Having won more than she’d hoped, Jenn stood and smiled. “Thank you, Mistress.”
Sand glanced up. “Go on with you.” She didn’t smile.
But there was a wink.
Jenn needed no encouragement. The dance was one she loved, with a happy tempo and complex steps. She wandered along the edge of it, looking for Peggs, who was the best partner, but Kydd had her sister twirling in his arms. Wyll was busy with Tir and didn’t care to dance.
Where was . . .
“May I dance with the most beautiful woman in Marrowdell?”
Jenn schooled her face before turning to Roche; after all she’d done, he didn’t deserve her disappointment too. “I—”
“Promised the first to me,” Bannan Larmensu interrupted with a graceful bow, and swept her into the lamplight.
Heart’s Blood, if only he’d waited for any other song, but seeing Roche step forward, hearing him say what was true, for tonight Jenn Nalynn outshone the very stars?
Bannan stepped up to Covie, bowed, and looked longingly past her shoulder at Jenn, presently curtsying to Old Jupp. He’d taken his chance and must bear the consequence.
The old country dance was one he knew, thanks to Lila. The steps took partners coyly away from one another, then back again. They might as well be writing letters, the truthseer thought glumly, as Jenn’s small hand found his only to lift away a beat later. There was a moment in each other’s arms, but, as that was a rollicking high step and spin along a row of clapping spectators, Bannan found himself less aware of holding her and more anxious to avoid her toes.
Jenn stepped firmly on his and they both went off balance. She laughed like a peal of bells and he couldn’t help but do the same, his heart taking flight. “Shoes,” she mouthed before turning to curtsy neatly at Roche, who’d joined with his mother for a partner.
Most of Marrowdell had, Bannan realized as he held hands with a beaming Hettie and swung her about. The rest sat around. Tir considered dancing a waste of drinking time and, between spins, he could see Wyll with his friend. The tinkers sat and watched as well, but the dema had hooked his robe through his belt and was leaping around in time with the music, if not his fellow dancers. Urcet was deep in conversation with Dusom and Radd, doubtless about his plans for the coming day.
The Lady Mahavar smiled and nodded at him when their eyes met. Gallie sat beside her, foot tapping as she nursed tiny Loee.
Bannan found Jenn once more in his arms. Their eyes met and, wonder of wonders, she began to smile . . .
The music stopped.
As the dancers, including Bannan, exclaimed their dismay, Davi strummed his strings. “Great news!” he bellowed, then moderated his voice to loud. “Hettie. Tadd. Come here, please. Right here, where everyone can see you.”
Dismay turned to anticipation. Since no one else was moving from their spot, Bannan didn’t. It kept his arm around Jenn’s slender waist. She didn’t appear to mind.
Perhaps she didn’t notice.
Regardless, it was permission of a sort and he was unashamed to take advantage.
Hettie and Tadd, holding hands, made their way to the open space before the musicians. Both were breathless, their eyes bright. “What can’t wait till after the dance?” Hettie demanded and everyone chuckled.
“Horst, you old sneak,” Davi ordered cheerfully. “You get out here too.”
Bannan felt Jenn stiffen. At her whispered, “Uncle. No—” he looked down to meet eyes smudged with worry and understood.
Horst stepped from the shadows into the lighted space. “Ancestors Witness,” he said, his smile plainly forced. “Is there such a thing as a tactful Treff?”
Unrepentant, the big smith grinned. “Not at a time like this, my friend.” Another strum. “Go on. Tell them.”
“Tell us what?” Hettie asked.
“Tadd. Hettie.” Horst’s smile warmed as he turned to the pair. He circled his fingers over his heart. “Hearts of our Ancestors, we’re Beholden you’ve come to your senses at last.”
Friendly laughter at this, though not from Jenn or Bannan. He looked around and saw other somber faces. Zehr and Gallie Emms. Riss. They’d come to stand by the edge of the crowd, along with all those who’d been seated.
They knew.
“I’ve a gift for you,” Horst began. “I’d intended to wait as long as I—I’d planned to present it at your wedding.” Bannan saw his throat work before he continued, “But Davi’s right. A time like this . . . well, there’s no keeping it secret now, is there?”
