Arrow's Fall (4 page)

Dirk’s attention was primarily on her and not on his friend and partner.

Dirk had been watching for them all day—telling himself that it was Kris whose company he had missed. He’d felt like a tight bowstring, without being willing to identify
why
he’d been so tense. His reaction on finally seeing them had been totally unplanned, giving him release for his pent-up emotion in the exuberant greeting to Kris. Though he seemed to ignore her, he was almost painfully aware of Talia’s presence. She sat so quietly on her own Companion that she might have been a statue, yet he practically counted every breath she took.

He knew that he would remember how she looked right now down to the smallest hair. Every nerve seemed to tingle, and he felt almost as if he were wearing his skin inside out.

When Dirk finally let go of his shoulders, Kris said, with a grin that was bordering on malicious, “You haven’t welcomed Talia, brother. She’s going to think you don’t remember her.”

“Not remember her? Hardly!” Dirk seemed to be having a little trouble breathing. Kris hid another grin.

Talia and Rolan were less than two paces away, and Dirk freed an arm to take Talia’s nearer hand in his own.

Kris thought he’d never seen a human face look so exactly like a stunned ox’s.

* * * *

Talia met the incredible blue of Dirk’s eyes with a shock. It felt very much as if she’d been struck by lightning. She came near to trembling when their hands touched, but managed to hold to her self-control by a thin thread and smiled at him with lips that felt oddly stiff.

“Welcome home, Talia.” That was all he said—which was just as well. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his eyes on her made her long to fling herself at him. She found herself staring at him, unable to respond.

She looked a great deal different than he remembered; leaner, as if she’d been fine-tempered and fine-honed. She was more controlled—certainly more mature. Was there a sadness about her that hadn’t been there before? Was it some pain that had thinned her face?

When he’d taken her hand, it had seemed as if something—he wasn’t sure what—had passed between them; but if she’d felt it, too, she gave no sign.

When she’d smiled at him, and her eyes had warmed with that smile, he’d thought his heart was going to stop.

The dreams he’d had of her all these months, the obsession—he’d figured they’d pop like soap bubbles when confronted with the reality. He’d been wrong. The reality only strengthened the obsession. He held her hand that trembled very slightly in his own, and longed with all his heart for Kris’ silver tongue.

They stood frozen in that position for so long that Kris thought with concealed glee that they were likely to remain there forever unless he broke their concentration.

“Come on, partner.” He slapped Dirk’s back heartily and remounted Tantris.

Dirk jumped in startlement as if someone had blown a trumpet in his ear, then grinned sheepishly.

“If we don’t get moving, we’re going to miss supper— and I can’t tell you how many times I dreamed of one of Mero’s meals on the road!”

“Is that all you missed? Food? I might have known. Poor abused brother, did Talia make you eat your own cooking?”

“Worse—” Kris said, grinning at her, “—she made me eat
hers!
” He winked at her and punched Dirk’s arm lightly.

When Kris broke the trance he was in, Dirk dropped Talia’s hand as if it had burned him. When Talia turned a gaze full of gratitude on Kris, presumably for the interruption, Dirk felt a surge of something unpleasantly like jealousy at the thanks in her eyes. When Kris included her in the banter, Dirk wished that it had been
his
idea, not Kris’.

“Beast,” she told Kris, making a face at him.

“Hungry beast.”

“He’s right though, much as I hate to agree with him,” she said softly, turning to Dirk, and he suppressed a shiver—her voice had improved and deepened; it played little arpeggios on his backbone. “If we don’t hurry, you
will
be too late. It doesn’t matter too much to me—I’m used to sneaking bread and cheese from Mero—but it’s very unkind to keep
you
standing here. Will you ride up with us?”

He laughed to cover the hesitation in his voice. “You’d have to tie me up to keep me from coming with you.”

