Dangerous Talents (29 page)

“Please accept my apologies, Lady Celia, for myself and my friends. I hope you weren’t injured,” Ljot said, bowing.

“I’m sorry, too, Lady Celia.” Solvin bowed.

Dahleven suppressed a smile, keeping his face stern. Ljot had done well; Solvin’s apology was less polished, but heartfelt.

“Thank you, Ljot, Solvin. You’re forgiven. No harm was done,” Celia said solemnly.

“Are you supposed to be watching Ari?” Dahleven asked. Their five-year-old brother was a mischief-maker and needed constant supervision.

“No, Uncle Dahben. He’s with Aunt Kaidlin,” Ljot said.

“Very well, then. Off with you. And watch where you’re going.”

The boys bowed again and escaped into the crowd like rabbits into a burrow.

“They’re good boys,” Dahleven said.

“I can see they are. They’re very polite.”

“With a little reminder.”

“Like most men.” Celia smiled but her voice was dull with fatigue.

They climbed the stairs to the broad doorway slowly. Dahleven kept his arm around Celia, enjoying the way her hip rubbed against his with the sway of her stride.

The long hallway was empty and relatively quiet. The door guards’ attention was on the courtyard and the crowd. Everyone not required for some task was out enjoying the cool summer night and the carefree atmosphere of the Althing market.

“I don’t understand this. I don’t usually crash so early in the evening.” Lady Celia ran a hand over her forehead, then let her arm fall limp to her side.

His last lingering doubts about her evaporated. Those doubts had grown weaker as he’d come to know her in the field; now it was clear she was no spy from the Outcasts. No one could fake Emergence, and he could not imagine a Nuvinland woman her age concealing her delight in finally developing Talent. Only someone just from Midgard would be so ignorant and unconcerned. “It’s Emergence. It affects everyone a little differently, and you’re going through it later than most.”

“Emergence?” Lady Celia’s first step up the staircase was slow and labored as she half pulled herself up by the railing.

Dahleven kept a hand on her back, guarding against a fall. “Your Talent is Emerging. It usually peaks over a two-week period. You’ll be hungry after you’ve exercised it, like you were tonight, and a little tired—until you get used to it. Then it will be like any other sense. It’ll be part of you. You’ll take it for granted.”

“A little tired?” Lady Celia chuckled weakly. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” Then she paused on the second step and half turned to look at him. “I don’t want to get used to it. I don’t need a Talent. I’m going home. I’m not staying here any longer than I have to.”

Even a step below her, Dahleven was still taller. He gazed down at Lady Celia, disturbed by her vehement desire to leave. He shook his head and smiled. “Whether you will it or not, your Talent is Emerging. You should practice so you learn control, and your limits…What Talent have you developed?”

“How should I know?” She turned and pulled herself up another step.

“What were you doing when I found you?”

Lady Celia rested on the third step. “Searching for Angrim’s bracelet.”

“And you found it among the cloth? How did you know where to look?”

The surprise on Lady Celia’s face was almost amusing. “I just knew. It pulled me. And the closer I got, the stronger I felt it. It was sort of like when we were short of water, only much stronger. I couldn’t help finding it.”

A Finder, then
.

Lady Celia turned and started to pull herself up the next step.

It will be dawn before she climbs these stairs—if she doesn’t fall and break her neck
. Dahleven swept Celia up into his arms. She went rigid and tried to push away.

“What are you doing? Put me down!”

He had to lean against the stone balustrade to keep his balance while he shifted her weight to carry her comfortably. “Forgive my presumption, Lady Celia, but each of your steps was slower and more difficult than the last. Speak the truth; do you truly have the strength to climb three flights of stairs?”

She opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap. When she sagged against his chest, he knew he’d won—this skirmish, anyway.

He remembered how she forthrightly admitted her misjudgments in the field, and apologized for whatever it was that Kaidlin would tell him.
Her own honest nature defeats her
. He suppressed a grin and accepted her concession sober-faced.