The laughter following this was light and scattered, as the villagers began to realize something more than gifting was happening.
Radd, smiling until now, suddenly frowned. “What’s this about, Horst?”
“I’m giving Hettie and Tadd my house,” the old soldier announced, strong and clear. There were soft gasps, then a hush.
Davi strummed again. “Ancestors Blessed,” he said smugly. “I told you it was good news. Now, Horst, before anyone fusses, where’ll you be hanging those bear claws now? We’ve room—”
“I won’t need it, thank you.” Horst looked at Radd. “I’m going home. It’s time.”
“What?” the miller demanded, his face drained of blood.
Strings snapped. The baby cried. Bannan felt Jenn tremble.
“No. No. Don’t leave for our sake.” Hettie touched Horst’s arm. “You’re just being kind. Too kind. So many times—so many ways. You saved—” her voice shook “—you saved Cheffy from the river.” She tried to smile, tears now streaming down her cheeks. “You can’t leave. You needn’t. We don’t need a house, do we, Tadd?” He shook his head fiercely, equally overcome. “We’re to live with Zehr and Gallie and Loee. Marrowdell’s your home too.”
Horst kissed her forehead. “Ancestors Blessed and Bountiful, child, it’s done. I’m glad the house won’t be empty. It came to me as a gift. Honor me by being happy in it.”
“Hettie’s right. Your home’s here,” Radd said solidly. “Give the house, Horst. We’ll find—”
“Heart’s Blood. Leave be.” A violent lift of his hand; a warning. “I can’t stay.”
Accept it, Bannan wished the miller, for everyone’s sake. But he hadn’t the power of Jenn Nalynn and her father wasn’t a man to settle for evasion. Not in this.
Radd Nalynn stared at his old friend, his mouth working. “Ancestors Witness,” he said in a strained voice, “you’re the brother of my heart. Whatever this is about, we’ll deal with it together. Tell me.”
“Don’t!” Riss broke from the crowd and came forward, startling everyone. “Let him go, Radd,” she pleaded, eyes fixed on the troubled miller. “As you love him, let him go as he is.”
“This is nonsense. Horst,” Radd tried to lighten his tone, “let’s take a bottle on the porch, and give the dancers their floor—”
“You don’t know what I’ve done.” So harshly said that Tadd pulled Hettie back and Bannan felt Jenn’s arm tighten around his waist. “You’d send me away yourself if you did!”
“I forgave you Melusine!” Radd shouted. “Trust me.” His arm swept out to include the village. “Trust us. Ancestors Great and Generous, Horst, we’re your family! Now—now and forever.” His voice gentled. “One day, our bones will rest together in her dear company.”
Riss covered her face with her hands and rushed away through the crowd.
Horst drew himself straight and tall, his face terrible to behold. “Melusine doesn’t lie here.”
“W-what are you saying . . . of course she does.”
“I stole her body and gave it to the Semanaryas.” When the miller gaped at him, speechless, Horst took a menacing step forward. “Fool! Did you truly think returning a ring would call off their hounds? That they’d take my word? Your peace—Jenn’s—had a price. The ring’s what lies here. Not your wife’s bones.”
In the horrified silence, the sound of Radd’s fist striking Horst was like thunder.
Horst knuckled blood from the c
orner of his mouth with a strangely satisfied look.
Then lightning snapped and crackled, just missing the trees. Villagers ran for shelter as the storm’s wind howled around them. Bannan tried to move with Jenn only to find his arm empty. He glimpsed her by flashes, her face distraught.
Suddenly, the storm was gone, as if it had never been. People halted, looking around in amazement.
The storm was gone, and with it, Horst.
Sand stood with Jenn in her arms. She looked to Bannan with a frown. “Take her from here.”
So he did.
Bannan spread a blanket on the ground and helped her sit; he thought of her fine new dress and Jenn knew she should thank him.
But she couldn’t find words. Uncle Horst was gone. Her father, who couldn’t swat a fly and was never angry, had struck his truest friend, drawing blood.
