FORBIDDEN TALENTS (20 page)

“
Eat,
”
Valender urged.
“
It will not harm you.
”

Treskin was right. If she had remained outside the gates she wouldn’t be wrestling with this choice. A choice she really had already made.

Saeun snapped a plump purple grape from its stem and slid it into her mouth.

*

Celia sipped her wine, hoping it would dull her anxiety.

Sangor had completed his entertainment some time ago. Neven, the other Jarls, and the Tewakwe leaders had retired, leaving the younger Nuvinland lordlings and Tewakwe warriors to entertain themselves in the traditional manner: with drink, song, and attempts to impress each other with their stupidity. The current competition consisted of the men jumping over the fire-pit while their fellows placed bets on their success.

Flames danced above the logs and Celia gasped as a young lord failed to make his jump, slipping and falling backward into the fire. A scant second later he leaped up, scrambling at the edge. The crowd hooted as his friends hauled him out, slapping vigorously at the scorched spots on his trousers.

Movement drew her gaze away for a moment. One of Neven’s elite huscarls was threading his way through the crowd. Liveried in green with Neven’s swooping hawk embroidered on his shoulder, the guard paused, waiting.

It was Dahleven’s turn.

Celia gulped her wine.

Men and women, even Dahleven’s sisters, shouted encouragement, no one betting against him. Celia gripped the arms of her chair.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid
. Why did men do this?

Dahleven backed away from the fire-pit. He took three giant running steps, jumped and somersaulted cleanly over the fire. A huge shout rose from the gathered men. Celia whooped, surprising herself, as impressed as the others at his feat. He bowed and accepted a horn of what was probably the stiff honey mead.

Celia shook her head.
Why couldn’t they just play touch football or darts, like normal men? No, not darts. They’d probably use an apple on someone’s head as a target
.

The huscarl approached and spoke closely into Dahleven’s ear. He bent his head to listen, then stiffened.

Celia’s attention sharpened.
What’s up
?

Her betrothed looked carefully at the messenger, who nodded. Dahleven spoke closely to Ragni, then headed for a side door.

Not this time
. Celia excused herself and headed for the arch behind the dais. Dahl wasn’t going to
“
protect
”
her from what was going on again. This time she was going to share the problem, whatever it was. Once outside the banquet room, she hurried to catch Dahleven.

It took him longer to make his way through the congratulatory crowd. She was waiting for him when he exited the Hall.

Dahleven stopped short, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“
Nice jump.
”

Dahleven grinned, obviously glad she’d noticed. Then he sobered.
“
I can’t linger,
”
he said, already starting down the passageway.

Celia kept pace beside him.
“
What is it? What’s happened?
”

Dahleven paused, looking down at her.

Celia waited, impatient, silent, and ready to argue if he tried to shut her out. She didn’t have to.

“
Eirik is dead. Poisoned.
”

SAEUN LAY AWAKE in the room given to her, staring at the ceiling—if one could call it a ceiling. Living branches arched overhead, fused in an intricately twisted pattern as if designed by a mad lace-maker, layered so thickly that she couldn’t see the sky.

She closed her eyes. So much had happened in the last two days, turning her life into something she no longer recognized. She tried to think clearly, hoping to force some order on her thoughts. But was there any chance of that, now that she’d eaten their food? Could she even know if her mind was still her own?

The grape she’d eaten under Treskin’s demanding gaze had flooded her mouth with a cascade of moist, tangy sweetness more intense than any flavor she’d ever experienced. The expression of delight it had surprised out of her must have pleased the Praefect, because he’d smiled and returned to his nearly silent conversation with the woman on his left. She’d waited then for her thinking to slow to a stop, to grow disordered and confused, but nothing changed. All that happened was her stomach rumbled, demanding another bite. Valender gestured for a
gofle
, carrying a tray laden with bread and various cheeses, to approach. The blended aromas of sharp and mellow had assaulted her, making her belly growl even louder. She’d stopped trying to resist and accepted a serving. Those flavors too, were more
…
vivid
…
than any she’d tasted before. The sharp tastes burst with intensity, and those that should be delicate floated across her tongue.

Everything in the Elven outpost was strange and somehow
more
, even the bed she lay upon. It was more like a nest than a bed. Soft, plump pillows filled a large shallow bowl formed within the gnarled roots of a tree, surrounding her with comfort.

Saeun covered her eyes with an arm thrown across her face. Was her Fey-marked thinking so disordered now that she only imagined these strange surroundings? Her heart pounded. How would she know? Was she even now sitting in a corner somewhere drooling, living in a twilight world that existed only in her mind? She’d once seen a man who’d escaped the Elves. Or had they released him when he was of no further use? A man in his prime reduced to a shadow, hiding in corners, refusing food, slowly starving to death.

And yet
…
Despite all she knew, she couldn’t believe that Valender meant her any harm, and certainly not Joori. Not even Treskin, who had no patience for her.
If
she could trust her judgment. If.

