Hearts and Stones - Robin D. Owens Page 0,34

wealth back from the Rues, got his title restored. Yeah.

Despite how he felt, he had to ignore his own onset of SecondPassage and work through it to support Holm during his death duels.

Ash stared at the knife. A few more folds of metal to make and pound, then the finishing and polishing and honing.

When he turned to put it away for later, he tripped over Zanth.

Yowl! Zanth hopped back. Hissed. You look bad.

My Passage starting. Ash narrowed gritty eyes. We can’t afford to NOT help Holm HollyHeir tonight.

Zanth sniffed. We want Our gilt and Our title and Our new Residence with good pillows.

“Yeah,” Ash croaked aloud. “And Holly will help us get that.”

Prowling around Ash, Zanth said, Maybe You should sleep now, wake later.

Not feeling up to replying aloud, Ash sent mental words to Zanth. Lie down to sleep and I won’t get up.

With a growl, Zanth said, Don’t want you to die tonight.

Really don’t want that neither, Ash replied. Brain continuing dull, he thought of stimulants he might take. That could be good.

Get good herbs, Zanth said, echoing his thoughts. He zipped away too fast for Ash’s fixed gaze to follow.

Yeah, Ash said, pummeled his brain some more about what he should do to weather Passage. No one around here to talk to. Any Downwinder with good psi-power got out of the slum.

Holm HollyHeir, Holm, displayed great Flair which led to extreme Passages. Because he was a FirstFamily son, inherited psi talent from a long line of people. All the way from the original colonists who’d funded the starships and the journey from Earth to Celta, who colonized Celta.

Ash, though he had no title or wealth or property, had the blood of the colonists running through his veins, too. Great Flair leading to extreme Passages.

Fantastic.

Zanth swatted his calf, huffing, Here is medicine pouch.

The leather bag lay on Ash’s feet. Being a saving sort of guy, Ash only used medicinal herbs as a last resort. Hadn’t occurred to him to take anything this morning for his bruising aches, for instance.

And being a planning sort of guy, he’d intended to have his room ready and his forge closed and himself prepared before his SecondPassage.

That hadn’t happened and now the event hit him. But he’d thought he’d suffer through the dreamquest during the month of Ash. The month assigned to the Ashes as a GreatHouse FirstFamily ... and that month would start at the end of next week at dark twinmoons. He’d anticipated having plenty of time.

He looked at the wall timer, an outline of a round clock he’d made of iron with actual moving hands. He had about six septhours before sunset and the arrival of an impatient Holm.

First, Ash must close down the fires of his forge, bank them completely. Tidy the forge manually with broom and cloth, no cleansing spells. He sensed he’d need all the Flair he could get during the death duels. And he wouldn’t be able to count on his usual well of psi-power, Flair, since it notoriously fluctuated during Passage.

He moved slowly and found himself standing blankly, shuddering with fever, and only being brought out of it by the prickling of Zanth’s claws in his flesh, and Ash figured he’d need every one of those six septhours.

TAKE HERBS! yelled Zanth, right in Ash’s ear. The FamCat had hopped onto his shoulder -- his now shirt-clad shoulder -- and his room looked good, his bed prepared for him to crash, and on the side table a stack of foodbars and a large cauldron of water along with a chipped mug.

He opened the door to the forge and it smelled ... clean, looked fine. No fires.

I’ll check to make sure the fires are out in the forge, he sent to Zanth, who swatted him on the ear. “Ouch!”

You check on fire THREE TIMES now.

Oh. He paused, saw that two septhours had passed since he’d begun preparations. What else do I need to do? Maybe the Fam would know.

You making sign.

Oh.

Here! Zanth leapt down to the bed and sat, crinkling a sheet of papyrus gray from multiple uses. He wiggled his butt and around the fat ass, Ash saw a “Closed,” sign in words and symbols and pictures. He took a corner of the sign and yanked, tumbling Zanth over, but not ripping the papyrus. Sturdier than he’d thought for such an old piece.

He went through his forge to the outer door and onto the narrow sidewalk, walked carefully, one foot placed after another, to the wide and