Her mother—she’d said Beholdings over nothing, all her life. Her father had taken comfort, from nothing. Jenn thought she should be angry too, but she wasn’t. Uncle Horst was gone and there was a hole in her heart.
Bannan sat beside her, shadow against night, helping by his silent presence as Sand had helped by stopping what could have been a greater disaster.
Together, they sat and looked out over the dark river. Music had started again behind them, muted and quiet and without the deep thrum of Davi’s bass. No more dancing, not after that. Doubtless, some would be talking, trying to make sense of it. Those not working the fields tomorrow would start to tidy up, though the beer would likely flow a while longer, to soothe nerves.
She should go to her father, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
The slide of water through reeds was its own music; the darkness, comforting walls. In stories, Jenn thought numbly, it wouldn’t be proper of her to sit with Bannan, alone and apart, not when she was to marry someone else in three days. In stories, this would be romantic and fraught with—with whatever it could be.
Stars gazed down, cold and uncaring. Aunt Sybb, she knew, would understand and approve. They were all heartsick, tonight, and taking what refuge they could.
Pulling off her shoes, Jenn rested her chin on her knees and let tears flow down her cheeks. At least she needn’t fear her grief, not tonight; the turn-born would protect Marrowdell.
“Horst believed you’d hate him, once you knew the truth,” Bannan offered gently. “He couldn’t bear to stay and find out.”
“I don’t. How could I?” She hesitated, wiping her tears. In the dark, his face was indistinct, impossible to read. Was hers? “You do believe me.”
He understood what she meant. “They call it being a truthseer, but I hear a lie just as well. Not that I’d ever doubt you, Jenn Nalynn. Horst shouldn’t either. You or Radd.”
“Poppa just needs time,” she agreed, hoping she was right, then sighed. “Poor Riss.”
“‘Riss?’”
“She and Uncle—” Jenn blushed and was glad Bannan couldn’t see it. “They’ve been lovers for a long time. In secret.”
“Ah. That explains—” his turn to hesitate.
She wiped her face. “What?”
“He told me to forget honor and ask you to dance.”
Honor. Uncle Horst had thought of her, had thought of them, even as he prepared to leave his own love behind. “I’m glad you did,” Jenn replied in a small voice. “It’s hard to believe he’s gone. Marrowdell won’t be the same.” She shivered. Did she cause it, or was the night turning cool, as harvest nights were wont to do?
Without a word, Bannan shifted to shelter her bare back and shoulders against his warm chest, wrapping his arms around her like a blanket. It was the most unromantic of embraces and Jenn sank into it with a grateful sigh, laying her head on his shoulder.
Strange, how lying in Bannan’s arms made her feel better. Safe. She wasn’t safe at all. Hadn’t she almost died in her bedroom? As for better, having learned just today what she was and what it meant, it was hardly reasonable to feel any improvement in her lot whatsoever.
She just, most truly, did.
A squeal echoed along the valley and she felt Bannan’s chuckle. “Scourge’s having quite the night.” He sounded pleased. “I suppose if the herd’s late for the harvest, I’ll have to explain to the tinkers.”
“They know what you are,” she warned.
“And are taking the news well, all things considered.”
That was good news. Jenn let herself enjoy the rise and fall of his chest for a moment, then, though she was sure of the answer, asked quietly, “Do you know what they are?”
Bannan laid his cheek against her hair. She felt his nod.
“What—I am?” she went on, her voice barely a whisper. “Why there was a storm and then—then not? What I can do?”
Another nod.
Bannan held her, like this. As if nothing she was or could be frightened him.
As if he knew how afraid she was.
“I’ve something to tell you,” Jenn said huskily. If she didn’t, if she vanished tomorrow . . . “In case—if anything happens—if I’m—I’m not here anymore. I want you to know why. To explain—to my family. To Wyll. Would you do that, for me?”
He went rigid, his arms strong around her, but his voice was reassuringly calm. “I promise.”
“You’ve seen Mistress Sand and the others. Seen how they are, inside? What they are?”
“I have. It’s remarkable.”
That was one word for it.
Stone, not flesh. For an instant the enormity of it overwhelmed her. She’d live, if she could. But what was she to become? How would she feel? What would there be to love? To exist, without love . . .
