HEART QUEST
Heart Book 05
Robin D Owens
One
Druida City, Celta, 405 years after Colonization, late autumn
Black Ilex Winterberry watched his HeartMate from the shadows. He shouldn't approach her, but knew that he would.
Trif Clover was irresistible to him. Even from here he could see her deep green eyes fixed in concentration. She yanked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear and drew in an audible breath. He would have treated her hair with respect, smoothed it between his fingers....
She wore a tunic trous suit of deep green that matched her eyes. Since the tunic was just above her knees and the trous legs weren't outrageously Moused, the clothing marked her as a middle-class woman who worked for her living.
His mouth tightened when Trif performed her little ritual as she hunted for her mate. She held the charmkey she'd fashioned against the door of GrandLord Ginger's mansion and intoned, "HeartMate." It was common knowledge that a HeartMate could fashion a key and open his or her love's door, and Trif was obviously on a quest to find him.
He wished he could end her search.
They'd connected emotionally three years before, during her last Passage—the fever fugues that freed her Flair psi power. Her Flair was unstable, and they'd linked a few times since in dreams. Each instance left Ilex aroused and wanting, and yearning for more than her body. But he hadn't known whether she'd believed the connection was anything other than an erotic dream with an unknown lover.
He had made it a point to find her—and now she was trying to do the same. But he was an experienced hunter.
He'd kept his distance from her. He was far too old, more than double her age. Worse, he had a touch of prophetic talent and had experienced a brief vision a long time ago that his life would be relatively short, nothing near the two centuries of the most aged Celtans.
Furthermore, he sensed he had only a couple more years left, and he refused to have this lovely, vibrant young woman die within a year of his own death, as always occurred with HeartMates who'd wed. He couldn't bear to cut her life short.
Her face fell when the door refused to open; then she sighed, looked at the key in her hand, shrugged, and straightened her shoulders. "No HeartMate here. Too bad. Perhaps the next house. Stay optimistic," she murmured.
"What are you doing, Trif Clover?" he asked.
She jumped and flushed. Her gaze went first to his guardsman's insignia instead of his face, causing him a twinge of emotional pain that she didn't think of him as a man first.
"Oh, I, uh ..." She whipped her hand holding the key behind her back and increased the charm of her smile.
Ilex shook his head.
Her shoulders slumped a little. "You know."
"Is it worth your and my time for me to tell you it can be dangerous wandering the streets of Druida alone?"
She looked startled. "Druida's safe, especially Noble Country."
Noble Country was the portion of Druida where the highest nobles, including the FirstFamilies—the descendants of the colonists who'd funded the trip from Earth to a new home—lived. Here the estates were huge, hidden behind green-iron gates. The streets were wide and tree-lined.
It didn't help his ego that she hoped her HeartMate was noble. But that wasn't the real problem. The true difficulty was that there had been two murders—of young, extremely Flaired people whose psi powers were unstable. Murders that Ilex's superiors wanted kept quiet for the moment.
"No one's safe all the time. Come with me, Trif." He took her arm and let the touch of her shoot through him, heat his blood. The scent of her came too, the light fragrance of spring flowers.
When she smiled up at him and followed willingly, he suppressed the urge to kiss her.
"Please don't continue testing your charmkey," he said neutrally, leading her down the drive to the walled entrance into the mansion grounds and the wide-open gates.
Ilex frowned. Most of the Nobles he knew were paranoid about security and their gates would be locked and spellshielded. His recent "cases" had included the creme de la creme of Celtan society, the FirstFamilies. Those people were obsessive about most things.
Trif stopped and looked over her shoulder wistfully. "GrandLord Ginger is a widower and he has three sons, not to mention all the other unattached male Gingers working in the household."
"Ah. A good source of men."
She shrugged. "I suppose you think my quest is stupid, like everyone else. But it's my business."
"Not when you trespass on Noble land."
"Has anyone reported me?"
"Well, the Gingers and their neighbors won't this afternoon," he said dryly. "Most nobles are attending a ritual at GreatCircle Temple."
"Will you report me?"
