Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) (26 page)

Everything moved so quickly! As if she’d dropped the pebble of her memory of the night into a lake and it rippled clear across, affecting others as it went. T’Ash on their side! Though Antenn had mentioned the man to her before. She slid a gaze toward him, saw that his focus was on the older men. Then, as if he felt her study of him, he turned his head and winked at her.

With an additional rush of pleasure at his support, her knees went wobbly and Garrett stepped up and steadied her with a hand under her elbow.

“Tiana needs to recover a little first,” TQ stated with authority. “I have several restorative drinks in my medical room. Antenn, please follow my instructions to get them. Garrett, please settle Tiana in the chair in the mainspace.”

“Whatever we do, this is going to be a long, and perhaps ugly process,” Garrett said.

Winterberry shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Once you have a FirstFamily Lord or Lady involved in something, things get done fast.” He looked at Antenn. “I’ll need you to fill out a witness statement immediately, too. Please go to the Temple so you are at hand if I wish to consult with you. I’ll translocate some there.”

Bowing to T’Sandalwood, Winterberry said, “High Priest, if you would offer to teleport me with you to your offices, we can get this process rolling. I’ll send my glider back to the guardhouse.”

T’Sandalwood held out his hand and Winterberry clasped the man’s fingers, and they were gone.

Meanwhile, Antenn had slipped from the room, and Garrett led her from the chamber—which she didn’t think she’d care to see again—to the left.

“I have two areas that might be mainspaces now, Garrett,” TQ informed him. “But on second thought, I believe Tiana would be more comfortable in her sunroom.”

“Fine.” Garrett kept his steps as small as hers and his pace slow, staring at her thoughtfully.

“What?” she asked.

He took a coin from his trous pocket, then sent it running through the fingers of his free hand, appearing and vanishing. “You spoke in the tone of a girl.”

She shrugged. “That’s not unusual when a person is regressed to a younger age, you know that.”

Nodding, he said, “That’s true. But it affected every man here. Every one of them will fight for justice for that child who was ripped from her home.”

“Oh.” The back of her neck heated along with her cheeks, and she knew she flushed. Then she let a long sigh out. “That will be good.”

“I think so. You know that Winterberry was the guard the FirstFamilies called on when any investigation needed to be handled? He knows them. Not sure how well he works with T’Ash, but Antenn Blackthorn-Moss is right. T’Ash will go after the NobleCouncil to make sure you Mugworts get what you’re due with blood in his eyes. They can’t just ignore this like they have for years.” Garrett shook his head. “And I think Winterberry and the FirstFamilies are shifting all investigative business onto me. Winterberry is the Chief of all the guards now, and the FirstFamilies seem to want someone not . . . tied into the legal system. Though, obviously, in this instance, he can help a great deal.”

They’d reached the end of the hall, and Tiana touched the door latch, which she’d closed and locked since it was the portal to her personal rooms, and the door swung open. The sitting room still looked stark, but they walked through it to the sunroom.

That door swung open for them, courtesy of TQ, and the humid scent of green and growing plants, the small rush of a fountain, wafted over her like a balm.

“Nice,” Garrett said, glancing around at the tiers of beds and plants, the long pond, and the fountain in the corner. “That the Mugworts hold the BalmHeal estate and run the secret sanctuary is not well known,” Garrett said slowly, “but I’m sure some FirstFamilies know.”

“Like my friends the Hawthorns.”

“Yes. And there isn’t a more influential man in the younger set, a wealthier one, than Laev T’Hawthorn.” Garrett paused, raising an eyebrow in a question toward her as he settled her in the wicker chair. “Unless it’s Vinni T’Vine?”

She sat. “If you’re asking me whether GreatLord T’Vine has ever visited FirstGrove and the sanctuary, I couldn’t tell you, not even here.”

“Aww, Tiana,” TQ said.

Garrett jolted a little.

“I’m accustomed to keeping secrets. But, actually, I don’t think T’Vine has been—where I live.”

“Lived,” TQ said firmly.

“Where I lived.” She sighed and leaned back against the pillow of the chair and let the tangled, tired emotions within her subside as she considered the places she’d lived. Her childhood home, which had been budding with intelligence and now was firmly in the past. The series of rental apartments during that year her Family hid, blessedly fading from her memory. BalmHeal Residence, who had tolerated her, and who housed her loving Family, but hadn’t ever quite felt like a real home to her. And now here, with the cheerful TQ.

