Song Magick (24 page)

“I’m not certain.” Telyn glanced at Mithrais,
who explained:

“It’s much like the sharing of minds, except
it is the sharing of specific memories. Your mind holds every
detail, although consciously you may not remember them. You’ve seen
me communicate with the wardens in this manner.”

Telyn remembered the silent conversations,
and nodded, ill at ease. There were details she had not allowed
herself to think about since that night. Reliving them with an
audience seemed even less desirable. She recognized the gravity of
this request, however, and Gwidion’s need to know if she was being
truthful before he consented to grant her sanctuary in his
household.

“I understand.” She met Gwidion’s eyes. “What
do I do?”

Gwidion smiled gently and wheeled the chair
closer to Telyn, holding out his hand. Telyn placed a hand grown
cold with dread in his.

“There is no need to fear.” He wrapped warm
fingers around hers, his grip steady and comforting.

“It isn’t the sharing that I fear,” Telyn
said hollowly. She allowed both men to link their hands palm to
palm with hers, and Mithrais extended his other hand to his father,
who closed the circle.

“Mithrais is familiar with the training of
heartspeakers in the Tauron. Since you have already entered his
mind, he will open to both of us in the beginning. As you join with
him, I will as well, and hold there until you become accustomed to
my presence,” Gwidion told Telyn. “When the time comes, I will ask
you to bring that specific memory to the forefront of your thoughts
and open to us.”

Mithrais looked to Telyn first, and she
slipped into the now-familiar flow of his thoughts. A second mind
insinuated itself smoothly, and Telyn took a tremulous breath,
fighting the urge to recoil from the new, unfamiliar presence.
Gwidion’s quiet watchfulness was neither threatening nor impatient,
and in a few moments, Telyn was able to relax. The Lord of Cerisild
smiled.

“Very good,” Gwidion said aloud. “You have
excellent instinct, Telyn, and I recognize Mithrais’ hand in your
technique already. Begin to bring the memories to the surface. Take
slow, deep breaths, and let the memory fill your thoughts until all
else fades. When you are ready, let Mithrais enter your mind, and I
will follow.”

Telyn struggled against a surge of anxiety as
she began to remember, and Mithrais tightened his fingers on hers
in reassurance. The memories came haltingly, one at a time at
first. She breathed as Gwidion had instructed her, not unlike her
disciplines, and she was able to concentrate. Soon the memories
came in a steady flow that Telyn could not stem. She took another
deep breath and opened her shields. When Gwidion’s voice sounded in
her mind she jerked reflexively, but did not sever the connection,
willing herself to calm.

Let the events unfold as they
happened,
Gwidion instructed.
They are only shadows, and
cannot harm you.

She saw the music room in Belthil, remembered
putting her instruments in the cabinet. She recalled the sound of
the door closing and turned, smiling in expectation of her father’s
presence. Instead, she saw the drunken leer of eighteen-year-old
Vaddon, the planes of his young face blurred and twisted by the
effects of too much wine.

* * * *

Telyn’s mind wandered as she played, knowing
what was going to happen in the gardens and fields surrounding
Belthil that night. The young couples were dancing, laughing,
holding each other: for the first time, she found herself wishing
she was not constrained by her promises to Taliesin, and longed
for...someone. She was lonely, and watching the young courtiers
dance made her yearn for that kind of intimacy.

The love songs were nearly over when she
noticed that some of her audience was slipping away earlier than
anticipated. She had quickly re-employed her disciplines and stole
a quick, chagrined glance at Taliesin, who had wagged a chiding
finger at her but tempered it with a half-smirk. The younger
courtiers had needed very little encouragement to celebrate the
more intimate rites of spring.

She joined the festivities afterwards, and
had spent several minutes fending off Vaddon’s groping hands as his
turn came to partner her in the circle of dancers. Telyn had tried
to be polite, then diplomatic about it, but finally had to excuse
herself from the pattern to escape him.