He and Kris remounted with a creak of leather, and they rode with Talia between them; that gave Dirk all the excuse he needed to rest his eyes on her. She gazed straight ahead or at Rolan’s ears except when she was answering one or the other of them. Dirk wasn’t sure whether he should be piqued or pleased. She wasn’t favoring either of them with a lot more attention than the other, but he began to wish very strongly that she’d look at him a little more frequently than she was.

A dreadful fear was starting to creep into his heart. She had spent the past year and a half largely in Kris’ company. What if—

He began scrutinizing Kris’ conduct, since Talia’s was giving him no clues. It seemed to confirm his fears. Kris was more at ease with Talia than he’d ever been with any other woman; they laughed and traded jokes as if their friendship had grown through years rather than months.

It was worse when they reached the Field and the tackshed, and Kris offered her an assist down with mock gallantry. She accepted the hand with a teasing haughteur, and dismounted with one fluid motion. Had Kris’ hand lingered in hers a moment or two longer than had been really necessary? Dirk couldn’t be sure. Their behavior wasn’t really loverlike, but it was the closest he’d ever seen Kris come to it.

They unsaddled their Companions and stowed the tack safely away in the proper places after a cursory cleaning. Dirk’s was pretty much clean; but Talia’s and Kris’ needed more work than could be taken care of in an hour—after being in the field for so long, it would all have to have an expert’s touch. Dirk kept Talia in the corner of his eye while she worked, humming under her breath. Kris kept up his chatter, and Dirk made distracted, monosyllabic replies. He wished he could get her alone for just a few minutes.

He had no further chance for observation. Keren, Sherrill, and Jeri appeared like magicians out of the thinnest air, converged on her, and carried her off to her rooms, baggage and all, leaving him alone with Kris.

“Look, I don’t know about you, but I am starved,” Kris said, as Dirk stared mournfully after the foursome,

Talia carrying her harp “My Lady” and the rest sharing her packs. “Let’s get the four-feets turned loose and get that dinner.”

“Well?” Keren asked, her rough voice full of arch significance, when the three women had gotten Talia and her belongings safely into the privacy of her room.

“Well, what?” Talia replied, glancing at the graying Riding Instructor from under demure lashes while she unpacked in her bedroom.

“What?
What!
Oh, come
on,
Talia—” Sherrill laughed, “—you know exactly what we mean! How did it go? Your letters weren’t exactly very long
or
very informative.”

Talia suppressed a smile, and turned her innocent gaze on Keren’s lifemate. “Personal or professional?”

Jeri fingered the hilt of her belt-knife significantly. ‘Talia,” she warned, “If you don’t stop trying our patience, Rolan just
may
have to find a new Queen’s Own tonight.”

“Oh, well, if you’re going to be
that
way about it—” Talia backed away, laughing, as Sherrill, hazel eyes narrowed in mock ferocity, curled her long fingers into claws and lunged at her. She dodged aside at the last moment, and the tall brunette landed on her bed instead. “—all right, I yield, I yield! What do you want to know first?”

Sherrill rolled to her feet, laughing. “What do you think? Skif hinted that you and Kris were getting cozy, but he wouldn’t do more than hint.”

“Quite cozy, yes, but nothing much more. Yes, we were sharing blankets, and no, there isn’t anything more between us than a very comfortable friendship.”

“Pity,” Jeri replied merrily, throwing herself onto Talia’s couch in the outer room, then twining a lock of her chestnut hair around one finger. “We were hoping for a passionate romance.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she replied, not sounding sorry at all, “Though if you’re thinking of trying in that direction—”

“Hm?” Jeri did her best not to look
too
eager, but didn’t succeed very well.

“Well, once he’s managed to shake Nessa loose—”

“Ha!”

“Don’t laugh, we think we know a way. Well, once she’s no longer hot on the hunt, he’s going to be
quite
unpartnered, and he’s just as—um—pleasant a companion as Varianis claims. Jeri, don’t lick your whiskers so damned obviously, he’s not a bowl of cream!”

