Cele cocked her head, surprised and amused. “No. A lot of women take self-defense classes. Some guys think it’s sexy to go out with a strong woman.” I wonder how Dahleven feels about it.
Saeun was tentative. “Were you required to forswear marriage?”
“What? No, of course not!”
“Were no restrictions at all laid on you for the acquisition of your skills?” Osk demanded.
“Just that I follow the directions of my instructor. To use my skills only for my own defense and the defense of others. What is this all about?”
“So you could teach us?” Saeun asked eagerly, leaning forward so the water lapped at her breasts.
Cele looked at the young woman. “Yes, I suppose so. As much as I know. I’m not that advanced.”
The conversation took an abrupt turn. “Do women own property in Midgard?”
“Yes, of course.” The light dawned. She was getting slow; the morning’s excitement must have dulled her wits. “We vote, we choose our own professions, and we marry whom we please, if we marry at all. Is that what you were wondering about?”
Alna nodded. “You understand us well, Lady Celia.” She looked at the others, who nodded. Alna lowered her voice. “We are members of the Daughters of Freya. We seek to end the limitations placed on us by our brothers and sons and fathers and husbands. Freya stands beside her brother Freyr, she doesn’t sit at his feet. So should we stand beside men. Do you find fault with this?”
Cele grinned. Viking feminists! “I think it’s wonderful.”
Alna smiled, revealing two missing teeth. At Cele’s glance she said, “My first husband had a temper, and my brothers depended on his good will for their living.”
“I’m sorry,” Cele said. “Wasn’t there anyone who could help?”
“She might have appealed to the Lord of the holding—but her husband was the Lord, and third cousin to the Jarl,” Osk said.
Thora spoke from the door. “Her husband wasn’t a lord in Kon Neven’s province. The Kon wouldn’t condone such behavior.”
“That’s not the point!” Osk said sharply. “It should not be accepted at all that a man can act as he will, unless there’s a more powerful man to stop him.”
“You need the power of the law to protect you,” Cele said.
“That may be,” Osk said, “but what power do laws have when lords may ignore them for their own gain? I know of women who have been sold into thralldom to cancel their husband’s debts, and that’s outside the law.”
“Thralldom? Do you mean slavery?” Celia’s voice rose in shock.
“Indentured service,” Osk replied. “But for some it might as well be slavery as their husband’s debts are so great.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Women must stand together if we are to find the strength to make men hear,” Alna said.
“We need a leader who stands apart, who isn’t afraid to speak and act.” Saeun leaned forward looking Cele in the eye meaningfully.
“Whoa. I was with you until that last bit. I’ll teach you self-defense, but I’m not the person you want as a leader. You need one of your own. I’d be seen as an outsider by the men, a troublemaker. Even some of the women would reject me, and reject you because of me. You need to define your own freedom. Your leader should be someone that everyone knows, that everyone respects. Not me.”
Alna nodded as though Cele had come down on her side of an earlier argument. “She’s right.”
Saeun and Osk looked rebellious.
“Besides, I won’t be here long enough to be of much help, if I can find a way home,” Cele added.
Alna looked at Cele closely. “Has anyone held out such hope to you?”
Cele sighed. “No,” she conceded. “The best answer I’ve gotten is ‘We’ll look into it.’ The worst is that there isn’t any way.”
Alna’s eyes were sad. “The skalds tell no tales of anyone returning to Midgard.”
“That could be so no one knows they have a choice.” Osk said, bitterly. “Our masters couldn’t control us so well if we had an escape.”
“That may be,” Alna said. Then she lowered her voice still further. “We have seers among us, Lady Celia, though the priests of Baldur and the Skalds’ Guild forbid it. I’ll ask them to throw the stones for you.”
“Seers? Is that a kind of Talent?”
“No. Even women are allowed to use their Talents. I speak of casting the runes. At present, the skalds alone are allowed to read the augury of the futhark. For a woman to do so is against the Law of Sanction, never mind the use of ritual magic.”
