Heart Fire (Celta Book 13) (31 page)

But not as much as sheer stupid prejudice. Whether it was aimed at him for his birth, or his brother’s actions, or at a group like the Intersection of Hope.

No, Antenn had—or had had—a relatively easy-going reputation. He’d never wanted to be as stuffy as the old firm he’d apprenticed and learned with, the Cang Zhus, though he was as proud of his reputation as the CZs.

That he would use his influence and his Family and friend connections hadn’t seemed to have occurred to Pulicaria. But Antenn would.

He finally knew what this was. This was a war against prejudice, against hatred.

Lord and Lady knew that Antenn himself had weak spots, pockets of envy and resentment, but he didn’t think he hated a person, a group, for who they were, where they came from, what they believed.

Not GraceLord T’Pulicaria, not T’Equisetum.

He could not give in, and, yes, he had to continue to move fast. Not only on the foundation that had to be done
today
for the spellshield ritual tonight. The weather was good this week, the building
had
to progress, not only to keep his deadline but to show
everyone
that he would not accept failure . . . that he wasn’t a failure.

Antenn called Chief Minister Custos and was thankfully put through to his message cache. He stated that Apex Mage Builders were no longer acceptable and that no invoices presented to the Intersection of Hope instead of Antenn should be paid. He also said that building would begin shortly.

The spring dawn wasn’t warm, and the starship
Nuada’s Sword
blocked the wind from the Platte Ocean beyond the cliff it was built on, but Antenn sweated. He’d stared at the clothes he’d learned to keep in his office closet. He didn’t know, exactly, what to wear, but decided to be conservative. After all, Captain Ruis Elder was a member of the FirstFamilies Council.

It had been a while since he’d been in the Ship. He’d contacted it for historical research, and had interacted with Dani Eve Elder, but like most folk with strong Flair, being in the presence of people who negated psi power, like Ruis and Dani Eve, made Antenn extremely uncomfortable.

The Captain himself met Antenn, a tall man with reddish-brown hair and aristocratic features. They clasped arms.

“Good to see you again, even at this time of morning. Would you like breakfast?”

Antenn drew in a deep breath, steadied himself. This was a man equal with the FirstFamilies, and he should show minimal distress . . . at both having his Flair suppressed and his circumstances. Elder probably knew more than Antenn supposed about his circumstances since the Captain was wed to the SupremeJudge of Celta. They probably knew of the upcoming complaint Tiana would file.

“No breakfast, thank you,” Antenn said.

Elder inclined his head. “Come to my office, then, and we’ll talk about what I can do for you.” He smiled briefly but sincerely. “Ship will be listening in.”

A
ntenn knew that of the two beings, the starship demanded the highest fees. His skin began to itch at the lack of Flair, his mind clouding. He ignored the feelings.

They walked through the Ship, their boots clicking on the metallic floor, then went through an equally metallic door that opened in the center as both sides slid into the wall.

Captain Elder sat behind a wooden desk that appeared centuries old. Antenn took an equally antique wing-backed chair of leather other than the standard furrabeast.

“What is the problem?”

Antenn gritted his teeth and made himself spit it out. Hopefully in a conversational tone. “I am here because Apex Mage Builders refuses to work on the Intersection of Hope cathedral. We had the foundation blocks scheduled to go in from the quarry to the site today. A ritual has already been scheduled by the Chief Ministers of the Intersection of Hope to place spellshields on the foundation. Tonight at twinmoons rise.”

“Yes, I received a courtesy invitation.” The Captain shrugged, smiled lopsidedly. “I don’t—can’t—go to spellworkings.”

After a deep breath, Antenn continued, “I believe the head of the team, GraceLord T’Pulicaria, illegally canceled our contract because he is prejudiced against the Intersection of Hope, and a member of the Traditionalist Stance political movement.”

Captain Elder slowly straightened his spine from the lounging position he’d been in to sit erect. His eyes flashed. “Is that so?” he asked quietly.

Antenn nodded. If any man in the recent history of Celta had been an outcast, it was the null before him.

Captain Elder said, “I am sure the Traditionalist Stance allies would prefer
not
to see a null as Captain of this starship. Would, perhaps, wish to replace me. Worse, deny my daughter, also a null, her birthright, the Captaincy of this Ship.”

“We will not allow them to do that!” the Ship spoke in a multiple-toned voice. “And we have weapons.”

“Quiet, Ship. They won’t be able to unseat us.” Elder sounded amused. “There could be a FirstFamilies Lord or Lady who belongs to that movement.” He considered. “Maybe two. But I don’t think the rest of the FirstFamilies Council will allow the party to get much purchase. Most of them are pleased with the increasing Flair.”

