FORBIDDEN TALENTS

by Frankie Robertson

*

  Dahleven blew on the bowl of hot porridge in front of him, trying to order his thoughts. Ragni and Saeun. Baldur’s Balls!

  Gods, what was he going to say? He’d made no vow of secrecy to Saeun. He wasn’t foresworn. And yet—it was no small thing to reveal her offense. An offense he’d hidden for five months. And one she’d committed in his service. Has she told him? Surely Ragni would have said something. Or was that why he’d kept their trysting quiet? But then why would he be open about it now?

  “Do you think the Kikmongsowuhti will have more to say on the subject of our cleansing today?” Ragni asked, breaking into Dahleven’s worries.

  Dahleven wrestled the direction of his thoughts back to what should have been uppermost in his mind. “I don’t know. She seems to only want to speak with Mother.”

  “And Celia.”

  “And Celia.” Did she know about Ragni and Saeun? Why hadn’t she told him? “We may have to wait for them to relay whatever Nai’awika tells them. Or Loloma may broach the subject with Father now that it’s been brought up. We’ll hear soon enough.”

  Ragni nodded. “Speaking of Celia, how was your reunion? I trust you smoothed her ruffled feathers?” Ragni’s grin was just this side of a leer. “What was it about your kiss last night that bothered her so? I know you’re not much for practicing with the ladies, but surely your kisses aren’t that bad.”

  Dahleven rolled his eyes. “I was hoping you could tell me. The dancing finished too late last night for me to smoke that hive.”

  Ragni grinned. “Sorry, brother. All I know is she was embarrassed and offended. ‘A woman’s mind is a mystery as full of danger as an Elven cavern,’” he quoted.

  “Is Lady Saeun a mystery full of danger?”

  “What? Saeun?” Ragni laughed, then sobered. “No. But there is something I would tell you.”

  Dahleven’s attention sharpened, and he glanced around them though he knew they were alone in the family dining hall. This was a matter best not shared.

  “I ask your word of secrecy on this, brother, until I release you.” Ragni paused, waiting for his agreement.

  She has told him. Well it wouldn’t be anything Dahleven didn’t know already and kept secret, even without an oath.

  “You have my word, Ragni.” He offered his hand.

  Ragni nodded, grinned, and clasped his forearm. “I’ve asked her to be my elskerinne.”

  Dahleven’s grip tightened on Ragni’s wrist. “You what?”

  “I’ve—”

  “Baldur’s Balls! Ragni, what Loki’s whim possessed you?”

  Ragni jerked his hand back. “What stung your ass? Saeun is a Lady of honorable family. She has no apologies to make to you or anyone!”

  Dahleven shook his head but remained wordless. What could he say? His brother, a priest of Baldur, sought an alliance with a Daughter of Freya. Worse, a practitioner of forbidden magic!

  “I admit my timing is less than excellent,” Ragni continued, “what with my betrothal to Utta at Winterfest, but Saeun and I can wait to make it official.”

  Dahleven took a deep breath and then another one, settling his temper. In what he hoped was a calmer voice he asked, “You’ve been lovers for, what now—all of four months? Five?” He couldn’t keep himself from adding, “That’s what—three months longer than any other woman has held your interest?”

  The muscles in Ragni’s jaw bunched as his color rose.

  Dahleven didn’t care if his brother was angry. He should have had more sense than to make such an impulsive alliance.

  As usual, Ragni covered his anger with a lopsided grin. “Your betrothal hasn’t done much to temper your arrogance, Dahben.” He cocked an eyebrow. “How long was it you knew Celia before you sought to marry her? Three weeks?”

  Dahleven ignored the use of his childhood nickname. “Leave Celia out of this. At least I didn’t hide her from the family. Taking an elskerinne is almost as serious as taking a wife, Ragni. You hardly know her! You should at least have talked to me first. You have no idea what she’s involved in.”

  “Talked to you? I don’t need your permission. And when before this would I have shared it? You’ve been in Quartzholm less than five weeks in the last five months. You should look more to your own bedmate and worry less about mine! You left Celia alone to cope with Mother’s tutoring for months and as soon as you return, you offend her.”

