FORBIDDEN TALENTS

by Frankie Robertson

  He didn’t need his Talent to see Dahleven’s shock.

  “What do you mean you can’t? Is it because of Saeun? She’s pardoned. Take her as your elskerinne if you want. She should keep her magic quiet for a while, though, until you get the law changed.”

  Ragni shook his head trying to clear it. “No, it’s not that.”

  “What is it then? You can’t mean to let Vali ascend? The man is a maggot. I need you, Ragni. I need someone sensible as Overprest to help solidify this new friendship with the Fey.”

  “No, Dahl.” Celia placed her hand on his chest.

  Ragni could feel her anguish rasping across his heart and he closed himself off. He had to stop this. Had to get out of here. He stood, pulled off the mitten, and flung it aside. “I can’t be Overprest with this,” he said, holding up his hand. His voice was harsh, but he didn’t care. “Forget the fact that I can’t do the rituals. I’m not whole! I’m not fit to intercede with the gods.”

  *

  Celia winced as the door slammed shut behind Ragni. “That went well.”

  “You blame me?” Dahl asked.

  “No, of course not. You didn’t know. And Ragni hasn’t had much time to get used to what his injury will mean. It’s only been a couple of days.”

  “What happened?”

  She didn’t get far with her tale before he interrupted.

  “A firedrake? You were shooting at a firedrake?” He hugged her tightly. She might have enjoyed it if he weren’t wearing scaled armor. “By the gods! Are you all right?” He pushed her back and looked her over.

  “Of course I am! The Dream-door did more harm than the firedrake, at least to me.” Her voice shook. “Rovdir was burned alive.”

  “Gods!” His hands flexed on her shoulders. At least he’d taken his mailed gloves off. “He was a good man.”

  “Yes, he was.” She blinked back tears and tried to push away the memory of Rovdir’s screams.

  “What do you mean the Dream-door hurt you?”

  She delayed answering as she removed her cloak. “It didn’t hurt me exactly. It just drained me. I was getting so I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. It was Valender, one of the Elves, who figured it out. He fixed me up.” And told me I was pregnant. How was she going to work that gracefully into the story? Especially with all the loss and upheaval Dahleven was facing? Maybe I should wait to tell him.

  He tugged her down to sit on one of the wooden benches beside him, holding her hand in his. “What happened then?”

  Celia swallowed the lump in her throat and told him about Utta shooting the firedrake in the eye, Che’veyo’s strength in the face of Edelstena’s magic, and the Light Elves battle with the stone-warriors.

  “Stone-warriors!” Then he clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes. “Go on.”

  Finally, she told him how Ragni’s magic had held the portal closed at the cost of his hand, until Saeun could turn Edelstena’s staff to iron. “It must have hurt like hell, but he kept that …that thing, from coming through. It was big, whatever it was. If he hadn’t held on, we might all have died.” She paused, then went on. “Valender tried to heal his hand, but he couldn’t, because it was caused by mortal magic. Are there healers here that can do something? Ragni seems so …broken.”

  Her heart clenched as Dahleven shook his head. “That would take a Great Talent.”

  Celia straightened. They knew where the Great Talents were hidden. She knew she could Find a powerful Healing Talent among them.

  Dahleven seemed to read her mind. “No. The Great Talents won’t stay hidden long if we run off to the cavern every time we need one. And you know they need to stay hidden.”

  She did. The history of their use was one of death and chaos. “But Ragni—”

  “Not even for Ragni.” Dahleven groaned. “But gods, I want to. I want to.” He pulled her close and buried his face in her neck.

  Celia put both arms around him and held him. He didn’t weep. He was too much the big strong warrior for that. But she felt the tension in him and wished she could ease it somehow. He was carrying so much grief. The responsibility of the Jarldom, solving a murder, his father’s death, Ragni’s hand.

  Maybe I shouldn’t wait. Maybe hearing it now would help.

  “I have something else to tell you.”

  Dahleven raised his head. “What is it?”

  Now that it came down to it, she felt nervous. It was foolish. She knew he wanted this.

