Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) (20 page)

Because the person who’d caused her Family harm had not, in turn, been punished. And she realized that she wanted her society to punish him for his greed, his envy, his hubris.

Because GraceLord T’Equisetum had never said he regretted his actions . . . Well, he couldn’t, could he? He couldn’t admit that he’d wanted that position that her father had also wanted and T’Equisetum had manipulated others’ fear to smear her father and be appointed. He probably couldn’t even say he was wrong to hate the Intersection of Hope. He certainly couldn’t admit that he’d been behind the instigation of the mob that had firebombed the T’Mugwort estate. That was simply criminal.

According to all she believed, that hatred should have eroded his soul. His misdeeds should have come back upon him by three . . . spiritually, physically, emotionally.

But she hadn’t seen or heard that it had. And, apparently, that was a problem for her.

The man who’d ruined her Family had not suffered as they had. Perhaps he hadn’t prospered, but he was still wealthy and respected.

No, she hadn’t been able to forgive, and the High Priest and High Priestess had seen that flaw in her and it had been a detriment to her career, not only her soul.

So, if, in her innermost being, she thought that
she
would Heal from lingering childhood wounds better if she pursued a societal justice, that was exactly what she should do.

And that was what she should admit to her superiors that she was going to do. She didn’t anticipate that the conversation would go well, but she’d already been through all the counseling and rituals to root out the unforgivingness in her and they hadn’t stuck.

The rest of her Family seemed to have worked through whatever fear, anger, and resentment they held at their ruination better than she.

She grimaced at that notion, but she was human, and apparently, in this one matter, she carried a grudge that couldn’t be banished just by meditation and journaling and all the other tools she’d already used.

Even when the Lady had touched her in ritual, when the Goddess had flowed from Tiana, there yet remained a kernel of ire that she couldn’t root out.

Time to work for change, then, for justice.

And she
did
know the difference between justice and revenge. She
could
be satisfied with justice.

She also knew the first person she should approach—her brother-in-law, the man who
felt
like a true brother, her sister’s HeartMate, Private Investigator Garrett Primross.

Tiana had never been to Garrett’s office, but she scried him and asked for an appointment.

“I think I know what you want to discuss, and it’s about fliggering time someone in your Family talks to me about it,” he said with a predatory smile.

“Oh.”

“I don’t have any appointments today, and my current caseload is full but not urgent, so come on by. Public Carrier number five stops just a block from the building.” He gave her an address and she nodded. As she left GreatCircle Temple by the east door she saw the number five going in the right direction on the street bordering the wide grounds. Other people stood at the plinth. “I’m on my way!” she shouted to Garrett on her perscry.

She ran, recalling that she might not have to do this alone. She had a Fam.
Felonerb, I’m going to Garrett Primross’s office. Want to come?
She hoped he did and sent the visualization of the public carrier she was jogging for to him.

I do not like being inside a common glider box
, he replied, but sounded a little distracted.

There was not a creature more common than Felonerb.

I can teleport later. After I GET him.

She sensed him wiggle his butt, in pounce mode.

Get who?
she asked automatically, then rather wished she hadn’t, as a bloody mess of rat along with the intention to KILL was sent to her by her common Fam.

There is a rat hole in the wall of the house next to TQ. None of the cats here have been able to GET him
, her Fam sneered.
I will! He is not TOO CRAFTY for FELONERB RATKILLER!

See you later
, she sent as she hopped onto the carrier and took a seat, blocking any more images and bloodthirsty communications from her Fam.

A
quick ride later Tiana was in a shabbier part of town and walking up a short set of steps to a reinforced door set in a brick building, so square and minimalist that she didn’t think it could inspire Antenn the architect.

Several cats watched her from the stairs and she had to step over them. A week ago she’d have thought them scruffy. All of them appeared sleeker and better cared for than her poor Fam.

Bloody thoughts or no, she must give Felonerb her best. She sent him a spurt of love and received one back from him.

Smiling, she walked up to the door then
through
it as the illusion over a spellshield thinned.

Garrett awaited her outside his open office door, a few strides down the nondescript corridor. “Come on in.” He turned into his office.

When she entered the small chamber he was behind a large, scarred wooden desk but sitting in a brand-new comfortchair. She closed the door behind her and smiled. He looked good in his place of business. Seriously competent.

“Sit,” he said.

She did and realized his two client chairs might look old, but the cushions were plump enough under her . . . better than her own patron chairs.

He leaned over the desk. “You want me to look into the firebombing of your house when you were a kid.”

She stiffened. “That’s right. I want to hire you for that. I can pay—”

“There is no payment among Family members,” he said gruffly. He swiped his hand across his desk and a folder appeared. A fairly thick one with caff stains on the red, red cover. Red for fire? Tiana swallowed.