Antenn appeared with a tube that showed thick orange-brown sludge, green bits, and a sprig of mint. He stared at it doubtfully and handed it to her.

She opened the top with a grateful sigh, swallowed some down. The restorative would give her energy and also contained a small spell to deflect a headache, though she didn’t feel as if a migraine loomed.

Antenn glanced at her. “Better you drinking that stuff than me.”

“My sister Artemisia stocked the medicine room here, and this concoction is one of my mother’s. It’s not bad and I’m used to it.”

Antenn nodded and went back to studying the sunroom. “This isn’t quite finished, either, is it?”

“None of my rooms are all the way finished,” TQ said. “I want my—Tiana to make it the way she prefers.”

Tiana sighed. “That’s very nice of you, TQ.”

The fountain splashed an extra-happy burble.

“I have a message for you, Garrett,” TQ said. “The High Priest and Winterberry want to talk to you and for you to fill out the witness statement immediately. I have already done mine,” TQ ended with pride.

Garrett grunted. “I don’t know the light well enough in GreatCircle Temple to teleport there.”

“You can take the Temple glider T’Sandalwood came in,” Tiana offered. “And I’ll go there with Antenn in his.” She’d seen the vehicles through the courtyard windows as she’d walked to her rooms.

“Fine. See you later.” One side of Garrett’s mouth kicked up. “Glad this thing is finally being taken care of. The Family can use the gilt.” He left.

Antenn paced the length of the sunroom and back. With the plant beds, it was narrower, barely big enough for two to walk side by side. “You know, TQ, if you’re still working on the beds, I’d recommend multicolored stone instead of just gray.” He stopped at the corner. “And I think the fountain is too small and uninteresting. It doesn’t fit. You need a fountain especially shaped for a corner. Red granite rock at various angles would look good.”

“Do you know where to obtain such a fountain?” TQ asked.

“Yeah. I’ll order it for you.”

“Thank you, Antenn.”

The architect took out his perscry pebble and, eyeing the corner, did so.

“Charge me, Antenn,” TQ said.

“It can be a housewarming gift,” Antenn said gruffly, not looking at Tiana.

“Thank you, Antenn,” TQ said.

“Thank you, Antenn,” Tiana echoed.

He shrugged. “’S nothing.” When he turned to her, his face was pleasant but unrevealing. “How do you feel now?”

T
iana rose to her feet, crossed into the sitting room, and put the tube into the reconstructor. Taking a softleaf from her sleeve, she wiped her lips and crossed to the door, then noticed Antenn standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. “You haven’t chosen a color scheme for your rooms yet?” he asked.

“Ah, no.” She hadn’t thought to, was too accustomed to deferring to others.

“What would you like?” Antenn and TQ said at the same time.

“Ah—”

With narrowed eyes, Antenn said, “Warm tones. I think you appreciate warm tones. What’s your favorite color?”

Tiana glanced around the sitting room. “I think I’d like peach in here.”

A grunt from the architect. “Then you can have a rich cream for your bedroom.” He paused. “Or pink.”

“Not pink, a rich cream sounds good,” she said.

“Layers, subtle swaths,” Antenn said. “It’s old-fashioned but it works. Cream and pale yellow and slight peach, shaded all together.” He nodded. “That would work. See to it, TQ.”

“Yes, Antenn!”

“You might want a contrasting wall in here, or a full mural. Think about it.”

“Sounds lovely.”

TQ said, “I know Avellana Hazel,
the
three-dimensional mural artist. And I’ve had lots of wonderful murals on my walls. The ocean at Maroon Beach . . .”

Antenn flinched.

“The great labyrinth through the seasons,” TQ continued to gush. “FirstGrove.”

“FirstGrove?” Antenn asked. “FirstGrove! You know someone who’s been to FirstGrove? The secret sanctuary, BalmHeal estate?”

Tiana kept a casual smile on her face and refrained from tucking her hands into her opposite sleeves, a nervous gesture that might clue Antenn in.

“I am on good terms with BalmHeal Residence,” TQ said haughtily, as if to make up for his mistake. “All us sentient Houses and Residences have links, you know that.”

“But you’d need a person with a recordsphere to viz FirstGrove,” Antenn pushed.

A slight sighing of the House around them, little wood creaks, air drafts. “Antenn, I have had desperate people within my walls.”

