FORBIDDEN TALENTS

by Frankie Robertson

  She was happy. Not in a giddy way, more of a strong satisfaction and sense of wellbeing. Ragni was glad his Talent didn’t flow both ways, because Utta would surely have felt his surprise. Most of the others were tired and anxious. He could use a little happiness. Indulging himself, he slipped deeper, and found a frisson of sexual tension buried deep.

  He smiled. Her spark of desire was banked. When it was time, he’d fan the flame higher. He knew how to please a woman.

  Saeun.

  Sudden, sharp, painful, the thought of her surfaced. They had fit together so well, knowing just how and when to speak, to touch. It was ridiculous, but he felt disloyal thinking of bedding Utta. Even if Saeun had lived, he would still have taken Utta to wife. He could almost hear Utta’s brother laughing at him. It wasn’t wrong to find happiness with his betrothed. Nor was it wrong to give her happiness in return. So why did he feel guilty? He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  Forcing the feeling away, he glanced at Utta, who stared at the backs of Tiva’ti and her guard walking just ahead beside Masale. As he reached out he felt Utta clamp down even more firmly on her desire.

  Is she really so shy about her passion? She seemed open enough about other things. “You needn’t hide your heart from me, Utta,” he said just loudly enough for her alone to hear. “Or from yourself. Your feelings are natural enough. Don’t be ashamed of them. Though I admit this isn’t the most convenient place for their expression.” A rueful smile curled his lips.

  Utta looked at him with wide eyes, alarm flaring.

  He’d scared her again. She wasn’t used to being close to an Empath. “Forgive me for prying. I just want to know you better.”

  Her mouth gaped open, then shut, then opened again. “And you don’t mind?”

  “Mind? Of course not.”

  He could see as well as feel her doubt, but her tension eased. She looked ahead to where the Tewakwe walked, then turned back to him. She had tears in her eyes. “I will be a good wife to you, Ragni,” she said softly. “I swear it.”

  Why so serious? Thinking to turn the tone back to their earlier banter, Ragni started to laugh and say, You already did, but the expression on her face stopped him. Instead he said, “I know you will.” And I hope I can help you find some joy in it.

  Utta flashed him a grateful smile, then winced as the wind sharpened and flung stinging sleet into her face.

  “The storm is here!” Fender called out cheerfully, eliciting a variety of rude remarks.

  “This ain’t no storm,” Rovdir said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind. His tone held the teasing boast of a tall tale. “Now the year of the Keltar, that was a storm.”

  “You weren’t even born in the year of the Keltar,” Fender complained.

  “No, but my Granddaddy was, and he told me the ice was so thick on the river that they built the Spring Festival bonfire on it and it didn’t burn through until summer!”

  “That’s nothing,” Brol shouted. “My Gran said the snow was so deep come spring, the falconers were able to walk over the drifts right up to the nests in the Needle cliffs to take the fledglings.”

  Ragni helped Utta adjust her scarf to better protect her face, then hunkered down in his cloak. They’d have to find shelter, and soon.

  “Baruq!” he yelled, but the gale blew his voice away. He made sure Rovdir was beside Utta before making his way forward. Already ice coated the windward side of his cloak.

  “Baruq!” he shouted again.

  “For the second time, what?”

  The voice came from near Ragni’s feet. He’d almost stepped on the little man-thing. He looked down and saw that the pinnsvin wore no clothing, just his snow shoes. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “You came forward just to ask me that?” Baruq didn’t break stride, his little snow shoes pattered quickly over the crust.

  Ragni pulled his mind back to his original purpose. “We’ve got to get out of this before the worst of it hits.”

  Baruq threw him a disgusted look from the vicinity of his shins. “Do I look stupid? We’d already be bedded down snug if we’d been able to use my original path. Now I have to improvise. I’ve heard of a cave. We’ll stop there.”

  Ragni tried again and failed to read the truth in the pinnsvin. He found it disquieting that his Talent wouldn’t work on the small Fey. “How far?”