“As you can see, I’ve been checking it out myself, but a lot of years have passed. No mob members came forward after the fact, of course, for either the harm to your house—which was the worst case—or the other two homes firebombed.”

“Of course they wouldn’t come forward,” she snapped.

He grinned. “Not sounding very compassionate and priestessly.”

“I get irritated when I think of that.”

“I’d get infuriated, myself.” He opened the file. “The guards found some leads but couldn’t prove who might have been in the crowd. ‘Rumors’ from what the Air Mages heard when they arrived on scene to put out the small blaze in your house, and from the guards who came and only saw fleeing folk, stated that there was an in-person instigator who led the mob to your home.”

She looked at Garrett Primross across his desk and shook her head. “You’ve done some work on this.”

“I opened a case file, yeah. Did you really think I would let the wrong to your Family stand? That I hadn’t already begun to investigate that fliggering incident? But I’ve come to a tangled web, haven’t been able to prove who was in the mob that night and whether anyone had ties to T’Equisetum. Who you once said you thought had caused it. You stated T’Equisetum also denounced your father in NobleCouncil during the Black Magic Cult hysteria. That was proven.” Garrett’s voice lowered, softened. “But why do you think T’Equisetum is involved in the riot and firebombing, Tiana?
You
are the only one who believes that.”

She flinched. “He made speeches against us.”

“He, like many Lords and Ladies of the time, emphatically railed against the Black Magic Cult murders and got caught up in the rampant fear that lasted a few days. After all, their children were targeted for human sacrifice.”

Scowling, Tiana explained, again. “When the information that pylor incense was being used in the murders leaked from the guards—”

“Or was planted by one of the Black Magic Cultists,” Garrett reminded. “Evidence showed.”

“Well, T’Equisetum denounced the Intersection of Hope religion . . . because they used it. He set the guards upon us, searching our home because my father had more influence than he, because my father was going to be considered for an important appointment! T’Equisetum used my mother’s religion to ruin us.” Her hands had clenched and her voice had risen. Oh, yes, the quickest way to blow her tranquility to smithereens was to recall that night. No, she had not worked through all of the pain, obviously.

“And how did he ruin you?” Garrett pressed, though he must know . . . not that the Family often talked about the past.

“He cast doubt on my mother, my father . . . just dark enough and just for long enough that he got the appointment instead.”

“All right.” Garrett inclined his head, leaned back in his comfortchair, and linked his fingers over his flat stomach. “So that’s a matter of record in the NobleCouncil. And Councils and such take away rights and privileges a whole lot easier than they grant or reinstate them. But why do you think Equisetum’s behind the mob, too?”

“Because he’s a hater, a fanatic . . .”

Garrett looked thoughtful. “Or he’s . . . thorough.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I suppose. It’s hard to deal with such people. Those who have one idea of right and wrong in their head, and that idea might not correspond to reality, but they won’t change it,
can’t
change it without wreaking their worldview. Emotional dissonance. It’s difficult to counsel such individuals. Though T’Equisetum is the worst of that bunch that I’ve met.”

“Is that all you have against him?”

“He was behind the mob!”

“How do you know?” Garrett shot back.

Flashes of orange and yellow. Flickering sheets of fire seared in the vision of her memories of that night. She put the heels of her hands over her eyes and pressed to get a clearer picture. “I . . . I . . . saw an employee of his . . . one of his lesser relatives who worked for him . . . that night.”

Garrett’s chair whooshed forward, pushing him upright, nearly across his desk, definitely into her space.

“Are you sure? Who?”

“Someone who worked in his office.” She still huddled in on herself, trying to remember, to
see
!

“How did you know the person?”

“The man.”

“How did you know the man?” Garrett was relentless.

Her mouth opened and closed. “I was at home one day when the . . . that man . . . came to the door . . . to pick up a formal papyrus decision with regard to a case of Father’s to take to Lord T’Equisetum.” She found herself whispering. “I think I saw him in the mob. You must know, we are a small Family, and we didn’t have staff. I remember him, and others, from the mob. GraceLord Galega . . . who died later that year. I remember.”

“All right.”

“We were minor Nobles and our house was not a Residence . . . though it might have had stirrings.” She’d tried not to think of that. “I hope if it did, its new Family treated it well.” Tears pressed behind her eyes and she blinked hard to keep them back as she straightened. “If the house is coming to sentience, it would think of
that
Family as its own. Not us.”

“A great deal was taken from you. And in the murders and the outcry, I know why you didn’t press for redress at the time.”

