Convergence (The Blending Book 1)

by Sharon Green

  "No, please, I was only jokin'," he said as fast as possible, immediately crouching and reaching up to touch her hand. It was ice cold, and that look in her eyes-! "I'm not goin' to hurt you, I'd never hurt you. Are you all right?"

  It took a long moment before she nodded, but Vallant still made no effort to straighten. Looming over someone you'd just frightened wasn't the way to reassure them, and he also reluctantly stopped touching her hand. She hadn't pulled it away from him, but it certainly seemed that she wanted to. It had to be the worst possible time to ask questions, but he simply had to know.

  "What was it that frightened you so badly?" he put as gently as he knew how, watching her face. "I see now that it was a rotten joke, but do you dislike me that much? If so, I'll certainly leave at once-"

  "No," she interrupted, clearly trying to pull herself together. "It wasn't really you at all. I - had an unpleasant marriage, and the ghost of it keeps haunting me. I don't want you to think you were responsible, not when you were just trying to help me. That would be very unfair."

  Unfair. Vallant stared up at her without changing expression, but how he managed it he'd never know. If a thoughtless, offhand comment was able to terrorize her like that, it wasn't possible to really know what her marriage had been like. Unpleasant couldn't be anything like a proper description, but she'd pulled out of it just to reassure him. Vallant wished briefly but fervently that it was possible to get his hands on her former husband. If he had still been alive, he wouldn't have remained so for long.

  "Tamrissa, I want you to hear me and believe what you hear," he said then, slowly but deliberately reaching for her hand and taking it gently between both of his. "There's nothin' in this world that will ever make me hurt you, and what's more I'll never let anybody else hurt you either. I mean to be there if your daddy comes back with that friend of his, and if I'm not you'd better make sure I'm called. Will you do that?"

  "Certainly," she agreed after a short hesitation, her hand unmoving between his bigger ones, a spot of red on each of her fair cheeks. "If that's what you want, I'll be glad to see to it. May I have my hand back now?"

  Vallant would have been much happier if he could have ignored that request, but it wasn't really possible. With great reluctance he released her hand then straightened, wondering in passing why she now looked so reserved. Well, whatever the reason, at least she wasn't terrified any longer. And it would have been heartless to return her to the state by telling her what Jovvi had said about Hallasser. That would have to wait for another time.

  "Since it's nearly lunchtime, I think I'll go and freshen up," Vallant said when the silence grew too heavy. She sat staring down at her hands, obviously waiting for him to decide to leave. "I'll see you in the dinin' room."

  She nodded without looking up, so he had no choice but to leave the way he'd said he would. The hall was empty when he stepped back out into it and closed the door behind himself, so he crossed it to the stairs and went to his room.

  There were any number of things disturbing Vallant's thoughts, but one of them kept returning while he washed his hands in the room's basin. She'd said she believed his determination to stand beside her, but something about the way she'd behaved led him to believe she hadn't been telling the truth. She didn't believe him, but why in the world would she doubt-

  The answer came so suddenly that Vallant groaned, feeling like an idiot for not having seen it sooner. He'd told Tamrissa he would be there for her, but they'd already established that he would not be there, not at all. As far as she knew, he was determined to go home as soon as he could, so how could she expect him to be there for her? He'd let his emotions speak for him, making him both a fool and a liar.

  But had he been lying? There was something about Tamrissa Domon that drew him more strongly than any other woman he had ever met, maybe even more strongly than the need to go home to the sea again. How he would get around his problem with closed-in spaces he had no idea, but suddenly he wanted to get around it. He had to stay to help her, but the matter still came down to whether his affliction would allow it. He'd given his solemn word, but would he be allowed to keep it?