Cele wasn’t sure what Alna was promising, but thanked her anyway, adding, “If you can arrange a time and place, I’ll teach some women some defensive moves.” The water had cooled. Cele stood and Thora wrapped the warmed robe around her. “Good luck to you.”
Back in her room, Cele slipped into a long-sleeved, cream-colored dress and the green tunic. It was mid-afternoon and Cele’s stomach was reminding her that a lot had happened since she’d last eaten. Thora spoke to the guard in the hall, ordering a meal, then unpinned Cele’s braids. Having a maid help her dress still felt strange, but she loved having her hair brushed and braided for her. Her mother had done that when she was little.
Tendrils were still curling damply around Cele’s face when the guard knocked and announced Lord Dahleven. Thora dropped a brief curtsey as the Kon’s heir entered the room. He too had bathed, and no longer wore his bloodied clothing.
He peered at Cele closely. “You look well. Are you recovered from this morning?”
“From the fight, or from my meeting with Kon Neven?” Cele grimaced. “I’m sorry. He’s your father. I shouldn’t have said that.” Not to you, anyway. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit hungry. Would you like to join me for lunch?”
Dahleven smiled ruefully. “I’ve already—”
A knock on the door interrupted him. Thora opened it to a breathless messenger. “My apologies, Lord Dahleven. Lady Ingirid sends for you. Ari is missing.”
“Again?” Thora asked.
Dahleven rolled his eyes. “I assume you’ve looked in all the usual places?”
“Yes, my lord. We think he followed his brothers down into the tunnels.”
Dahleven’s attention sharpened. “How long has he been missing?”
“Masters Ljot and Solvin returned a candlemark ago. Several groups are searching already. Unfortunately, the Tracker Talents are all out following the backtrail of those men who attacked you.”
“Who’s Ari?” Celia asked.
“My nephew,” Dahleven said. “He’s five. He’s not the first boy to get lost in the tunnels, but he is one of the youngest. Ingirid is probably out of her mind with worry. He’s her baby. I’ve got to look for him.”
“Of course. Let’s go.” Cele moved briskly to the door.
“Wait,” Dahleven said. “You should rest. This could take a while. After this morning—”
“I’m a Finder, and a good one, or so Fender tells me. Let me help you Find Ari.”
Dahleven hesitated.
“Come on,” she urged. “The sooner we start, the sooner Ari will be back in Ingirid’s arms.”
“All right. But the tunnels are too cool for those clothes. Thora, a cloak.”
The servant hastily brought the black fur cloak. Dahleven raised his brows as he took the luxurious garment from her and draped it around Cele’s shoulders, then urged her out the door. In the hall, Cele started to turn toward the main staircase that she’d always used, but Dahleven stopped her.
“This way.” He led her in the opposite direction, to the bathing room. For an instant, Cele wondered if they’d be walking in on the Daughters of Freya, but the bath was empty. The humid air of the room made Cele’s cloak feel heavy and oppressive. What are we doing in here? She soon got an answer. Dahleven opened the doors of a wide, shallow closet stacked with shelves of towels and linens. He reached in and released a catch, then pushed on the center portion
until it swung away, revealing a shaft with a ladder.
Cele raised her eyebrows. A secret passage. Cool.
Dahleven lit the oil lamp hanging just inside and hung it from his belt. “This way is quicker,” he said. He almost sounded embarrassed. “You’ll have to tie up your skirts.”
Cele knotted the cream dress up above her knees and swung onto the rungs after Dahleven. Innumerable steps down, the ladder ended. The air had grown much cooler and Cele was glad of her cloak. Her hands were sore from grasping the rungs and she flexed her stiff fingers.
Dahleven turned to her. “Can you Find him? I’m sorry I have no likeness of him. He’s about this tall,” his hand indicated the height, “very blond, very blue eyes.”
Cele smiled. That probably describes half the five-year-olds in Quartzholm. “Anything that makes him special? What was he wearing?”
Dahleven ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. But you don’t have to pick him out of a crowd. There aren’t that many children down here.”
