Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) (15 page)

“You’d do that?” Tiana asked.

“Absolutely. Tiana, I am pleased that you accepted my offer. I have not designed the sunroom space yet, with raised plant beds, though I do want a small fountain. Do you wish to plan the chamber, or have me ask Mitchella or maybe Antenn?”

A whole room for her to design, a garden room. But the sitting room she was in was bare, too, and showed an open door to the waterfall room, also bare, and she reasoned that the bedroom beyond would have no furnishings like most of the House. Plenty of rooms to decorate, make herself comfortable in.

Still staring at the sunroom, she said, “I would like to make that room a combination garden room and office area. I can’t think of a more lovely space to work. Surrounded by the smell of lush plants, the scent of flowers.”

“What flowers do you like?” TQ asked.

“I’m a simple person. I like roses,” she said.

“Hmm. I will contact Antenn’s office about what landscaper he uses for his architectural business. To work on this room, and see if we can do roses, and perhaps the rest of my grounds, too. What do you think about them?”

“Your gardens are nicely landscaped.”

“I think they are too . . . regimented. Yes,” TQ said with a little more determination. “I want something different.”

“All right.” She cleared her throat. “You know that I have an assignment to write a ritual for the Intersection of Hope that would include our Celtic priests and priestesses?”

“That’s you? Such a thing was mentioned on the viz interview. You are doing that, making a ritual that all can take part in when raising spellshields on the foundation?”

“Do you have Flaired security spellshield chants in your library?”

“Yes!”

“Can you, ah, transfer that information to recordspheres for me?”

“Of course. Please go to my library. It is down the hall to your right, with windows looking out on the courtyard.”

I will look at My room
, Felonerb said, trotting with her only a short ways and stopping at the first door on her left, looking at her to open it. She did and saw a room larger than the sitting room and sunroom she’d just left.

“I can give the Fam a nice, small room,” TQ said.

“Gracious of you,” Tiana murmured, smiling at the thought that TQ would not be a pushover for Felonerb.

“Yes,” TQ agreed.

She stopped at the right door and paused to listen to the loud purr coming from her Fam. “What I wanted to say was that I will be relying heavily on my mother to help me write the ritual and”—Tiana’s voice caught—“I think it would be a real treat for her to design this sunroom, if you permit.” She paused for a breath because she’d teared up. “She hasn’t been able to make a room entirely her own since we lost our home.” And, maybe, just maybe, Tiana could get her mother out of the sanctuary and across town for more than a couple of septhours. “I know that whatever she would design would fit me.”

“I do permit. I will also give you the dimensions and a blueprint of the room on a recording sphere,” TQ said. There came a slight vibrating creak that sounded like a chuckle. “I will boast to my friend, BalmHeal Residence, that Quina Mugwort will be making a very special room for me.”

“That could work to encourage BalmHeal to allow Mother to change some chambers in that Residence. Thank you, Turquoise House.”

She opened the library door and went in. A large window showed the courtyard. As she studied the landscaping, she admitted it appeared to be more formal than she liked and especially what she was accustomed to. Only four of them lived in the large secret sanctuary, and there was a limited amount they could do on the estate, so she was used to wild gardens.

All the other walls of the room were lined with bookshelves, books, vizes, recording spheres, and even memoryspheres, real actual thoughts and experiences, probably from TQ’s previous occupants.

“I sent my library and important documents and spheres to the PublicLibrary to store so they would not be destroyed as everything else was after the medical experiment with the Iasc plague. After I chose this room as the new library, I had them returned.” Once again pride throbbed in his voice.

“It’s beautiful.” She swallowed. The shelves were the same wood as had been in her lost childhood home. BalmHeal Residence’s bookcases were a different, paler wood. So many times in the last couple of days she’d been reminded of the wrenching change in her life.

A drawer opened from one of the bookcases, with a large data sphere, a smaller recording sphere no doubt containing one ritual of the Intersection of Hope, and a piece of papyrus. She crossed to the opening and took them all, putting them all in her large sleeve pockets. The pockets were bespelled not only to protect and lighten objects within, but to appear flat.

Chimes sounded.

“I have visitors!” TQ trilled. “Come to see you and me!”

Tiana heard the rapid thumps of Felonerb running, saw a streak of brown-gray through the open door as he shot down the hallway.

A
ntenn had sloughed off T’Equisetum’s words. Mostly. A few had gotten under his skin and dug in . . . or maybe they’d traveled to his brain and took up space in the back of his mind. In any event, he had a cathedral to build. The notion just plain thrilled him.

He stopped in his office to change from his professional tunic and trous to work leathers. Sturdier clothes in which to supervise the digging of the deep foundation trenches. Glancing at the timer, he saw he could just make the small, private, and sacred ceremony the Chief Ministers planned for the groundbreaking.

Like Tiana Mugwort’s mother, a spouse of one of the Excavation Earth Mages belonged to the Intersection of Hope Church. The Excavation Earth Mage and her sisters had given Antenn and the Chief Ministers a good deal on the trench digging. They would handle the excavation only.

