Heart Fortune ch-12, page 10
part #12 of Celta's Heartmates Series
Neither did an adult woman. The difference was that Glyssa had experienced infatuations before and lived through them.
Lepid took advantage of the situation to get two licks in on Glyssa’s cheeks that cheered her as she sat again.
Flatsweet, pleeease?
She looked at her Fam. “No flatsweets for you.”
He sniffed, slid his eyes toward her. I will go hunt, then.
Since Maxima and Jace watched Lepid, Glyssa believed they heard him, too.
“Stay within a quarter kilometer of camp. I’m sure the camp itself has enough vermin to give you a good hunt.”
Lepid chuffed. There is another FamFox here and at least two FamCats.
Glyssa smiled at him. “That’s right, why don’t you speak with Del Elecampane’s FamFox?”
A small growl rumbled from Lepid’s throat. I do not like him.
Glyssa was sure it was the other way around. The older fox didn’t like Lepid.
He stood, glanced around, eyes bright over his pointed muzzle. Bo-ring here with you all just looking at papyrus.
“I’m sure it is,” she said.
Her Fam looked up at Zem. If I find a good treat for you, a mouse or a rat, I will call, like this. He yipped loudly three times.
“Don’t you have a telepathic connection with the hawkcel?” asked Glyssa.
Zem clicked his beak and projected mentally, The fox is young and proud of his kills.
Glyssa winced. “Uh-huh.” She waved her fingers at Lepid. “Go.”
His lower jaw dropped in a foxy smile and she wondered if she was doing the right thing, letting him roam the camp freely. But there were enough complications in the tent with regard to tangled relationships to distract her. She didn’t need an antsy Fam, too.
After one last lick of her hand, Lepid bolted from the tent, ears up, tail flying. I will search the stables first.
Jace said to Maxima, “I’m happy to help.”
“That’s wonderful,” the girl enthused.
She flipped open the box and Glyssa saw a couple of additional journals and some loose papyrus inside. “There’s a detailed map of the ship . . . Hoku called them ‘specs’ or ‘blueprints,’” Maxima said.
Stiffening, Jace said, “Yeah?”
Glyssa recalled when her friend Camellia D’Hawthorn had sent a copy of the blueprints to the Elecampanes. Another set was in the PublicLibrary, and the originals stayed in the T’Hawthorn Residence vault. Evidently the Elecampanes had kept the blueprints secret from the crew.
“I’m not sure that your parents want that information disseminated,” she said. Both Maxima and Jace scowled at her.
“Are you questioning my honor, too?” Jace snapped.
She rubbed her forehead. “Of course not.”
Maxima stuck out her chin in a gesture that Glyssa, as a younger sister, had used herself. Dammit, she needed to be more sensitive.
“I think I know who can keep a secret and who can’t,” Maxima said.
Which, of course, made Glyssa wonder what secrets Jace might be keeping that Maxima might know. Glyssa’s nose twitched. She did have a tiny problem with curiosity.
“Jace won’t tell anyone about the blueprints, and that’s what we’re supposed to be working on today, right?”
“Checking the maps against entries in the journals, yes.” Glyssa took the teapot and the flatsweet plate off the main table and put it on a smaller one, moved the two cups to one corner, and spread out the specs. Each sheet showed one level and there were three, probably those Hoku was most familiar with.
“I’m honored at your confidence,” Jace said, his expression smoothing as he gave a little bow to Maxima.
She glowed, swept a look at him from under her eyelids before glancing at Glyssa. “You don’t mind if Jace stays and works with us, do you?”
Now she asked.
If it had been anyone but Jace, Glyssa would have bundled the blueprints and journals up and taken them next door to the Elecampane’s tent.
But the need to spend time with her HeartMate throbbed inside her, even if he was annoyed and angry with her.
Glyssa told the truth. “No.”
“I promise to be helpful.” A charming smile from the man that Glyssa didn’t trust—he remained irritated with her. He lifted Zem off his shoulder and set him on the back of her best chair.
Glyssa eyed the BirdFam dubiously. “Maybe I should put some papyrus down for Zem.”