Dahleven looked away, then back. “My apologies, Celia. I know what I’m asking is difficult.” Dahleven looked intently into her eyes. The dim lantern light made his dark gray eyes seem nearly black, but Cele could see the urgency in them, leashed and controlled, but there. Cele touched him lightly on the arm. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here.”
She fumbled around in her head for a moment, remembering what she’d done the day before with Fender and Ghav. They’d given her examples and descriptions of the things they’d wanted Found, and she’d had fun Finding them. She’d wanted to do it. Wanted to show off a little too, after a while. It had been easy, as long as she held the wanting of the thing in her mind.
Cele tried to build an image of a little boy in her mind. She imagined how he might look right then: dirty, frightened, tear-stained. She tried to reach out, to want that child, to feel where he was.
Nothing.
She shook her head. “I’m not getting anything.”
Dahleven caressed her arm above the elbow. “Take it easy. Reach out. The little adventurer could be quite a distance from here.”
“Adventurer?”
Dahleven flashed a crooked smile. “Ari is the bane of Ingirid’s life. He’s fearless. Ever since he could walk he’s been getting into one mischief or another. Last year he split his lip falling out of the storage-lift.” Dahleven touched his own mouth.
I’ve been looking for the wrong boy. Cele revised the image she’d created in her mind to include clear, curious blue eyes, and a scarred lip. She wanted that boy. Where—
The strange certainty began immediately, though faintly. “That way, I think.” She pointed at the wall. “This doesn’t help much, does it?”
“How far?” Dahleven asked.
“I don’t know.” Cele covered her face and concentrated. “Farther than Angrim’s bracelet. Not as far as the spring from where you found me.”
“Good, I think I know where to go then.” Dahleven concentrated a moment, then took her arm, urging her down the tunnel on the left.
They walked a long way, further than Cele would have expected a five-year-old to go by himself, but the sensation of being drawn continued, and grew stronger. They came to a four way branch and stopped.
“Which one?” Dahleven asked.
Cele hardly needed to concentrate. The peculiar certainty pulled her surely into the second tunnel from the left. She half expected Dahleven to question her, but he merely held the lantern aloft to light their way. The stone walls grew moist and dampness thickened the air.
The feeling grew stronger and Cele picked up her pace. “He’s close.”
“Ari!” Dahleven’s shout reverberated off the stone walls, making Cele jump.
“Uncle Dahben?” A boy’s high-pitched voice came back faintly. He sounded nervous, but not frightened.
“Stay put! We’re coming,” Dahleven shouted again.
Then, faintly, they heard a splash.
“Is there standing water down here?” Cele asked.
“Yes!” Dahleven started to jog, then run. Cele nearly kept up, only slowly falling behind.
A minute later Cele nearly ran into Dahleven’s back. The tunnel opened to a wide cavern, filled with dark water. The light glinted gold on the still surface.
“Ari!” Dahleven’s voice echoed.
Nothing.
“Answer me! Ari!” Dahleven’s commanding voice should have made the five-year-old jump.
The silence was broken only by their own ragged breathing.
Cele’s Talent pulled her gaze to the right. Fear froze her heart. There was something in the water. “Look!” She pointed.
Dahleven held the lantern high. “No!”
He thrust the light into Cele’s hands, then waded into the lake. A moment later he carried Ari’s limp, sodden body out of the water, clutching the boy to his chest, his fists clenched in the child’s clothes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Put him down!” Cele used her professional voice, the one she used to get people on the phone to listen in difficult situations.
Dahleven’s head bent low to the boy’s shoulder. “I told you to stay put, you little fool.” Grief strangled his words.
“Dahleven! Put, him, down!” She put the lantern on the ground and pulled at Ari, and her professional demeanor slipping. “Now, dammit!”
Dahleven raised an angry, anguished face to hers, but let Ari go. Cele took the child and laid him on the smooth damp floor. She adjusted his head, clearing the airway, then put an ear to his mouth and watched his chest.
Nothing. No motion.
Cele felt like she was replaying a horrible nightmare.
Carefully, she sealed the boy’s mouth and nose with her lips and exhaled, twice.