  Vallant took the hand towel and threw it as far as he could, then had to use the power to dry his hands. He seemed to have picked up the habit of acting thoughtlessly and then regretting it, but maybe things would change. Maybe somehow, in some way, he would find it possible not to be a liar after all…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Lorand had come out to the gardens after breakfast, and even without bright sunshine he had enjoyed the serenity too much to go back inside. His mind kept replaying the events of last night, and he'd needed to be surrounded by vital living things in order to come to terms with what had happened. Everyone had been upset except for Clarion, who'd been too tipsy to think the thing through. And Drowd, who'd left the tavern - and them - at the first hint of trouble starting.

  Which would have been considered nothing but prudence if Drowd had told them he was leaving rather than wordlessly sneaking away. Lorand crouched beside a flowerbed composed of jonquils and peonies, an odd combination that nevertheless attracted him. All of the flowers and bushes and mosses and grasses seemed to have perked up only recently, as though something in the soil - or the atmosphere - had recently changed. He'd Encouraged the entire area in general when he'd first come out, and now could simply enjoy being near their happy eagerness to grow.

  But the pleasure of that wasn't up to taking away all the unpleasantness of breakfast. Pagin Holter had been at the table when Lorand first walked in, but the little man had been so deep in his thoughts that Lorand had decided against disturbing him. Holter had worn a look of grieving since they'd left the tavern, his mind mourning the loss of something he couldn't speak of. Lorand knew he'd realized he could never go back to the places where he'd felt so at home, and he sympathized more fully than Holter would ever know.

  A small amount of sunshine blossomed as the clouds briefly parted, then it disappeared again even more quickly than it had appeared. It took the beauty of the riotous garden colors with it, just as last night had taken the joy from Holter. He'd had to offer his help, just as the rest of them had had to agree to do the same, and it wasn't fair, although that was hardly a comfort. Even Mardimil had been affected, since he'd done little more than greet Lorand warmly before sitting down with his meal and sinking into his thoughts.

  "But at least it did us a favor where Drowd is concerned," Lorand muttered, reaching out to the softness of a nearby daffodil. Drowd had appeared after Mardimil, and his air of amused condescension had returned as though it had never been gone. He'd talked languidly about nothing as he filled his plate, but once he'd sat down he'd tried to go back to his old tricks again.

  "How nice it is to see you returned to us, Mardimil," he'd drawled while pouring himself a cup of tea. "The way you behaved last night, I was certain you'd decided to stay … 'under the weather' permanently."

  "How would you know, Drowd?" Mardimil had returned with the same sort of drawl, surprising Lorand. "You ran away so fast, it's a wonder you had time to notice anything at all. And then to try to strand us there… I knew you were a liar, Drowd, but I hadn't realized you were that colossally stupid. Did you really think we didn't know simply because no one contradicted you on the spot?"

  Drowd had gone flushed with an appalled look, and when he'd glanced at Lorand he must have seen confirmation of what had been said. For a moment he looked as if he would get up and leave, but then he turned his attention to his food and began eating. His favorite victim had suddenly turned into a predator, but he may have been hoping that after a while the unfortunate condition would pass. And that Mardimil had been wrong about everyone knowing what he'd done and tried to do.

  "But it's too nice having him quiet," Lorand murmured to another flower before straightening. "If the others don't do anything to make it happen, I'll have to try my own hand at it."

  The attitude was more uncharitable than Lorand usually le
t himself be, but last night seemed to have changed him as much as it had the others. The values of the place he considered home no longer applied to him, not when the people there would turn from him in fear. And they would, he knew that with more certainty than almost anything else. How often had he heard the townspeople - and his own father - say something like, "He's as bad as one of them misbegotten Highs," or "He's about as welcome as a plague of Highs."

  No, the people he'd grown up among would turn their backs if they learned he'd passed the first test for High, but so what? It wasn't as if he'd ever expected to go back there, so what they thought made no difference at all. They and their values could drop into a bottomless pit, and Lorand would do no more than say good riddance.

