Heart Dance Page 11

  Perhaps during her long lifetime, she’d have developed good observational skills, too? He could only hope. Their Family reputation was on the line. His gut burned. She could have destroyedthe Family with her hubris.

  With a groan, he looked at the page again. His jaw flexed as he noted the names. Somehow he’d have to meet these couples, see whether they were suited at all. What if there had been terriblemistakes?

  Muttering prayers, he saw that all the names except two were outside the FirstFamilies who could so easily destroy their house—any house. The two were Tinne Holly and Genista Furze, who had married.

  Just what he needed, to have the Hollys antagonistic toward him and his.

  He had the Family to protect, not only their name and tradition,but his relatives, the innocent. Whom his MotherDam had betrayed.

  Why had she been so foolish as to do a consultation with Holly and Furze? He found the reason two pages earlier.

  Holm HollyHeir looked at me with a charming smile and impudencein his eyes. He withdrew his essence from my divinationsticks—his Flair that had empowered them for a fine Reading. I found out later that when he’d done that, whatever was left of the echoes of Flair in the traditional sticks was gone, too. He impoverished me. If there is a way I can serve him ill, I will do so.

  Saille’s breath caught in his throat. His mind swam with dizzy realization. That was when his MotherDam had called him to Druida for a few weeks—after years of neglect. For his observations, particularly of the Hollys.

  He recalled something more. He’d glimpsed residual traces of Tinne Holly’s and Genista Furze’s auras. Stretching his memory,he brought back the information.

  The match had been acceptable for a dynastic marriage— two aspects of what was needed for a solid marriage had been fine—affection and sexual attraction. He’d sensed companionship,some shared interests, definitely a shared class. He would not have recommended the marriage for a regular client couple. But then, when a couple usually consulted with him, they consideredthemselves in love with each other. Not because they married for other reasons.

  He deciphered one last item regarding the matter. I requestedthe upstart imbue several sets of divination objects to “test” his Flair and skill. I don’t know why he has my Flair, nor the strength, matching me in my prime. But I sent him away. Though his male Flair in the tools fit awkwardly in my hands, I will use them until their Flair is gone. Then I will use him again.

  Saille smiled bitterly. She’d used him, his Flair, taunted him the entire time he made his own sticks, and dice, and disks. But a tendril of relief shot out sprigs of hope. Perhaps all was not lost after all.

  He’d have to meet the couples she’d matched, observe them, see how their marriages progressed. If there were problems, he’d have to steer them—somehow—into making their unions stronger.

  Addressing the books, he said, “Show me any information on the Thymes.”

  Not a corner of a page stirred. So there was nothing in these journals. He only had the information Ailim Elder had given him. But he sensed that wasn’t the whole story, not when it involveda bitter woman like his MotherDam who never wanted to relinquish a smidgeon of power, especially to him. She’d have written it down, or recorded it in a holosphere. She’d have hiddenit from him, of course.

  He’d have to find it.

  She’d given orders for the MistrysSuite, the rooms belongingto the Head of the Family, to remain the same.

  That would change. He’d have them cleaned—sterilized— and request any and all holospheres be given to him.

  He was the master of this GreatHouse, this Residence, the Head of the Family.

  By the Lady and Lord he’d protect it from everything.

  One thing was for certain. He dared not visit his MotherDamin Nuada’s Sword again.

  If he did, he’d pull the plug on her.

  Dufleur woke in the night, cramped, clothes binding, groggy. Something was different about her rooms. She checked the wind of time, it shifted and flowed in a different pattern, eddying around a spot.

  The safe.

  Memory rushed back. Fairyfoot had brought back the bright glowing object that was a HeartGift, and Dufleur had stashed it in a no-time safe. She heard the raggedness of her breath and realizedthe idea disturbed her on more than one emotional level.

  First, it reminded her of when she’d found it two months ago. She placed her hand between her breasts over her heart. The surgery had left no scar, but just the thought of that time made her entire body go cold.

