Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) (30 page)

“And he saved people in the FirstFamilies Council.”

“Indeed, he did.”

“But some died. Who? And some were HeartMates, weren’t they?” The HeartBond was so strong that once a couple had one, a HeartMate only lived for a year after his or her spouse died.

“Five people of the FirstFamilies died; of those only one was a HeartMate, T’Rowan.”

“So D’Rowan died within the year.”

“Within two months,” TQ said.

Tiana shuddered. “Terrible.” She cleared her throat. “Does Antenn have deadly enemies?”

“He has enemies. How deadly they are is unknown.”

“Certainly his being a son of the Blackthorns and a relative to the Clovers helps protect him,” she said. Antenn had been right.

“Surely. But will you let that stop you from HeartBonding with him?”

Y
ou know we’re HeartMates!”

“There is a certain aura present in HeartMate couples that I can sense, and I did so when you came from GreatCircle Temple this afternoon.”

“Oh.”

“Enemies of Antenn, and of you, are not pleasant subjects, especially not for your first night surrounded by my walls. I suggest a comedy viz. I have one featuring Raz Cherry Elecampane, who gave me his voice. I have
all
of his work. You will laugh and retire to bed in a more positive mood.”

“That sounds wonderful.” So did the purring of Felonerb as she stroked him.

Late that night, after she’d already gone to bed and was sinking into sleep, a soft chime drew her awake and TQ said softly, “Antenn Blackthorn-Moss requests entrance.”

“He is always welcome. You may note that for the future.”

“So noted, and thank you. I like him very much and am glad I have permission to always let him in. Do you want me to turn on the lights?”

“No.” She smiled, recalled that she’d left her door open, and listened to his soft footfalls down the uncarpeted corridor. With each step she recalled their loving that afternoon and she began to ache, her body dampened, her lips plumped.

Without a word, he came into her bedroom; she caught his scent, heard him disrobe. Then he slipped in behind her, naked and ready for sex. His hand went to her breasts . . . and she let passion flood her, ebb and flow, and erase everything else but craving for her HeartMate.

*   *   *

A
ntenn left in the middle of the night. Her heart twinged when he slipped from bed, but he kissed her temple and whispered, “Sleep,” and the small Flair spell he’d put in the Word slid her back into dreams.

When she woke again—Felonerb jumping on her—as soon as she sat up and grunted, TQ said, “Antenn said I was to tell you that he needed to conduct some business this morning before dawn if the foundation of the cathedral is to be built today in time for the ritual tonight.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

“A septhour and a half before WorkBell. I understand from your calendar sphere that you must attend the press conference of the current GraceLord T’Equisetum.”

“Current?”

“He will not be allowed to keep that title when it is revealed how he plotted to kill you Mugworts.”

Her chest tightened. “I think he only wanted to do what he did—discredit us and scare us. The firebombs could have been worse.”

“We shall see. But he is guilty and will be found guilty by a judge.”

“I hope so.” She stretched.

“Do you think someone will be viz-recording the building of the cathedral? I would like to see that. And the ritual tonight, too.” TQ sounded wistful.

“I’m not sure the Intersection of Hope folk will permit cameras during their ritual, but I’m sure the construction of the cathedral will be vized. You might contact the PublicLibrary or one of the Licorices. They’re fully as curious as you and committed to recording history. Including the ritual.”

“That is a good idea.”

Felonerb gave her what she believed
he
thought was a winning smile. At least he looked healthier already, and he smelled . . . unexceptional.

*   *   *

A
fter dinner the previous evening, Antenn checked with the mortar maker, went to her business and had an excited conversation with her and checked all was on track there. Once again they discussed the mixture, spells, and Flair. Something he was quite sure interested a very limited number of people but fascinated the both of them.

He teleported to the quarry and watched the granite blocks precisely cut with Flair-tech lazers. Again, he and the quarry overseer discussed the cathedral animatedly.
Everyone
he’d hired as subcontractors was excited about building a unique structure that would last for centuries.

Afterward he did another walk around the cathedral site and inspected the trenches. The FirstLevel Stonecutter said he’d spoken with Apex Mage Builders, the Earth Mages who would handle the construction as opposed to the excavation, that day about the project, but they still hadn’t scried Antenn.

He woke early, in Tiana’s bed at the Turquoise House—and that entity wasn’t as obnoxious or needy as Antenn recalled. He’d been needy, too, as a boy, and stunted in sharing his emotions and love . . . for a while.

Even now, curled around his HeartMate, fear that he’d let her down, do something for her to abandon him, gnawed at him. The HeartMate deal—which looked good on the outside, but which he doubted when applied to him—had already turned into a strong link. He couldn’t deny the sex was great. He liked being with her, too. She made no judgements.

It was still dark, but he had to
move
on the project. Make sure everything lined up for the day. Just thinking of that tightened his gut.

Carefully, carefully he lifted his arms from embracing Tiana, scooted away so her butt didn’t snuggle against his front, dressed, and when she stirred, he sent her back to sleep. He glanced at his timer. A couple of septhours before dawn. Time for a waterfall, then he could contact Apex. They’d worked dawn-to-dusk jobs together before.

Absently, he thanked TQ for his hospitality, left a message for Tiana, and headed into his office.

This time when he scried Apex Mage Builders, GraceLord T’Pulicaria, the senior partner, answered himself, grimaced, and said flatly, “We can’t take the job.”

Antenn should have listened to his gut the day before. Always bad when he didn’t pay attention to it.

Keeping a stone expression, Antenn said, “We have a contract.”

