Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  Josselin’s voice was soft. “This is personal for you, isn’t it?”

  Tabitha froze. She knows. It was all she could do for that panicked moment to keep still. But she can’t know, she can’t! What if she did?

  She heard motion beside her and suddenly remembered Koren. The red-haired girl was standing up, and she said, “I will go.”

  “No.” The word came out before she even thought about it, an instinctive reaction in the midst of her unreasonable fear. She did not want to be alone with Josselin. “It … it’s personal, but, but maybe you should listen anyway.”

  Koren nodded slowly. She always listened. She rarely spoke, but she always listened, those green eyes of hers sharp and level. She sat down again, and Tabitha looked at Josselin.

  The old woman was eating a fig and observing her curiously. After a moment, she swallowed her bite and said, “It’s all right, dear. You don’t need to ask anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

  But I need to know. “It’s that I hold secrets that are not mine,” she managed to say with some imitation of her usual poise. “But they are emotional. You said that …” She had to drop her gaze again. “You said that … that … lifts emotions to the surface. It worries me that when …”

  She stopped again. When Graegor and I sleep together. She had noticed Koren staying close to Graegor in the labyrinth. She might have just been staying near the light, but Tabitha still did not like it. She might be able to ignore the magi girls who tried to hover around Graegor, but despite Koren’s lack of beauty, grace, wit, and style, she was a sorceress, and was therefore a rival.

  Tabitha decided she needed to say it bluntly. Koren needed to know that Graegor was hers, heart and body. “When Graegor and I become … intimate, I worry that I will reveal more than I should.”

  “I see,” Josselin said, picking up another fig. “Family secrets, for example.” She spoke as if she meant no more than to suggest a possibility. But Tabitha felt another chill, sure that the sorceress meant the Betaul family secret.

  She looked away, fighting down her reaction. If Josselin did know, or suspect, was that any different from the rumors that had been going around Thendalia ever since her father’s second annulment?

  Except, Koren had asked about Cuan Searla. She had dropped the subject immediately, but obviously the Khenroxans still wanted that port back. Did they want Othot to inherit Betaul, if they thought he would be more willing to negotiate?

  The sorcerers have sworn not to interfere. But could she take the risk? Josselin was said to be a very good teacher, a gracious host, and an advocate for all women, and Tabitha had seen all of this firsthand. But she was also said to be self-righteous, manipulative, and ruthless when necessary, and Tabitha did not want to see any of that firsthand.

  But it’s too late. She knows.

  Please, God, please let the charm work.

  “Your telepathy would need to be very disciplined,” Josselin said as she wiped fig juice from her fingers to the tablecloth. “You’d need to be able to focus your mind well enough that tangential thoughts are shunted aside without effort and subconscious emotions never surface. More importantly, you’d need to have absolute control over your magic, so that it doesn’t merge too deeply with his magic. If the merging is too thorough, your mind will open, no matter how disciplined your telepathy. And even if you did all of this, he would still know that you’re holding something back.” The look she gave Tabitha now was very frank. “Do you think that’s fair to him?”

  “I …” Obviously it was not.

  “You’re young. Give it time. A year from now, things might have changed. With you, with him, with your family secrets, with the world.” The old woman smiled her grandmotherly smile. “My advice is to wait. I know that that’s the last advice any young person wants to hear, but it’s also the best and most common. I’m sorry, dear.”

  Tabitha nodded helplessly. “Of course you are right.” Wait. Wait for what? Her past would not vanish no matter how long she waited, and the telepathic discipline that Josselin described sounded like it would take decades if not centuries to master. It was impossible.

  “I’m usually right.” Josselin smiled sympathetically. “I hope I have more satisfying answers to the other questions you have.”

  At the moment, Tabitha could only think of a simple one. “Where did you get this wine? It’s good.”

  “Medea, near Eldorana. You haven’t had it before?”

  “No. I wish I had.”