“Oh.”

Tiana’s perscry lilted a formal processional march. She plucked it from her sleeve. “The High Priest is calling.” Answering it, before the man with lined brow could speak, she said, “I—and witness Antenn Blackthorn-Moss—are on our way.”

T’Sandalwood nodded. “Good, that’s good. By glider?”

“Yes, the guard glider.”

“Your memorysphere has been copied. The complaint form is on your desk in your office.” He rubbed his forehead. “T’Ash is here. I’ll see if he needs to speak with you.”

Her stomach clenched and she felt the blood drain from her face. T’Ash. As Antenn had said, a very formidable man, one she’d never spoken to. “Very well,” she said, her voice high.

The High Priest shook his head. “These FirstFamilies Lords and Ladies . . . too curious for their own good. All of them.” His lips firmed. “I will see you shortly, FirstLevel Priestess.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Antenn Blackthorn-Moss’s witness statement has also been translocated to your desk. You can ask him if he needs a private meditation room to fill it out.”

“I’ll be fine working with the priestess,” Antenn said, and Tiana liked that idea; it both relaxed her that she wouldn’t be alone and pleasantly stroked her nerves.

“Shortly, then,” the High Priest said. “Blessed be.” He grimaced. “I hope this whole matter resolves to blessings upon all of us . . . and receiving what we deserve.” He signed off.

Tiana found her palms pressing together in a reflexive gesture.

“Justice balanced with mercy, I suppose,” Antenn said.

*   *   *

T
he glider ride to GreatCircle Temple passed in quiet, Tiana too preoccupied to converse with Antenn. It had been another long and emotionally strenuous day. And she could only see those continuing in the future.

Sooner or later she’d have to confront GraceLord T’Equisetum.

When they reached her chambers, she was pleased that though they weren’t as elegant as her rooms in TQ, the furnishings were comfortable and of a homey shabbiness, not threadbare from poverty.

She led him into her office, which held a desk in the back corner that she’d use mostly for writing reports . . . and drafting rituals. The desk had been assigned to her as an apprentice when she’d entered the Temple for training years ago, and she’d kept it with her. Not at all an impressive, intimidating piece of furniture. Or one she used to show her status as a FirstLevel Priestess.

Antenn glanced at it and flicked his fingers at the light-spellglobes in the corner that lit with a full-spectrum daylight glow. He said, “When you receive the NobleGilt due you as a contributing member of our society, you’ll be able to purchase a better desk.” He frowned. “And a more comfortable chair for sure. I can get you a discount with Clover Fine Furniture.”

“Thank you,” she said coolly, and went to the desk where two stacks of papyrus lay. Her stomach jittered from his words—he was sure the NobleCouncil would recognize its mistake and give the Mugworts back the gilt it had confiscated, acknowledge them as a Noble Family again. She wasn’t so sure. In her counseling experience, it wasn’t easy getting a person who felt entitled from birth to admit they’d been wrong—let alone a whole Noble body.

The other thing that dried her throat was the “Formal Complaint against a Noble” that lurked on her desk. Was she really going to do this? Perhaps jeopardize her career by stating that GraceLord T’Equisetum had wronged her Family, and her?

It could be a big, public, acrimonious mess. Just what the Sandalwoods would like one of their FirstLevel Priestesses to become involved in. Just what her colleagues would look at askance.

Antenn joined her at the desk, scooped up his stack titled “Witness Statement.” “You’re not going to back off now, are you?”

He stared down at her, hazel eyes questioning, and other feelings unfurled in her. She didn’t want to be seen as lacking in any way by this man.

Her shoulders went back. “No.”

He grunted and walked to a small table placed against one of the curved windows looking out on the gardens. “This will do well enough as a desk for me.” Gaze locked on hers, he said, “We first met the day you had your reviews and received a promotion and the cathedral liaison project. I could tell the reviews bothered you. Are you worried about the High Priest and Priestess because of this complaint and petition mess?”

Her breath stuck in her chest and she nodded, then managed to say, “Yes.”

“One trait all honorable people aspire to is justice.”

She stared and a flush showed under his skin. His jaw set, and then he continued, “The Lord and Lady must prize justice also. And for the High Priest and Priestess to lag in supporting one of their own in seeking justice would be seen as a failure, wouldn’t it? Not only as members of the Noble class in failing to protect someone weaker from exploitation, the honest from the dishonest cheat, but also spiritually, wouldn’t it? A failure of a spiritual nature.” He gestured awkwardly. “A weakness or something?” He ended, brows down, frowning.