She wouldn’t give up. Valender had said she could go at any time. Tomorrow she would test that promise. If the storm abated. There was an enclave of the Daughters of Freya in the northern mountains of Forsvaremur, which Lady Solveig quietly supported. She would go there. Maybe they wouldn’t care that she’d been Fey-marked.

Saeun uncovered her face and blinked away tears, staring up at the ceiling again. A pair of large yellow eyes blinked back at her.

*

“
Poisoned! How? By whom?
”

Dahleven was pleased that Celia kept her voice low, despite her obvious surprise.
Her feelings matched his own, but he didn’t want to draw the attention of the other people coming and going from the Great Hall.
“
I don’t know,
”
he answered.
“
I’m going there now.
”
He hesitated.
“
Do you want to come along?
”

In answer, she turned and started down the hall, setting a brisk pace.
“
You bet.
”

Halfway there Celia spoke again.
“
Dahl?
”
Her voice was unusually tentative.

He slowed and looked carefully into her face, alerted by her tone that he might not like what she was about to say. She was chewing her lower lip. He waited, but she didn’t continue.
“
What is it?
”

“
Your father never trusted Eirik’s oath to you, did he?
”

Dahleven understood what she was really asking.

Neven had eyes and ears throughout Quartzholm. If he’d learned that Angrim had hinted at extortion, could he have had the former skald killed as a warning to her? Especially if the traitors were regaining their sight. Neven would assume they conspired together, just as they had both once conspired with Jorund, and would see Eirik, a man, as more dangerous than Angrim. Eirik’s death would eliminate one problem and perhaps quell another. Two tangled in one net.

It wasn’t a net of law, though. Neven had worked most of his life as Jarl and Kon to establish Law rather than lordly whim as the rule of the land. The thought that his father might throw over his ideals to protect his heir sat like a stone in Dahleven’s belly. Except it wouldn’t have been for him. That was a small relief. Neven didn’t know he was Fey-marked. If the Kon had ordered Eirik’s death, it would have been to preserve the secret location of the Crystal Cavern, to preserve the peace and stability of Nuvinland itself.

“
Do you think he
…
?
”
Celia ventured.

“
No.
”
Dahleven shook his head.
“
I don’t know what to think. I won’t know, until I’ve asked some questions.
”

She nodded.
“
You’re right, of course.
”

He snorted, amused despite his worry.
“
I’m right? Summon Sangor. The skald should immortalize this moment.
”

Celia looked up sharply, her eyes flashing, drawing breath for a retort.

He grinned, enjoying the predictability of her reaction.

Her expression shifted from anger to mild disgust. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“
Men.
”

Dahleven reached out a hand to her shoulder and pulled her closer. She slipped an arm around his waist and they walked in companionable silence for several minutes. It felt right and good. This was how it should be: facing all together.

At the bottom of the stairs leading up to the level of Eirik’s room, a guard waited. Dahleven stopped and turned to Celia, pulling a little apart to look down into her face. He wanted them to face all life’s troubles together, but they both didn’t have to see every ugliness.
“
You’ve told me about your work in Midgard. I know you’ve helped others to deal with poisoning, but it can be an ugly thing to see. Perhaps you should remain here.
”

Celia gave him a thin, tight-lipped smile.
“
I can handle it.
”

“
I know that. You’ve seen worse. But I would spare you what I can.
”

She shook her head.
“
You can’t protect me into a box, Dahleven. I won’t let you.
”

Dahleven sighed. He’d tried. And she’d answered as he’d expected.
“
Let’s go on then.
”
He gestured up the stairs, and they began to climb.

*

As they mounted the stairs, Celia tried to order her mind into some kind of professional detachment. It had been several months since she’d seen a man killed by violence, and even longer since she’d used her professional demeanor to calm a hysterical 911 caller. She’d assured Dahleven she could handle whatever she might see, so she damn well better.

At the top of the stairs they turned right. Twenty feet down the hallway five men in Neven’s green livery stood around talking to one another, leaning against the walls and the open door frame. One crouched down, speaking to someone seated on the floor. There was a sound of feminine weeping.

As Dahleven strode toward them, the men straightened and assumed an attitude of ready alertness. The man crouching rose. Behind him, sitting on the floor with tear tracks staining her face, was Celia’s new maid.

“
Halla!
”
Celia exclaimed.
What’s she doing here
?

“
My lady!
”
Halla scrambled to stand. The man who’d been talking to her lent her a hand.
“
My lady, I’m sorry. I meant no harm. Oh!
”
She pressed a hand to her stomach as she started to straighten and bent slightly, guarding her belly. The sentry put his free hand on her elbow to steady her.
“
I was only watching the skald as a favor to the guard, Dersaft, while you were at the feast.
”

Celia could see a sheen of sweat on the maid’s brow and upper lip. Halla’s breathing was rapid and shallow.
“
Are you all right?
”
She and Dahleven had reached the group.
“
Sit down.
”
She addressed the armsman.
“
Help her down.
”

“
Has a Healer been sent for?
”
Dahleven asked.

Another guard stepped forward, looking somewhat truculent. He seemed to be in charge of the group.
“
There’s no need, my lord. The skald is dead and the woman is only hysterical.
”