The guy cleared his throat; his gaze went past Antenn. “Uh, that contract. It’s, uh, invalid due to, uh, ‘unexpected danger.’”

“What danger?” Antenn demanded. “Everything we spoke of before I hired you continues to remain true. The land is sound, the materials are top-of-the-pyramid with no expense spared.”

The man’s jaw clenched. He shrugged. “People don’t like it. Won’t support it going up. Not a good project anyway.”

Anger sparked through Antenn. He’d figured out that the people who didn’t like the project were GraceLord T’Equisetum and his ilk. Maybe GraceLord T’Pulicaria listened to T’Equisetum.

Or did the rumors going around include whispers of firebombing? As a mob had done to Intersection of Hope homes before?

“Very well,” Antenn said. “Since you can’t explain this ‘danger’ that will keep you from working, I accept the resignation of your team. However, I will not pay any outstanding gilt. And you can be sure that I will file a complaint against your firm with the GuildHall.”

“No!” T’Pulicaria sputtered. “You can’t—”

Antenn raised a hand and cut him off. “No. I will not listen to excuses. You are supposed to be a top-rated building firm and I know you’ve handled dangerous projects before. Since you don’t care to detail the danger, I believe you to be in violation of your contract, and furthermore, you bid on a job you couldn’t fulfill. That is grounds for a complaint to the GuildHall. I will never use you again, do you understand?”

The mage made a disgusted noise, jutted his chin. His lip curled. “No great loss.”

“No? You’ve just thrown away a project that will stand for centuries.”

“Won’t be built.” The man chopped his hand.

“It
will
be built. The financing is there. The contractors.”

T’Pulicaria shook his head. “Not us. Good luck getting a company as good as we are. You can’t. Won’t be built.”

Bile rose in Antenn’s throat, searing it. “I will not let you stop this project. There
will
be a complaint filed against your firm. And I think my mother—”

“Adopted mother,” the man corrected.

So he was one of those. Antenn hadn’t known. The guy thought nothing of Antenn as a man, as an architect, as a builder. Only responded to status. Yeah, this man threw in his lot with the Traditionalist Stance people. Time to let him live up to his beliefs and take the hit his beliefs brought him since he wouldn’t honor his contract.

“My adopted mother, you say?” Antenn gave the man a shark smile. “I can only say that she loves me like a son. She’s a FirstFamily GrandLady and a decorator and recommends firms. All sorts of firms in the business. You will not be on her list.”

“I don’t think—”

“No, you don’t, or didn’t if you think that your political beliefs won’t cost you if you disgrace yourself. Know this, I have friends in the FirstFamilies, and they will hear of your dishonor—”

“You can’t.”

“I
will
. As you know, I am also working with the liaison of GreatCircle Temple.”

“The Mugwort Black Magic Cult member bitch.”

Antenn’s head nearly exploded with the surge of pure fury. He braced himself against his desk, gripping the edge so the rage shuddering through him wouldn’t show. “We’re done. And I’ll make sure that the High Priest and High Priestess of Celta know of your opinion of their FirstLevel Priestess. I’ll be contacting the entrepreneur Laev T’Hawthorn about your work—”

“Not T’Hawthorn—”

“And T’Vine. And, of course I’ll mention this to my adopted Family, the Clovers . . . who continue to expand their compound. Don’t consider submitting any bids to them.”

Now the man had gone white. “I could be ruined.”

“We. Are. Done. I don’t know what it is in you that cannot work on a building of spiritual significance. That is between you and your soul, though your priest or priestess may consider you in need of counseling.”

“What!”

“This cathedral
will
be built. My name as primary architect will be on it, to be seen for centuries and by generations to come. Neither you nor your team will be remembered.” He stared at the man who seemed to be sweating as much as Antenn himself. “Be glad that I am not the head of my own household so that I could call feud on you.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“It is good that you’re gone. The Intersection of Hope cathedral should not have your hatred, your negative energy, besmirching its stones.” He ended the call and let himself just plain shake. Anger.

And desperation. He would not be making any gilt on this project after all. It could even bankrupt him if he put his own gilt into it . . . which he would.

He was right. He did not need negative people on this job . . . but, damn, Apex Mage Builders was a good company.
Had been
a good company. He didn’t think it would continue, and it had had a bad structural fault in its foundation.

Better move as quickly as possible. His first scry was to the GuildHall, canceling his contract with Apex, stating no gilt was owed to them and filling out a brief complaint form that he indicated he’d make more formal within the next two days.

Holding his breath that it wasn’t too early, he scried Captain Ruis Elder of the starship of
Nuada’s Sword
. The man actually answered. Antenn made an appointment to see Elder in a half septhour.

The starship was known to have city-building machinery . . . hell, the colonists had constructed most of Druida City, anticipating a bigger population of their descendants than had occurred, and most of their work still stood. Antenn could only hope that Captain Elder could help. A year back, the man
had
given a demonstration of razing a tottery warehouse and rebuilding it.

Antenn had kept the machines in mind, toying with building the simple ministers’ quarters outside the cathedral with the old tech . . . now it looked as if they were his last resort. If he was lucky, one of the other partners from Apex might contact him. He had a gut feeling that Pulicaria had spoken for himself and not his team . . . and probably had spun a pretty story about the lack of consequences for breaking the contract. Perhaps thought Antenn wouldn’t call him on it, or that Antenn would accept the excuse.

Wrong.

The guy had obviously not considered that Antenn might spread the word that Apex Mage Builders couldn’t be trusted. Antenn was a younger but rising architect; he was a Commoner who’d grown up in the slums. Not born equal with GraceLord Pulicaria. Politics. Status. He
loathed
those.