Heart Dance (11 page)

Passiflora drifted over to stand next to her and T’Ash. “With the gowns you are having made,” she tapped multicolored polishedcabochon gemstone beads separated by gold and silver, redgold, and glisten drops. “These would be the best value.”

Dufleur stared at them. They seemed quietly polished, and she hadn’t much noticed them, but the more she looked at them, the more she liked them. The more she wanted them. She had a feeling that was often the case with T’Ash’s work. Certainly Passiflora hadn’t let the white diamond and ruby necklace go since she’d picked it up, and still held it in her fingers.

“Perfect,” Dufleur said, nerving herself to meet T’Ash’s blue gaze. “How much?”

He smiled, and she stiffened.

“Let’s discuss this,” he said with a smooth lilt in his voice.

He took her to another room across the hall. Passiflora followed,Fairyfoot stayed behind. Lined up in a row were eighteen large, old no-times. “These don’t work anymore,” he said.

She stilled, slowly turned to him. His face was impassive. Awareness prickled over her.

This man obviously believed she carried the Family Flair for time and that her Flair was strong. He was a powerful member of the FirstFamilies Council. People would cross the Captain, T’Hawthorn, or even T’Holly, before they’d go against T’Ash.

Was this a test?

What would happen if she refurbished the old machines? Would T’Ash report her skills to the Noble Councils? She wasn’t allowed to manipulate time.

No. Not correct, she realized.

She wasn’t allowed to
experiment
with time. No one was, not even her father’s chief competitor, GraceLord T’Agave.

She walked down the line. “Some of these are centuries old.” They’d obviously come from Nobles.

“The spell that captures the time flow doesn’t work,” T’Ash grumbled.

“You expect me to revitalize them?” Dufleur asked softly.

Passiflora was watching her keenly, too.

T’Ash lifted a shoulder. “You can do it.”

She’d never Tested her Flair with T’Ash’s Testing Stones. He hadn’t been so established when she was seven and experienced her First Passage.

Tilting her head, she said, “I’m sure you intend that these go back to their Families.” She touched the gilt crest tinted above the smoky door of one of the no-times. Hawthorn.

T’Ash said, “I just told them that I’d run across a charm.”

“Did they believe that?”

A white grin flashed in his outlaw’s face. His fingers touched the knife he wore at his hip. “People don’t make a habit of disbelieving me.”

Dufleur hadn’t noticed the weapon. She knew he spoke truly. His story had been a sensation. Even her father had read the newssheets and commented on it to her.

Entire GreatLord Family murdered when T’Ash was a child by a rival. Boy growing up in the Downwind slums. Vengeance stalk. Helping Holm Holly during his Passages that included Death Duels. Mortal dueling. Questioning by the FirstFamilies Council. Acknowledgment of his lineage and Flair. Building a new, modern, home—

“My father consulted with you on your no-time storage.”

He gave a short nod.

“You wanted twenty no-times, plus two no-time vaults, one a walk-in.” She finally realized that was the gilt that had eked them through the last years of her father’s life. Brows lowering, she said, “You wanted a no-time storage for roc—
stones
.”

“That’s right. The crystalline vibrations of stones go in cycles,and I wanted to store them at their peak.” He grimaced. “But they didn’t like that, so I no longer use that no-time. For stones, at least.”

She didn’t want to think about that. Stones were T’Ash’s interest.Time was hers.

Shaking her head, she said, “And no one would figure out that you had Dufleur Thyme consulting with you today.”

“I had T’Agave here yesterday.”

Her stomach clenched. Once old D’Willow had announced her father was a dangerous fraud, his enemy T’Agave had made sure the lies about Vulg Thyme grew and spread throughout all of Druida, from the noblest classes to the lowest. He, too, had given interviews to the newssheets.

“Why do you want me to fix these?”

“Because you can. You should not deny your Flair.”

“People would delight in smearing my name, as they did my father’s.”

“Is Celta to lose a great Flair because you are too cowardly to practice it?”