  “That’s surprising. Natayl imports many vintages from Medea. Did he tell you that he spent a year exploring the wild riverlands beyond the cities?”

  “Natayl explored the jungle?”

  “Oh yes. He brought back feathers, fossils, silver ore, pelts, all kinds of things.”

  Tabitha let Josselin tell her what she knew of Natayl’s adventures in Medea, and she did listen, and in some ways it was fascinating. The image of Natayl as young, hardy, and curious-minded was an enormous contrast to the bitter old man she knew. But she could not stop thinking about Graegor. All her excitement about sleeping with him had soured into apprehension, and she did not know what to do.

  Obviously, she needed to get better at telepathy. She could do something about that right away, tomorrow even, with Magus Uchsin. She regretted the weeks that she had spent refusing to learn. If only Natayl had told her immediately that her secrets would be safer once she learned to control her telepathy. But no, he had just kept repeating that he could not read her mind.

  Eventually Josselin finished the wine in her goblet and got up from the bench. “Excuse me,” she said. “Nature calls.”

  She left the kitchen, and the silence that replaced her storytelling was immediately awkward. Koren and Tabitha looked at each other and smiled, but Koren did not seem to know that it was her task, as temporary host, to start the conversation again. She looked down into her goblet and ran her thumb along its base, and finally Tabitha said, “It’s much cooler today than it has been. It seems autumn has truly come.”

  Koren nodded. “‘Tis nice weather for riding,” she said, in that slow, precise way she had.

  “Oh, do you like to ride?”

  “Yes, here. The forest is nice. Do you like to ride?”

  “No, not really. But I imagine you have been riding your whole life.” She had heard that about western noblewomen, especially Khenroxans, who were very proud of their horses and horsemanship.

  Koren shook her head. “We didn’t have horses. Not many.”

  “Ah, yes, because of all the snow.” Tabitha had heard that Koren had grown up on an island half-covered by ice sheets.

  “Yes. We used dogsleds most.”

  “Dogsleds?” Tabitha had seen a dogsled before, but she could not imagine riding one.

  “Yes. I had my own team.”

  Her own team? Her own pack of dogs pulling her around on a sled? Tabitha had thought Koren was noble. The Lairconaig name certainly was. “Your father let you do that?” Tabitha remembered meeting Koren’s father during the Equinox festival, and although short and stocky, the man had certainly had well-born manners.

  “Yes.” Koren finally seemed to realize how odd this was, and she sounded defensive when she said, “He helped me pick the dogs.”

  She must have no brothers. Or many. Tabitha knew families like that. Even a nobleman might allow his daughter to act like a boy if he had no sons, or a noblewoman might allow her daughter to act like a boy if she was in the middle of a pack of brothers. “Did everyone in your family have their own sleds?”

  “My father did, and my brother.”

  Only one brother? This was getting stranger. “We use dogsleds in Thendalia for hunting in winter. Is that why you use them?”

  “For everything around the island. Everywhere the boats can’t go.” She seemed to anticipate Tabitha’s next question, and added, “The crab boats, I mean.”

  “Yes,” Tabitha nodded. “My father bought a barge full of them at the end of las
t winter. It was half underwater so the crab would stay alive until they were eaten.”

  Koren nodded, smiling. “My father caught them, maybe.”

  “So your father is a fisherman?”

  “He says ‘tis the most important thing he does. No one calls him ‘lord’. He is ‘captain’.”

  Part of this now made some kind of sense. A lord who did not act like a proper lord might raise a daughter who did not act like a proper lady, especially if there were no mother in the house. Tabitha smiled as if making a little joke as she asked, “Does your mother call him ‘captain’ too?”

  “No,” Koren said flatly. “They’re …” She struggled, then finished wish, “apart.”

  Tabitha dipped her head. “Forgive my words. I meant no offense.”

  “None taken.”

  After another awkward pause, Tabitha asked, “Did your father take you fishing with him?”