Jeri looked chagrined and blushed as scarlet as the couch cushions, as Sherrill and Keren chuckled at her discomfiture. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“You most certainly were. Keep your predatory thoughts to yourself if you don’t want to frighten him off the way Nessa has,” Keren admonished with a wry grin. “As for you, little centaur, he seems to have cured your man-shyness rather handily. I guess I owe Kyril and Elcarth an apology. I thought assigning him to you was insanity. Well, now that our prurience has been satisfied, how did the work go?”

“It’s a very long story, and before I go into it, have you three eaten?”

Three affirmatives caused her to nod. “Well
I
haven’t yet. You have a choice; you can either wait until I’m done with dinner for the rest of the gossip—”

They groaned hi mock-anguish.

“Or you can check me in and bring me something from the kitchen. If Selenay or Elspeth need me, they’ll send a page for me.”

“I’ll check her in.” Jeri shot out the door and down the spiral staircase.

“I’ll go fetch you a young feast. You look like you’ve lost
pounds,
and when Mere finds out it’s for you, he’ll probably ransack the entire pantry.” Sherrill vanished after Jeri.

Keren stood away from the wall she’d been leaning against. “Give me a proper greeting, you maddening child.” She smiled, holding out her arms.

“Oh, Keren—” Talia embraced the woman who had been friend, surrogate-mother and sister to her—and more—with heartfelt fervor. “Gods, how I’ve missed you!”

“And I, you. You’ve changed, and for the better.” Keren held her closely, then put her at arm’s length, surveying her with intense scrutiny. “It isn’t often I get to see my hopes fulfilled with such exactitude.”

“Don’t be so silly.” Talia blushed. “You’re seeing what isn’t there.”

“Oh, I think not.” Keren smiled. “The gods know
you
are the world’s worst judge when it comes to evaluating yourself. Dearling, you’ve become all I hoped you’d be. But—you didn’t have the easy time we thought you would, did you?”

“I—no, I didn’t.” Talia sighed. “I—Keren, my Gift went rogue on me. At full power.”

“Great good gods!” She examined Talia even more carefully, gray eyes boring into Talia’s. “How the hell did that happen? I thought we’d trained—”

“So did everyone.”

“Wait a moment; let me put this together for myself. You finished Ylsa’s class; now let me remember . . .” Keren’s brow creased hi thought. “It
does
seem to me that she mentioned something about wanting to send you to the Healers for some special training, that she didn’t feel altogether happy about handling an Empath when her own expertise was Thought-sensing.”

Keren turned away from Talia and began pacing, a habit the younger woman was long familiar with, for Keren claimed she couldn’t think unless she was moving.

“Now—
I’d
assumed she’d taken care of that because you spent so much time with the Healers. But she hadn’t, had she? And then she was murdered—”

“As far as Kris and I could figure, the Heralds assumed that the Healers were giving me Empath training, and the
Healers
assumed the
Heralds
had already done so because I seemed to be in full control. But I wasn’t; it was all instinct and guess. And when control went—”

“Gods!” Keren stopped pacing and put both of her hands on Talia’s shoulders. “Little one, are you
sure
you’re all right now?”

Talia remembered only too vividly the hours of practice Kris had put her through; the painful sessions with the two Companions literally attacking her mentally. “I’m sure. Kris
is
a Gift-teacher, after all. He took me all the way through the basics, and Rolan and Tantris helped.”

“Oh, really? Well, well—
that’s
an interesting twist!” Keren raised an eloquent eyebrow. “Companions don’t intervene that directly as a rule.”

“I don’t think they saw any other choice. The first month we were all snowed in at that Waystation—then we found out that those damned rumors had made it up to our Sector and we didn’t
dare
look for outside help. It would have just confirmed the rumors.”

“True—true. If I were on the Circle, I think I would be inclined to keep all this under the ivy bush. Letting the world know that we blundered that badly with you won’t do a smidgin of good, and would probably do a
lot
of harm. Selected people, yes; and this should
certainly
go down in the annals so that we don’t repeat the mistake with the next Empath—but—no, I don’t think this should be generally known.”