Saeun lifted herself to look him in the eye. “It’s not your decision to make. You need me. I’m going.”
Ragni laughed. “We’ll see about that.”
“Yes. We will.”
*
“You aren’t looking at the facts,” Celia said. She stood almost nose to nose with Ragni in the Elven dining hall. She and Ragni and Fender were the first to arrive for the meeting where they’d plan the assault on the Dark Elves.
“You’re not going,” Ragni repeated in a voice he no doubt meant to quell further discussion.
“Absolutely not,” Fender added.
Arrogant jerks! “What gives you the right to tell me what I can and can’t do?”
“I’m your brother-by-marriage,” Ragni answered, “and the man who stands next in line to inherit the Jarldom if anything happens to that boy you’re carrying.”
How dare he imply that she’d foolishly risk the life of her child? “Number one, I am not yet married to your brother, so that cuts you right out of the job of dictating what I do, and even if we were married already, you still wouldn’t have the right to order me about like some kind of …possession. And two, I am more than a walking womb. Besides, there won’t be a Jarldom to inherit unless we stop the Dark Elves.”
Ragni smoothed the scowl off his face, took a step back, and offered her a sheepish smile. “You’re right. You’re an intelligent, capable, and beautiful woman. But you can’t blame me for wanting to keep you safe, can you?” He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “And don’t worry about Dahleven. He’s a strong warrior and a smart leader, Celia. He won’t let the Elves take Quartzholm. And we will stop them. Just let us do it without putting you in danger.”
He was right. Well, not right exactly, but he was trying to do what he thought was best. She should cut him a little slack. And he was correct about one thing. If anybody could hold Quartzholm, it was Dahleven.
Then she saw what he was doing.
He was reading her emotions and trying to play her. Her anger turned frosty. “And just where do you plan to go to do that? You need me to Find the way to that cavern Saeun saw in her vision.”
“You can show us the direction and we’ll take it from there,” Fender said.
Celia shook her head. “You know that won’t work. The first time the tunnels twist and split I’ll need to reestablish the direction.”
“Was there any water in Saeun’s vision?” Ragni asked Fender. “You could Find it, and by default, the cavern.”
Fender made a face. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t Find a particular stream or body of water. I just Find the closest.”
Celia frowned. “Fender, stop this. You’ve trained me. You know I’m good with a bow and hand-to-hand, if not the knife. I can protect myself.”
“Aside from my own desire to see you safe, Lord Dahleven charged me with your protection. We know we’re going into battle. He’d have my ass if you came to harm—especially when I have the choice of keeping you out of danger.”
“That’s my point. You don’t have that choice any more than Ragni. It’s mine to make. Besides,” she said with false sweetness, “do you think even Dahl could keep me from this?”
His silent grimace answered her.
“Then he can’t blame you for not doing so, can he?”
“He sure as Hel can,” Fender muttered, invoking the name of the guardian of the dead.
“Blame him for what?” Utta asked as she arrived, escorted by Treskin. Saeun and Valender were right behind her.
“For not keeping me from going along on this expedition.”
“Why would he? We need you to Find the cavern, don’t we?” Utta asked.
Ragni raised a brow at her and shook his head slightly. Utta just smiled.
“Yes, we do.” Celia tried not to sound smug.
“But how will you Find it?” Saeun asked. “You couldn’t Find me once I was with the Elves.”
Celia felt like she’d been sucker punched. Saeun was right.
Ragni flashed a triumphant look to Fender before saying, “I’m sorry, Celia. But at least you’ll have Saeun and Utta and Tiva’ti to keep you company until we get back.”
“Using your Talent should be no problem,” Valender said. “We can help you penetrate the wards of the Dark Elves so your Talent will work.”
Celia turned a gleeful grin on Ragni as Rovdir arrived with the Tewakwe.
“What makes you think we’re staying behind?” Utta asked.
“It was my vision,” Saeun said.
“The gods have called on all of us,” Tiva’ti added. “We must all go if we are to succeed.”