  Before the new year, she’d found the object, and it had sent her Flair spiraling with pulses of lust, of only emotion, no thought at all. She’d been kidnapped, then she’d listened while murder was being done and been the subject of attempted murder herself, saved at the last minute by Fairyfoot calling her cuz Ilex. She shuddered. She hoped never to be so terrified again in her whole life. No wonder she didn’t want to see it again.

  Then there was the overwhelming sexual heat and passion that melted her insides and made her want to search down the man and pounce, roll wildly with him on a bedsponge. Or on a carpet. Or take him anywhere. Have him take her and pound into her again and again until the burning need was satisfied. Then start all over again.

  Not rational, not controlled. She hadn’t really thought about what a HeartMate might mean.

  Someone who’d know her secrets. That was her first thought. She supposed if the man was a HeartMate he would love her, wouldn’t he?

  No, close that line of reason off, fast. She wanted to be loved too much. Didn’t even know, exactly, what love was— not between a man and a woman. Sexual attraction, of course, but love? A couple of times she’d studied obvious HeartMates,and her chest would always constrict.

  She wasn’t even very sure what other sorts of love might feel like—reciprocal love—love for her. How she’d feel being an object of someone’s love. Unknown territory. Scarier than time.

  A HeartMate would know her secrets, the mind-emotion connection between them would reveal all.

  That would be terrible. There was no one in the world she trusted to know she continued to experiment with time.

  She didn’t know love.

  She didn’t trust love.

  She’d never trust a lover.

  The next day Dufleur spent with the Hollys, with her new gowns and jewels, determining several “looks.” And practicing dancing.

  Her partner was Holm Holly, recently reinstated as HollyHeir,and quite intimidating. She got the idea that he wanted to spend time with and please his mother, so he danced with Dufleur.

  He was the only one who didn’t criticize, though Passiflora only offered gentle suggestions—both to Dufleur and to Trif Winterberry, who would be playing at the opening ball. All three of the FamCats watched the proceedings—Fairyfoot, Meserv, and Phyl. Their comments were vocal both audibly and mentally.

  Because of her name, or because she was still irritated with Dufleur, Fairyfoot was especially smug and annoying. She “danced,” too, weaving in and out of the line dance patterns, hopping and skipping and prancing as her inner muse directed. All three of the humans shared an eye-rolling glance when the cat had announced she would accompany Dufleur and Passiflora. The thought of the cat dodging fast feet seemed to concernthe others as much as she, and Passiflora murmured something about human allergies. Fairyfoot countered, with a superior sniff, that Danith D’Ash had sent a spell to Dufleur that would envelop the cat. Seeing the wisps of cat hair floating gently around the Holly ballroom floor made Dufleur wonder how the spell was supposed to work. Holly Residence would have to clean the ballroom again before their own grand ball.

  When Dufleur and Fairyfoot returned home, Dufleur exhausted,she entered her rooms to find a distasteful male odor.

  “Residence, who has been here?”

  The Residence didn’t answer, and she sensed it was preoccupiedelsewhere.

  Dufleur looked down at Fairyfoot who’d wrinkled her nose and opened he
r mouth, curling her tongue in the extra sense cats had.

  “My HeartMate?” she asked. Had he come to see if she still held his HeartGift?

  No! Fairyfoot sounded indignant. He smells *much* better, like good clay and green growingness.

  Hmmm. Dufleur relaxed a little. She should make more of an effort to return the gift, but Fairyfoot had refused to carry it back to the man. The small breeze of time still gathered around the safe and in a quantity that told Dufleur it had not been disturbed. Since she sensed the HeartGift even through the no-time vault’s shields and its own small shielding, she was certain that the man might do so, too.

  With slow steps she moved toward the safe, frowning as she realizedshe’d left its door translucent. Nothing else was in the safe, and the HeartGift glowed. A bit of knowledge came to the front of her mind. HeartGifts were naturally shielded during the creative process. Only the pair could easily see it, so to someone else the safe would look empty.

