Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) (27 page)

T
omorrow! That’s hardly time to learn the parts,” Tiana said.

Antenn said, “I think you will have more participants of the FirstFamilies if you wait.”

“Will we?” Elderstone’s expression solidified into austere. “There are rumors going around that our rituals are lesser—not different, but
wrong
—and we should not be supported by anyone who truly loves your Lord and Lady and the many aspects they take. In fact, we have heard that one of the proponents of the Traditionalist Stance political movement that has been coalescing in the last few years, GraceLord T’Equisetum, will be giving a press conference, and that he will be hinting that our faith is not acceptable.”

Tiana made a noise; that man had dominated her thoughts for the afternoon and she didn’t like it. Antenn’s gaze slid to the witness form that still lay on the table but kept his face unrevealing. Winterberry appeared inscrutable.

“Yes, FirstLevel Priestess?” Chief Minister Elderstone asked.

She had to say something. “He is a . . . negative man. One who dislikes change.”

“And who
hates
people who don’t believe the same as he does?” Winterberry asked, as if he hadn’t been there as a witness and considered T’Equisetum’s motivations, as he would.

She shrugged.

After a silence of a few heartbeats, Elderstone continued, “Tomorrow evening will be a good day for our ritual, on one of our holy days, and our members will turn out.” He bent a look at Antenn, at Winterberry. “So you will know if people start targeting them.”

“I will participate myself, sir,” Winterberry said.

Elderstone’s brows rose in surprise, and then he nodded. “Good.” He turned his gaze back to Tiana. “Do you know your part?”

She shifted. “Of course. I wrote the ritual and it’s still in my mind.”

“And all of our parishioners will know their parts because the ritual is simple, it includes our oldest chants and responses, and”—he raised a finger—“we will allow papyrus prompts for those who are not members of our belief system but who wish to attend. Will you make copies of each of the four parts for our guests, FirstLevel Priestess?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there,” Antenn said in a rough voice.

The Chief Minister nodded. “We expected you. We toured the area again during our discussions this afternoon and concentrated on the trenches instead of the ritual. They are, as required, eight meters deep for the great foundation blocks. We did a spot check here and there to ensure they were level, and all are.”

“Of course,” Antenn said stiffly.

“Excellent, efficient work.”

“Thank you,” Antenn said.

“You have our authorization to proceed with setting the foundation. You stated the first blocks could be cut, translocated from the quarry by a specialized Earth Mage company, and set within a ten-septhour time span?”

“Yes,” Antenn said. His jaw flexed. “We can start tomorrow morning at dawn, but it
will
be pushing the work to finish by sunset. I will have to notify the mortar makers today so that they may begin their batches.”

“We must have at least the first blocks down and solid so we can infuse the spellshields into the basic structure. Can we count on you for that?”

Antenn’s fingers twitched, and she got the impression he wanted to run them through his hair. He scowled, then nodded and said, “Yes. Twinmoonsrise might give us just enough extra time to finesse any problems that might arise.” Antenn stood and bowed as if to a FirstFamily GreatLord. “If you will excuse me, I need to speak to my subcontractors.” He paused. “And to all whom I might be able to persuade to join us in this enterprise.”

The word
enterprise
flicked an image of Laev T’Hawthorn into Tiana’s mind. “I’ll speak to the Hawthorns.” She already had a stack of formal invitations ready on a side table, but face-to-face by scry or in person would be best. Her eyes met the Chief Minister’s. “I cannot promise that they will compose part of your—” She stopped because she’d thought
circle
and that wasn’t correct. “—ceremony,” she finished.

“We thank you. Now, we, too, must practice. Since it seems we will be viewed by those of great status and influence of Celta, we must be as perfect as possible. May your day’s journey be sweet.” He cut the scry.

Winterberry stayed on the screen. “One moment, Antenn. Whom do you approach?”

“My Family, the Blackthorns. All of us who can be there.” He paused. “I’m sure my mother and father will come, my siblings and my cuzes Draeg and Vensis, who are living with us. By extension, I’m pretty sure that Del and Raz Elecampane might come. Raz, as an actor, would find it interesting.” He paused. “That’s how I’ll be spinning the experience, interesting and unique. Once-in-a-lifetime, maybe.”

“Good idea,” the Chief of the guards said. “I will contact the head of the Clover Clan, Walker T’Clover.” He smiled. “If the Clovers come en masse, they might confuse prejudiced onlookers as to who are serious Intersection of Hope adherents.”

“You think there might be trouble, then,” Antenn said.

“I think I’m paid to make sure there won’t be . . . and I’ve heard the circulating rumors, too.”

Antenn’s jaw clenched. “Worse than I thought, then.”

“Well, there isn’t any panic like there was during the Black Magic Cult murders, but there’s distrust of the Intersection of Hope people, and, I think, malice toward them.”

As they watched a guardswoman came and whispered in Winterberry’s ear. He nodded and dismissed her, then said, “I’ve been informed that GraceLord T’Equisetum has called a press conference to speak with the newssheets and viz reporters about the new Intersection of Hope cathedral. Tomorrow morning, a septhour before WorkBell, when folk might be watching.”

Antenn said, “He’s gone to the public, then.” The architect rolled his shoulders as if releasing tension. “I don’t know if that means his influence with other Nobles and in the NobleCouncil is not as much as he wishes—others aren’t listening to him as much and he wants more support—or that he’s consolidated support and has a good base and wants to become even more popular.”