  Dahleven gritted his teeth at the sting of truth in Ragni’s words, but refused to be distracted. “Celia is my concern—”

  “And Saeun is mine.”

  They glared at each other, teeth clenched to contain further sharp words, their cooling porridge forgotten. After a long silence Dahleven said, “Father is waiting.”

  “Fine.” Ragni rose. “Let’s go.”

  They walked down the hall side by side as usual, but Dahleven felt every inch of the chasm between them.

  *

  The pompous ass. Ragni ground his teeth as he walked down the passage beside his brother. Dahl could stuff himself and his stiff-backed, self-righteous attitude. What was his problem? He’d regarded Ragni’s past involvements with little more than a lifted brow and a warning not to tire himself. And Dahl could hardly justify his arrogance; he’d tumbled to Celia’s charms like falling off a cliff. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was having second thoughts.

  The thought settled his temper a little. Celia was a wonder. Despite his sharp words about Dahl’s impulsive proposal, it was the smartest move his big brother had ever made.

  Ragni tried to read his brother, but his own hot emotions were still in the way. He took a deep breath, then another. It took a few moments more for his irritation to recede enough to open his Talent again to Dahleven. Ragni expected anger, and steadied himself to receive it. It was there. But first and foremost, doubt and alarm clogged Dahl’s mind. Doubt? Alarm? But it wasn’t colored by frustrated love. This isn’t about Celia, then. Why does Saeun trouble him? “Dahl—”

  “I can’t let this—” Dahleven stopped, facing him in the corridor.

  “Go on.”

  “I made a bad start of what I wanted to say.”

  Ragni nodded stiffly. “I agree.” His brother’s annoyance flared. Ragni raised his hand. “But I’m willing to listen.”

  Dahl relaxed a little and nodded. “Not now. Father’s waiting. My rooms. After the meeting.”

  Ragni raised a brow but didn’t object.

  *

  Saeun stared for a moment at the empty drawer in her chest, then slammed it shut, as though she could hide the fact of her discovery. Who had found her out? How long ago? Every powerful person in Nuvinland had eyes and ears in Quartzholm, but who would take what they’d discovered in her trunk, and why? For evidence against me, of course. Or extortion. To turn my hand against Ragni or Kaidlin?

  In either case, she had to get away. But Lady Kaidlin was waiting. If she didn’t return soon, the Lady would question her absence.

  How soon would they come for her? She must warn the Daughters of Freya. She only knew a few here in Quartzholm, noble women, in position to influence the new laws and help gain all women greater freedoms. She couldn’t risk that by tainting them. She didn’t want them caught up in this. She must get away. Today.

  Who could assist her? Who would? Who did she dare endanger by asking their aid?

  Gert bustled in and Saeun jumped, squeaking around the fear clenched in her throat. The maid jerked to a stop, fluttering a hand over her ample bosom. “Oh, my lady! You gave me a fright! I thought you with Lady Kaidlin.” She took a deep breath, then looked more closely at Saeun. “My lady? Are you unwell?”

  “I, well, I, no.” Saeun glanced at the trunk, then rested her worried gaze on Gert’s dear face. Gert looked at the trunk, then back at her, questioning. Saeun’s expression must have answered her. Gert’s pale blue eyes widened. She’d served Saeun for many years, and her mother before her, and had kept their secrets. The maid’s wrinkled hands flew to cover her mouth. “Oh, no
,” she breathed.

  “Oh, yes.” Saeun’s lips stretched tight over her teeth. “I’ve got to leave. Now. Today. I can’t be dragged before the Council of Priests. It would destroy Ragni.”

  “I’ll get a message to the Daughters,” Gert said. “They’ll help you.”

  Saeun shook her head. “Whoever took my tools will be watching me—and you.” She wrung her hands. “But I must warn them.”

  “They may be watching me, but they can’t note every thing I say to another servant. I know who to trust. They can get word to their mistresses.”

  “They mustn’t endanger themselves.” Saeun rose and paced the room, considering her next move. “It’s market day. I should be able to slip out in the confusion when the day merchants leave. When she asks, you must tell Lady Kaidlin you haven’t seen me since earlier this morning.”

  “My lady! You can’t mean to leave me behind!”