She clamped her teeth shut. Surely this man used his Flair to forge swords and knives and whatever into new patterns. Surely he
created
with his Flair every day. She was forbidden by law to try something new. She wouldn’t bring that up, couldn’t let him know that she might be breaking laws.

“Dufleur’s personal creativity is for embroidery.” D’Holly stepped between them, facing T’Ash. “Her art now hangs in my brother’s gallery.”

“I’ll have Agave fix the things, then.”

Dufleur snorted. The man might be able to do so. What did she know of his Flair? But T’Ash had spurred her pride. She stalked to the end of the line and popped off the side panel of the first one with an easy Word, looked at the tracery of the equation that activated the spell. It was old and clumsy, but would work . . . and continue to work for another century if she redrew it and recharged it with her own Flair.

Dared she?

Touching a faded symbol, she sensed the lingering Flair of a female ancestor who had crafted the spell. Modern no-times used the general spell her Family had sold linked to a time-gathering storage nut that producers could power themselves.

With a shrug, she fumbled in her pursenal for a writestick. She didn’t find one, but her fingers closed over a large needle. Close enough. Perhaps even better for her. With a wave of her hand the antique no-time angled itself so she could work. Once again she studied the equation—one only a master or mistress of time could read.

She sucked in her breath, coalesced the particles of time spread throughout the room, bent them into a stream, and with her needle, created a new equation. Time sped up around her, and she was done with the job before Passiflora and T’Ash blinked.

She gestured, and the panel fit once more against the box.

T’Ash frowned. “Does it work?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” He strode to a table holding a caff mug, mumbled a word, and steam rose from the drink inside, then he came back and stuck it into the no-time. “I’ll check it.”

Dufleur raised her brows. “Do you want me to finish the others?”

“Please. Then I can return these to their owners.”

After the first one, the rest came easy. Her eyes stung as she saw the different hands of her ancestors, female and male, their personal modifications of the spell when the units were new. Soon she was finished, and T’Ash nodded as he sipped his caff. “It works.”

She started to put her needle away, when T’Ash held out his hand. “I can sharpen that for you.” Dufleur and D’Holly followedhim across the hall to his workroom. He gestured at the jewelry. “Take whatever you want, Dufleur. Passiflora, you’ll pay me for that necklace.” He opened a door and left them.

Passiflora looked at the diamonds and rubies she still held, noticed some softleaves and small boxes, and went over to wrap her choice. She sighed. “T’Ash is a very strange man.”

Presented with a choice of everything in the room, Dufleur simply froze, still trying to puzzle out what the man was trying to say to her. That she should continue to experiment with time? No. That was
not
it.

“Yessss,” said Fairyfoot, and once again began circling the tables. She touched a paw to a heavy collar of large square pieces of gold.

“No,” Dufleur said.

Sniffing, the Fam went back to her small pile of stones.

As soon as Passiflora was done with her own selection, Passiflora picked up the two necklaces and earrings they’d looked at, then three more—smoky pearlescent beads, a trio of glisten chains woven together, and another of gold, silver, and glisten.

T’Ash entered and handed Dufleur her needle, with a tiny bit of cork on the end, placed in an equally small leather sheath.

“Thank you,” she said, then decided to be bold. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“You do no honor to your father by not practicing your GrandHouse Flair.”

Dufleur raised her brows. “All the old Family spells are well standardized and can be included by others into such things as new no-times.”

T’Ash grunted. “The producers sketch the spells, but do not know the
reason
they work. I certainly don’t know why or how a no-time works. But you do. We humans don’t have such numberson this planet to be sure of our survival. We need all the knowledge—all the expansion of knowledge, possible.”

“Hmmm,” Passiflora said.

Dufleur shrugged.

“The laws against time experimentation only apply to Druida,” T’Ash said, his words rougher than his hands as they wrapped and boxed up Dufleur’s selections and placed them in a bag.

“Yes,” Passiflora said acidly. “Come spring Dufleur can leave Druida and blow herself up elsewhere.
That
will advance our knowledge oh so very much.”

Dufleur decided saying nothing would be best at this point.

Fairyfoot meowed in demand.