  He turned away from the garden and toward the house, knowing it should be getting on toward lunchtime. It had only been a few hours since he'd finished breakfast and he hadn't done anything particularly strenuous, but when lunch was served he would be there to eat it. But then he saw Jovvi Hafford strolling out of the house with a smile of real amusement on her face, and all thought of food suddenly disappeared.

  "Well, hello there," she said as soon as she saw him, her smile softening to one of greeting. "I hope you don't mind if I share this beautiful garden with you for a while. If you do, I won't mind waiting until later."

  "I wouldn't mind even if I happened to be naked again," Lorand said at once, making her laugh that wonderful tinkling laugh. "I've been trying to find the chance to talk to you again, but life hasn't been willing to cooperate. Until now. What were you laughing about when you first came out?"

  "Oh, just something silly," she answered as she reached him, then began to stroll with him deeper into the garden. "Dom Ro and I … intervened in a matter where Tamrissa Domon was being taken advantage of. Afterward he thanked me for helping her, as though he and she had something serious between them. He says he knows she hates him and he doesn't blame her, but that's not how he feels. He's really attracted to her, and would love to have her feel the same."

  "But he won't talk about it, because he doesn't believe it can ever happen," Lorand said, more aware of her presence beside him than his ability made him aware of the world. "I can understand how he feels, and I sympathize. There are some things just too impossible to discuss."

  "You men are what's impossible," Jovvi said, pausing to look up at him with a smile. "You're so determined to grit your teeth and take whatever comes like real men, that you miss half the opportunities dancing past. Wouldn't it be much more pleasant if you joined in the dance, and left worrying about what's possible for some other, later time?"

  "Join in the dance," Lorand echoed, his pulse beginning to beat faster as he looked down at her. Was she trying to say his advances would not be unwelcome? But what if he was wrong, an she ended up feeling insulted? What if - "To the Deep Caverns with it. Even if you end up hating me, at least I'll have joined in the dance for once."

  And with that he took her in his arms and kissed her, something he'd wanted to do from the first moment he'd wiped the soap from his eyes. Her body felt soft and alive in his arms, her scent like the most marvelous flower ever grown, and her lips… Silken didn't begin to describe them, especially when they immediately began to join in the kiss. His hand went to her glorious hair as her arms slid around his middle, and then Lorand was lost to an experience more intense than what he'd had above the tavern the night before.

  It was quite a while before the kiss ended, and when it finally did Lorand had to keep an iron hold on his control. He wanted nothing so much as to lift her in his arms and carry her to his bed, but that, unfortunately, would have been rushing things more than most women cared for.

  "If that's the way you hate, I hope you eventually get to loathe me," Lorand murmured after kissing her still-closed eyes. "And in case you were wondering, the dance was the best I ever attended."

  "That's because you're a natural dancer," she returned with a laugh, opening those incredible blue-green eyes to look up at him. "I was hoping you were, and I haven't been disappointed. I find you very attractive, Lorand Coll, and I'm glad you find me the same."

  "Did you somehow get the impression I was dead?" Lorand asked with a laugh of his own as he released her. Her hand made no effort to smooth her hair which encouraged him even more. "Only a dead man would have trouble finding you attractive, but not as much as you might think. Do you have any plans for tonight that I might intrude in? After dinner, I mean, before going up to-"

  Lorand stopped to keep from falling into that bottomless pit he'd been thinking about earlier, wondering in passing why his command of the language seemed to have deserted him completely. A man was considered crude if he mentioned his intentions straight out, a lesson he'd learned at an early age. The only kind of girl you behaved that way with was one you paid, another part of the same lesson. He would have to find a gracefully roundabout way to ask his question, but before the proper words showed up they were interrupted by the appearance of Clarion Mardimil.

  "Ah, there you are, my dear," he said to Jovvi, nodding to Lorand as he came up to join them. "I've been looking for you, because I have something I'd like to ask you. Would you be so kind as to join me in my bed tonight? I promise to make the time one you'll never forget."

  "Clarion, I need to have a word with you," Lorand said hastily, taking Mardimil's arm. "Let's step back a short way toward the house."