The ministers used people connected to them if at all possible, and others who fit into their budget. Unfortunately that did not include the best in spellshielding, a FirstFamily woman. But with a ritual composed of many, the shields should be plenty strong.

Even though Antenn had worked with these mages before, he needed to be there to supervise.
No one
in his lifetime had undertaken such a massive project.

And from now on, he’d have to walk the site every day to keep the detail in his mind for teleportation purposes . . . and he needed to set up teleportation areas complete with signals and a glider parking lot.

At the last minute, he thought of T’Equisetum’s sneer and Vinni’s warning and belted on his sword and blazer.

*   *   *

B
eing at the Turquoise House was too distracting: too many people came and went, just checking up on Tiana or checking out the House itself.

Then the Sandalwoods had shown up, and Tiana had accompanied them around the House as TQ gave them a tour loaded with attention and detail and added the outside back grassyard and garden.

Meanwhile the minutes until the deadline for her to present the new ritual to the Chief Ministers ticked off in her mind, the time waning ever scarcer.

MidAfternoon Bell rolled around, and the steady stream of visitors continued . . . priests and priestesses, friends, who’d heard of the cathedral and the upcoming ritual, and the Turquoise House—who’d apparently been very exclusive the last couple of years. And the inner pressure of hard
important
creative work instead of interacting-with-people work scraped on Tiana’s nerves.

As soon as she was between visitors, she closed the House and, apologizing to it for her desertion for the rest of the day but promising to make it up to the youngster later and that she’d be back early the next morning, she left for BalmHeal Residence.

The rest of the day and past dinnertime, she studied reports, old and new, regarding the Intersection of Hope religion, and the materials TQ had given her. She’d reviewed her own notes on the rituals she’d done for her mother over the years—fewer than she’d recalled.

Sitting at her desk, she massaged her scalp to hopefully stimulate her brain. What she really, truly needed to do was to find the absolute kernel of commonality between the two religions, a spiritual basis shared by them both.

Kindness, compassion, and love for their fellow beings as all progressed on their lives’ journeys.

Simple might be best. And simple and inclusive . . . and here she was thinking inclusive again . . . might not work for the Chief Ministers. Her mother was a Healer and loved her HeartMate and children, who followed the traditional Celtic religious path . . . so Tiana’s mother probably accepted flexibility in her rituals where the ministers would not.

Tiana scrapped another idea. She stood and stretched and paced her small sitting room. She’d have liked to go down the stairs and walk into the night, but that would arouse the Residence, who preferred everyone inside his walls once dark fell. The estate attracted the desperate, allowed afflicted beings inside for sanctuary, but nothing in the spellshields prevented the evil or insane.

True, the evil and the insane didn’t often remain that way . . . the sanctuary gave them surcease from their pain and they Healed. Or they died. Or they left. But the Residence guarded his people jealously. Another of the reasons why her parents had remained inside the estate . . . to soothe the first Residence that had become sentient on Celta . . . and then had been abandoned.

BalmHeal Residence
liked
having people who didn’t leave the estate to work in Druida City as Tiana and Artemisia and Garrett did.

So Tiana was stuck inside, though the fresh cold air outside of winter turning into spring would refresh her. Her sitting room was too small for pacing.

After the last couple of days, she didn’t dare teleport outside the walls or outside the estate. Lately, she’d needed all her energy, physical, spiritual, and Flair, to just get through her workday.

Finally she threw out everything she had and decided against a circle. She liked the circle work, being connected with others, feeling the variety of others’ energy, Flair,
personality
flowing around her, through her . . . But that was not the way of the Intersection of Hope folk until the very last of their ceremony.

Those who could not set aside their own preferences and prejudices to take part in a spiritual experience—even if it was a decidedly
different
spiritual experience—did not need to attend. She began to draft explanations to her fellow priests and priestesses as she worked on the ritual.

In an Intersection of Hope ceremony, one chose an end of the arm of the cross from which to enter the sacred space—as the childlike self, the guardian spirit, the adult full of vitality, or the very mature and accepting person. Of the four of her Family, when they’d taken on the aspects, Tiana had always written herself in as the guardian spirit and had planned on being part of that line of celebrants in this ritual. Perhaps, with the recent experience of her interviews with the High Priest and Priestess, it was time to reconsider.

Going to the meditation corner of her sitting room, she folded into a seated position, let her shoulders drop and stress flow from her into the floor, and closed her eyes. Just as she whiffed something odd, a bony cat hopped onto her lap and began a rough and rusty purr.

She smiled. “Felonerb,” she whispered.

I am here.
He sniffed, and it wasn’t as lush and wet as that morning. She petted his knobby spine.

We will fatten you up
, she sent telepathically.

His purr increased and she relaxed further.

I ate much today. Regular meals!

He sounded thrilled, and her heart simply squeezed with the aching at what he’d already suffered.