  Her hesitation must have alarmed him. He gripped her arms. “Tell me!”

  “It’s nothing bad! I’m pregnant.”

  Dahleven’s eyes widened and his face began to split into a grin.

  “Valender says it’s a boy.”

  For a moment she just basked in the joy spreading across his face. She’d been right to tell him. Then Dahleven’s wondrous smile froze.

  His voice grated like breaking ice. “Did you know you were bearing our son when you left?”

  “No! Of course not! I didn’t know until Valender told me.”

  Dahleven’s expression softened into embarrassment. “I was afraid you might have kept it secret so you could go.”

  Celia stared. This wasn’t the time to tell him that she could have stayed safe in the Elvenholt. “I didn’t lie to you, Dahl.”

  “I know. I’m sorry for thinking it.” A delighted grin transformed his face again. “A son!” He kissed her.

  The touch of his lips zinged down to her toes and she put her arms around his neck. They’d been too long apart. Celia leaned into his embrace, wanting to be closer, but the barrier of his armor stopped her. Not to mention the various layers she wore.

  She giggled. “This would be so much nicer with a little less clothing.”

  “That can be arranged.” Dahleven reached for the clasps of her heavy tunic even as he nibbled his way down her neck.

  The door swung open and a guardsman halted in mid-step on the threshold. “Oh! I beg your pardon, my lord. Welcome back, my lady.” He backed out grinning, pulling the door shut again.

  “And a little more privacy,” Celia added, laughing.

  *

  Ragni stalked out of the room, Dahl’s shocked expression seared into his mind. He hadn’t been careful pulling off the mitten, and his hand ached with the rough treatment. Did it look a little less bent? He shook his head. He would not deceive himself with false hopes. The sooner he spoke with the other priests, the better. Were there enough priests in Quartzholm for a council to elect a new Overprest? Probably not.

  He walked though the halls, looking neither left nor right. Occasionally those he passed took note of his hand, sending quick slaps of shock at him until he left them behind. Most were too busy to notice, but word would spread. Within a day the entire city would know that he was no longer fit to be a priest of Baldur.

  The worst of it was that Dahl was right. His brother did need someone with sense to help set the tone of acceptance and friendship with the Fey, and Vali was not the man for that job. Sig, Wirmund’s third, would have been a better choice, if he weren’t lying insensible in his bed. Ragni shook his head. He would have taken any bet that Sig could perform a Great Healing. But he had collapsed under the strain of it, despite all that Vali could do to help him.

  He stopped in front of the door to Wirmund’s private altar. This is where the Overprest would be laid out until he could be buried and sung to the afterlife. The guards nodded obeisance to Ragni and opened the door, their eyes straying to his hand.

  Ragni suppressed his anger. It will always be thus, he told himself. Get used to it.

  Wirmund lay on a bier before the altar. Death had not softened his thin, ascetic features. Ragni could well imagine his disapproval of Saeun’s pardon. The Overprest had been washed and clothed in his formal gray raiments, his hands crossed over his badge of office. The purple bag that had held Wirmund’s piece of the Crystal of Taking was empty under his fingers, the shard already set aside, waiting for one who could wield it
.

  Ragni placed his good hand upon Wirmund’s cold ones. Whatever his faults, Wirmund had pulled in harness with Neven on most things. The two had understood one another. Now they both were gone, and Dahleven would have to find a way to work with Vali, or whomever the new Overprest would be. Ragni put his twisted hand over his heart, where his crystal had once hung, and whispered a blessing. It felt strange to no longer feel its weight hanging there. Empty.

  The doors behind him opened and he turned.

  “You are well come, Lord Ragnar, in this time of loss,” Vali’s eyes flicked to Ragni’s damaged hand, then back to his eyes.

  No surprise or shock. No feeling of any kind. He must be wearing the amulet that Wirmund had. Interesting. He noted that Vali called him Lord Ragnar, not Father. Word had traveled even faster than he had expected. “Vali. This ill wind is likely to blow you some good at least.”