The hawkcel cast a beady glare at her. I am a clean bird. Another snick of his beak. I am also a tired bird. He closed his eyes.
“We took care of our personal needs before we came in,” Jace said easily. He smoothed the maps, frowned. “Hmm.” Staring at the papyrus, he angled the plans a little, and Glyssa saw that he’d set the ship to match the angle of the ship’s outline that had been delineated on the ground outside.
Glyssa looked at the map. Unlike the intelligent starship in Druida City, Nuada’s Sword, which was one massive cylinder, Lugh’s Spear had graceful, modified wings, angled back like the ancient Earthans’ air machines. More interesting in Glyssa’s point of view, but she wouldn’t be telling Nuada’s Sword that.
She wasn’t the only one who focused on Jace’s long and elegant finger as he traced the outside line of the ship to behind the right wing.
They worked together well, though watching Maxima attempt to flirt with Jace was painful in more ways than one. As the minutes passed, Glyssa realized Jace was clueless about the girl’s puppy love since he treated Maxima like a younger sister. She wondered at that—he struck her as an observant man—but she figured he just had man blindness about this.
She’d have liked to have warned him, but he wouldn’t listen to her.
Midmorning the alarm of the camp pulsed in the pattern of “interesting information.” Maxima’s face lit with a grin. “I wonder what’s going on!”
She headed out of the tent at a jog, leaving Glyssa alone with Jace. “Where do we gather?” She already knew, but asking such a basic question would keep her from commenting on Maxima’s crush on him and alienating him. No man liked to be given advice he didn’t ask for. All right, no person cared for unsolicited advice in general.
He lifted his brows. “There’s a cleared circle a couple of rows in.”
“Ah. I’m sorry I embarrassed you this morning,” she said.
He grimaced.
“I was just trying to help.” She knew the instant the words dropped from her lips that it was the wrong thing to say.
His head came up, his expression turned stormy. “I don’t need your help. Like I said, I don’t like being dependent on anyone. Or anyone being dependent on me,” he said, but Glyssa sensed more. He didn’t like to be dependent on lovers.
But his words hurt.
She bit her lip. “Sorry.” Back stiff with tension, she walked to the pavilion’s threshold. “I will endeavor not to try to help you again, even if you do need it.” She walked out of the tent, nearly blindly and bumped into someone who was hurrying toward the open area. “Pardon,” she muttered. Then she sent a loud and private mental call, Lepid!
Coming!
Back in the tent, Zem lifted his wings. You were not nice.
Jace scowled. “Maybe not, but I don’t want to get tangled up with Glyssa Licorice here in camp. One or two nights of sex are fine, but after that people think there’s a relationship and relationships are difficult here.” Gossip got hideous. He’d been careful to keep all his dealings with lovers light. And though his body yearned for her, he’d known quickly she wouldn’t want only a couple of nights of sex. She was different than the other women in the camp. Higher status, more serious. More of a woman who’d want forever from him, everything from him, until he lost himself in pleasing her. Like his father had his mother.
“We can’t just fly out of here, like you. There’s nothing outside of camp but thousands of kilometers of wilderness. You live here within your community. I have to live within mine.”
The bird made a noise that Jace understood to be like a human snicker. He moved his shoulders, relaxing them from a high line of tension, before lifting his Fam to perch on his shoulder.
By the time they reached the circle, everyone was there, but Maxima found him and led him to where she stood with Glyssa—who ignored him.
“Your attention, please,” Raz T’Elecampane said, easily sending his voice through the space, quieting the crowd.
Twelve
Expectation seethed through the crowd, Glyssa felt it, too.
Raz T’Elecampane’s mobile face creased into a broad smile. “This afternoon the starship in Druida City, Nuada’s Sword, will be launching the communications satellite that will link with the array it sent us. By tomorrow we should be able to have active communication with the city!”
Someone near her gasped harshly, and she tried to turn but the crew roared and jostled in exuberant approval.
Raz raised his palms, said calmly, “Those of you with relatives in Druida City who are tired of telepathic communication can sign up on a schedule to make scrys.”
“Is there viz capability?” asked an eager woman.
“Yes,” Raz said. “However, our day here is earlier by three septhours than Druida City.”