  At that moment the secret door slid open, ordered by the Residence. Intruder, it whispered. Sorry. Used new no-see-me spell.

  Dufleur’s skin prickled. With a glance she saw her papyrus had been disturbed. She ran into the room, and the smell was stronger here; more, the wind of time that she’d gathered in the room was definitely tainted with some other presence. The moleculeswere agitated.

  She took a deep breath and shifted into her Flair, into the wind of time that showed all things . . . if you knew how to look, as she was learning. She saw the dark, hulking form of a man shuffling through her papyrus, lifting them to read. She heard a rough chuckle. He turned, but she couldn’t see his face.

  Then the strain on her Flair became too much, and she let the past go, crumpling to the floor. Fairyfoot ran over to her, rubbed against her body. A small, rough tongue licked at her face.

  Bad man. Bad, bad, bad.

  Yes, I know. She rocked to her hands and knees. Much as she hated to do it, she used some of the Time Wind as energy and struggled to her feet.

  Fairyfoot spat. Nasty smell. Nasty taste. Nasty man.

  Dufleur pushed at her hair. “I know,” and she knew who he’d been. Agave, her father’s chief rival in time experimentation.

  He continued to explore time illegally, too.

  Dinner with the Elders went surprisingly smoothly. Saille’s relatives rose to the occasion and had engineered the whole meal to be served without Flair. There were odd bobbles and surprised expressions when someone instinctively used Flair as part of the conversation and it didn’t work—which led to laughter. Saille had never been so proud of his Family.

  Dani Eve was cooed over and praised and constantly surroundedby the Willow women, which led Saille to think more about his female relatives.

  Ruis Elder had been stiff, but had also relaxed under the goodwill and ministrations of the ladies. Saille had been equally formal, since he’d never spoken with Ruis outside the Ship and the presence of his MotherDam, but he relaxed, too.

  “Amazing,” said Ruis in an undertone to Saille. “I’m rarely invited to a Residence, and I’ve never felt so welcomed.” He eyed the ladies grouped around his wife and child and shook his head. “Your MotherDam trained them well to her needs.”

  “Yes. It occurs to me that I should do an in-depth consultationwith each of them and see if they have HeartMates.” Some of them were still of an age to have children. His MotherDam might have wanted to rule their lives and keep them single and childless to serve her, but he didn’t.

  “Ailim told me that your MotherDam had hidden your HeartMate from you.” Ruis gestured to the women. “You think she might have done the same with them?”

  “Perfectly possible. We all have matchmaking Flair. Even if they don’t have HeartMates, together we can find them good, loving spouses.”

  “Which brings us back to the reason why Ailim and Dani Eve and I are here.” Ruis sipped after-dinner caff. “You can’t pick up any Flair from me to do your work.”

  Saille met his eyes. “No, but I can from Ailim. The fact that she never felt a HeartMate during her Passage is telling.”

  “Maybe it just means she doesn’t have a HeartMate, and I’m just a husband.”

  Snorting, Saille said, “I’ve seen HeartMates less in love and loving than you two.”

  Ruis blinked, set down his cup. “You have?”

  “Just because people are HeartMates doesn’t mean they don’t have difficulties in their marriage, differences of opinion, or argue.” And he should remember that for himself, too. Just becausehe found his HeartMate didn’t mean his wooing would go well. As if he had truly expected it to, though he had hoped. But his MotherDam had set more snares for him than he’d anticipated.No Thyme would like what she had done to their Family.

  Saille pulled his mind back to the topic. He smiled. “But in the very beginning, when our ancestors had little Flair, they had other tools.” He leaned closer. “They had questionnaires.”

  “Questionnaires?”

  “Lists of questions about topics for matchmaking. I’ll settle you in a nice corner of the conservatory, and you can start answeringthem while I consult with your lady.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Ruis said, “You sound too cheerful. What’s the catch?”

  “Well, there’s only fifty pages of questions.”

  Ruis stared. “Fifty pages.”

