Heart Choice (27 page)

Mitchella felt Straif hesitate. Having the Null on the estate could be harmful. It could cancel some of the newly made spells, blunt the pretty atmosphere around them.

“Of course,” Straif said. “I don't have a functioning glider—”

“No Flair technology will work around Captain Elder,” Vinni T'Vine said. He'd been standing on the other side of the fountain, and Mitchella hadn't noticed him. “I'm staying. I'll be the Oracle for the babe—to tell the strength and perhaps the bent of its Flair.”

Ailim panted as a labor pain rippled through her body, then said, “T'Blackthorn Residence might be linked in communication with the Ship—”

Residence!
Straif sent mentally, and Mitchella heard him, easily. She shivered.

T'Blackthorn?
answered the Residence.

Send word to Captain Ruis Elder of
Nuada's Sword
that his Lady is giving birth to their child here in the Grove of the Dark Goddess.

A swirl of bright colors hitting her mind—emotions from Ailim—made Mitchella gasp. She tottered, fell against a huge tree. As she set her hands against the bark to push away in reactive fear, she sensed the deep hum of the tree's lifeforce, its pleasure in connecting with her—the one who had helped revitalize the land. She leaned back against the tree, blinking in surprise at this new connection and missed the rest of Straif's words until he smiled down at Ailim Elder.

Cradling her hand between both of his, he said, “T'Black-thorn Residence told me that your man is running for his horse and will be here in a few moments.”

“Horse?” Mitchella asked.

“My . . . husband . . . keeps . . . several . . . horses . . . and stridebeasts—” Ailim bit her lip.

“There is no reason for you to hurt,” Lark said. “Holm and I will administer pain relief until your husband comes to Nullify our Flair.” The Healer held out her hand for her HeartMate.

Holm swallowed, then joined Lark sitting on the ground and gingerly took her hand. He inhaled sharply, his color paled, then steadied. “Done,” he said tightly.

Lark said, “Your baby is fine. Strong and healthy, ready to be born. We will move her along a little, perhaps have her arrive soon after her father is here. Straif, notify us as soon as Captain Elder rides onto the estate.”

“I'm opening the gates now,” Straif said calmly, belying the spiking emotions shooting through his and Mitchella's link. “Many people came through the front gates and straight to the grove. I can light their broad path with my Flair. Captain Elder will see the way. Riding fast, he won't have time to Nullify the path.”

Straif gestured with a hand, and a dazzling swath of silver shone from the edge of the grove toward the front of the estate. Mitchella heard the distant appreciation of those who stood on the west terrace as they saw the trail light up.

“The baby is well positioned. Your body is ready, Ailim. Time to
push.
We can help a very little, with Flair,” Lark said.

Mitchella set her jaw. She'd always celebrated every Clover birth with her family, but had never been with the mother and babe at the time. Memories marched before her of the new mothers' glowing faces, the new fathers' satisfied grins. The babies themselves, tiny and beautiful.

Residence!
she sent strongly.

I hear you well, Mitchella Clover,
the Residence said.

The newborn Elder girl will need washcloths, swaddling clothes, a blanket . . .
She waved her hands even though she knew it couldn't see her.

Not Fasha's,
Mitchella said.

Wait! Ruis Elder comes, he will want to hold his child. Any clothing made with Flair will fall apart.
Mitchella was pleased with herself that she'd thought of this.

One moment. I am sorting. I have found some blankets and other clothes, but no baby clothes that are not Flaired. Antenn is laughing at us.
The Residence sounded stiff.

Mitchella was smiling herself.

Chuckling, Mitchella refocused on the scene in front of her to discover Straif staring, the bond between them pulsing with a mixture of emotions—excitement, tenderness, pleasure in sharing all they had this night.

She couldn't look away from him. Everything around her sharpened preternaturally. She heard Ailim's soft pants and Lark's murmurs, saw the dark tracing of new leaves against the starry sky, smelled
him,
Straif—who had the fragrance of his land, and sage, and the hot tang of his Flair.