The torch bearers were about to lead the
dancers outside into the gardens where the spring bonfires burned.
They would return to the hall somewhat lessened in number, couples
stealing away down the mazes and paths to find privacy, and Telyn
had no wish to accompany them with Vaddon hovering about. As the
sound of drums and flutes faded into the darkness of the palace
gardens, she collected her harp from the dais with a bow toward the
King and her father, who were deep in conversation. They both
smiled, and Taliesin raised his glass to her.

“You did well, my daughter,” he said, before
turning back to the King.

Telyn felt her heart leap with giddy joy,
for a word of praise from Taliesin was as rare as a summer frost.
She smiled; the warm glow of pleasure his words had given kept her
step light as she had made her way to the music room.

When she turned, she saw Vaddon leaning
unsteadily against the back of the door, the twist of a lecherous
grin on his lips.

“Lord Vaddon?” Telyn closed the cabinet
doors and faced him cautiously, suddenly ill at ease.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?” Vaddon
slurred, advancing.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.” Telyn
moved backwards a step, her heel treading on the skirt of the
formal gown she had worn for her first appearance before the court.
The misstep prevented her from increasing the distance between
them.

“I saw you looking at me while you were
singing the love song,” Vaddon said, weaving crookedly. “It was
more intoxicating than the wine.”

Telyn knew that she had not been looking
at anyone, but she felt a
moment of panic, nonetheless, at
the thought that her gifts might have caused a
misunderstanding.

“I think you’ve had far too much to drink,”
Telyn told him, trying to move out of the way. He suddenly lunged,
pinning her against the cabinet. The instruments inside made
jangling, discordant sounds.

“Let me go!” Telyn ordered, fear catching at
the back of her throat.

“Don’t be coy. I could feel your magic
growing in me—just like
this.” Vaddon captured one of her
hands and pressed it to the front of his leggings, and Telyn cried
out in disgust, jerking her hand away and pushing against his chest
with all her strength. He was tall and muscled, too strong and
heavy for her to move even though he was reeling drunk.

“You’ve bewitched me, Telyn,” Vaddon said,
his breath fouled with wine as he forced his mouth against
hers.

Telyn made a sudden decision and brought her
knee up sharply into his groin. It was not a direct blow but had
the desired effect; Vaddon gasped in pain and clutched at himself,
and Telyn darted past him, heading for the closed door. Too
quickly, Vaddon grabbed her arm and propelled her around, his fist
striking her in the mouth. Telyn tasted blood as she fell, and then
Vaddon was on top of her, tearing away her bodice and fumbling with
the laces of his leggings. She continued to fight, scratching and
punching, and he cursed, striking her again. Telyn’s head connected
sharply with the floor, and she was stunned a moment, stars filling
her vision, the coppery taste of blood in her mouth.

Vaddon took the opportunity to lift her
skirts, floundering on top of her with panting eagerness, and Telyn
pushed weakly at him, her head still reeling. Her fingers connected
with something solid: the hilt of a dagger on his belt. Without
thinking, she ripped it from the sheath and struck at him.

His own weight drove the blade in to the
hilt, and Vaddon sat up, disbelief on his face, his hand touching
the dagger that protruded from his abdomen. Telyn crawled away,
trying to cover herself and reach the door, when it opened.

“Help me!” she shrieked to the opening door,
and she saw with relief her father, Taliesin, and behind him, the
King, their faces blank with shock. As they rushed into the room,
another figure appeared behind them. It was Vaddon’s father, Lord
Vuldur.

“Vaddon!” he cried, seeing the growing pool
of blood, and scrambled to his son’s side. The King shouted out the
door for assistance, and Taliesin knelt before Telyn, his face
white, an emotion that she could not name in his eyes. He stripped
off the short, colorful cloak that he had worn for the feast and
put it over her shoulders to conceal the torn and gaping bodice of
her gown. Telyn clutched it convulsively around her, shivering, but
Taliesin made no move to comfort her.

Vaddon was sinking to the floor, Vuldur
kneeling over him in anguish, and for a moment, Telyn’s eyes locked
with Vaddon’s. She saw comprehension there, and fear. His lips
formed her name silently, and his eyes closed. Vuldur, his face
contorted with fury, launched himself at Telyn over his son’s body
as others streamed into the room, drawn by the King’s shouts.

“Whore!” he screamed. “You killed my
son!”