Lord Kaeron and several other Elves entered the room.
“Indeed, we must. Our way is clear,” Che’veyo said. “One does not need Lady Saeun’s vision to know that all of us are called to this venture.”
“It’s not so clear to me,” Rovdir protested. “The women should stay behind. How’s a man supposed to fight when his attention is split between protecting them and attacking our foes?”
“By all means, leave your women behind in safety,” Lord Kaeron said. “But know this: I will send only as many Elven warriors as you mortals risk. Do you want to halve your forces?” He walked around to the head of the room, his elegant fingers clasped in front of him.
Celia glared at the Praefect, wanting to bitch him out for his small-mindedness despite the weight he added to her argument.
“Before you decide,” Kaeron continued, “remember that Edelstena will have Stone Warriors beside her. They are impervious to all weapons but our Khryss blades, which only we can wield with effect.”
Ragni and Fender exchanged angry looks, then Ragni nodded stiffly. “So be it. Ladies, your wish is granted.”
“Very well.” Fender speared each of the women with a steely gaze. “But you will follow my orders in battle. If any one of you fails to obey, I’ll see you all bound and carried back here as baggage!”
Obey. The word grated, but Celia pressed her lips together and nodded. She’d never seen Fender look so fierce. This was not the time to quibble.
“Very well, then,” Lord Kaeron said. “Let us discuss what we may face and how we will meet it.”
“You wound me,” a sharp voice came from the entrance.
Celia turned along with everyone else.
“You weren’t going to start without me, were you?” Baruq demanded, hands on hips.
CHAPTER TWENTY
DAHLEVEN LEANED AGAINST the parapet next to Magnus in the clear afternoon light and examined the dense, swirling mist below yet again. Nothing had changed. He still couldn’t see through the murk, and the peculiar vibrations coming from the stone set his teeth on edge. He didn’t look forward to relating his impotence to Neven. Not that his father understood his daily reports. Neven lay there watching his face, brow furrowed in confusion, saying nothing, regardless of the news. Dahleven wasn’t sure why he continued his reports. Seeing his father grunt and wave one hand aimlessly only served to tear the aching hole in his heart wider each day. But he had to do it. His father was the Kon. And even if Neven didn’t understand one word in ten, Dahleven had to tell him what was being done in his name.
“My lord!” Commander Komigg’s hail pulled Dahleven out of his dark thoughts.
Both he and Magnus turned and answered, “Yes?”
Dahleven had to give Komigg credit as the Commander nodded a bow to Magnus but addressed his report to him. A moment later he almost wished it were otherwise.
“The water is running foul.”
“Foul?” Dahleven swallowed panic. There were few better weapons for a besieging army than thirst.
“Yes, my lord. We’re guarding the cisterns as you ordered. No one has touched them. But the water reeks.”
“Loki’s scat!” spat Magnus.
“That’s what it smells like, my lord.”
“Anyone sick?” Dahl asked.
“No, my lord. The smell stopped them from dr
inking.”
“Thank Baldur for that!”
Dahleven glanced at Magnus. “A mixed blessing. They want us to know we’re vulnerable. They don’t just want us to sicken, wondering what killed us; they want us thirsty—and afraid.” He turned back to the worried Commander with a grim smile. “Well, it won’t work, will it, Komigg?”
The man straightened. “No, my lord.”
“Have every cistern checked, starting with the highest. If any are still clean, block flow to them and double the guard.”
“Already begun, my lord.”
Dahleven nodded approval. “Drain all but one of the fouled tanks. We can’t have thirst-crazed people drinking poison. Set the Cleansing Talents to work on the fouled water flask by flask. The volume won’t be much, but it’ll be something. Pass the word: quarter rations for all except the sick, breeding women, and children. No bathing.” He turned to Magnus. “Any suggestions?
Magnus shook his head. “You’ve covered it.”
“Go.”
“My lords.” The Commander nodded to each of them and left running.