Dahleven dropped to his knees on the other side of the child. “What are you doing?” He demanded. “Leave him be!”
Cele ignored him. She felt Ari’s neck for a pulse. Yes! It was there, a little slow, but there. Two more breaths, and suddenly Ari coughed, took a deep breath, and vomited lake water all over her dress. Cele turned him on his side until he finished retching. And then the little adventurer began to cry.
Dahleven pulled Ari into his arms and looked at Cele with wonder-widened eyes. “What did you do? Are you doubly Talented?”
She shook her head. “I learned that back home. It’s called CPR. I can teach you—later.” Cele’s stomach cramped in hunger and she winced. “Let’s go. We need to get him warm and dry.”
Dahleven led the way, carrying Ari wrapped in Cele’s cloak, while Cele carried the light. Ari’s wails quickly subsided to whimpers that echoed loudly off the tunnel walls. Cele didn’t think they returned the same way they came, though it was difficult for her to tell. A fog of fatigue enveloped her; the details of the tunnels’ twists and turns faded into unimportance. Even the chill bite of the cold tunnels became indistinct. All that mattered was putting one leaden foot in front of the other fast enough to keep up with Dahleven.
Finally, they came to a narrow staircase that rose steeply into the wall. Dahleven told her to go first; he followed close behind.
She was taking too much time. They’d only climbed ten steps, and already Cele felt like she faced Everest. “I’m slowing you down. You should go on ahead,” Cele said as they approached a tiny landing. “I’ll hook the lantern to your belt.”
“No. Keep going,” Dahleven said shortly.
“I’m not afraid of the dark. I can feel my way up or wait for you to come back for me. You should get Ari back.”
Dahleven looked stubborn. “Ari is fine now. It’s you we need to get back.”
Ari did look fine. He stared around him with large, blue, curious eyes, just as Cele had imagined. He still should be examined by a doctor, or a healer at least. There was no urgency for her. She was just tired and hungry and moving too slowly. Cele turned and pushed upward. She could be stubborn, too, but an argument would delay Ari’s return even more. She saw Dahlev
en nod, apparently pleased with her compliance, and that sparked her annoyance. The prince of Nuvinland must have his way.
Her irritation distracted Cele from the difficulty of the next three steps. She forgot why she was angry, but held on to it for strength. Oh, yeah, she remembered. Dahleven. Macho jerk.
A voice echoed up the narrow stair. “Hello! Have you found him?”
Dahleven turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Tholvien? Yes, we’ve got him.” Dahleven turned carefully in the confined space and descended.
Cele collapsed to sit on a shallow step. What was going on? She couldn’t think.
A moment later Dahleven returned, empty-handed. “Come on, we’re going to go a different way now.”
“Why? What did you do with Ari?”
“Tholvien’s got him. Come on.”
Descending the fourteen steps was easier than climbing them, but she was still moving slowly and her legs felt wobbly. Dahleven backed down the steps in front of her until she made the bottom. Then he swept her up in his arms. This time she didn’t protest.
“What’s wrong with her?” The tall, dark-haired man holding Ari asked. He looked familiar.
“She’s in Emergence, and I don’t think she’s eaten since this morning. Do you have any food on you?”
“Emergence! What were you thinking, then, having her climb that stair? My lord.”
Cele was vaguely surprised to hear Dahleven sound defensive. “It was the quickest way, and she didn’t seem so bad when we started.”
Cele lost track of the conversation and let her eyes close, her head resting on Dahleven’s shoulder.
The next thing she knew she was in her room and Thora and Ghav were pressing a cup against her lips.
“You must drink, my lady! Swallow!” Ghav shouted.
Why is he shouting at me? The liquid was warm and fruity and vilely sweet, but Cele swallowed, just to get rid of it. The bed was tilting sideways, but her tormentors still held the cup to her lips.
“More! Another little bit, that’s it,” Thora said.
Why won’t they leave me alone? Cele tried to turn away, but Ghav held her head in place until she swallowed again.
Dangerous Talents Page 27