“Huh?” someone said.
“It’s a big planet,” Del D’Elecampane raised her voice. “It rotates. The sun reaches us, dawning and setting, before it reaches Druida City on the western edge of the continent.”
“You remember how long it took us to get here, big stup,” a woman to Glyssa’s left joshed, elbowing a large man.
“Yeah, yeah.” He bent down and smacked a kiss on her lips.
What did this mean for the whole civilization of Celta? Would they be able to speak with those on the Chinju continent soon? Glyssa shivered with anticipation.
“That takes care of our announcement for today—” Raz began, but Del interrupted, sending a look at Glyssa. “Most of you know already that we have retrieved a large storage container from Lugh’s Spear. GrandMistrys Licorice, we would appreciate your expertise in reading the letters on the side.” Del’s gaze scanned the group. “Landolt, your Flair for sensing things within objects would also come in handy. We would request that you be assigned to the main team exploring the ship, please.”
The man next to Glyssa jolted, then flushed and muttered, “Claustrophobia,” as people stared at him.
Funa Twinevine—whom Glyssa hadn’t noted being so close—snorted. “You came to an excavation of a starship when you know you have claustrophobia?”
Landolt, tall and thin with sandy hair, sent her a fulminating look. “Pays fliggering well.”
“That’s enough,” Raz said. He gave a slight bow. “Thank you for attending the announcement.”
“Always do,” Funa muttered. “Gotta know what’s going on, more’n just gossip.”
The crowd began to break up and Glyssa walked forward, as did Maxima. Jace did not. The girl glanced back at him, said, “Come on!”
A mixture of emotions spurted to Glyssa from Jace along their bond: renewed anger, hope, curiosity.
She suppressed a smile at the last, wonderful to know he was a curious man . . . that he almost matched her in that.
“Come on.” Maxima twined her arm within his, tugged. “The parents don’t want you to go down into the ship. I can’t imagine that they could object to you being around while Glyssa examines the box.” The girl jutted her chin again.
Glyssa didn’t think Maxima’s parents were aware of her infatuation with Jace, but the way the girl was acting, it wouldn’t take long for them to discover. And because stupid jealousy niggled at her, Glyssa took Jace’s other arm.
He frowned, but she ignored that, chuckling and glancing up at him with a smile. “And you’ve been with us all morning, struggling with ancient Earthan languages.”
“Yes.” Maxima nodded. “You belong with us.”
“At least this morning,” Glyssa said.
“Honored,” Jace said, but his smile was for Maxima.
Really stupid jealousy. Glyssa squashed it with the fact that she was Jace’s HeartMate. But her hurting heart didn’t listen.
A minute later she had to withdraw her arm from Jace’s. She stepped forward to the cleared circle around the large storage box, an olive green with black broken-looking letters traced on it.
Many of the people who’d listened to the announcement had moved toward the single box pulled from Lugh’s Spear to watch.
She squatted down and tilted her head to read the thing, STX was the abbreviation, along with a rounded rectangle with a black half circle pointing inward at one end. She sounded the first syllables out Sub sis something, the letters seemed frayed, STIX. Humming a little, she puzzled on it. This looked like . . . but she’d have to check. Snapping her fingers she whisked the big dictionary she’d left on the table in her pavilion into her outstretched hands.
For an instant the gasps around her impinged on her concentration, then she dismissed them. Flipping to the page she wanted, she studied it, then put the big book on the ground and again held out her hand, this time cupped, and translocated a recordsphere. This one was from the starship in Druida City that included its logs of the last months of the journey.
She swiped her hand over the sphere and a mechanical voice echoed . . . “and two tons of subsistence sticks were dropped from our emergency stores to be transferred to Lugh’s Spear, commanded by Captain Umar Clague, authorized by Kelse Bountry, Captain of this ship.”
Glyssa picked up the book, straightened, and snapped it closed, smiling with triumph at Raz and Del. “This is a 250 kilogram crate of subsistence stick food, originally from Nuada’s Sword. One of the crates that Nuada’s Sword sent to Lugh’s Spear, described in your ancestress’ diary!”
“A historic box of terrible tasting food, great.” Funa sneered.