  “Far enough.”

  *

  Celia stumbled, stepping on her own snow-shoe, but Fender caught her before she could fall. “Damn it!” That was the third time she’d done that. She was exhausted, but then, so was everyone else. The light was fading. Blowing white crystals shadowed the trail. They had to find shelter soon, or freeze.

  Celia had tried to help. She’d imagined a large cave, a place out of the wind, and cast her Finding Talent out repeatedly over the last hours, for all the good it did. She’d discovered one such cave that opened on the sheer wall on the opposite side of the crevasse. Some time later she’d locked on to another. But when she mentioned it to Baruq, he’d said the cave she’d Found wasn’t safe. Despite her lack of success, she cast out her Talent again. A familiar, compelling tug pulled at her. They were very close.

  “Hoi! Here! It’s here!” Baruq called out.

  The opening was low and they all had to duck their heads to enter, even Tiva’ti. Celia caught her breath when she stepped inside, stunned for a moment by the lack of buffeting by the wind. Even the reindeer seemed glad to be out of it. Then Brol and Rovdir looked at each other uneasily for a moment, no doubt unhappy to be spending the night in a natural cave, where the Fey were sometimes rumored to pass. Celia glanced at Baruq, who was shaking ice crystals from his scarf, and smiled. The Fey are already here.

  Fender looked from one to the other, seeming to understand what was on their minds. “This is as safe as it gets. Unless you want to make your bed out there instead?” He jerked his head at the blowing snow that had replaced the sleet.

  Brol shrugged. The three of them explored the extent of the cave while Masale and Tocshe went back out to collect wood for a fire. Everyone else busied themselves by scraping the ice off their neighbors and settling the animals.

  Eventually an orderly camp was established. Celia hunkered down near the fire, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, bracketed by Utta and Tiva’ti. Of the three of them, only Utta seemed to be in relatively good shape after their hard trek.

  Celia stretched toward the small fire. Her feet were the last to thaw, but they were finally beginning to feel warm again. Her eyes drooped. The air was quiet where she sat, but the storm howled outside. She understood now why so many of the Nuvinlanders’ tales characterized winter as a ravening beast.

  Celia’s head jerked up as Fender pushed a large wooden bowl of steaming stew into her hands and wrapped her fingers around it.

  “Eat.”

  Tiva’ti and Utta were already spooning the hearty broth. She followed their example. The rich and warming stew banished the last of her shivers. I guess the men can cook, after all.

  As Brol cleaned up, Che’veyo told the story of how darkness came to their people back in the second world.

  “The First People were happy in Tokpa. Though different in color and speech they thought with one mind, at one with the land and with the animals. They lived together in peace, suckling at the breast of the Mother.

  “But then Lavi’hoya came in the form of a mockingbird, with poison on his tongue.”

  “Loki,” Brol said, and the other Nuvinlanders nodded.

  “As he told his tales, the hearts of the People grew dark and they looked at each other with suspicion. They made war upon each other and the animals fled, no longer willing to live beside their brothers. And so Tiowa determined to destroy the world and begin anew.”

  “Are you saying that Tiowa is going to destroy Alfheim?” Celia asked.

  Che’veyo smiled gently. “No. When Sotuknang and Spider Grandmother brought us here, they promised this would be our home forever. But if we do
not succeed, we will have to live in a darkness of our own making.”

  “But it’s the Dark Elves who are making the trouble!” Rovdir said.

  “Then we must do as the First People did. Those with pure hearts kept their kopavi open and were guided by Tiowa’s wisdom,” Tiva’ti said. “We must do the same.”

  “‘Tiowa’s wisdom.’ Is that what we’re calling Baruq now?” Ragni chuckled.

  Baruq lifted his chin. “You can just call me ‘Wisdom’ for short.”

  Che’veyo regarded the pinnsvin with a wry twist to his mouth. “Tiowa works in mysterious ways.”

  They were all silent for a moment, then Ragni said, “If we’re going to fight the Darkness, we should ‘lighten up’ as Celia would say.” He winked at her as everyone agreed. Even Che’veyo smiled and nodded.