  Saeun stopped her pacing in front of Gert, her eyes taking in the gray hair and plump, lined face she’d grown to love. “I can’t take you along. I don’t know where I’m going. I can’t go back to my brother’s. It’s the first place they’d look.” And neither Erlend nor his new wife would offer me a cup of welcome. They were glad to be rid of me before; they certainly won’t want me now. “You’ve served too well all these years for me to reward you with a stone for a pillow.”

  Gert’s eyes sharpened with a stubborn glint. “I’ll not let you wander about alone! I loved your dear mother too well to leave her daughter with no companion.”

  Saeun’s snort was bitter. “You can’t protect my reputation, Gert. I’ve ‘practiced forbidden magicks,’ and ‘bartered my soul for Odin’s dark sorcery.’” She deliberately used the words Father Wirmund used to attack such things. “I could have ten maids with me out there, and for naught. There can be no honor in me, not in the priests’ eyes, ever again.” Saeun clenched her teeth against the pain in Gert’s expression. It had to be said.

  “Father Ragnar will speak for you.”

  Saeun looked away. Would he? Or would he denounce her for betraying his trust? “Perhaps. But he must not. It would ruin him. I’ve injured him enough already.”

  Gert stood silent for a moment, then shook herself and bustled into motion. She pulled two canvas bags she used for shopping from the cupboard and began selecting clothing. “It’s not so cold yet, but we must take our heaviest cloaks, nevertheless. You never know this time of year when the weather will turn.” Gert tossed a garment at Saeun, which she numbly caught. “A split skirt will do better than that gown, dear. Put it on.” She tossed her another. “Put on two. The nights are colder than an Elf’s prick.” She turned back to the cupboard and put two more carefully folded wool tunics into the first bag. “We can buy food at the market stalls on the way out. It won’t last as long as journey bread, but with luck it won’t have to. And we’d best hope for some luck dear, we’ll need it.”

  Saeun stared at her maid, not moving. Wasn’t she listening? She’s too old. It’s too dangerous for her to go.

  Gert looked up from her packing and fixed her with a sharp look. “I’ll do your bidding unto death my lady, but I’ll not allow you to go alone.”

  “You’re—”

  Gert cut her off. “You do me no favors leaving me behind. Those who would harm you would come to me with their questions. I do not think they would be over gentle in their search for answers.”

  Saeun bit the inside of her cheek at the ugly implications. She’s right. She didn’t want Gert to suffer for her, but she would, one way or the other. She couldn’t stop it now. Saeun grimaced. “Let’s go, then.”

  *

  Dahleven glanced at his father, then Ragni, as the Kikmongwi spoke of the shamans who argued for a cleansing war.

  “…those who believe Tiowa sends this sorrow will not be turned. Their path is chosen,” Loloma said from across the circle. Che’veyo, the Tewakwe shaman, nodded.

  Neven’s expression was gravely attentive. Ragni tipped his head almost imperceptibly, indicating that Loloma’s words were sincere. It had taken almost half the morning for the Tewakwe leader to get to the point of what Nai’awika had already told Gudrun. The five men sat in low, comfortable chairs around a brazier in a small sun-drenched room near the family wing. Aromatic smoke from Tewakwe herbs meant to clear their minds and purify their hearts scented the air.

  “And they want everyone else to travel that path with them,” Neven interpreted.

  Loloma nodded. “But there are many ways, and the shamans do not speak with one voice on this.” He paused and looked at Che’veyo, then at Ragni. “What do you say? How do the spirits guide you and your brother priests?”

  Ragni bowed his head, putting his hand over the purple bag that hung by a ribbon embroidered with runes from his neck. The pouch held a shard of the crystal that Fanlon had shattered and was a badge of his office.

  Nice bit of theater there, Dahleven thought. Ragni had never wrapped himself in the awe of ritual as some of the priests did. He took his office seriously; he just didn’t flaunt it.

  “We are guests in this land, and our hosts are restless. The skalds have cast the Stones. They speak of darkness and hardship, but not of a solution to our loss.”

  Dahleven thought of Saeun. She’d helped him find Celia when the priests had nothing to offer. But her magic couldn’t help with this; her Vision could see only a day ahead, even if he wanted to use it now. Of course, he hadn’t wanted to use it before, either. Need creates strange allies, he thought.

