. Poor things. Poor, poor things.”