“You’re right, I’d never make it.” Her voice sounded limp, now that the outrage had drained from it. She waved a hand toward the stairs without much energy. “Home, James.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cele awoke in her room, cocooned in the warmth of the featherbed. The light cascading through her window told her it was early afternoon. She didn’t remember getting into bed. But she did remember Dahleven carrying her up the stairs.

Then she realized she was nude under the sheets.

Someone had removed her clothes.

She scrunched down, pulling the covers up tight under her chin.
What happened last night
?

Thora sat on the window seat, sewing and talking with Ghav. She looked up when Cele moved. “Awake at last! And ready for food, too, I’ll wager.” With her usual briskness, she opened the door and spoke to someone just outside, then went to the closet.

At the mention of food, Cele thought of the meat pies Dahleven had fed her, finding Angrim’s bracelet, and Dahleven carrying her up the stairs. She’d liked the strength and safety of his arms. Cele blushed, embarrassed to admit to herself how much she’d enjoyed it.
But what did we do after that
?

With a moment’s reflection, she knew the answer. Nothing. She’d been nearly comatose when he picked her up. Dahleven wouldn’t take advantage of her that way. She knew it as surely as she’d known where Angrim’s bracelet was last night.

Her stomach rumbled. It felt hollow and crampy, as though she hadn’t eaten for days. “What’s happening to me?”

Ghav hobbled over to her bedside, supporting part of his weight on a cane. “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “Your body is merely adjusting to the Emergence of your Talent. It’s normal for you to be hungry and tired after Finding something. That should only last for a couple of weeks, until you become accustomed to its use. And you should practice. Developing your Talent is best done early.”

“I think Dahleven said something like that last night.”

“You should listen to him. He also came into his Talent later than most—though not this late.”

“Was he this wiped out?”

Ghav shook his head. “Emergence may hit you harder, or last longer than usual. Or you may have an easier time of it, overall. I can’t predict with any certainty. The experience varies, and I’ve never heard of a Talent Emerging this late. But then, I’ve never known someone from Midgard, before.” Ghav smiled crookedly. “Even the Sagas aren’t much help. When Brynjolf led our people to Alfheim, Talents Emerged only in the children.”

“Well, it’s all new to me.” Cele clenched the sheet under her chin. “Maybe we could continue this conversation when I’m up and dressed.”

“How do you feel? Any headache? Nausea?”

“No, I feel fine. Just a little fuzzyheaded from sleeping so long. And hungry.”

“Very good. There’s no reason for you to stay abed, then.” He held out his hand to help her up.

Cele looked at his hand. “Uh, I know you’re a Healer, but I’d prefer a little privacy.”

Ghav lifted his thick graying eyebrows in surprise, but he turned and hobbled back to the window seat, keeping his back to her.

I guess it’s the best I’m going to get
. Cele slid out of bed, wrapping and draping the sheet around her like a toga.

Thora already had clothing ready for her. She didn’t seem concerned about Ghav’s presence. She slipped a floor-length, light blue dress over Cele’s head, followed by a low cut tunic of darker blue panels that fastened only at the shoulders and waist. The tunic was heavy with embroidery, but the cloth of the dress was soft against her skin. Cele liked the freedom of not wearing a bra, but she wasn’t sure she would ever get used to not wearing panties.
Maybe I can get some made
.

Dressed, she felt better. “You can turn around, now. I’m decent.”

Ghav turned and smiled. “I can’t imagine you otherwise, my lady.”

Cele felt awkward. “Thanks.”

He waved a worn brown glove. “I’ve lost one of my gloves. Will you help me look for it?”

Cele’s discomfort vanished; she tilted her head and tucked her chin, peering at him skeptically from under raised brows. “My training begins immediately, I see.” She felt like she was participating in a parlor trick. “What do I do?”

Ghav shrugged. “Most Finders find just one thing, like Fender. He Finds water. He says he imagines the sounds it makes, and how it feels sliding down his throat. What did you do before?”

What
had
she done?

“Let me see your other glove.”

It was an ordinary, well-worn brown leather glove.
Where
?
There
! Without any doubt, Cele walked to the cabinet and pulled out the third drawer. There was the glove.