Because they had the most Flair to begin with, Antenn knew. And if Flair increased across the board, the people with the most might continue to receive the most. So far there had been more Flaired prodigies in the FirstFamilies than any other strata.

“We—the FirstFamilies Council—are prepared to let a Commoner-Raised-to-GrandLord, Walker Clover, become the Captain of All Councils. Members of the FirstFamilies are finding and marrying HeartMates outside their circle. And T’Yew and D’Yew, the most conservative members when I rose to the Captaincy, are gone.” Then Ruis Elder grinned. “And we have weapons.”

“And the will to use them,” Antenn said.

“That is true. However, in this instance my—our—machines are at your disposal,” Elder said. “We will have to consult the plans to see what we can do.”

“I have the plans,” stated the Ship. “We can do it all, the building of the foundation and flying buttresses and the entire stone cathedral. We also have machines that can do all the embellishments as noted in the plans. If necessary.” There was some sort of sound that Antenn couldn’t place but sounded close to a human sniff. “We Celtans must not forget our history, that we left our home planet because of prejudice, of mobs against those with psi power.”

And the Ship’s championship further soothed Antenn, almost made him smile. “Quite so.” If there was any being on Celta that could be said to have been Earthan, it was
Nuada’s Sword
. Just as the Turquoise House was pure Celtan.

“Can you get the foundation set today within the time period?” Antenn asked bluntly. “There is also a problem with the transport of the blocks. They are cut—”

Ship interrupted. “Since I am interested in this structure, one based on information I provided to you, I have had my satellite keep track of the progress. I have the latest data with regard to the trenches and the quarry.” A short hum came, then, “Dani Eve has been experimenting with a transport system called a mass driver that could be installed this morning from the quarry to the site. We have heavy-duty anti-grav sleds that can be used instead of Earth Mages to translocate the blocks, and large machines to lift and place the blocks. Yes. We can get this done by the deadline this evening if we start quickly. I will notify Dani Eve—”

“Wake her up,” Ruis Elder said, winking at Antenn.

“She will be excited to prove to all that she, and I, can still contribute to Celta,” Ship said.

“Seems to be a goal all around,” Antenn murmured.

“Ship, you see to everything,” Elder said, his sharp gaze on Antenn.

“I will. I have programmed the sleds and they are on their way to the quarry. I am waking—”

Captain Elder said, “Give me a time when FirstLevel Architect Antenn Blackthorn-Moss needs to be at the site—the quarry or the cathedral.”

“A septhour.”

“Good. Please continue to supervise. I’d like to talk to Antenn without interruption.”

“Very well,” Ship said, and though Antenn knew the being was as curious as any creature, it—he—they, sounded distracted.

Captain Elder rose. “Let’s proceed to the southern entrance, a good walk.”

Antenn stood, too, noting the slick of sweat of his shirt. Of course the spell wicking it away to the atmosphere and leaving a nice herbal smell did not work. He rested his hand on the back of the chair, leaned against it an instant, and closed his eyes. Said a prayer of gratitude to the Lady and Lord. Opening his eyes, he bowed to the Captain. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“Oh, we’ll charge you,” the man said, then named a price a quarter of what had been earmarked to pay Apex for the foundation.

Antenn lowered his head, again closing his eyes. “Thank you.” He breathed deeply, then met the man’s inscrutable gaze. “I must tell you that if I find another Earth Mage building company, I will hire them.”

“Instead of using ancient Earthan machines.” Ruis Elder gestured and the door opened. “We understand, but the machines remain viable for work.” He turned right and began walking down the long, long hallway. “We don’t mind proving ourselves several times. In this particular instance, we know the ultimate clients are the Chief Ministers of the Intersection of Hope, and though the notion of having colonial machines build their cathedral will please them a little, they, too, will be wary.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Antenn said.

“The Ship’s lifetime is even longer than ours, and it will see this as unexpected progress sooner than anticipated on its timeline.”

“Ah,” Antenn said. He matched pace with the Captain, though the man was taller than he by a few centimeters. Still, though they didn’t hurry, they didn’t saunter, either.

Quietly, Ruis Elder said, “We have never spoken about Shade, your brother. I knew him fairly well.”

That stunned Antenn. He stared at the Captain for several steps until Ruis Elder glanced at him. “Your brother was a very damaged person, mostly because he’d bonded with two other boys in a triad and they died.”

Flickering memories slashed through Antenn’s mind of the triad, their glisten-metal coated incisors that showed they belonged to each other. The other two for whom his brother had abandoned him . . . until the three let him tag along in their gang. He didn’t care to remember that time . . . couldn’t remember that much, and thank the Lady and Lord for it.