"No. Not yet." He glanced at his wrist timer. "I'm off duty now. Let me take you home."
"Must you?"
"I think so. It's a neighborly thing to do."
He'd moved into her apartment building, MidClass Lodge, a couple of months ago, after he'd heard she'd gone door to door there, beginning her search for her HeartMate. And after the first murder.
They had reached the entrance pillars when the wind changed—and brought the smell of death. His Flair surged. He sensed wrongness indicating a crime. His psi sharpened all his other senses until he knew the death was human, and murdered, and the body lay a few meters away.
Ilex tightened his grip on Trif and urged her out of the estate and onto the sidewalk. He shot a glance up and down the street. Nothing.
T'Blackthorn, Ilex shouted mentally to the tracker. They were distant relatives. Ilex had hoped there wouldn't be another death, but had decided to contact Blackthorn if the unspeakable occurred. The guards would need powerfully Flaired people to help.
Trif looked up at Ilex, frowning. "You shouted to T'Blackthorn?"
He dropped her arm. They were connected and he didn't want her to sense all that was happening.
Guardsman Winterberry? a strained whisper said into Ilex's mind.
Who speaks?
The T'Blackthorn Residence. T'Blackthorn is out of Druida on a rescue mission.
Ilex was surprised that he'd been able to mentally reach Blackthorn's sentient home. Something to think on later. Thank you.
Should I inform Lady D'Blackthorn of your call?
No. This is guard business. He hesitated. Could you send a glider to pick up Lady Blackthorn's cuz at GrandLord Ginger's ?
If this is urgent, Lady D'Ash visits. She can teleport there.
Fine. Actually, it was a barely acceptable solution, since three women's curiosity would be stirred, but Ilex wanted Trif out of here now so he could investigate.
Lady Danith D'Ash has been informed of your request. Blessings, Guardsman.
And to you, he replied.
Trif studied him narrowly, arms crossed over her breasts. "What's going on?"
"Danith D'Ash is coming to teleport you to another location."
Incredulity flashed in Trif's eyes. "Why?"
"It's best you leave immediately."
"Something is going on—isn't it?" She tipped her head. 'There's been a—a peculiar atmosphere in the city." Her brow furrowed as she considered. Then she shook her head. "I don't have such Flair that I can determine the cause. But you do, don't you." She reached out and touched his arm. "You're a hunter."
"And I must hunt. Now." He had to get her away from the scene. She had nothing to do with the death, and he had to start procedure on another murder.
"Will you tell me—"
"I'll tell you to be careful. Very careful. Abandon your quest for the moment, Trif."
Her lips thinned. "I think we should discuss this."
At that moment, a faint pop announced that Lady D'Ash had arrived. "Trif!"
Trif grasped Ilex's hand, squeezed. "Meet me in the caffhouse in the basement shops of MidClass Lodge at MidEvening Bell." Then she turned to D'Ash.
"Greetyou, Danith."
The petite GreatLady's gaze went first to Ilex, caution in her eyes, though she smiled. She dipped a head to him. "Greetyou, Winterberry."
"Merry meet," he said—not words of greeting, but cutting off all comment by impatiently starting the ritual farewell ceremony.
"Come along, Trif, I have a present for you," Danith D'Ash said, taking Trif's hand. "It's waiting at T'Ash Residence."
"Really? Zow," Trif said.
"And merry part," Trif and Danith said in unison to Ilex.
"And merry meet again," Ilex murmured.
'Tonight!" Trif shouted, then winked out of sight as Danith D'Ash teleported her away.
Thank the Lady and Lord they were gone and safe! Ilex stepped back into GrandLord Ginger's estate. He touched the gate. "By order of Guardsman Black Ilex Winterberry, I seal you to all."
The greeniron gates clanged shut.
He lifted his hands and sent his Flair searching for the body. His psi flowed around plant life and found a large corpse, probably male. Evanescent traces told him that three live people had been there briefly, less than three minutes—probably to drop the body. This had occurred not more than a septhour and a half ago.
The body was several meters to his left—and someone else was there.
Halt! His spell would immobilize the person. He ran toward the essence of death, his Flair deluging him with information that he'd later recall and sort out.
