Heart Fortune

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