  The shaman spoke at last. He seemed young to wield such authority, but his manner held no hesitancy. “We must go to our hosts and offer them the gifts they are due. Only then may we learn how we have offended them and how we may regain their good will.”

  “You would seek out the Elves?” Dahleven asked, barely keeping the incredulity out of his voice.

  “Only those who seek answers will find them,” Che’veyo answered. “Long ago in Tu’waqachi, the fourth world, Tiowa bade the clans to walk the four great paths, and so we did. The Spirit Walk purified us. And so it will again.”

  “All of the Tewakwe will go?” This time his surprise was audible.

  “No. This is not Tu’waqachi. Nor does Tiowa ask it. A few will go to bring the words of the Katsinas home to the people. The Kikmongsowuhti has pledged to send her granddaughter with me to the Katsinas.” The shaman looked Neven in the eye. It was almost, but not quite, a challenge. “All must be purified. You must do the same.”

  Oh, we must, must we? Seek out the Elves and court fey-marking? Father will never accept that. Nor would Dahleven want him to. One brush with the Elves was more than enough.

  Neven raised an eyebrow and returned the shaman’s level gaze. After a moment, still without shifting his eyes, he asked, “Father Ragnar?”

  “Those who deal with the Elves will not return unchanged, if they return at all,” Ragni temporized.

  “This is true,” the shaman stated. “But it must be done. And soon.”

  “How soon?” Ragni asked.

  “As soon as you are ready.”

  “Winter is upon us,” Dahleven broke in. “The passes will close soon. Spring is surely soon enough.” And by spring we’ll have come up with a better plan than this.

  “There are those who believe that only blood can cleanse the land,” Loloma answered. “The blood of those who oppose them. Come spring, they will not stop with their neighbors. That blood will flow east, cascading over these mountains until the flood washes all away before it.”

  “They won’t find Nuvinland so easy to take as that!” Dahleven objected.

  Loloma shook his head. “They have listened to dark whispers. Their councils are tainted. I believe the Earth Katsinas lend them aid.”

  Earth Katsinas. Dark Elves. They’d whispered to Jorund, too. We stopped him, but only just. And only with the Light Elves’ help.

  Neven’s brows drew down. “We’ll give you an answer tomorrow.”

&nb
sp; Dahleven’s stomach tightened. He was no coward. He’d faced both battle and dark magic and come through. But he did not want to have dealings with the Light Elves again. They were too …other.

  And the Dark Elves will be worse.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “PLEASE, I CAN cook and mend and be of other help to you.” Saeun clasped her hands together to keep from clutching Arten’s arm. Merchants selling food and wares, entertainers, and customers enjoying the clear, crisp winter day crowed the courtyard. Saeun stood close to Gert in the bailey of the castle trying to persuade the pupeteer to take them with him when he left in the morning.

  Arten was between shows. He looked up from the Loki figure he was mending, spearing Saeun with a doubtful look from under his long tufted brows. “You look as like you’d be more use wipin’ some lady’s nose than any help to me.”

  Saeun bit her lip. One of the Daughters of Freya had sent word of an enclave of women living on Lady Solveig’s lands. All she and Gert had to do was get there. The Daughters of Freya would give her sanctuary. Since a lone woman and her maid would draw attention on the road, she’d hoped to travel part of the way with a group of merchants.

  Most of those selling wares on market day were local, traveling no further from Quartzholm than their farms or nearby villages. This man traveled with a group of merchants who made a circuit of the larger towns, buying and selling along the way. The puppeteer and his group had been here for a tenday. They should be packing up tonight and moving on in the morning. It was a risk to stay another night in Quartzholm, but if whoever had taken her tools meant to arrest her immediately, she’d already be in irons. It was a beggar’s choice. Traveling alone would also pose a danger.

  Arten was shaking his head. Saeun decided a half-truth was better than a lie. She let her voice tremble with a touch of fear. It wasn’t hard. “You’re right. I am a lady’s maid.” The puppeteer stopped his work and looked at her. She took that as a good sign and took a deep, trembling breath. “You’ve guessed the truth. I’m running away.” The man nodded. Now for the lying half. “Her lord husband is after me.”