They all looked at her. She sat up straight beside the green moonstones for her collar and a piece of black tinted leather.
When will My collar be done?

“We begin our socializing the night after next,” D’Holly said.

T’Ash bowed deeply, but his eyes glinted humor. “By the end of the week.”

“Nooooo,” Fairyfoot yowled.
I need them by Our first party!

Looking at Passiflora, T’Ash said, “I wasn’t aware that Fams attended balls and suchlike.” He tilted his head as if considering his FamCat, the battered alley tom, at a social event. T’Ash shook his head.

Passiflora said, “It depends on the FamPerson and Fam, I’d imagine. I have accepted an invitation for D’Ivy’s musical soiree, since my Journeywoman, Trif Winterberry, has been hired to play, and will be debuting several new pieces by both of us.”

Ear twitching and big eyes from Fairyfoot.
I loooove music.

With a smile flashing teeth, T’Ash said, “Danith has a new litter of kittens that need to be trained to mouse. You stay today for a while, return tomorrow and the day after, and I will have your collar ready by the end of your last session.”

Fairyfoot huddled into herself. When T’Ash remained unmoved,she leapt from the table in a graceful arc, then stalked over to the door and glowered at him, turned her back, and flicked her tail.

I will teach
, she said grudgingly.

As Passiflora and Dufleur left T’Ash Residence, she once again felt shock stealing her wits. T’Ash had gotten exactly his own way.

She was definitely over her head, trying to swim in these exaltedcircles. She almost longed for her old life back . . . except T’Ash
had
renewed her dedication to her Flair. She’d spend the rest of the day reviewing her notes and discover exactly what went wrong. Then she’d explore the notion she’d had yesterday of developing something new to please the nobility.

But when she opened the door to D’Winterberry Residence, anger and conflict rolled out of the place in waves, along with shouting and wailing.

Nine

She shut the front door behind her. Upstairs another door
slammed. Dufleur winced. Setting her packages on a table, she noticed it needed dusting again. Some of her Flair had been goingto housekeeping spells. Her mouth curved wryly. She, too, was proud enough not to want D’Holly to see how poorly they lived.

With a sigh, she trudged up the staircase. Her own day had been delightful enough that she didn’t want to smudge her contentmentwith unpleasantness.

An older man flushed with anger strode toward her. She barely recognized him—her cuz, Meyar, D’Winterberry’s oldestson, Ilex’s older brother. Before he reached her he stopped, sucked in a breath, and bowed. “Greetyou, cuz Dufleur.”

Eyeing him warily, she sketched a curtsy. “Greetyou, Meyar.”

He blew out a breath, and now he considered her as much as she was doing him. Though he’d returned to Druida a couple of months ago, she’d met him rarely, and never here, in the Residence.It was he who should be WinterberryHeir, not her mother. Dufleur figured that was what the shouting was all about.

His fingers fisted, then unclenched at his sides. "S’pose I should tell you I’ve decided to file an action with the Noble Council against my mother and yours, charging negligence.” His spine stiffened. “They haven’t kept up the estate. The Residenceis nearly dead.”

Dufleur flinched. When was the last time she’d spoken to the Residence entity? She’d spared Flair for housekeeping, that was pretty much all. Involved in her own concerns.

How could she have been so stupid? Relying on housekeepingspells to open and close the secret door to her laboratory.She should have used her own Flair for that, sparing the Residence even that low amount of power. If the Residence died, the door to her laboratory would probably become part of the all-too-solid stone wall.

She’d only done a brief scan when she’d discovered the room, to check the vibrations and see if there were any echoes of dark deeds that might have tainted the space and affected her experiments. Time was a tricky thing.

Now her guilt at draining the Residence of precious energy weighed on her. Horrible enough that the core Thyme Residencehad never recovered from the explosion. Worse to kill a being from her own neglect.

“I’m an adult, come of age, and living here. I haven’t given the Residence as much of my energy and care as I should have. Are you naming me in your action?”

His face softened. “You aren’t D’Winterberry or WinterberryHeir,responsible for the upkeep of this Residence, able to transfer power to it easily. You have no fault in this.”