Glyssa ignored her and walked around the box. “It appears unopened.”
“Landolt?” asked Del.
The tall man loped up to the box, placed his hands on the top and frowned in concentration. His fingers tensed as he used his Flair. “Yes. I sense, um, individual objects, a lot of them.” A moment passed as his frown deepened into a scowl and sweat rolled down his face. “Each . . . is . . . wrapped? . . . in something not . . . not . . . I don’t know what.” He lifted his hands and his palms appeared red with effort and wet with perspiration. Huffing breaths, he stepped away. His knees folded and Jace caught him, grunted, and slipped the man over the shoulder not occupied by his FamBird. “I’ll take Landolt to his tent.” He walked off, and Glyssa turned in a casual manner to watch him.
Del D’Elecampane’s mouth turned down and she flicked a hand. “I think one of our first messages will be to request that someone with Flair comparable to Landolt’s come here.” She glanced at her husband. “We should give Landolt a raise, and we’ll have to figure out additional incentives.”
Raz nodded.
A small cough came and everyone turned to Symphyta. “We also need another Healer. Or two.” She met the Elecampanes’ gazes and flushed. “And, perhaps,” she whispered, “a subsidy.” Her jaw worked as she stared beyond them. “We could ask the HealingHalls or . . . someone else . . .” Symphyta’s gaze slid toward Glyssa and she knew the Healer was thinking of T’Hawthorn. “To pay a Healer.”
Del D’Elecampane grimaced. “We’ll take care of it. Come talk to me later.”
Raz smiled at Symphyta. “And I think you might want a tent of your own.”
“She’s fine staying with me,” Funa asserted loudly.
Inclining his head, Raz said, “I’m sure she appreciates your offer.” Again he looked at Symphyta. “Please, we’d like to discuss this with you some more.”
“I’ll be glad to talk to you,” Symphyta agreed.
“A lot of talking,” Del D’Elecampane grumbled.
Raz slipped his arm around his HeartMate’s waist, kissed her temple. “That’s management for you, darling.”
“I s’pose,” Del said, then went up to the box and circled it, glanced at Glyssa. “Thanks for helping us. I don’t think that we’ll open this just now.” She shrugged. “Not if it’s only subsistence sticks, I’ve heard enough about those from my husband’s ancestress’ diary to know they were nasty. And they’d be expired by now, too. If it had been the grain or seeds we found . . . that would be different.”
“Yes,” Raz agreed. “Several of the boxes discovered and vized by our people when they went into the ship are this color. Probably all the same.”
Glyssa’s turn to shrug. “Probably.”
“You really aren’t going to open it up?” asked Maxima, nearly hopping with impatience.
“Not right now,” her mother said. “Perhaps you should return to your work with GrandMistrys Licorice. The bell announcing the first lunch seating will ring soon.”
Maxima sniffed as if she was uninterested in food. But all three of them had nibbled most of the morning.
Raz nodded to the staff. “I would prefer only the newly formed Squad One that is authorized to descend into the ship remain. We will discuss our next steps.”
Reluctantly, other people began to drift away. Del frowned at her daughter and Glyssa handed Maxima the recordsphere and began to walk to her tent. The girl followed.
“Have you watched and listened to all these yet?” Glyssa asked.
Maxima made a face. “Bo-ring.”
Glyssa’s lips twitched. “Yes. But there are some good nuggets in there.”
“I don’t know how you recall all that.”
“Training.” And Maxima Elecampane might not be pure librarian material after all. Though there was a lot of boring work that later might pay off in a librarian’s life. Or could never pay off.
But here Glyssa was in an exciting venue, full of people who weren’t like anyone she’d ever met. Adventurers, risk takers. Like her.
She grinned again.
Maxima studied the glass sphere as they walked back to Glyssa’s pavilion. “This isn’t like regular recordspheres.”
The difference was barely noticeable. Glyssa was impressed. “No, they are archival quality, made with a lot of space for excellent quality vizes and audios.” She nodded toward the glass ball. “The public librarians were allowed by Nuada’s Sword to copy its logs of the journey only once. That is one of the secondary copies. We don’t want to return to Nuada’s Sword and beg for another—for which it would charge us a monstrous amount. It is not known for its generosity.”