“Hold!” King Amorion insinuated himself
between Vuldur and where Telyn cowered on the floor. A guard
stepped in front of the King to protect him from Vuldur, his hand
on his sword.

“She has murdered Vaddon!” Vuldur cried, his
eyes wild. “I demand her life be forfeit! I will have justice!”

“Taliesin’s daughter bears the marks of an
attack as well.” The King’s voice was cold and commanding. “Until I
know what has happened, you will demand nothing.”

“He is still alive!” A voice shouted from
the opposite side of the room. “We must get him to the infirmary
immediately. Find the surgeons!”

They carried Vaddon from the room, Vuldur
still shouting epithets and accusations at Telyn as other men
forced him to leave. The chamber emptied but for Taliesin, Telyn,
and the King, the aftermath of the nightmarish encounter
sickeningly evident in the amount of blood that remained on the
floor of the music room. Telyn’s jaw ached where Vaddon had struck
her, the flesh of her lower lip swollen and cut by her own
teeth.

King Amorion shut the door against the
continued ravings of Lord Vuldur and brought a chair for Telyn,
raising her from the floor gently and helping her sit. Taliesin
still stood behind her, white-faced with shock and silent.

“What happened here?” The King knelt before
her, looking directly into her eyes and speaking softly. Telyn
relayed the details of the attack in a voice that seemed not to be
her own, hesitating as she repeated Vaddon’s claim that her song
magic had aroused him. Taliesin made a small noise behind her,
indecipherable in its meaning. Amorion continued to listen to her
intently, and sighed as Telyn concluded. He stood up, pacing the
floor.

“We followed him here, but not quickly
enough, it seems. You are not the first he has forced himself upon,
although you were the first to be brave enough to fight back. I
should have sent Vaddon from court months ago. It was only a matter
of time.” He faced Taliesin. “If—when—Vaddon dies, you know that I
will have to ask her to leave Belthil, for her own safety more than
any other grounds. I can only hope that Vuldur will see reason and
be satisfied with that.”

Taliesin laughed harshly. “When, recently,
has Lord Vuldur ever seen reason?”

“I fear that is so, but I have little
choice.” Amorion pounded his fist against the wall. “I grow tired
of his endless ‘requests’, those thinly veiled threats, but he
holds the only navigable harbor in my entire realm in the palm of
his hand. I must keep him at my side.”

He crossed the room to crouch before Telyn,
who had been listening, a growing disbelief in her heart. Amorion
took her hand in his. “I am truly sorry, Telyn. You are a victim of
circumstance twice over, but I can promise you this: I will permit
no further injustice against you. Vuldur will not be allowed to
seek retribution in any form or he will answer to me.”

A single tear tracked down her cheek, and
Telyn nodded, lifting her head. “I understand, Sire.”

There was a knock on the door, and Amorion
rose as one of the guards entered. The guard whispered something,
and the King sighed heavily. Telyn knew what the guard had come to
tell him, and rose to her feet unsteadily as Amorion came back, his
eyes dull and tired.

“You will be under guard until you leave the
city walls—not because you are guilty of murder, but for your own
protection.” He looked to Taliesin’s emotionless face, and back to
Telyn, his own expression reflecting a troubled mix of anger,
regret, and embarrassment.

“I am sorry,” he whispered again, and left
the room. The guard remained in the doorway, waiting for Telyn. She
turned automatically, and then hesitated. She walked to the
cabinet, skirting the blood with dazed detachment, and took out her
harp, clutching it against her breast like a shield. When Telyn
turned back to the room, the guard was still waiting, but her
father was gone.

* * * *

Telyn wrenched her hands away from Mithrais
and Gwidion, severing the contact. She propelled herself out of the
chair toward the balcony doors, seeking an escape.

She placed her hands on the railing,
breathing in deep gulps that were painful in her lungs, until she
was able to regain a measure of calm. Telyn looked down over the
city, which revealed itself in tantalizing glimpses through the
trees. Her eyes were dry, but the memories were still sharp and
stinging. She hugged her elbows tightly, and did not look at
Gwidion as he wheeled his chair out onto the balcony and stopped
beside her at the railing.