“Bring Ailim a stronger connection with this land, Straif,” Lark requested.

Straif turned to murmur something to Ailim, then he slowly drew some Earth-energy into himself, some running to Mitchella, the rest to Ailim to help her.

Mitchella found enough wits to say, “The Residence has prepared some un-Flaired swaddling clothes for the baby.”

Ailim's gaze turned from inward concentration to meet Mitchella's, and she smiled. “Our thanks.” A pang crossed her face, and her eyes unfocused.

Holm withdrew his hand from Lark's and jumped to his feet, appearing pale. “I still don't do well in Healing situations.” He shrugged. “I'll go pick up the clothes.” He ignored his HeartMate's frown and smiled charmingly at Mitchella.

She smiled back. “Antenn has stacked them on a small table in the Great Hall.”

Holm nodded and loped off.

“Mitchella, I need you,” Lark said.

“I don't have much more than common Flair.”

“But tonight you are linked with the land, and there's a bond between you and T'Blackthorn. If you switch places with him and link with him, you can filter his strong Flair to me through a woman's psi-pattern. I want more pain relief here.”

Ailim looked up at them again, hurt glazing her eyes. “Mitchella . . . should . . . not . . . feel . . . obliged.”

And Mitchella knew then that Ailim, the telempathic judge, was feeling Mitchella's own ache and renewed grief at being sterile. But she couldn't refuse a woman in need. With more courage than she felt, she left the sweet calmness of the tree and sat near Ailim.

“Take Ailim's hand, now,” Lark said.

Mitchella slid her left hand under Straif's, and he grasped her right hand with his left.

Lark tensed and she settled the fluctuating Flair. As their connection steadied, Mitchella became part of another powerful ritual. From Straif, she received a deep sense of the T'Blackthorn land, integral to him.
How could anyone believe someone else would be better for the estate?

“They won't,” Ailim whispered, answering Mitchella's mental question. Ailim stared at Straif and Mitchella. “This birth will be the talk of Druida for a few eightdays, and I'll be sure the Councils know of T'Blackthorn's honor and bond with his land.” She spoke easily now, and Mitchella knew with wonder that she helped ease Ailim's labor.

For herself, Mitchella felt the gravid body of a woman carrying a baby ready to be born. The deep heaviness in her womb, the lushness of a body prepared to nurture a child, and she cherished the feeling—something that would never happen to her. Macha's disease had destroyed her eggs, ruined the lining of her uterus. She could never carry a child.

She sank into the physicality of Ailim's condition, and Lark let her—the Healer knowing as well as Ailim that Mitchella was sterile. The three women shared the knowledge in glances, in the flow of their Flair. Straif didn't seem to notice.

Tears trickled down Mitchella's cheeks.

“We will have to name the child after you, too, Mitchella,” Ailim said.

Lark snorted. “I can tell you that a woman can have too many names.”

Ailim smiled serenely. “Many of our FirstFamily names are used by both male and female, but I want my little girl to have a feminine name.”

Mitchella dug deep to keep her voice steady. “Then you shouldn't name her Mitchella.”

“What's your middle . . . name?” Ailim asked after a contraction had passed.

“Eve,” Mitchella said.

“Beautiful,” Ailim said, and closed her eyes.

Within the cycling Flair, Mitchella realized that the birth would soon be over. With Ailim's pain controlled, and others to help her push, the babe could be born shortly. Lark monitored both mother and baby, using her Healing Flair to ease the birth.

Straif, Ailim, and Lark all had great Flair. The sensation was incredible, as if it opened new doors in her mind, in her own Flair, speeding down unused pathways of her mind and body. She didn't deceive herself—the boost in her Flair wouldn't last, and she didn't care that it wouldn't. Great Flair made great demands upon the user. She'd seen others lose weight in a few days from the extensive use of Flair.

Lark, the Healer, shot her a glance, and Mitchella realized that the woman noted everyone's health. Mitchella realized more than one FirstFamily Lady or Lord died from too much stress on the organs when using great Flair.