Lepid took advantage of the situation to get two licks in on Glyssa’s cheeks that cheered her as she sat again.
Flatsweet, pleeease?
She looked at her Fam. “No flatsweets for you.”
He sniffed, slid his eyes toward her. I will go hunt, then.
Since Maxima and Jace watched Lepid, Glyssa believed they heard him, too.
“Stay within a quarter kilometer of camp. I’m sure the camp itself has enough vermin to give you a good hunt.”
Lepid chuffed. There is another FamFox here and at least two FamCats.
Glyssa smiled at him. “That’s right, why don’t you speak with Del Elecampane’s FamFox?”
A small growl rumbled from Lepid’s throat. I do not like him.
Glyssa was sure it was the other way around. The older fox didn’t like Lepid.
He stood, glanced around, eyes bright over his pointed muzzle. Bo-ring here with you all just looking at papyrus.
“I’m sure it is,” she said.
Her Fam looked up at Zem. If I find a good treat for you, a mouse or a rat, I will call, like this. He yipped loudly three times.
“Don’t you have a telepathic connection with the hawkcel?” asked Glyssa.
Zem clicked his beak and projected mentally, The fox is young and proud of his kills.
Glyssa winced. “Uh-huh.” She waved her fingers at Lepid. “Go.”
His lower jaw dropped in a foxy smile and she wondered if she was doing the right thing, letting him roam the camp freely. But there were enough complications in the tent with regard to tangled relationships to distract her. She didn’t need an antsy Fam, too.
After one last lick of her hand, Lepid bolted from the tent, ears up, tail flying. I will search the stables first.
Jace said to Maxima, “I’m happy to help.”
“That’s wonderful,” the girl enthused.
She flipped open the box and Glyssa saw a couple of additional journals and some loose papyrus inside. “There’s a detailed map of the ship . . . Hoku called them ‘specs’ or ‘blueprints,’” Maxima said.
Stiffening, Jace said, “Yeah?”
Glyssa recalled when her friend Camellia D’Hawthorn had sent a copy of the blueprints to the Elecampanes. Another set was in the PublicLibrary, and the originals stayed in the T’Hawthorn Residence vault. Evidently the Elecampanes had kept the blueprints secret from the crew.
“I’m not sure that your parents want that information disseminated,” she said. Both Maxima and Jace scowled at her.
“Are you questioning my honor, too?” Jace snapped.
She rubbed her forehead. “Of course not.”
Maxima stuck out her chin in a gesture that Glyssa, as a younger sister, had used herself. Dammit, she needed to be more sensitive.
“I think I know who can keep a secret and who can’t,” Maxima said.
Which, of course, made Glyssa wonder what secrets Jace might be keeping that Maxima might know. Glyssa’s nose twitched. She did have a tiny problem with curiosity.
“Jace won’t tell anyone about the blueprints, and that’s what we’re supposed to be working on today, right?”
“Checking the maps against entries in the journals, yes.” Glyssa took the teapot and the flatsweet plate off the main table and put it on a smaller one, moved the two cups to one corner, and spread out the specs. Each sheet showed one level and there were three, probably those Hoku was most familiar with.
“I’m honored at your confidence,” Jace said, his expression smoothing as he gave a little bow to Maxima.
She glowed, swept a look at him from under her eyelids before glancing at Glyssa. “You don’t mind if Jace stays and works with us, do you?”
Now she asked.
If it had been anyone but Jace, Glyssa would have bundled the blueprints and journals up and taken them next door to the Elecampane’s tent.
But the need to spend time with her HeartMate throbbed inside her, even if he was annoyed and angry with her.
Glyssa told the truth. “No.”
“I promise to be helpful.” A charming smile from the man that Glyssa didn’t trust—he remained irritated with her. He lifted Zem off his shoulder and set him on the back of her best chair.
Glyssa eyed the BirdFam dubiously. “Maybe I should put some papyrus down for Zem.”
The hawkcel cast a beady glare at her. I am a clean bird. Another snick of his beak. I am also a tired bird. He closed his eyes.