  Vali frowned but didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I cannot rejoice in it. But rest assured your sacrifice will not be in vain. I will continue Father Wirmund’s work. His vision of a pure faith will not die with him.”

  A prick of alarm skittered down Ragni’s back. Pure faith? Even Wirmund hadn’t called it that.

  “I’ll make sure that the heresy that Father Wirmund hated will be rooted out, wherever it may lie. Subversion will not be tolerated.” Vali looked at him squarely. “The use of unsanctioned magic will be punished.”

  Pardon or no pardon, Saeun would never be safe with Vali as Overprest. The Daughters of Freya would be hounded. Vali would take up the standard of Wirmund’s obsession and carry it with new vigor.

  And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  “And the Elves?” Ragni asked.

  “The Elves are a separate matter,” Vali frowned. “They are our hosts here in Alfheim, but clearly not all of them welcome us. We must give courtesy to those presently on our doorstep, but it’s best they return soon to being our unseen hosts. Their witchy ways are not ours. We mingle at our peril.”

  Ragni closed his eyes for a moment. He’d known Vali was, what? An idiot? A zealot? Wirmund’s sycophant? With others between Vali and the post, Ragni had never given much thought to the harm the younger man could do as Overprest. “Maggot” didn’t begin to describe him.

  Vali could not become Overprest.

  Ragni’s hand ached. He dismissed it. The pain was unimportant.

  “I’m glad to know that I’ll have such enthusiasm in one of my priests. As Overprest, I’ll need all your help.”

  Vali gaped. “You can’t!”

  Ragni enjoyed Vali’s astonished expression, even while he privately agreed with him.

  “Can’t? I was Wirmund’s Second. By tradition, I am Overprest, until the priests’ council removes me and confirms another.” And with luck I’ll find another priest to challenge Vali before they convene.

  “You surely cannot expect to remain so. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if you stepped aside now and let the reins of power pass to another?”

  “I believe a steady and experienced hand is needed on those reins.” Ragni said waving the fingers of his good hand.

  “And that’s all you have! One hand. An Overprest needs two. I’m convening the council. Brother to the Jarl or not, the council will not confirm you. You’re not fit to petition the gods!”

  His words echoed Ragni’s earlier thoughts, but now that the challenge was before him, he would not lie down. “We’ll let the gods decide that.”

  *

  “It’s too dangerous!” Saeun exclaimed. Fear for him gripped her heart in a cold fist.

  She’d barely had time to get settled before Ragni had come to her. He’d seemed surprised to find her in rooms next to Utta’s, but then he’d shrugged and said it would save time to tell them together. Then he’d shocked them both with his news.

  He was going to attempt a Great Healing of Father Sig. One-handed. To prove he was fit to be Overprest.

  She looked at Utta, at a loss for words.

  “The full council won’t be able to convene for months, not until the snows melt,” Utta said. “You’ll be Overprest until then, and your hand may well improve. There’s no need to risk your life now.”

  “Sig has need,” Ragni said to her. “I’ve just been to see him. He’s not recovering as we’d hoped. In fact, he’s failing. Valender can’t help him for the same reason he can’t help me. That’s reason enough.” He paused. “But beyond that, Dahl needs a strong Overprest to stand with him and show the Fey can be trusted. I can’t do that if the other priests believe I’m only acting on borrowed time. The whispers and infighting will undermine whatever I attempt to build. But if I succeed, when I succeed, no one will be able to question my fitness, one-handed or no. The gods will have spoken.”

  The gods. Would they hear him? Even one-handed he was a better man than Vali. Saeun bit her lip. Did he really believe he could do it? Or was he putting a brave face on it for their sakes? Was he looking for a glorious end? He’d been so quiet since his injury, saying little beyond asking for Valender’s help. She knew that had galled him. She looked at Utta, pleading.

  “Couldn’t you at least wait until you get me with child?” Utta asked.

  Ragni gave her a lopsided smile. “What? No confidence in me?” He shook his head. “As much as I would enjoy the task, I don’t think Sig has that long.”

  “Just take a few days,” Saeun urged. Given a little time, Sig might improve. Ragni might change his mind. See other possibilities.

