Heart Fortune

What is wrong, FamMan? asked Zem.

A villain trapped Lepid in the ship. I think he’s unconscious. I’m going to get him. He’d made the decision.

Zem hesitated. Jace sensed the hawkcel perched on a high tree limb, kilometers from the camp.

Do not come, Jace said.

This is dangerous. If they got the fox, they could get you. You must tell the Elecampanes. They are alphas. They will help.

They are gone to the Deep Blue Sea. Like Glyssa. Jace tested his bond with Lepid . . . the fox was still alive, he could tell that . . . and that link was solid and fox-red and as wide as his wrist.

He felt his Fam’s hesitation, then Zem said, I will eat and work a little on my nest, then go back to camp.

Fine.

Be careful! Zem said.

I will.

Andic Sanicle strolled into the workroom at that moment, nodded to Jace. The man was whistling, seemed too cheerful. Especially since he’d been downright surly to Jace for weeks. Maybe it was the fact that Laev T’Hawthorn called Jace by his first name last night and this morning, but who knew?

Had Sanicle been the one to lure and lock the FamFox in the ship? Whoever had done so must know the ship better than everyone thought . . . still, venturing down the hole the Comosums had condemned while the rest of them dug and dug for the main entrance? How was that possible?

Jace jerked a nod. “Sanicle.”

“Bayrum,” Sanicle said lazily, stretched languidly. He’d just had sex? Or was pretending that? No question that Sanicle remained for whatever gilt, big score, that could happen. He hadn’t bought into the project.

“Later.” Jace strolled from the workshop tent, wanted to run, fast, to the ship. But he also didn’t intend to tip anyone off that he was after Lepid.

He wasn’t sure what kind of security the Hollys had around the hole since most everyone had left the camp. And once the opening was off-limits he hadn’t tempted himself by hanging around it.

Someone had been making forays into the ship, Jace just knew it. And now that someone had hurt Lepid.

And might want Jace, himself. He’d have to be careful.

The Elecampanes’ whole “going to the Deep Blue Sea” thing could be a ruse, too, to find out who might betray the owners and biggest shareholders. He wasn’t privy to their decisions. Glyssa might be. Irritation nearing anger riled him. He hadn’t played his cards well for this whole thing. Had let his stupidity get in the way. He could have been as respected as she was . . . and she was. He remained a lowly adventurer.

Somehow that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Not that all Glyssa had said to him was true. He tried not to think of all the word darts she’d aimed at his heart that had struck dead-on.

And this particular adventure could end his career. If he was found in the ship, he’d be thought the thief. He’d be proven untrustworthy, no matter the reason. He’d have broken the contract with the Elecampanes he signed, forfeit all his gilt.

His rep would be trashed. No one would hire him on again.

End of his career. Maybe it wasn’t much of a career, but he liked the camaraderie of ventures like this, the risk, the excitement. Didn’t matter that he had some sort of inheritance, he loved his life.

In his tent, he stowed his knives, murmured a security spellshield. He took a minute to loosen his tight muscles, consider his options. The person in charge of the camp was the head Holly security guard, and she didn’t like him. Not that he thought she liked anyone . . . but she got on with Glyssa and the Elecampanes all right.

He didn’t think the Holly was a snob so much as she’d decided who was trustworthy and who was not.

Lepid hadn’t made that grade, either. Zem had.

Think!

If he told the Holly woman, what would happen?

Nothing. She might not even believe Jace. Lepid had proven he could be anywhere in the camp at anytime. She certainly wouldn’t let Jace go down into the ship to find Lepid. Not alone, because he could steal artifacts, and she wouldn’t risk someone to go with him. He didn’t know her, couldn’t anticipate her thought processes like he might others he’d been with for a while.

Would she be in telepathic contact with the Elecampanes? Probably not, but scry pebbles would work. All the Elecampanes carried scry pebbles. Jace had one, somewhere.

Time was dribbling away. The urge to act stampeded across his nerves. Even taking this time to think, instead of blindly acting and trusting to luck, was a change for him.

Due to Glyssa.

Fligger it. Act!

He didn’t know what he might need, took an all-purpose Flair-imbued tool and slipped it in one of his trous pockets. After a minute’s hesitation, he folded two bespelled air masks into another pocket. He didn’t believe the snotty Comosums. He thought the air in the ship along the corridors under the girder was fine.

Keeping his connection with Lepid open, trusting in it, he strolled from the tent to a place where he could see the former hole. Stood in the shadow of a group tent.

Thirty-five

Only weathershields and spellshields and canvas covered the hole leading down to the inside of Lugh’s Spear. One male guard, plump and bored, walked back and forth.

The spellshield set to prevent human and animal access was a problem. But Lepid had obviously gotten through it . . . and so had the mystery person. Had the villain set a trap and Lepid fallen into it? Or had the bad guy actually been on scene? Maybe closed a door, several, after Lepid?

Jace knew how the fox had gotten in. Teleportation into the hole beyond the localized spellshield’s reach.

If Lepid could do it, Jace could. He forced his mind to quiet and sank into his balance. Jace had been in the hole at the time of the forays of Lepid and the cat, before the arrival of the Comosums. He remembered how the area looked. Held a strong image in his mind of the dimensions, the angles. The light.

It would be darker now, not open to the sun. But he’d lived under canvas and at the camp for a long time now. He could extrapolate.

The fox was still unconscious. Jace had to take a chance.

His mind, his balance was better. His center core stronger. He was more self-aware—all gifts from Glyssa, too, that would be better for teleporting. He shut her and the pain at the thought of her from his mind.

Taking breaths as he counted down, he muttered, “One, Lepid Fam. Two, Jace Bayrum. Three, to the rescue!”

And lit hard, soles stinging, bending his knees, teeth snapping shut. He’d been too high—a couple of inches. He coughed instinctively, expecting dust to rise around him.

No. The area was suspiciously clean, no footprints. So the lurker was better at teleportation than most? Damn, who knew? Jace wasn’t the kind to hide his talents from everyone else. People knew up front that he had the general, minor Flair of most people, that he was a skilled leatherworker . . . and storyteller.

But other people did keep secrets like their true ability with Flair, and it looked like this character had. Who knew what else he or she had concealed? Probably had been pilfering objects all along, hiding them and keeping quiet, ready to sell them and get rich when the camp broke up for the winter.

Jace’s eyes adjusted to the dimness. The little space seemed the same as it had the last time he’d been here, rubble gone from underfoot—gone altogether. He angled under the crumpled wall.