  Utta volunteered to sing a song about the souls of lovers dancing in the northern lights. She had a beautiful voice. When she finished, Celia’s heart was lighter, and the group broke and sought their bedrolls. Everyone shared blankets for warmth. Celia and Utta put Tiva’ti between them since the smaller woman still seemed to be a little chilled.

  Snuggled under their blankets, Celia pulled the Dream-door from under her clothes and held it in her hand. Dahleven. I want to talk to you. The crystal didn’t glow or throb or hum to show it was going to work. Dahl, I want you. It didn’t seem enough, but that was what Ragni had said to do. Just form a clear desire to talk to Dahl and go to sleep.

  *

  Dahleven paddled his coracle down the summer river. Celia was somewhere ahead of him and he had to get to her before …before what? He couldn’t remember. A duck floated over to him, then two more, and they pecked at his boat. It was made of bread, he suddenly realized. Half a dozen more birds came, hungry birds, tearing away bits of his little boat and gobbling them down before they stretched out their dark green necks and jabbed out another bite. He swatted at them with his paddle, and they nibbled away at that, too. There would be nothing left of his boat by the time he reached Celia.

  “Dahl!”

  There she was, paddling out to him from the shore in her own coracle. The sun glinted off her golden hair as the breeze gently lifted a strand from her brow. The sheer fabric of her sleeveless tunic was pulled tight across her breasts by the strap of her quiver. She’d never looked more beautiful. The ducks swam away, quacking in protest. Celia brought her small craft beside his and they shipped their oars, letting the river carry them along, side by side.

  “Nice venue,” she said, smiling. “Warm. I definitely approve.”

  “Except for the ducks.”

  “Ducks?”

  He could feel her confusion. Had Ragni put his Empathy into the Dream-doors? What a gift! “Never mind. Are you well? Did you find shelter from the storm?”

  “We’re all okay. Baruq forgot that we aren’t all a foot tall so we wound up taking a different route. Which was fine, except then we weren’t anywhere near the shelter he’d planned for us to use. He found us a cave, though, and we’re all right and tight. How are you doing? Any leads on Eirik’s murder?”

  “A cave? A natural cave?” Fear washed over him, but he tried to keep his tone calm. “Not one of the entrances to our tunnels?” Had they strayed into the Dark Elves realm?

  “No, I don’t think so. The ground is pretty uneven, not at all like the tunnels. But there’s a nice wide ledge on one side so we have a good place to camp.” She looked at him strangely. “What are you so worried about? Fender checked it out. He said it was safe. Safer than staying out in the storm, anyway.” She paused, staring at him wide-eyed. “Is this what it’s like for Ragni? This knowing what the other feels?”

  Her surprise mirrored his own. “I think so.”

  They were silent for a moment, just feeling the wonder of it, sharing without words their love for each other. And their desire.

  It was like sliding into her heat. Her warmth surrounded him, sheltered him, danced through his soul like a cresting wave of butterflies. His love for her washed over them both and he savored the sensation of Celia snuggling into it. This is how it should always be. Delight soared, buoying his heart. His laugh sounded a lot like a groan of pleasure.

  Celia sucked in a deep breath and looked away. “Well, uh, that’s …intense.”

  Dahleven cleared his throat. What had she felt? Had it been the same for her? “Yes,” was all he could manage.

  She swallowed and looked back at him. “Don’t worry about us. We picketed the reindeer well away from the big crack that runs down one side of the shelf. We’re also staying away from the lip. At least the women are. Frankly, I think the guys enjoy peeing off the edge.” She grinned. “I’m jealous.”

  “You posted a watch?”

  “Well, I didn’t, but Fender did. So how are things in Quartzholm? How’s your dad?”

  Her concern for him was a balm for his worry and loss. “The same. Gris visits him often. I don’t think I ever thought much about the bond between them. It’s more than loyalty. Yet he’s always around when I need him. He’s proven himself to be invaluable as I deal with all the various details of the Jarldom. But even he hasn’t been able to shed any light on Eirik’s murder.”