  “That’s right. I, of course, will be able to use my Flair with your wife and do the consultation in an hour or two. You can send your questionnaire to me when you’re done.”

  “Huh,” Ruis grumbled, then his gaze sharpened. “What of my daughter? Will you be able to match her when the time comes?”

  “If I am still T’Willow, I will do my best.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My MotherDam fully believes the Healers will find a cure for her disease and she will leave that cryonics tube. When she does that, she will endeavor to retreive all the power she was forced to abdicate.”

  Ruis grunted. “I wouldn’t want her trying to match my baby.” His lip curled. “She has no use for us Nulls, and I don’t forget that she voted to have me executed.” He glanced at Saille. “You’ve already smoothed a bump in my relationship with my wife.”

  “What?”

  “I thought Ailim had let her Flair and innate tenderness guide her decision and accept D’Willow as a guest in the cryonics tube. She thought I had taken the contract and disapproved. There were hard feelings between us until we sorted the matter out, and your call made us do that.” His jaw flexed. “It was the Ship who’d negotiated the contract with D’Willow. The Ship is fascinated with learning and knowledge. I’ve had a discussion with Nuada’s Sword. It will never deal with my enemies again without telling me. I rule my own realm.”

  Saille had no doubt about that.

  “Meanwhile, we must honor the agreement.”

  Throat dry, Saille said, “Of course.”

  Saille’s mother rose, signaling the meal was over. Saille and Ruis stood, too. Ruis said, “Show me this questionnaire, and I’ll get started while you consult with my lady. I think my daughter will have five women for playmates, and that will suit her just fine.” He clapped a hand on Saille’s shoulder. “Should your MotherDam be released during your lifetime, remember that the FirstFamilies can be fought, and overcome. And I think you’ll have plenty of allies on your side.”

  But Saille would never take a Family matter to outsiders. He’d never force his ladies to choose sides in Family civil war. He’d never fracture the Family. He cared too much for it, and for his relatives, to do that.

  An hour and a half later, his consultation with Ailim Elder was done. It had been unexpectedly easy, and Saille didn’t know whether it was that she already loved and had married her mate, her exceptional telempathic Flair, or that she was a FirstFamilyNoblewoman. He’d have to make detailed notes so he could figure this out later as his career progressed.

  Saille toyed with a writestick. “My conclusions are exactly what you fou
nd for yourself. You need a man who will allow your great telempathic Flair to rest. Had you not already been wed, I’d have looked for a Nobleman of the highest status and sensitivity, but with little Flair, to match with you.”

  She blinked. “Thank you.”

  “You are a very beautiful woman, inside and out,” Saille said. He’d rarely met anyone so innately ethical. “Captain Elder is lucky to have you.”

  Her face flushed from the reading and his compliments, Ailim said, “My thanks again.” She gazed in the direction of the conservatory. “Though I can’t read their thoughts, I can determinewhere they are by a . . . blankness.”

  “Everyone makes adjustments in marriage,” Saille said. It was one of the standard phrases of his profession that he now used automatically.

  Ailim straightened and, with the shift in her posture, became a judge again, authority. “Yes. Those who don’t leave and break the marriage.”

  “There is no divorce on Celta.” The very notion offended him, since his whole Flair was geared to bring people together in marriage and mating.

  A corner of her mouth lifted. “It’s rare, but I’ve seen perhaps three in my career.”

  Twelve

  Saille frowned at Ailim Elder’s words. “I thought the Councils had to approve a divorce.”

  “Here in Druida, certainly, and for anyone of higher status than Commoner, the Noble Council must be petitioned, or three FirstFamily Lords or Ladies must approve the action. But in farflung towns and fishing villages—I was a circuit judge, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “I do think that we Celtans try harder to marry the right person,and work harder at our marriages than the old Earthans.”

  “After four hundred years, our birthrate is still low, our survivalon this planet still in question,” Saille said.

  She tilted her head in consideration. “You with your Flair could be helpful to the circuit judges faced with divorce. The cases I heard invariably included a third person one of the partieswanted to bond with.”