What just happened
? When she turned her mind to it, she’d
known
where the glove was. It had drawn her, but the sensation wasn’t quite physical.
What’s going on
? She stared at the glove. Whatever it was, it was kind of weird—and fun.

Finding Angrim’s bracelet wasn’t the first time she’d felt the peculiar certainty, the odd
knowing
of where to go. She’d been thirsty when she’d felt the pull of the water. Underground, she’d been anxious for light and open air when she felt drawn to the ventilation shaft, then she’d imagined torchlight and
known
that it was ahead. When Angrim became hysterical, she had wanted to calm her, wanted the bracelet, and suddenly, without hesitation, she’d
known
without question what direction to go to find it.

Cele lifted the glove from the drawer and laughed with delight. “This is great! What’s next?”

“Nothing for now. Practice is necessary, but don’t over-do it. Emergence Exhaustion is a serious danger,” Ghav said. Thora nodded.

Cele’s stomach rumbled. “Well, then, what about lunch?”

Food
. It was close. Cele crossed the room to the door and stepped out into the passageway. There at the end of the hall, just turning the corner toward her, was a servant carrying a tray.
Bingo
!

*

The Great Hall buzzed with a multitude of conversations. Dahleven stood to one side talking with a crofter of substantial holdings. The Althing had broken for the noon meal, and now, afterward, the Jarls and their heirs moved among the carls and freemen, maintaining good will with the men of their provinces. Servants passed quietly along the sides of the room, removing the remains of the meal from the tables and refreshing the pitchers of ale.

Dahleven wondered if Celia was awake yet. He’d never seen someone hit so hard by Emergence. The memory of her in his arms tingled along his skin. He’d liked the weight of her nestled against his chest. When she’d fallen asleep with her head tucked into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, her trust had felt like a greater gift than any Jarl could bestow.

“What can we expect, my lord?” the crofter asked.

What had the man been saying? Dahleven cursed silently; he’d lost track of the conversation.
Ah yes, the pasturage
. “Kon Neven has decided not to open the high range this year. It needs time to recover from the past few years of grazing.”
And we need time to make the borders safe again
.

The crofter looked sour, but took his leave politely. Dahleven turned and saw Jon up near the dais, draining his tankard. Again.

His sister had made no bargain with that one. Ingirid had married for love, but Jon had married for position. Neither of them had gotten what they’d hoped for. He watched Jon lean back and hook his elbow on the empty table on the dais, then casually turn and switch his tankard for the full one Neven had left behind.

Dahleven had seen Jon do it before. There was plenty of ale to be had from the pitchers kept full on the sideboards, but this was one of the ways Jon puffed his ego. Neven had never given Jon the power he’d expected would come with marrying Ingirid. His father had seen too clearly what Jon was. So Jon took his petty revenge and pretended to himself that he had somehow bested Neven.

Dahleven clenched his teeth and turned so he wouldn’t have to look at his brother-by-marriage. He and Ragni would have taken Jon aside long ago for a “talk,” but Neven had forbidden it. He supposed Father was right. Nothing would change what Jon was, and that kind of “conversation” would only have made Ingirid unhappy.

Instead, he turned his anger to better purpose, rehearsing in his mind the petition he would soon make to have Knut declared Outcast.

*

Cele awoke the second time in early evening. Ghav had tested and teased her to Find things for half the afternoon—when she wasn’t wolfing down everything on the well-laden tray. Eventually she’d hit the wall, or the wall had hit her, and he’d called a halt.

“You must respect the fatigue,” he’d said.

She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think I can do anything
but
respect it,” she’d said short minutes before falling into a deep sleep.

Cele stretched and sat up. At least this time only a few hours of sleep had restored her. Having a Talent would be pretty useless if she passed out for nearly a day every time she used it.
I wonder if I’ll still have it when I get home. I’d be a natural for Search and Rescue
.

Home.

How long had she been gone? Eight days? They would have called off the search for her by now. Her boss might already be interviewing for her replacement; Elaine and her other friends would be thinking of her as dead, rather than missing. She was moving further and further away from her life as she’d known it. She felt like she’d taken the wrong turn onto an L.A. freeway and couldn’t find an exit ramp.