  “You asked Gris to help?”

  He felt her surprise and distaste. “Who better to ferret out information? And I’d rather have him by my side on this than Wirmund.”

  “Is Wirmund going ahead with his own investi—”

  She vanished.

  “Celia!” He scanned the river. “Celia!” But she was gone, leaving a lingering aftertaste of her surprise and alarm.

  *

  Dahleven awoke, heart pounding. His internal sense told him he hadn’t been asleep long. It was still only the small hours of the night. He relaxed his grip on the Dream-door, rubbing the indentations left by the sharp points in his hand. Is that the way it’s supposed to work? Is there a time limit on this thing? He didn’t think so. Something had jerked Celia out of sleep.

  Anything could have disturbed her. Someone could have jostled her, or snored too loudly. Any number of innocent things could have startled her awake, breaking their connection.

  Or it could be something Darker.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SAEUN SMOOTHED HER sweaty hands against the bloused legs of her new Elvish clothing and told herself again not to be nervous. Just because Lord Kaeron had asked to see her within an hour of her revelation that she could scry the future did not mean she was in trouble. Treskin could be right. Maybe here, scrying was a good thing. Still, she’d changed into her new clothing hoping that if she didn’t look too different, too mortal, the Praefect of the Elven enclave might be better disposed toward her.

  She glanced up at her escort. It was an Elf she hadn’t seen before. Or didn’t think she’d seen before. Now that all the Elves had dropped the use of their glamour around her, she couldn’t be sure. Her escort didn’t seem particularly tense, so perhaps nothing was wrong. But then, he wasn’t the one summoned to appear before Lord Kaeron.

  Was it a sign of Fey-marking that she’d blurted out the secret of her magic with barely a hesitation? A secret she’d kept all her life, and shared with very few. Until now.

  Her escort showed her into the dining hall where Lord Kaeron had urged her to eat that first night. The low tables had been pushed against the walls, but the rugs and cushions remained. Glow globes cast a gentle golden light. The Praefect sat tailor fashion at one end of the modest sized room. Several warriors and ladies sat in a semi-circle on either side of him. Treskin, Valender, and Rien were among them.

  Lord Kaeron gestured to a large, thick pillow directly in front of him. “Lady Saeun. Please join us.” The Praefect’s rich voice washed over her with a sensation of comfort and welcome.

  Is that his Talent? To seduce others into abandoning caution? Do Elves even have Talents?

  Despite the kind greeting, Saeun’s knees shook. She stepped forward and sank gratefully onto the firm cushion.

&n
bsp; “You look well, Lady Saeun. Are your quarters comfortable? Is there aught you require?”

  Lord Kaeron’s fine, pale gold hair was drawn back severely from his high forehead, making his light blue eyes seem even larger. His pupils were dilated in the dim light so they were almost round, and they seemed to see right through her.

  Saeun forced herself to meet his gaze. “Your hospitality is without equal, my lord. I am quite well, and very grateful for your generosity.”

  “Good. We do not often host mortals among us, and so we sometimes forget how best to care for you.” He paused, then continued. “Lady, you must guess that I have asked you here because of the unusual gifts you claim.” He waited for her to nod. “As Treskin told you, we do not have anyone among us who can part the veil that hides that which is yet to come. Troubled times are upon us. I would consider it a great favor if you would apply your skills to our concerns.”

  For a moment, her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. Aid the Elves? To do what? No matter how prettily he asked about her welfare, the Praefect had her at his mercy, dependent on his good will. Could she really refuse? But deep down, a giddy happiness started to bubble. Someone wanted her to use her magic. They were eager for her to use her skills, not horrified or disgusted or appalled.

  “I think, my lord Praefect, I must know what your concerns are before I can agree to help you.” If her visions were to be used somehow against humankind, she wouldn’t, couldn’t, help them no matter how much the Elves flattered her.