  A glance at Jovvi showed Lorand that he was more embarrassed than she was, and what's more she seemed to be working hard to swallow amusement. He couldn't understand that, but confusion didn't keep him from pulling Mardimil out of hearing range for her.

  "Really, Lorand, what's gotten into you?" Mardimil demanded with annoyance as he finally managed to free his arm. "You interrupted before the lady was able to give me her answer."

  "If I'd waited, you probably wouldn't have enjoyed that answer," Lorand countered in a hiss, trying to get Mardimil to lower his voice. "I realize you know very little about women, Clarion, but surely you were taught something in the way of tact. The only time you walk straight up to a woman and make an announcement like that is if she's the sort you pay, and Dama Hafford doesn't happen to be that sort. Any other woman would have gotten terribly insulted, and it's simply your good fortune that she's kinder than that."

  "You're saying it isn't done?" Mardimil asked, his frown now showing confusion. "I hadn't realized there was different protocol for different occasions and situations. Good grief, how complicated does this get?"

  "More complicated than I can explain in one or two brief conversations," Lorand replied, feeling sorrier than ever for Mardimil. "Were you really taught nothing at all about … associating with women? It isn't necessary to sleep with them in order to learn how to behave in their company. Weren't you ever out alone with girls?"

  "Alone?" Mardimil echoed, a distant look in his eyes. "No, not alone. I apologize for blundering so badly, Lorand, and would like to apologize to Dama Hafford as well."

  Lorand would have preferred talking him out of that, but not being able to apologize would have made matters worse for the poor fool. Or poor victim, which was nearer the truth. He'd been taught nothing about how to associate with other people, as though his precious mother had simply decided he'd never need to know. What she expected her son to do after she was gone was a mystery, or possibly it was of no interest to her. As long as everything was done her way while she lived…

  "Jovvi, Clarion would like to apologize for what he said," Lorand began as soon as they'd retraced their steps. "He really didn't mean to insult you, it was just … a mistake."

  "Yes, a mistake in choosing the proper parents," Mardimil said heavily, now the picture of depression. "I was trying to say how attractive I found you, and managed to disgrace myself instead. I humbly beg your pardon, and hope you will someday find it possible to forgive me."

  "I forgive you right now," Jovvi told him quickly, interrupting the bow that would have preceded his hasty departure.
"I know it wasn't your fault, Clarion, and I certainly don't blame you for giving me what was, in fine, the greatest compliment a woman can receive. Possibly if you will allow it, I can return the gift with one of my own."

  "What sort of gift?" Mardimil asked, sounding as confused as Lorand felt. "And what sort of gift did I give? I'm afraid I don't understand any of this, I really-"

  "Hush," Jovvi interrupted softly again, putting a gentle hand to his arm. "I know how confused you feel, but I promise that one day you'll understand everything you care to. But about my gift. May I give it to you?"

  "I would be most grateful for anything you cared to give, dear lady," Mardimil replied, sounding open and vulnerable and as defenseless as a child. Lorand ached for him, more than he had at any other time.

  "Thank you," Jovvi said with one of her devastating smiles, her hand still on Mardimil's arm. "My gift is something that I promise will help you - if you decide to use it. If you don't, you won't be any worse off than you are right now. I would like to give you a different name: Rion. In my opinion it suits you far better than the one you have, even though it comes from the original. What do you think of it? Is it possible you may decide to use it?"

  "Rion," Mardimil said, tasting the shortened name as if it were a new dish. "Rion instead of Clarion. I do believe I like it. Rion instead of Clarion. Thank you, dear lady, thank you very much indeed."

  And then he bowed and walked away, repeating the name over and over with the same slow relish. Lorand watched until the man disappeared back into the house, and then he turned to Jovvi.

  "I don't understand either," he admitted without hesitation. "Why did you do that, and what did you mean when you said he complimented you? He really did insult you, and I thought you were just being nice about it."