Heart Fortune

A couple of septhours later, Glyssa was in her pavilion, arranging the table she’d set up for them in the outer room.

“Here, GrandMistrys Licorice!” Maxima called from the door.

“Come on in, it’s open, the only spellshield is against insects,” she said, staring at the strawberry-blonde’s dissatisfied expression as the girl trudged in, carrying the fancy box holding the copies of Captain Hoku’s journals. “What’s wrong?”

Maxima sniffed. Placed the box carefully, though Glyssa sensed she wanted to plunk it down. Yes, a good girl, pretty much like Glyssa was. Had been. Would continue to be? She wanted to put her “good girl” mentality in the past.

Huffing a breath, Maxima slipped into the chair in front of the table, picked up the teapot, and poured a stream of amber liquid, fragrant with a hint of jasmine. A smile finally tugged at her lips as she eyed the flatsweets.

“I can’t read the journals. They are in Old Earthan. My father’s mother, FatherDam, taught me but I still can’t read them! My ancestress, the first D’Cherry, doesn’t write like Captain Hoku.”

“Oh.” Glyssa blinked. “I believe that Captain Hoku was of the Geek Class. He was, after all, a trained starship pilot.” She went into her bedroom and to the chest that held her personal reference materials and dug out a large book—a scholarly dictionary of Old Earthan. She balanced a tray holding several recordspheres on the top. “These might help,” she said.

Now Maxima’s eyes gleamed as she took the tray. The girl’s mouth showed flatsweet crumbs.

“I hadn’t realized that the different classes of Ancient Earth had a different language.”

“Languages,” Glyssa corrected absently, putting the book on the table and pouring her own tea, noticing that Maxima had already eaten all of her share of the flatsweets. “The Ancient Earthans had several languages, not only of different classes, but of different locations—ah, different continents. Our ancestors endeavored to develop a single language for Celta, even on the three starships. That mostly worked, but language does transform, you know. I believe that those in Chinju have a significantly different accent from us of Druida, and vice versa, of course.”

“Of course.” Maxima sat with Glyssa and watched, perky, as Glyssa found the section labeled “Geek Class.” She glanced over at the girl and smiled. “One of the spheres is a copy of your ancestress’ diaries.”

“Excellent!” Maxima beamed.

“Many of the colonists who came here on Nuada’s Sword were of Geek Class and preserved their personal journals and records for us, as well as writing this.” She tapped the reference volume.

Maxima wriggled in her seat. “Nothing like a good library.”

“No.” Glyssa grinned back at her.

“And good librarians are rare,” Jace said from the doorway, his voice laden with innuendo. Zem rode on his shoulder and Lepid panted a little beside him.

“What are you doing here?” Glyssa asked sharply.

He lifted his brows. “I am not allowed to work at either the communications center or at the site of the entry into the ship.”

“That’s so wrong!” Maxima exploded.

Jace strolled in and patted her shoulder, bent and scooped up a couple of flatsweets. “Thank you for your support.”

I could eat a cocoa flatsweet, Lepid said, sitting by Glyssa’s chair, fluffing up his tail because he knew she thought it was beautiful.

She eyed him dubiously. “Isn’t cocoa bad for animals?”

A toothy smile. Not for foxes.

“He lies,” Jace said with a smile at Lepid that included her. “Though I have heard oats are good for Fams, and there are such things as oat flatsweets.”

Glyssa had stilled, only her eyes moving. Why was he acting as if he was easy in her company, hadn’t been furious with her only a couple of septhours ago?

“How do you know?” asked Maxima, smiling at him and running her fingers through her hair. Glyssa suppressed a wince. The teen obviously had an infatuation with Jace. Trouble ahead.

Jace turned his easy smile on her, and Glyssa sensed Maxima was the reason he’d come to the tent. The owners’ daughter, someone definitely on his side and who hadn’t embarrassed him. He’d put up with Glyssa if Maxima was here, a person who would be easy in his company. And his manner toward Glyssa held an edge that Maxima might not notice. Not to mention that he could probably feel the anger Glyssa felt toward him. No, they wouldn’t connect, not even in dreams, anytime soon.

“I know about fox food because I had a traveling companion with a FoxFam,” Jace said.

Glyssa wondered if the companion had been female.

“A traveling companion,” Maxima repeated, no doubt also considering the gender of that person.

Jace walked to the side of the pavilion and brought back another chair, put it at the end of the rectangular table that would seat six closely, next to Maxima who had her back to the door and opposite Glyssa.

“How can I help?” Another deliberately charming smile showing a dimple in his cheek that Glyssa didn’t trust.

Maxima pinkened, swept a wide gesture—“Here”—and knocked over the recordspheres tray. They went rolling. Red now, Maxima lunged for one, missed. Jace caught two near him and Glyssa snatched one in midair, stuck it in the tray. Her fingers brushed Jace’s as he returned the two he held. She felt her brows lowering, twisting as her expression turned to a frown, even as her heart beat a little harder at his nearness, the currently unwanted attraction between them.

Their stares met, held, his gray eyes cool, her own hot. Yes, her cheeks were hot and she could almost feel her hair crackling with annoyance.

She withdrew her hand, fast, nearly tipped over the tray again, then bent below the table and helped a flustered Maxima with a sphere that had rolled far under the table. “No harm done,” Glyssa said—knowing that wouldn’t ease the girl’s mortification at her clumsiness. A girl didn’t like to look stupid and clumsy in front of an older man she crushed on.

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.