Dahleven turned back to the wall. “I don’t like this,” he said, indicating the strange sound and vibrations coming through the stone. “They’ve flown no arrows, used no battering ram, tried no ladders. Just the water, and this …this grating.” The lack of something to fight was wearing on his men.
“What do you think it is?” Magnus asked.
Dahleven just shook his head and stared down into the murk. “The Stoneshapers are looking into it.” He wasn’t worried about being a target; no missiles ever assailed the walls from below. Just the constant grinding vibration. “I wish we could see through this gods-cursed fog.”
“Aye. What has Lady Angrim turned up?”
He’d told Magnus about Angrim’s offer. The older Jarl seemed unfazed by the idea that Dahleven was using the Fey-marked woman to find the Dark Elves’ minions, and he hadn’t asked any difficult questions about how or when Angrim got Fey-marked. Instead, he’d requested she come to Dalrik next to root out the spies in his own castle.
“She and her escort found two very quickly—ugly, spindly things—but nothing since. She took them by surprise, and killed them, but now the little Feyspawn know they’re being watched for. I’ve asked her to try to capture the next one for questioning, if she can.”
Magnus nodded.
Baruq’s friends had finally gotten in touch with him. Qip, the little pinnsvin who was their spokesman, said they’d obstruct the Dark Ones as they always did. Dahleven wasn’t sure just how much help that was, but he didn’t think threatening Qip with iron would increase the pinnsvin’s enthusiasm for aiding mortals, and let it lie. They would either help or not. At least Angrim was proving to be effective.
A little while later a workman approached. He wore a sword at his waist but looked ill at ease with it. “My lords,” he said, bobbing his head, “I’m Stenner. You asked me and the other Stoneshapers to look at the fortifications? Something’s eating them from the other side. Or not eating them exactly, more like wearing them away. I’ve set some Talents to taking stone from some interior walls so we can use it to shore up the battlements.”
“Very good,” Dahleven said.
“No, my lord. We’re behind and losing ground.”
“Odin’s eye!” Magnus swore.
“At this rate they’ll collapse in less than a week,” Stenner said.
First the water and now the walls. Dahleven clenched his hand where it lay on the parapet, feeling the insidious, undermining vibration travel up his arm. “Do what you can.”
*
“Are you sure you want to go?” Ragni reached for Utta’s hand, interrupting her packing. They were to leave the Elvenholt at first light, taking only what they could carry. The reindeer couldn’t go on this journey. “There’s no shame in staying here, and I’d rather you were safe.”
Utta laughed but didn’t pull away. “And let Saeun have you all to herself?”
Ragni felt her genuine amusement. He knew she must be joking, but this wasn’t the response he expected. His surprise must have shown on his face.
Her smile grew wider. “What irony that we now consider being guests of the Fey ‘safe!’” Then she sobered. “I’m not foolhardy, my lord. I can help. Lady Celia is not the only one trained in the use of bow and knife. Don’t look so surprised! My father is more broad-minded than you think.”
Freya’s tits. Had he once thought of Utta as merely competent and dutiful? Was he alone so blind, or were all men surprised by the women they married? “You are even more of a prize than I knew. It makes me doubly inclined to keep my treasure safe.”
Utta rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Does that sort of talk usually work for you?”
Ragni felt heat rise in his face. “I said it badly. I just want to protect you. It’s my duty and my right to do so. But more than that, I like you. I don’t want you to come to harm.”
Utta’s smile was straightforward and genuine, as was her feeling of affection. “I like you, too,” she said almost shyly.
Ragni relaxed.
“But I’m still going.”
Of course she was. He’d heard once that in ages past women obeyed their menfolk. He was sure now that it was a myth. “I won’t forbid you.”
Ragni felt her amusement and satisfaction flare, but she only said, “Thank you, Ragni.” After a pause she squeezed his hand. “You know, you should ask Saeun to be your elskerinne.”