His words, the concept behind them, calmed her. “Yes. You’re right. The three of us might not discuss this at all, if they take that point of view.” She pressed her lips together, released them. “Though I do not think of myself as weak.”

He slanted her a look. “Not in courage, or . . . grace . . . with the Lady and Lord, I suppose, but T’Equisetum has more status, gilt, and influence than you, for sure.” Antenn paused. “But not nearly as much as T’Ash.”

“Who is a force to be reckoned with, as are all the FirstFamily Lords and Ladies. Such as your father,” she said.

“Such as your friend, Laev T’Hawthorn.”

She used Antenn’s words. “I suppose.”

He jerked a nod and turned away to the small table, actually seeming to see it: graceful tapering pillar legs, multiwood inlaid top. “This is nice.”

“A gift from a friend who doesn’t need it in his chambers.”

“His?” Antenn’s expression, which had lightened, clouded again.

“Leger Cinchona. He moved from chambers here to his newly refurbished Temple in Apollopa Park.”

“Oh.” Antenn nodded as if no longer interested, set the papyrus on the table and squared the sheets, then sat and translocated a writestick from
somewhere
with such ease she knew it was a daily occurrence as with her, too, and began to study the first page. His face soured.

She went to her desk and sat and read the top sheet of the complaint. Her mouth dried and her heart beat faster, but she took her own writestick and began filling it out carefully. All the people who looked at the complaint would analyze her handwriting and what it indicated about her and the issue she brought before JudgementGrove.

The standard questions were easy to answer, and she snuck looks at Antenn. Even just sitting she felt a wave of attraction moving through her.

Oddly enough, she finished both the complaint against GraceLord T’Equisetum and Arvense Equisetum and her portion of the Petition to the NobleCouncil for Redress of Wrongful Action—which Garrett would also fill out, since his HeartMate had been affected and therefore he had—before Antenn stopped writing his Witness Statement. He seemed to be noting every detail.

Then his scry pebble sounded, and he fished it from his trous pocket and glanced at her. She nodded.

He frowned. “It’s a three-way call with Chief Minister Elderstone, Winterberry back at the guardhouse, and me. They probably want you, too.”

Probably, since she was the official liaison of the Temple to the Intersection of Hope. She gestured to the scry panel on the wall, something the Temple provided to a FirstLevel Priestess if she couldn’t purchase her own, which she couldn’t. Better for conference calls than her scry bowl. “Please forward the scry to here.”

Antenn nodded and flicked the pebble with his thumb, sauntered over and took a chair in front of her desk, and set a foot across his knee, which did interesting things with his trous, and she yanked her gaze away.

She raised her voice. “Open scry from Chief Minister Elderstone of the Intersection of Hope Church, and Chief Guardsman Ilex Winterberry.” A moment later the panel swirled like the water in the old scry bowls, shades of blue, and both men showed up on her screen.

“Better if you came and sat next to me,” Antenn said gruffly.

Tiana flushed a little, then joined him in her other client chair; his aura seemed to envelop her and she liked it. She waved and had the screen rotating and tilting to show them both.

“Greetyou, Chief Minister and Chief Guardsman.” Tiana inclined her head.

“Greetyou, Chief Minister, Priestess Mugwort, and cuz,” Winterberry said. He sat behind a larger and more authoritative desk than her own, appearing guardlike and serious.

“Thank you for joining me for this conference,” the Chief Minister said. “My colleagues and I have been discussing the security situation of building the cathedral.”

Antenn sat up straight; his face went expressionless, though every muscle and sinew of his body seemed to have tightened, and she
knew
he was concerned the Chief Ministers might have canceled the project. That radiated painfully from him, though his mouth curved in an outwardly easy smile.

Could the Chief Ministers cancel the job? Weren’t there contracts? She didn’t know, but the architect wouldn’t worry over nothing.

“Naturally the building of our cathedral is preeminent in our minds and we have had long and continuing discussions of all the ramifications.”

Antenn relaxed, his face set more naturally.

Chief Minister Elderstone paused and his face seemed to sag into new lines. “We have decided that we will have the ritual tomorrow night at twinmoons rise.” He sighed. “Please inform those from the Temple of that.”