Winterberry looked straight at Tiana. “As a liaison between the Temple and the Intersection of Hope, don’t you think you should be there?”

“Where is he holding the press conference?” Tiana asked.

“T’Equisetum keeps a business office near the GuildHall. He handles the selling of some food crops.” Winterberry paused. “Especially those of his cuz, Arvense, to whom he gave a valuable estate just after the firebombing of the homes of the Intersection of Hope during the fear of the Black Magic Cult.” The Chief looked straight at her. “You can decide whether to hand GraceLord T’Equisetum your complaint, as an injured party. As soon as you transmit the complaint also naming Arvense, one of our guards in the north will serve it upon the man.” Now Winterberry smiled, showing teeth. “I think that Arvense will lose that estate, and justly so. Please finish that complaint as soon as possible and translocate it to the clerk of all JudgementGrove. I’ll ensure that a copy of your memorysphere is available for review upon request from the clerk.”

Her mouth dried, but she forced words out anyway. “I will. Right now. As for the press conference, I’ll plan on attending,” Tiana said. “I must send out the invitations to the Intersection of Hope ritual to my friends and Family.” She closed her eyes at the rush of it all. “Tomorrow night. At twinmoons rise.”

“Later, then,” said the guard. Tiana opened her lashes to see the scry panel go dark.

The instant the scry flicked off, Antenn was on his own perscry speaking to a woman who apparently ran a mortar mixture shop. Antenn’s and the mortar maker’s conversation was brisk and seemed to end on a satisfactory note.

Tiana skimmed her complaint, hesitated, then copied it the requisite five times and sent it to the JudgementGrove system’s chief clerk. They hadn’t moved fast enough to stop T’Equisetum from maligning the Intersection of Hope ministers.

Antenn rubbed his pebble again with his thumb, scried the quarry that would cut the huge stone blocks for the base of the cathedral, and gave them the go-ahead to begin work.

She listened a little to that, then went to the stack of invitations she’d penned and placed her fingertips on them, concentrated on imbuing the time and date into the bespelled space she’d left in each one, and then, with a snap of both thumbs and forefingers, translocated them to the mail caches of each person.

With bare patience, Antenn scried the Earth Mages’ company, Apex Mage Builders, twice, but was forced to leave a message in their cache. When he looked up from his calls and saw her watching him, he flushed. “Forgive me for using your office as my own. I’m finished for now.”

She inclined her head. “Events move apace.”

“Yeah.”

They gazed at each other. Now they were alone again, and looking at each other, and, not focused on anything else, the atmosphere throbbed with the attraction between them. Every time they spent a little time with each other, the connection got stronger.

She grabbed at the first passing thought. “If you can get me a count of the people who might participate in the ritual, I’d be grateful.”

“Yes?”

“It would be best if I ensured there are sufficient copies of the ceremony for all. The Chief Ministers will expect that of me. I’ll walk you to the main teleportation pad.” As if he didn’t know, but she needed to move.

“All right, I’ll get you my list.” His lips quirked up. “And thanks for the escort.” Antenn paused at the door and held it open, but in such a way that their bodies brushed. His spellshield was gone and she hadn’t noticed. She
did
notice how she enjoyed the slight contact. Even though they were both clothed, she thought she could feel his strong, tough body.

They didn’t speak as they walked through the busy Temple and to the teleportation pad. Once there, she offered her hand. “Merry meet.”

Instead of shaking it or gripping her arm in a more businesslike greeting, he began to bow, took her fingers. Lightning sizzled through her; she did more than tremble, she
shook
, and knew to the marrow of her bones that she touched her HeartMate.

They stared at each other, and Tiana thought his expression was just as aghast as her own.

His hand slid from her fingers up to her wrist, circled it, and desire swamped her.

Her mouth formed
HeartMate
, but she couldn’t get the word out.

“No. No!” Antenn said. But he didn’t release her. He swallowed. “It’s just . . . just . . .” He coughed. “Just, ah, passion.” He gazed at her as if he wanted her to agree, then added, “I can’t have a close, a deep personal relationship right now. Career too important.”

That ruffled her ego, but her brain, which had gone blank, started working again and she nodded. “The cathedral is a priority.”

He was her
HeartMate
. Here! Standing right in front of her! She wanted to fling herself into his arms. She wanted to pull him down to the ground. Right. Here.

She wanted to smack him.

Acting on any one of those three needs in her workplace, in the view of all levels of priests and priestesses, visitors, people who came to the Temple for counseling or otherwise, would completely destroy her career. She sucked in a breath and took a step back, breaking his grip, though his fingers reluctantly gave way.

She looked around her to remind herself of where she was, and curled her toes in her shoes and sent sexual heat into the floor of the Temple. Like many buildings, it had a storage area for excess Flair. She thought she heard it hum approvingly in her mind.

She hoped that neither of the Sandalwoods was so tied to the Temple that they could feel what she’d done.

Career. He was right. Both of their careers—that they’d both spent years building—were on the line in this project. Though the Sandalwoods had given her this assignment with the Intersection of Hope, most of Tiana’s peers thought it was a low-status situation, and a step down from the level she should be working at. This would always be remembered among her set after the Sandalwoods retired. She didn’t need any more negative impressions associated with her priestesshood.

Antenn jammed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have time—” he began roughly.