Ragni missed a beat, taken off guard. Was it always going to be like this? He was seasoned in the maneuverings of the nobles and the priesthood, and he’d thought with his experience and Talent that he’d understood the ladies, but these women were keeping him off-balance. He’d told her Saeun had been his lover, but she didn’t know all of it. At least this he could surprise her with. “I already did. Just before you arrived in Quartzholm.”
Her response disappointed. She wasn’t shocked, only pleased. “Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together. “Then that’s all settled.”
“No, it’s not. She didn’t say yes.”
Now she was shocked. “She didn’t? What was the girl thinking?”
“To be fair, she never answered one way or the other before she had to run from Quartzholm.”
“And you haven’t asked her since?”
“It’s not so simple, as you well know. Her use of magic will cause any number of problems.”
“Once, it would have. But this quest, this alliance with the Elves will have a cascade of consequence, Ragni. We’re all supposedly ‘Fey-marked’ now. When we return after saving all humankind from the Dark Elves, perceptions will change—both about the Elves and about the use of magic.”
“Not if Wirmund has any say in the matter. And since he’s the Overprest…” Ragni looked at her, daring her to come to a different conclusion. “And her use of magic is against the law.”
“Well, then, you should change the law. It’s unjust. Saeun must be your elskerinne.”
“So I’ve been told.”
*
“Lady Saeun.”
Saeun stopped packing at the sound of Treskin’s voice and lifted the moss curtain.
“Your presence has been requested.” He had a peculiar expression on his face.
“By whom?”
“The Aspen Mother. Get your cloak and your snow shoes. You’ll need them.”
Saeun paused a moment, waiting for some explanation, but Treskin said nothing more. Sighing, she caught up her cloak and shoes and followed him silently through the passageways and out into the cold, snow-laden forest. He’d elaborate in his own good time, she supposed. She could wait him out. She hated begging for information like scraps from the table.
Birds chirped and fluttered from branch to branch as they passed, dislodging clumps of snow. Sunlight danced on ice crystals, dazzling her eyes. They’d traveled some distance when she couldn’t stand the mystery anymore. Treskin might think it amusing to thrust her in
to a situation without any preparation, but she didn’t. She was about to ask when Treskin turned to stare at her with wide eyes.
“You really don’t know?”
Saeun gazed at him, startled.
“I thought since she asked for you …since you talk to the trees…” He shook his head.
So he wasn’t holding out on me.
“She is their Eldest, the root from which all her family have sprung.”
“The Aspens?”
“Yes. They are all connected, and she speaks for them. When she speaks at all.” Treskin gave her another peculiar look. “For many, many years the Mother has spoken only in response to the Spring Rites. Now she summons you …by name. In winter, no less.”
Saeun shivered. “What does she want with me?”
Treskin helped her over a deadfall. “You’ll have to ask her.”
They climbed a hill and descended into a wide, shallow valley. The fir trees thinned. There, across a snow covered meadow, was a huge aspen grove. A few golden leaves still clung to the branches, fluttering in a chill whisper of air.
“There she is,” Treskin said, starting across the meadow.
“Where?” Saeun saw only the trees. “Do you mean she’s the whole grove?” Would eyes open in just one trunk, or would a hundred pairs of eyes peer at her?
“No. Yes.” Treskin sighed, blowing a cloud of breath out forcefully. “She’s in all if it, but she’s not the whole. She’s the Mother. Her daughters are part of her, as she is part of them.”
Saeun nodded, though she didn’t really understand.
They were nearly across the meadow when a woman stepped out of the grove. A whole woman, not just a pair of eyes in the trunk of a tree. She was tall and slender and dressed all in shades of gray. It made Saeun think of mourning garb.
“Greetings, sister-son’s daughter.” Her voice rippled and flowed like music; her hands fluttered as she spoke.
Sister-son’s daughter? “Greetings, Mother.” She hoped that was the right way to address her.
The lady came closer. Her eyes were very old, but she moved with a firm step. Her hair was a mixture of grays and browns that were nearly black, and it wasn’t hair exactly. The strands branched like delicate twigs around her shoulders.
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