Jenn gathered her courage. Don’t squander the Ancestors’ gift, Aunt Sybb had said. Live each moment. Yes, she’d meant not to daydream when one could be productively employed, but the words . . . fit. She was herself, tonight.
Not something to waste.
“I’m like them,” Jenn began, carefully. “I mean—I—I will be. I need white pebbles. I found one on the Spine, that day. I didn’t know it was magic and from the Verge. I didn’t know it would matter if I touched it, but now I have and it’s—I have to have it, Bannan. I’m empty and unless Mistress Sand finds my pebble, unless they can bring me more—what I need to be filled—filled like them—before the Great Turn, I’ll have to go up the Spine, I’ll have to cross into the Verge to find it, even though she says I can’t—that I’d die—” words began to pour out but she couldn’t stop, “—but I must, the voice told me, I must help myself. If I don’t get the pebble, I won’t—I’ll be gone.” She twisted to see his face. “It’s happening already, during the turn. Every day. Today, the sun set and I lost—I lost—my legs and feet and my hands and my wrists and—” She choked back a sob.
“Dearest Heart. Hush.” Stroking her hair, Bannan drew her into his lap, cradled like a child. “We’ll find it. I swear it with my life’s blood. I—” Before he said another word, Jenn kissed him.
It was a desperate, teary, stolen kiss and shouldn’t have been romantic at all. But when she pulled away to see what he thought of it, Bannan Larmensu slipped both hands into her hair and brought her mouth back to his with an urgency that made her heart pound.
For a dizzy time, nothing mattered and she most heartily approved when his hands strayed over the shoulders bared by her daring dress and didn’t he gasp wonderfully when her hands strayed too and found leather?
~ Elder sister? ~
She was not going to listen to a toad, not when—Ancestors Blessed and Blissful, now his hand found her breast and oh why hadn’t anyone told her how delirious it would make her feel and whatever he was doing, he mustn’t stop—
“Heart’s Blood!”
Not only did he stop, but Bannan heaved violently onto his side, in so doing sending the house toad tumbling from his back to plop like cold soggy pudding on her breasts.
Pudding with little sharp claws.
Jenn shoved it off indignantly and sat up, fumbling her bodi
ce together though both toad and man had most certainly seen what there was to see.
~ Elder sister, someone’s coming. ~
It could be Wen and Wainn, who, come to think of it, probably relied on the toads for such warning. Or one of the men looking for a discreet shrub. Or—it didn’t matter who. “Someone’s coming,” she warned.
Instead of helping her to her feet, the dress being awkward, Bannan leaned in to kiss her once more, so thoroughly Jenn might have forgotten the toad and whomever approached entirely except that the truthseer ended the kiss, put another, tender one on the tip of her nose, then stood, offering his hand.
All of which left her quite breathless and grateful it was dark.
Ancestors Hot and Bothered, it took all Bannan had to help Jenn to her feet and release her hand, instead of flinging them both down on that wonderful blanket under the blissful stars and—
And what? he scolded himself, fighting the rush of desire as he watched her slender silhouette tidy ribbons and hair. A hasty toss, when she was heartsick and needing comfort? She deserved far better. Was that a tear in her beautiful dress? Bumbling oaf. He’d acted like she was his first. Though, in his defense, her passion had matched his and—he collected the blanket, grateful for the dark.
Ancestors Witness, he could do better. Hearts of our Ancestors—as he folded the blanket and tucked it under an arm—I’ll be Beholden the rest of my life for the chance to do better with this woman as often as possible, for as long as we live.
Without toads, he added, glaring at the creature in question.
“Did you say something?” Jenn whispered.
“No.” Heart’s Blood, had he prayed aloud? A crash and muffled oath from the shadows saved him. “Someone’s coming.”
“This way.” She collected her skirt and shoes in one hand, offering him the other.
Holding hands, stifling giggles, because, despite everything, suddenly it was fun to dash in the dark like naughty children, they ran between garden rows and around privies and behind the Emms’ barn. There, Jenn pinned him against the log wall for a long and distracting kiss, before pulling him after her again.
A Turn of Light Page 71