“We took care of our personal needs before we came in,” Jace said easily. He smoothed the maps, frowned. “Hmm.” Staring at the papyrus, he angled the plans a little, and Glyssa saw that he’d set the ship to match the angle of the ship’s outline that had been delineated on the ground outside.
Glyssa looked at the map. Unlike the intelligent starship in Druida City, Nuada’s Sword, which was one massive cylinder, Lugh’s Spear had graceful, modified wings, angled back like the ancient Earthans’ air machines. More interesting in Glyssa’s point of view, but she wouldn’t be telling Nuada’s Sword that.
She wasn’t the only one who focused on Jace’s long and elegant finger as he traced the outside line of the ship to behind the right wing.
They worked together well, though watching Maxima attempt to flirt with Jace was painful in more ways than one. As the minutes passed, Glyssa realized Jace was clueless about the girl’s puppy love since he treated Maxima like a younger sister. She wondered at that—he struck her as an observant man—but she figured he just had man blindness about this.
She’d have liked to have warned him, but he wouldn’t listen to her.
Midmorning the alarm of the camp pulsed in the pattern of “interesting information.” Maxima’s face lit with a grin. “I wonder what’s going on!”
She headed out of the tent at a jog, leaving Glyssa alone with Jace. “Where do we gather?” She already knew, but asking such a basic question would keep her from commenting on Maxima’s crush on him and alienating him. No man liked to be given advice he didn’t ask for. All right, no person cared for unsolicited advice in general.
He lifted his brows. “There’s a cleared circle a couple of rows in.”
“Ah. I’m sorry I embarrassed you this morning,” she said.
He grimaced.
“I was just trying to help.” She knew the instant the words dropped from her lips that it was the wrong thing to say.
His head came up, his expression turned stormy. “I don’t need your help. Like I said, I don’t like being dependent on anyone. Or anyone being dependent on me,” he said, but Glyssa sensed more. He didn’t like to be dependent on lovers.
But his words hurt.
She bit her lip. “Sorry.” Back stiff with tension, she walked to the pavilion’s threshold. “I will endeavor not to try to help you again, even if you do need it.” She walked out of the tent, nearly blindly and bumped into someone who was hurrying toward the open area. “Pardon,” she muttered. Then she sent a loud and private mental call, Lepid!
Coming!
Back in the tent, Zem lifted his wings. You were not nice.
Jace scowled. “Maybe not, but I don’t want to get tangled up with Glyssa Licorice here in camp. One or two nights of sex are fine, but after that people think there’s a relationship and relationships are difficult here.” Gossip got hideous. He’d been careful to keep all his dealings with lovers light. And though his body yearned for her, he’d known quickly she wouldn’t want only a couple of nights of sex. She was different than the other women in the camp. Higher status, more serious. More of a woman who’d want forever from him, everything from him, until he lost himself in pleasing her. Like his father had his mother.
“We can’t just fly out of here, like you. There’s nothing outside of camp but thousands of kilometers of wilderness. You live here within your community. I have to live within mine.”
The bird made a noise that Jace understood to be like a human snicker. He moved his shoulders, relaxing them from a high line of tension, before lifting his Fam to perch on his shoulder.
By the time they reached the circle, everyone was there, but Maxima found him and led him to where she stood with Glyssa—who ignored him.
“Your attention, please,” Raz T’Elecampane said, easily sending his voice through the space, quieting the crowd.
Twelve
Expectation seethed through the crowd, Glyssa felt it, too.
Raz T’Elecampane’s mobile face creased into a broad smile. “This afternoon the starship in Druida City, Nuada’s Sword, will be launching the communications satellite that will link with the array it sent us. By tomorrow we should be able to have active communication with the city!”
Someone near her gasped harshly, and she tried to turn but the crew roared and jostled in exuberant approval.
Raz raised his palms, said calmly, “Those of you with relatives in Druida City who are tired of telepathic communication can sign up on a schedule to make scrys.”
“Is there viz capability?” asked an eager woman.
“Yes,” Raz said. “However, our day here is earlier by three septhours than Druida City.”
“Huh?” someone said.
