Celta 06 - HeartDance by Robin D.Owens

Author:Robin D.Owens [D.Owens, Robin]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-01-18T09:23:01+00:00

T'Agave. He'd reminded D'Birch of the gossip around her father and her Family, then stood aside and smirked. And though Dufleur had taken precautions to shield her work from him, she had no doubt that he would continue to make trouble—to interrupt her work or spy on her. Better she should face him.

So she dressed in new, stylish tunic and trous of dark blue, suitable for a minor noblewoman who practiced her profession, bundled into a new coat, hat, scarf, and gloves, all of a rusty, foxy red, and took the public carrier to his street. As she walked the block to his house, she observed the neighborhood. Old, settled, minor nobility rowhouses made of various colors and textures of stone that blended together in a welcoming whole. One or two of the buildings had the general aura of a Residence—a house becoming a sentient entity through the Flair and nurturing of the Family.

She frowned. They were very close together, and though it lent cohesiveness to the neighborhood, it also meant that damage from fire or explosion could spread easily. Her teeth gritted at the memory of her own Residence, about the size of two of these, and set well in the center of a half-block lot. Neither of the Residences on the other side of T'Thyme Residence had been harmed.

Stopping at the yellow door of Agave's home, Dufleur strove to recall details of her competitor's life. No wife, Family grown and moved away? She thought so. A son who had more of his mother's Flair—for holospheres—than interest in time. No other Family who lived and worked in the house—it wasn't a Residence—as staff.

After knocking briskly, she waited for a couple of minutes before a grumbling woman wearing a housekeeper's apron opened the door. Dufleur stood straight. "ThymeHeir to see T'Agave."

"Huh." It was the only thing the lean woman said before leading Dufleur through a long hallway of the house to a back addition that was obviously a laboratory. With the workroom, the house took up nearly the entire space of the lot.

The housekeeper touched a gleaming crystal. "ThymeHeir here to see you." She nodded to Dufleur and left.

Small sounds came from behind a sturdy door. With her Flair, Dufleur tested the shields. Security shields were strong. The protective shields were minor. Just the opposite of the Thymes's practice. Finally, the door opened, and as soon as there was barely enough space for her to slip inside, Dufleur did so. She had to brush Agave's thick, paunchy body, and he scowled. "Why don't you come in?"

Nineteen

"Thank you." She gave him her sweetest smile. He frowned harder. Well, she didn't have much in the way of sweet smiles. Tilting her head, she said, "Don't you think it's counterproductive to your own studies to inflame gossip about the Thymes?"

He grunted. "I'm not doing anything illegal."

She didn't believe that for an instant. She scanned the room. His equipment was the finest, his long table less scarred and his papers and memoryspheres organized tidier than hers.

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