He burst into a tiny clearing. As he'd feared, the body of a young man lay sprawled faceup. Hunched over the body, his face set with fury, was Tinne Holly.
"A fighting Holly standing over a dead body," Ilex murmured. With a snap of his fingers, Ilex mitigated a portion of the spell and said, "You may speak."
Tinne dragged in a breath. "What are you doing here?" he spit out.
Raising his brows, Ilex said, "Investigating. And you?"
"I was looking for him!"
"Time passes and trace evidence can vanish quickly. Let me do my job." First, observation. Ilex looked down at the naked body of the young ginger-haired male victim. Not a mark on him. His skin was pale, his light blue eyes glassy. The scent of death was recent. And it hadn't occurred here; none of the plant life sent out psi terror-trembles of recent violence.
"Step back, Tinne. Leave the area as undisturbed as possible. Don't touch him." Waving a hand, Ilex freed him from the rest of the spell.
"Don't touch him! Gib Ginger is—was—one of my best friends."
"I'm sorry. Please retrace your steps so I can use my Flair to record everything possible. Every instant, information is lost."
Muttering, Tinne glided back a few steps. 'This is where I 'ported."
'Thank you." Ignoring his distant relative, Ilex took a personal sensorball, a clear crystal orb he could curl his fingers around, from his guard belt-bag.
He settled into a light trance, extending all his senses, pushing his Flair for the best record he could make. He didn't think, didn't evaluate, merely used all his senses to compile everything around him. This included the fading recent muscle-memories of the body, the infinitesimal pressure of others' fingers upon the skin—how the body hair lay, whether any follicle had been disturbed and how.
Ilex distanced himself from the last echo of emotions of the body, the last sensory impressions. The last thoughts of the brain were already gone.
His sensorball noted the strange scent surrounding the corpse—a mixture Ilex could not identify, but which was recorded now for further analysis.
He scanned the scene, the area, drew in as much data as possible about the three people who'd dumped the body. He wished he could see tracks, like T'Blackthorn, but the killers had spent little time here, at least one of them had enough Flair to teleport. So tracking Flair wouldn't have been much use in this instance. Too bad.
When he reached the limit of his Flair—and when he knew the trace clues had disappeared, Ilex stopped and rose from the light trance. His sensorball was black with the load of information.
A white-faced Tinne was grimly recording the scene himself with an image sphere.
"I'll take that for the investigation," Ilex said, walking past the body and sweeping the sphere from Tinne's hands, stowing it in a pocket.
Tinne frowned, but said nothing.
"And now you can tell me why you are here." Ilex stepped close so he blocked Tinne's view of the corpse.
"I was worried." Tinne let out a shaky breath and speared his fingers through his silver-gilt hair. "Gib was supposed to have lunch with my wife and me at T'Holly Residence. He didn't show. I got worried."
"How did you know to look for Gib here instead of along the main gliderway?"
Tinne's face tightened in arrogant lines proclaiming that he hailed from the highest class. He looked down his straight nose. "You know better than that, Black Ilex. I'm a Holly, I can sense death as well as you can." His shoulders shifted.
"The recent demise was human. I looked. I found Gib." He swallowed. "This isn't the first of my friends who has died under odd circumstances lately. There's another."
Ilex stilled, then wrapped a hand around Tinne's elbow, ready to move him on so Ilex could shield the body and signal his Chief.
Tinne jerked his arm away and settled into his balance, and Ilex knew nothing short of brute force would move him.
"How many more, Winterberry? And why hasn't the guard notified the FirstFamilies of these killings?"
Staring at him coolly, Ilex said, "Currently, you haven't been cleared to received any information. Furthermore, you could be a suspect in this killing."
Complete shock crossed Tinne's face and he straightened. "No."
"We're going to my office," Ilex said.
"I had nothing to do with Gib's death!"
"I'm inclined to believe you, but it would be best if you were cleared by a truth-sensor."
Tinne looked briefly interested, then shook his head. "I should be with the Gingers. My word of honor that I'll drop by in a couple of hours." His mouth flattened. "And we are all too aware what happens to a Holly who breaks their word of honor."