“It’s a big planet,” Del D’Elecampane raised her voice. “It rotates. The sun reaches us, dawning and setting, before it reaches Druida City on the western edge of the continent.”
“You remember how long it took us to get here, big stup,” a woman to Glyssa’s left joshed, elbowing a large man.
“Yeah, yeah.” He bent down and smacked a kiss on her lips.
What did this mean for the whole civilization of Celta? Would they be able to speak with those on the Chinju continent soon? Glyssa shivered with anticipation.
“That takes care of our announcement for today—” Raz began, but Del interrupted, sending a look at Glyssa. “Most of you know already that we have retrieved a large storage container from Lugh’s Spear. GrandMistrys Licorice, we would appreciate your expertise in reading the letters on the side.” Del’s gaze scanned the group. “Landolt, your Flair for sensing things within objects would also come in handy. We would request that you be assigned to the main team exploring the ship, please.”
The man next to Glyssa jolted, then flushed and muttered, “Claustrophobia,” as people stared at him.
Funa Twinevine—whom Glyssa hadn’t noted being so close—snorted. “You came to an excavation of a starship when you know you have claustrophobia?”
Landolt, tall and thin with sandy hair, sent her a fulminating look. “Pays fliggering well.”
“That’s enough,” Raz said. He gave a slight bow. “Thank you for attending the announcement.”
“Always do,” Funa muttered. “Gotta know what’s going on, more’n just gossip.”
The crowd began to break up and Glyssa walked forward, as did Maxima. Jace did not. The girl glanced back at him, said, “Come on!”
A mixture of emotions spurted to Glyssa from Jace along their bond: renewed anger, hope, curiosity.
She suppressed a smile at the last, wonderful to know he was a curious man . . . that he almost matched her in that.
“Come on.” Maxima twined her arm within his, tugged. “The parents don’t want you to go down into the ship. I can’t imagine that they could object to you being around while Glyssa examines the box.” The girl jutted her chin again.
Glyssa didn’t think Maxima’s parents were aware of her infatuation with Jace, but the way the girl was acting, it wouldn’t take long for them to discover. And because stupid jealousy niggled at her, Glyssa took Jace’s other arm.
He frowned, but she ignored that, chuckling and glancing up at him with a smile. “And you’ve been with us all morning, struggling with ancient Earthan languages.”
“Yes.” Maxima nodded. “You belong with us.”
“At least this morning,” Glyssa said.
“Honored,” Jace said, but his smile was for Maxima.
Really stupid jealousy. Glyssa squashed it with the fact that she was Jace’s HeartMate. But her hurting heart didn’t listen.
A minute later she had to withdraw her arm from Jace’s. She stepped forward to the cleared circle around the large storage box, an olive green with black broken-looking letters traced on it.
Many of the people who’d listened to the announcement had moved toward the single box pulled from Lugh’s Spear to watch.
She squatted down and tilted her head to read the thing, STX was the abbreviation, along with a rounded rectangle with a black half circle pointing inward at one end. She sounded the first syllables out Sub sis something, the letters seemed frayed, STIX. Humming a little, she puzzled on it. This looked like . . . but she’d have to check. Snapping her fingers she whisked the big dictionary she’d left on the table in her pavilion into her outstretched hands.
For an instant the gasps around her impinged on her concentration, then she dismissed them. Flipping to the page she wanted, she studied it, then put the big book on the ground and again held out her hand, this time cupped, and translocated a recordsphere. This one was from the starship in Druida City that included its logs of the last months of the journey.
She swiped her hand over the sphere and a mechanical voice echoed . . . “and two tons of subsistence sticks were dropped from our emergency stores to be transferred to Lugh’s Spear, commanded by Captain Umar Clague, authorized by Kelse Bountry, Captain of this ship.”
Glyssa picked up the book, straightened, and snapped it closed, smiling with triumph at Raz and Del. “This is a 250 kilogram crate of subsistence stick food, originally from Nuada’s Sword. One of the crates that Nuada’s Sword sent to Lugh’s Spear, described in your ancestress’ diary!”
“A historic box of terrible tasting food, great.” Funa sneered.
Glyssa ignored her and walked around the box. “It appears unopened.”