  “When I was old enough.” Koren looked at Tabitha squarely for a long time before she said, “I like boats almost as much as dogsleds.”

  If their time in the labyrinth was any guide, Koren liked climbing and jumping and swimming as well. She was a hoyden to the core. It was a good thing she had magic, because she never would have found a proper husband. “And riding?” Tabitha reminded her.

  “I can ride here.” Koren made a gesture toward the outdoors. “No sleds here. Not boats while I learn magic, not much. But I can go ride if I want to. Many girls do.”

  Koren was getting prickly, and since it was bad manners for a guest to upset her host, Tabitha retreated. “Learning magic does take up most of our time,” she agreed instead. “It’s hard work.” Because it cost nothing to say, she added, “I wish Josselin was my teacher.”

  Koren briefly lifted her eyebrows, but then seemed to accept Tabitha’s words. She nodded and said, “She’s very kind to me. I’m lucky to have her.”

  The two of them managed to continue to talk, mostly about how much they both admired Josselin, until Josselin herself returned to the kitchen, her skirt whispering with her stride. “It’s moving toward evening,” she said as she glanced out the window. “Tabitha, would you like to join us for Godsday services? We usually go to the chapel down the street instead of to the basilica, but I promise it’s just as holy.”

  “Thank you,” Tabitha replied with a nod, “but no. Lord Natayl does not attended services at the basilica either, and insists that we go to private services at the cloister on our street. I do find it comforting to listen to the service in Thendalian.”

  “That’s precisely why we attend the Khenroxan service,” Josselin said with a smile. “I’ll summon the carriage. We can let you off at the cloister.”

  “Thank you.” Tabitha stood and curtseyed. “It has been a pleasure to spend this afternoon with both of you, Lady Josselin, Lady Koren.”

  “The pleasure is ours,” Josselin said with a return curtsey, and Koren stood from the table to quickly do the same. “And, as I know quite well that Natayl can be difficult to endure, I want you to know that I am here to listen, if you ever need advice, or if you’d simply like to talk.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Josselin and Koren went upstairs to fetch shawls and outdoor shoes, and the elderly maga who had greeted everyone brought Tabitha’s shawl. As Tabitha waited in the townhouse’s small foyer, her mind inevitably returned to Graegor.

  If you have made love before, he will know it.

  She wove her fingers into the edge of her shawl. He was always there, the soft, sweet warmth of his power no more than a breath away. What was she going to do? Could she ever control her thoughts as completely as she could control her spoken words?

  Maybe she had had the right idea earlier. If Graegor had already slept with someone else, he might not be horrified that she had. She could tell him most of the truth about Nicolas, and maybe it would be all right.

  But if he had not already slept with someone else, she would either have to tell him that she had, or stop seeing him altogether. But what reason could she give for that? Did she need to give him a reason? Or would it be safest to just refuse to talk to him anymore?

  I can’t do that. I can’t.

  “The carriage is here,” Josselin announced as she came down the stairs, Koren right behind her. The elderly maga opened the door, and Tabitha stepped out to the porch. For the first time in a long while, she found herself almost looking forward to Godsday services. Nan had always said that praying helped her make decisions.

  But would God even listen to her? And if God would not, why should Graegor?

  She tried to quiet her mind as she followed Josselin and Koren down the steps to the carriage, but it was impossible.

  Graegor broke their kiss and sent, “What’s wrong?”

  Tabitha sat back against the carriage seat and put even more distance between their minds. He already sensed that she was holding back, so she might as well hold back even more. “Forgive me,” she whispered.

  “You’ve been distracted all night,” he said. He reached out to stroke a curl of hair back from her face. “What is it?”

  She let out a sigh. She had hoped that he would not notice how much more guarded she was. She had spent three days practicing telepathic blocking with both Magus Uchsin and Clementa, and she knew she had gotten better at it, but apparently not good enough. Graegor’s telepathy was too strong, and so was their bond.