Ilex said, "You don't seem to realize that you're in trouble."
With a shrug, Tinne said, "A truth-sensor will clear me." Face hardening, he continued. "I want to know what's going on, and the FirstFamilies will definitely hear about this from me."
"As you please. You may direct them to my Chief, Sawyr, who is in charge of this matter."
Grimacing, closing his eyes and opening them, Tinne said, "Oh, man. That guy believes silence is a religion. He might give a few of the highest FirstFamily Heads like my father and GrandLady D'Grove some facts, but I won't hear a word. And it's my generation that is being murdered, isn't it? It's murder and it's men my age."
They locked stares. Tinne could be useful, and no dark taint of recent death clung to him. Finally, Ilex inclined his head. "Yes, another man your age was killed."
"What's going on?" asked Tinne softly. His hand rested on his blazer gun—not a threat to him, Ilex thought, but a willingness to fight to discover the killers. An eagerness to destroy those who'd murdered his friends.
There would be no keeping this quiet. At the very least, the FirstFamilies Council would have to be told. Right now, reports had only gone to the Captain, T'Hawthorn, the previous Captain, D'Grove, and Tinne's father, T'Holly. Soon all twenty-five of the great nobles would be sent reports, and probably their spouses too.
Ilex only hoped the Chief could keep them from interfering in his investigation. Ilex himself would have to take a strong line against them, not easy when they were the most powerful people on Celta. But one or two of them might be able to help. Like T'Blackthorn. Like Tinne, who now had a personal stake in the case.
Ilex nodded toward Gib Ginger. "He's the third." Ilex lowered his voice too, made it coaxing. "Think, Tinne, what did Tern Sedum, Anetha Dill, and Gib Ginger have in common?"
Blood drained from Tinne's face again. "Anetha? No one told me of Anetha. Her Family said it was ... was fluctuations in her Flair during another Passage echo. That's one thing they have in common. Unstable Flair, suffering through Passages that linger, or return."
"Yes."
Tinne licked his lips; his fingers switched from blazer to sword and caressed the pommel. 'They're young. Gib is my age—twenty-two. Tern was younger—twenty." His face set. "And Anetha was just eighteen." He raised stormy eyes to Ilex's. "Tell me what I can do to help. Tell me."
"What else, Tinne?" Ilex hoped his voice calmed Tinne. "You knew them better than anyone I've spoken with. What else?"
A frown line etched Tinne's forehead. "Tern and Anetha belonged to Families who have been feuding in the last year."
"But not Gib Ginger. The Gingers have tempers, but they prefer fistfight duels. Gib hasn't been in one of those for— oh—six months."
"Ah."
Tinne tried to look around Ilex at his lost friend. Ilex shifted so Tinne still couldn't see. His gaze filled with sorrow. "He was a good friend," he said thickly.
Banging came from the front gate, along with T'Ginger's furious voice. "By the Cave of the Dark Goddess, what is going on here! Winterberry, you grychomp-treat, are you still here?"
Ilex winched. Insults. He'd had an unfortunate incident with a grychomp beast in the wilds last year. T'Ginger was angry now, but Ilex preferred that to the heart-blow he'd deal the man. His youngest son, dead. This was going to be hard.
Tinne straightened his shoulders, squared his jaw. "I'm a close friend. I'll tell them."
"No, I'll do it."
Tinne just shook his head. "I'll 'port to the house." He blinked several times. When he spoke again, his voice was thick. "They all had animal Familiars—Anetha, Tern, and Gib."
Ilex hadn't known that, and it reassured him. He'd believed that Trif might fit the profile of the victims. But she couldn't be a target. She didn't have an expensive and rare telepathic animal companion. Thank the Lady and Lord.
"Go on ahead. I'll be right with you," Ilex said. He had to examine the body more closely.
Nodding, Tinne vanished.
Ilex walked over to the body, placed his hand on the young chest—not fully developed into the heavy musculature of an adult man. Closing his eyes, he sent his senses into the body, confirming what he already knew.
The body had no heart.
...
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