“Terrible.” Tiana swallowed. “That time sent fear into the very bones of my parents. My mother couldn’t worship as she wanted . . .
we
couldn’t worship as we wanted. You know that the hiding crippled Artemisia’s Flair when her Passage came. She should have FirstLevel Flair, but we repressed it.”

“The mania passed quickly,” Garrett said, and though his face didn’t give much expression away, he was her brother now and she knew he kept a tight rein on his temper. He picked up a coin and sent it rolling back and forth across his fingers.

“Yes.” Tiana gulped, murmured a spell couplet to banish the tears. “I think that the next morning, those people who’d been in the mob were ashamed of themselves.”

“Can you remember faces?” he pressed.

She shuddered. “Yes.”

“But you did not prosecute.”

“We had
nothing
! My father’s judgeship was stripped from him, given to another, as had been the appointment . . . and T’Equisetum holds grudges. And the HealingHalls were too . . .” She stopped herself from using curse words. Cursing showed a lack of control. “. . . self-righteous to accept my mother back into Primary HealingHall. She occasionally worked at AllClass HealingHall, but she did not disavow her religion and other Healers didn’t want to work much with a person of the Intersection of Hope. Our Family reputation was ruined forever.”

“A mistake to run instead of fight.”

“Like fighting a mob is easy! Or honorable. Or right.” Anger flashed through her. “You’re a fighter. I know that.” She angled her chin. “We had Flair, no weapons. If we used our Flair to fight, we would have further stirred the mob. What would have happened when we ran out of energy? We’d have been killed.”

A short nod from Garrett, who still frowned. “You escaped.”

“We escaped,” she said softly. “And those Lords and Ladies in the NobleCouncil who had believed the lies that people of the Intersection of Hope had conspired with the Black Magic Cultists stated they were wrong.” Her smile felt more like a grimace. “They didn’t, quite, apologize, but they admitted they were wrong. All except T’Equisetum. I don’t know what twisted in him, if he thought reparations might be made to
us
if he didn’t stand solid against us. Or whether he was twisted in the first place, but he stood his ground that the Intersection of Hope members were evil.”

“He lost his influence.”

Tiana couldn’t stop her lip from curling. “He lost some of his influence . . . and no rational person really likes a fanatic unless they are of the same hue as the fanatic . . .”

“And there aren’t many of the same hue.”

“Thank the Lady and Lord, at least not that darkest hue. But he belongs to the Traditionalist Stance.”

Garrett flipped the coin, snatched it from the air, and grunted. “Like insisting on no change to the current councils is going to work when people are gaining more Flair all the time, when Walker Clover, a former Commoner, will someday be Captain of AllCouncils.”

She let a breath out, sat back against the chair. “
Different than you
does not mean evil.”

“It doesn’t even mean worse than you. Just different,” Garrett said. Now the silver coin disappeared into his palm; he waved and it was gone, and then it appeared in his other hand. No Flaired tricks, all manual dexterity. “And, after your year of—”

“Poverty.”

“After a year of poverty you landed on your feet.” He smiled. “More, you . . . thrived.”

Garrett wouldn’t—couldn’t, because of a confidentiality spell—mention FirstGrove and BalmHeal estate.

Tiana nodded. “We found a new home. Artemisia was accepted at AllClass HealingHall and began to rise in her career . . . under the name of Panax.” Tiana jutted her chin.

“You were accepted as an apprentice in GreatCircle Temple.”

“Yes. Artemisia and I are doing relatively well. Mother practices her craft on those who . . . find her . . . office.”

“It’s an open secret that your father writes cogent and well-respected articles for legal journals.”

“Yes.”

“So T’Equisetum didn’t keep you down.”

Pure fury flashed through her. “That doesn’t mean what he did was right. My parents—”

The silver coin spun and flashed in Garrett’s fingers. He set it on the desk. “You’re damn right. Your parents have hidden for too long. This wrong needs to be righted. Now. But I can’t accuse the man without evidence, though I’d love to confront him with a formal complaint about his actions. After all, he harmed my woman, my HeartMate—he set events into action that crippled her Flair—I, we, can’t prove it yet. If we do, a complaint would be better coming from you.”

She saw her career vanish before her eyes.

“If you’re strong enough and gutsy enough to do it.” He paused. “And I don’t think, with this new Intersection of Hope cathedral, that T’Equisetum will remain quiet. You know that he brought up the matter in the NobleCouncil and was quashed by others, don’t you?”

Tiana wet her lips. “I think Antenn Blackthorn-Moss mentioned something. I hadn’t heard specifics.”

Garrett nodded. “A man who hires others to rile up mobs to hurt or kill a rival cannot be allowed to prosper.” His gaze locked on her. “Your mother and father won’t prosecute. Artemisia is happy with me and our life.” A slight smile. “But you . . . you want justice, don’t you?”