  “Tabitha?” he prompted after a while, his voice worried. It was too dark for her to see his expression, or he hers. It was as dark as it had been in the attic with Alain.

  “I need to tell you something.” She had prepared a story that would explain her distraction if necessary, a story that had the advantage of truth behind it but was not particularly serious.

  “All right.” He found her hand and squeezed it gently. “Tell me.”

  “Tomorrow night. I know I said we would go and see that new company, the Telgard troupe. But a while back, I started a little theater club with some of the girls at the Academy. We would go to the Yellow Players every Earthsday. Because of my family being here and all the ceremonies for the festival, we have not done it in a long time, and the girls want to start doing it again.”

  “That’s fine.”

  She could hear and sense his relief that he was not the problem. It bothered her a little that it had not upset him at all. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “I’m sure. I’ll miss you, but I’m sure.”

  Mollified, Tabitha said, “I’ll miss you too.” She was glad he had not suggested coming along with her friends. She was not going to deliberately put him in the company of so many magi girls.

  Graegor lifted her hand and kissed it. Her hand brushed against his face, and with a tiny stab of irritation, she wished he would at least start to grow a beard.

  “I will,” he sent.

  “How do you do that?” she all but demanded, retreating further from his mental touch, sitting up straighter and stiffer, and pulling her hand away. “I tried not to let you sense that.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and his anxiety washed over her for a moment before it stopped. Just stopped. It seemed to be so easy for him to close himself off.

  “You don’t have to grow a beard just for me,” she told him.

  “But you want me to.”

  “Maybe.”

  He was confused. “This is the second time you’ve mentioned it.”

  “I only mentioned it once.”

  “So you want me to?”

  Tabitha took a moment to keep herself from snapping at him. “Only if you want to,” she said, slowly and clearly.

  “Then I’ll do it.” He hesitated before leaning forward, and when she did not pull away, his mouth found hers.

  She relaxed against him and let herself just feel for a long moment. His kiss was magic, and his magic made her heart shine, as if everything inside her was basking in the sun. But it was dangerous because it made her want him so much.

  This ti
me she broke the kiss. “I should go in,” she whispered, easing back her mind. He kissed her again, and she let him, but not for long. “I need to go in. Before Natayl calls to me.”

  Graegor sighed, tilting his forehead to hers. “Jeh.” So far Natayl had managed to interrupt their kissing several times. Stopping on their own was much more preferable.

  As he helped her out of the carriage, both horses shuffled their feet and snorted. The driver, standing by their heads to feed them apples and scratch their ears, murmured to soothe them before climbing back up to the seat. Graegor, as he always did, made a humorous show of checking the hemlines of Tabitha’s formal evening skirts for dust, and then gave her his arm. It was only a half-dozen steps to the gate in front of Natayl’s townhouse, and the elegant street was quiet as usual. Some candles and lamps in the windows of the row of homes added their glow to the ivy-festooned streetlights, and she could see the blue of Graegor’s eyes as he lifted both her hands to kiss them.

  “Until noon?” It was when they always called to each other.

  “Until noon,” she agreed. She slipped away her hands and her mind as she opened the gate, but she made sure to smile back at him as she closed it.

  Then the frustration took hold of her, and she hurried along the walkway to the porch. She did not know what to do. She did not know what to do. She could not keep guarding her mind so closely. Somehow, she had to learn if he had slept with a girl before. No matter how much the mere idea of it upset her, she could not make her decision until she knew the answer to that question.

  I don’t want this to end.

  Please, God. I don’t want this to end.

  Chapter 7

  The dress code for the Winter Solstice ball at Lord Natayl’s manor house was black and white, which, Graegor had learned, was very traditional. It didn’t particularly bother him, but it did give a stronger overall impression of a funeral than a festival. Like him, most of the men were wearing black clothes with white accents, while the women tended toward the opposite—the combination of which made the couples on the dance floor look, to his brain, like oddly non-human shapes.