“Landolt?” asked Del.
The tall man loped up to the box, placed his hands on the top and frowned in concentration. His fingers tensed as he used his Flair. “Yes. I sense, um, individual objects, a lot of them.” A moment passed as his frown deepened into a scowl and sweat rolled down his face. “Each . . . is . . . wrapped? . . . in something not . . . not . . . I don’t know what.” He lifted his hands and his palms appeared red with effort and wet with perspiration. Huffing breaths, he stepped away. His knees folded and Jace caught him, grunted, and slipped the man over the shoulder not occupied by his FamBird. “I’ll take Landolt to his tent.” He walked off, and Glyssa turned in a casual manner to watch him.
Del D’Elecampane’s mouth turned down and she flicked a hand. “I think one of our first messages will be to request that someone with Flair comparable to Landolt’s come here.” She glanced at her husband. “We should give Landolt a raise, and we’ll have to figure out additional incentives.”
Raz nodded.
A small cough came and everyone turned to Symphyta. “We also need another Healer. Or two.” She met the Elecampanes’ gazes and flushed. “And, perhaps,” she whispered, “a subsidy.” Her jaw worked as she stared beyond them. “We could ask the HealingHalls or . . . someone else . . .” Symphyta’s gaze slid toward Glyssa and she knew the Healer was thinking of T’Hawthorn. “To pay a Healer.”
Del D’Elecampane grimaced. “We’ll take care of it. Come talk to me later.”
Raz smiled at Symphyta. “And I think you might want a tent of your own.”
“She’s fine staying with me,” Funa asserted loudly.
Inclining his head, Raz said, “I’m sure she appreciates your offer.” Again he looked at Symphyta. “Please, we’d like to discuss this with you some more.”
“I’ll be glad to talk to you,” Symphyta agreed.
“A lot of talking,” Del D’Elecampane grumbled.
Raz slipped his arm around his HeartMate’s waist, kissed her temple. “That’s management for you, darling.”
“I s’pose,” Del said, then went up to the box and circled it, glanced at Glyssa. “Thanks for helping us. I don’t think that we’ll open this just now.” She shrugged. “Not if it’s only subsistence sticks, I’ve heard enough about those from my husband’s ancestress’ diary to know they were nasty. And they’d be expired by now, too. If it had been the grain or seeds we found . . . that would be different.”
“Yes,” Raz agreed. “Several of the boxes discovered and vized by our people when they went into the ship are this color. Probably all the same.”
Glyssa’s turn to shrug. “Probably.”
“You really aren’t going to open it up?” asked Maxima, nearly hopping with impatience.
“Not right now,” her mother said. “Perhaps you should return to your work with GrandMistrys Licorice. The bell announcing the first lunch seating will ring soon.”
Maxima sniffed as if she was uninterested in food. But all three of them had nibbled most of the morning.
Raz nodded to the staff. “I would prefer only the newly formed Squad One that is authorized to descend into the ship remain. We will discuss our next steps.”
Reluctantly, other people began to drift away. Del frowned at her daughter and Glyssa handed Maxima the recordsphere and began to walk to her tent. The girl followed.
“Have you watched and listened to all these yet?” Glyssa asked.
Maxima made a face. “Bo-ring.”
Glyssa’s lips twitched. “Yes. But there are some good nuggets in there.”
“I don’t know how you recall all that.”
“Training.” And Maxima Elecampane might not be pure librarian material after all. Though there was a lot of boring work that later might pay off in a librarian’s life. Or could never pay off.
But here Glyssa was in an exciting venue, full of people who weren’t like anyone she’d ever met. Adventurers, risk takers. Like her.
She grinned again.
Maxima studied the glass sphere as they walked back to Glyssa’s pavilion. “This isn’t like regular recordspheres.”
The difference was barely noticeable. Glyssa was impressed. “No, they are archival quality, made with a lot of space for excellent quality vizes and audios.” She nodded toward the glass ball. “The public librarians were allowed by Nuada’s Sword to copy its logs of the journey only once. That is one of the secondary copies. We don’t want to return to Nuada’s Sword and beg for another—for which it would charge us a monstrous amount. It is not known for its generosity.”