“I'm back,” Holm Apple said. He clutched the swaddling blankets tightly, as if to protect them with his life. “I'll stand over by the fountain, with T'Vine. How's it going?” he asked heartily.

His HeartMate sent him a cool glance. “Very well, all is ready for the babe to enter the world. We only wait for the father.”

A few moments later, the sound of thundering hooves echoed, the ground vibrated, an instant before a man bent low over the neck of a horse burst into the grove clearing. The rider stopped the horse near Mitchella, flung himself off the animal, and strode to the little group.

The fountain stopped bubbling. The remaining Flair floating in the grove dimmed, flickered out.

“Ailim, beloved!”

“Don't hold her yet, Ruis. One last push, Ailim!”

Ailim and Mitchella pushed.

The babe slid into Lark's waiting hands—screaming.

“This isn't right!” Lark muttered, placing the baby on Ailim's stomach, waving hands over the child and chanting a spell. Futilely.

T'Vine stepped forward with a wet cloth and washed the baby, making her scream louder. He cradled her head in his hands. “As the formal Oracle attending this birth, I state that this baby is a Null like her father. Able to negate Flair and Flair technology.” He caressed the little one's head. “May she have a long and happy life.”

“I wondered,” murmured Ailim. “My cuz told me I should hear the babe, connect with it if it had Flair.” She seemed supremely unconcerned that her girl child was lacking in what most people would consider a sense as important as any of the others. Mitchella gritted her teeth against a wash of envy. She wouldn't care if her baby was a Null, either, not if she could hold it in her arms, parent it, not even if she had to fight the entire world for it.

Not to be.

With Flair, Lark drew out the afterbirth and sent it into the land. “A blessing for the estate.”

“Yes,” whispered Straif. He didn't move his awed stare from the infant.

“She's beautiful,” Ruis said, then frowned, stroking his daughter with one hand and holding his mate's fingers with the other. “We won't let anyone sneer at her.”

“Of course not.” Ailim smiled at him with love and tears in her eyes. “No one will ever believe Nulls are not essential to Celta ever again. Not after you.” She kissed his fingers. “And the Ship is prepared to teach her to be another captain.” She smiled. “The Ship is avid to raise a child within it again.”

“When can I take them home?” Captain Elder demanded.

Lark set her hands on the child, shook her head, then physically examined her. “I have to use old ways without Flair on her. Frustrating. But I know she's healthy.”

“Ship will examine her, too. It made a special cradle.”

Switching her attention to Ailim, Lark said, “She is Healed with the remnants of the birthing spell.”

“I'm not taking any chances,” Captain Elder said. “I've ordered an automatic speeder to follow me. It should be here in a moment.”

“The gates are still open,” Straif said. “Many of my guests have been leaving—no doubt to spread the news.”

Shouts erupted, then a steady humming sounded, and a sleek silver vehicle appeared.

The men stared at it. Even Mitchella noticed that the speeder was much smaller and prettier than any glider.

“How does it work?” asked Holm.

“Antigravity,” said Captain Elder.

As the men gathered around the vehicle, Ruis lifted his wife and child inside to the thick sponge enveloping the floor, then entered himself. He bowed to them. “Thank you all for your gracious generosity. Merry meet.”

“Very merrily met.” Straif smiled. “And merry part.”

“And merry meet again. Door down,” Ruis said and the capsule closed. The others stepped back and the thing flew away.

“Interesting conveyance,” Straif said. “I have an appointment with the Ship tomorrow morning and will be sure to ask the captain about that transport.”

Water poured into the fountain of the Dark Goddess as Flair spells resumed. Mitchella sensed all they had done was still in place.

T'Vine stared after the vehicle a while, small face knit in concentration.

“So, Vinni,” said Holm, “Can you read the fates of the Nulls?”

“Now father and daughter are gone, I can extrapolate paths in their lives as well as anyone else's.” He looked back, and his eyes glittered with a shard of darkness. “You don't always take me seriously, Lords and Ladies, but I could tell you which of this little group will live the longest. That is nearly immutable, stamped on the visage for me to
see,
it's—”