He nudged her hand with his head.
That is all over. I have found My forever home.

“Absolutely,” she murmured.

Another sniff.
Your Dam and the grumpy old House made me sit in a spot and blew smoke over me.

Probably to clean him and make him smell better. Since her mother hadn’t said anything at dinner about having to clean up his vomit, they’d all been spared that. Tiana said, “Smoke is better than a wet bath.”

A series of sniffs.
Yes. And I saw Gwydion Ash! And he saw Me! And looked Me all over and petted Me and tickled Me inside and out and We played and I felt warm and hot, and then fine, Fine, FINE!
Felonerb’s lashing tail thwacked her. Sounded as if he’d needed Healing and had received it. Tiana breathed a prayer of thanks to the Lady and Lord.

Then I joined you. It was a good day.
A pause of a heartbeat.
Are We going to sit here long?

She chuckled, felt the simple joy throughout her body. “No. I have to talk to my mother.”

A rumble sounded in his throat as he hopped off her lap and onto the bedsponge. There he curled up and draped his tail over his nose, sniffed again in a disgusted manner, and muttered,
She SMOKED Me. I do not want to see her again soon.

Tiana laughed. “All right.” She went to her desk and swept up the three simple rituals she’d drafted. None of them had triggered her Flair, as often happened when she created. So they were far from perfect.

But if she worked with her mother, she’d find which was the best, and anything that might alienate the Chief Ministers.

Tiana
did
know that when all four lines of celebrants met in the center of the space, they formed a square and connected with each other by holding specially consecrated rope ties they wore as belts. That time would be nearly the same as a circle in her own religion . . . and the moment that they’d use Flair to raise the spellshields. She needed to ask her mother’s opinion on chants and incenses.

Tiana wasn’t sure how long it would be until the ritual was scheduled but thought it would have to be within a few days. The sooner she had copies of the chants to distribute to the High Priestess and the High Priest so they could study their parts, the better.

She walked down the stairs and to the conservatory where her parents were sitting together in the dark before they went to bed, as was their custom. Her father saw Tiana and rose and stretched, lifted his HeartMate’s hand, and kissed her fingers. “Later, beloved.”

Tiana’s mother’s smile was soft. “Later.”

With a wave of her hand, Tiana set a spellglobe over the table in the middle of the room. She breathed deeply of the humid, plant-rich air, paused to listen to the trickle of a tiny fountain, and settled into real peace that had escaped her for most of the day.

Her mother kissed her cheek and drew out a rough wooden chair that matched the table, and Tiana did the same, sitting on a bright red cushion.

“What do you have, dear?” Quina asked.

Tiana sat and gave her mother the rituals she’d worked so hard on.

Quina Mugwort read the three rituals in detail, frowned, and made Tiana stand and act them out. With a wave of her fingers, Quina translocated several small
real
papyrus books. A couple of them Tiana had seen before . . . an antique one she and her Family had purchased for her mother’s Nameday. Chants and spells.

Then came a long silence as Tiana’s mother stared in her general direction but with her eyes focused on a vision in her head or something more distant. After a moment she shook herself, then met Tiana’s gaze. “You know the words and the prayers, my darling, but you don’t
feel
it, don’t have the spirit in your heart.” She put her hand between her full breasts.

Tiana nodded. “No, I wouldn’t. I believe in something else.” She lifted her arms, centered herself, closed her eyes, and called to her Goddess. Felt her spirit rise to meet that Female Essence that flowed and enveloped her, enriched her life, touched her mind with wisdom more than Tiana could comprehend. A tang of duality slipped through her, too, the touch of the more aggressive male energy, that called out to that small bit she carried within. She stayed in the refreshing state of bliss for an eternal instant, then exhaled a long breath as the Lady left.

When she opened her eyes, she saw silent tears sliding down her mother’s face.

“That was beautiful. And special. And I am proud and happy for you in your faith,” said Quina, her voice clogged. “But it is not my faith.”

“No. But I love you and your faith, and the joy you have in the journey of your spirit,” Tiana said.

Her mother banished her tears, swallowed, and tapped her forefinger on one of the rituals. “This one is the best.” She laid her hand atop the books and smiled with that joy that was one of her essential characteristics. “I think if we stick to some of the very first chants and spells that were written, the Chief Ministers would be surprised and pleased. I don’t believe some of these have been used in centuries, perhaps not even after we landed here on Celta.” She lifted her chin. “They’ll be impressed, too, with my wonderful daughter.”

“With the ritual mother and daughter make,” Tiana said.

“Yes.” Another gesture and a carafe that smelled of hot, black, potent caff appeared on the table, along with a couple of green, herbal pills. Tiana knew what that meant. “We’re going to be here for a while.”

“Yes.”

A couple of septhours later, when her mother finished with her additions, Tiana took a clean piece of papyrus and began writing the first part of the ritual for the childlike self, as those choosing that godhead processed through the arm of the cross that would be dedicated to that portion of the journey that the Intersection of Hope praised.