“I liked Shade,” Ruis Elder said. His eyes met Antenn’s in a simple glance. “He had potential.” The Captain looked away, and Antenn saw grief.

Antenn could actually share grief at the loss of his brother with this man. He’d never considered that anyone but himself remained who’d known Shade.

“The . . . timing . . . of the events when our lives tangled together was poor; if Shade had been given a little more . . .” Ruis shrugged. “He might have redeemed himself. As it was, through his acts, he let
me
redeem
myself
. He wasn’t totally bad. But he hated and that hatred killed him, and had him killing others. If there’s anything we must fight, it’s poisonous hatred of others. In our own selves and by not allowing it to flourish when we can step in and say that hatred is wrong.”

They walked along in silence until they came to a cart, and Ruis gestured Antenn to get into it. “I know you’re anxious to get to work. This is programmed to head straight for the southern door.” The Captain offered his arm again, and this time Antenn took it and kept the clasp for a good half minute.

“For your brother, and for yourself, count me as a friend,” Captain Elder said. He smiled. “You are always welcome here.”

All Antenn could say was, “Thank you.”

Then the cart sped him from the Ship, and he teleported to the cathedral.

*   *   *

T
iana took the public carrier to GraceLord T’Equisetum’s business address . . . which was close to the Intersection of Hope’s city office and Antenn’s architectural firm. Perhaps the proximity irritated the GraceLord.

Her pulse beat fast. She’d filed the complaint and Garrett had filed their petition. The NobleCouncil Clerk would have processed the petition and sent it to the NobleCouncil. Had word of her complaint gotten to T’Equisetum’s ears, yet? Only a matter of time. She’d been advised to hand it to the man herself, as a victim confronting one who’d harmed her and accompanied by witnesses. The other option was to let an impartial guard take care of the duty. She hadn’t quite decided what to do.

She walked into a medium-sized room full of people from the newssheets and the new viz channels. GraceLord T’Equisetum stood behind a tall lectern. Just looking at him caused her stomach to roil. Though lines of dissatisfaction—hate and bitterness?—had carved deep in his face, he appeared invigorated by the thought of fighting the construction of the cathedral. She studied him from the back of the room. Yes, the passing years showed more on his visage than on her father or mother.

“Your attention please, Lords and Ladies, GentleSirs and GentleLadies,” said a slender man of about Tiana’s age, no doubt GraceLord T’Equisetum’s current assistant, and a member of his Family. He shared features with that man.

“Greetyou, all,” GraceLord T’Equisetum said. “As I said when I called this newssheet conference, we of the Traditionalist Stance do not want a Cross Folk
cathedral
near Druida.”

“It’s out of the city,” someone pointed out.

“I’ve seen the plans, I very much like the idea of such a structure, another large sacred space like our GreatCircle Temple and the Great Labyrinth in the north,” a man who sponsored the arts—and spoke about them in viz reports—said.

“How can it be sacred if it is not of the Lady and the Lord?” GraceLord T’Equisetum asked.

“How can the Traditionalist Stance movement be acceptable if it is not accepted by all Nobles, and so new?” someone else fired back.

“I will speak of the Traditionalist Stance movement in a moment.” The GraceLord leaned on the lectern. “Why, this building will be larger than our GreatCircle Temple.”

Tiana just couldn’t stop her tongue. “So what?” she asked. “It’s only men who believe larger is better.”

That got a laugh from the press. The people in front of her moved to the side, leaving an aisle for her to walk toward the podium where T’Equisetum sneered.

“Ah, it’s the little Cross Folk lover.”

There was a short gasp from someone in the crowd at the rudeness.

Tiana lifted her chin. “Yes, my mother practices the Intersection of Hope faith, and I deeply love my mother.” She turned to face the room, blinking when she saw Chief Minister Younger dressed as an innocuous journeyman. Letting her glance graze over him, she scanned the rest of the people.

And Younger’s mind brushed hers.
We have decided that we don’t care for the name Cross Folk. We would prefer “Hopefuls”; can you offer that name now?
His gaze had sharpened and Tiana suppressed a sigh. It appeared as if everyone continued to test her.

She lifted spread hands. “You know, Cross Folk is such an old nickname. We’re in the third decade of the fifth century. New Flair techniques are being developed every day, some of which I’m sure the FirstLevel Architect will be using in this structure.” She smiled widely, and, she hoped, disingenuously, noting that most of the people there were more her age than GraceLord T’Equisetum’s. Because he didn’t rate the older reporters? “I think we should call the Intersection of Hope people ‘Hopefuls.’ I know it’s a quality that my mother has.”