  Ragni laughed. “I’m flattered at your estimation of my virility, my dear. But such things are notoriously uncertain.” He stopped with his hand on the latch. “I hope you both will sit beside me at the feast tonight.”

  “Both?” Saeun squeaked. He couldn’t be serious. Pardon or no, there would be whispers if she attended the feast.

  Ragni shared a quick smile with Utta, then took Saeun’s hand in his. “Both,” he said firmly. “Both of you contributed to our victory. And you heard what the Aspen Mother said. Let us honor you in her stead, as well as for your own deeds. Say you’ll be there.”

  How can he be so sanguine about my lineage? But under the snow of her disbelief, a little bud of hope sprouted.

  Saeun glanced from Ragni to Utta. His betrothed wife was smiling. “You must come, Saeun. Or Lord Dahleven’s words will seem hollow.”

  Slowly, Saeun nodded.

  “Excellent. I’ll be the envy of every man there, with two beautiful women sitting attendance on me.”

  He sounded like the old Ragni.

  Saeun lifted a brow. “Sitting attendance?”

  Ragni winked. “Well, there may be some dancing, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  DAHLEVEN STOOD AT his place on the dais. All around him those gathered for the feast fell silent as he raised his goblet in salute to Lord Kaeron. “To our hosts, no longer unseen. Accept our gratitude for your hospitality, and our thanks for your help. May this be the beginning of a new friendship between our people.”

  He took a long draught of his wine, then turned to where Saeun sat on Ragni’s left. “We owe you and your folk a debt as well. Without your aid, our victory would not have been possible. You will always be welcome and honored here.” He drank deeply before turning his attention to the room at large and lifting his goblet high. “To those who fell in our service. May they sup in delight with the gods tonight.” The hall was filled with approving shouts. As the roar died he added, “Now eat your fill! Slake your thirst! Be welcome to this house!”

  Servants appeared, carrying trays laden with succulent meats and roasted vegetables. It was a good thing the siege hadn’t lasted any longer than it did, or there would have been little left in the larders to celebrate with. All throughout the castle there was feasting among the high-born and low alike. The villagers were still within Quartzholm’s walls. Though anxious to return to their homes and bury their dead, the trees still thronged the village. Tonight the village folk would celebrate
their survival and mourn their losses within the castle while the aspens withdrew.

  Dahleven surveyed the room as the comfortable hum of conversation grew. Loloma and Lord Kaeron were talking together where they sat at one end of the dais. With the Praefect’s agreement, he’d seen that several of the Elven warriors were seated with some of the bolder Nuvinland men and women. He was still surprised that the Elves included females among their fighting force. Celia will soon be arguing that women should be allowed to join the guard, no doubt.

  So far the pairings seemed to be a success, though for some reason Fender was frowning at Tiva’ti, where she sat conversing with an Elf lord. Too bad Angrim is still recovering, he thought. She would have liked to be here tonight. Valender had used his arts on her. She would live now, and even bear children one day, thanks to the Elf, but she was still too weak to join them.

  Laughter erupted from where Ragni sat in Wirmund’s place, wearing the Overprest’s badge of office. Utta leaned close to say something to Saeun on his other side. Their friendship was an unlooked for blessing. His brother leaned back, listening to Utta with a grin on his face, his bandaged left hand resting on the table where all could see it. Was he going to keep the position now? Could he? Ragni seemed completely relaxed and at ease. What had changed since that morning?

  *

  Ragni rose before dawn. He grimly accepted the services of the servant he’d arranged for last night. He’d never wanted help dressing before. He didn’t want it now, but he needed it.

  The sky had not yet begun to pink when a tap sounded at his door. Expecting the light breakfast he’d ordered, Ragni opened it himself. It was Che’veyo, escorted by one of the Tewakwe warriors. The Shaman was dressed in his full regalia, as he had when he’d asked the blessing of the spirits before they’d left on their Spirit Walk.

  Ragni knew his surprise must have shown on his face, but at least Che’veyo couldn’t see it. “You rise early, my friend.”