Dangerous Talents (47 page)

Thora’s face tensed.

Dahleven turned to the door.
She
ought
to be nervous, considering what she’s been up to
.

Like a storm cloud roiling over the mountains, Father Wirmund entered the small room Dahleven was using as his center of command. “Lady Celia is leading you a merry chase, I understand.”

Wirmund’s implication sent a hot surge of irritation through Dahleven’s veins, but he kept his voice and face impassive. “Good morning, Father Wirmund. You’re up with the dawn. Will you break fast with me?” Dahleven clenched his teeth and smiled. Fencing with Wirmund was a waste of time, but religion and politics would continue their dance long after Celia was found. It was best to keep Wirmund as an ally.

“I shall,” Father Wirmund answered tightly.

“Thora, arrange something for us.” Dahleven hesitated an instant, then, despite his doubts, added, “And attend to that other matter, as well.”

Thora nodded and left.

Dahleven gestured to a chair, but Father Wirmund ignored it.

“You must find Lady Celia immediately!”

Wirmund’s vehemence surprised Dahleven, but he merely lifted a brow. “We are doing all in our power to do so. Why such urgency? I did not think you particularly concerned with the lady’s welfare,
Overprest
.”

“I’m not!” Wirmund kept his voice low. “She has stolen the Staff of Befaling!”

Dahleven would have laughed if the implication weren’t so grave. “That’s ridiculous. Your rooms are guarded, and the Staff is warded with ritual magic.”

“Nevertheless, the Staff is gone, and your
lady
was near my rooms only yestereve.”

“Yes, I know. And she was accompanied by two guards and Lady Angrim. Are they all accomplices?”

“Then what conclusions do
you
draw from Lady Celia’s
latest
disappearance?” Father Wirmund asked. “This cannot be coincidence.”

“We have hostiles acting within Quartzholm.” Dahleven kept his voice from sounding like he was schooling an idiot. “It is they who are most likely responsible for the theft.”

Wirmund’s jaw worked. “And Lady Celia?”

“Is in danger.”

“Are you besotted? She clearly left under her own power! Lady Angrim is hardly able to carry her away. And your own brother stated the woman lied about her ignorance of why she was taken the first time.”

Dahleven didn’t wonder how Wirmund knew so much about Celia’s disappearance. The
Overprest
had his spies, as all powerful men did. “Ragni also said there was no darkness in her.”

“She wouldn’t seem dark if she believed her actions were just. It’s obvious that whoever took her the first time persuaded her to his cause. She’s taken the Staff and gone to join him, and has used an unsanctioned amulet to keep her movements secret.”

“And how did she, or anyone, take the Staff without being observed?”

“Who knows what Talents her patron has?” Wirmund paced the length of the small room, then stopped in front of Dahleven. “You don’t seem to appreciate the danger we’re in, my lord. Whoever has the Staff can release the Great Talents. And Lady Celia has given it to him.”

The Hidden Talents. Just as Thora said. Gods, what has Celia done
? “You have a low opinion of Lady Celia if you believe she’d ally herself with those who tried to rape her. But then, you never have believed her story despite what Ragni said, have you?”

“She believes her story, and so Father Ragnar believes. She is likely deluded, but that makes her no less dangerous. It makes no sense that Freyr would bring one lone unbeliever across the Rainbow Bridge. It’s not as if she is a hero and there is some great task to perform.” Wirmund grimaced. “But Loki might.”

“Loki was stripped of his powers,” Dahleven protested. “He won’t rise till Ragnarok.”

Wirmund shrugged.

Finding the Hidden Talents would be a heroic task
. But would Freyr want them found? Enough to bring Celia over the Bright Road?

*

“Wake up, Lady Celia.” Angrim shook Cele’s shoulder.

Cele awakened with a start, heart pounding. For a moment she didn’t recognize the dimly lit stone room or understand why Angrim was here, rousing her after too little sleep. Then it all came rushing back. Jorund. Home. Her betrayal of Dahleven’s trust.

Cele clenched her teeth on the pain that thought caused.
I had to do it
.

She crawled from the thin feather bed and pile of blankets that Jorund had provided in an alcove off the main room. He soon arrived, striding in through the narrow archway.

“I trust you slept well, Lady Celia?” Jorund gave her a half bow and smiled warmly into Cele’s eyes.

She hadn’t. Her dreams had been troubled by ominous shadows, and she’d awakened once to see Jorund speaking with a dark figure she couldn’t make out.

“I’ve had a small breakfast prepared for you.” He glanced at Angrim and back to Cele. “I regret I must urge you to hasten. We must be away ere long.” He drew Cele’s arm through his and escorted her to the table at the far end of the room. Angrim hooked her hand through his other elbow and he turned to smile briefly at her before returning his regard to Cele. He didn’t seem upset that it had been Angrim who’d told him where to find the Staff rather than Cele.

The table was laden with several dishes. Cele stared at the distinctive black on white Mimbres-like design. The style was typical of certain southwestern tribes in the eleventh through fourteenth centuries.
Is this Tewakwe pottery
?

Appealing aromas made Cele’s mouth water, pushing all other thoughts aside. Jorund led her to a chair near the head of the table opposite Angrim’s. She was about to sit down when a familiar face caused Cele to draw a sharp breath and tense in alarm.

“What is it, my lady?” Jorund asked.

Cele’s arm was pointed like a lance at Harve. “What’s he doing here? I thought you said he was one of Neven’s men.”

“My lady?” Jorund’s voice was beautiful, even when shocked.

“He’s one of the men who kidnapped me!” She started around the table toward Harve. Cele wasn’t sure what she intended to do when she reached him, but she was sure he wouldn’t like it.

Jorund put a light restraining hand on her arm and stepped forward. “Is this true?” His outrage reverberated in the stone chamber. “Have you betrayed me to Neven? Did you try to harm this woman?”

Harve’s eyes widened and he stepped back, limping. “No, my lord. I would never! I didn’t hurt her!”

“How can I believe you when this Lady accuses you to you face?”

“I did just as you said!”

Cele’s anger boiled over at his lies. “He tried to rape me! He was going to kill me!”

Jorund turned to Cele. “I deeply regret what happened, Lady Celia. He will be punished.”

“But I only did what you told—”

“Silence!” Jorund roared, backhanding Harve into the wall.

Cele jumped at Jorund’s sudden violence to the lying coward, but didn’t lament it. She wanted to do the same, and more.

“You.” Jorund gestured to two of his guards. “Take him out of my sight and deal with him.” They each grabbed an arm and dragged Harve into the tunnel.

Jorund turned to Cele. “Do you wish to witness his punishment?”

Cele’s anger urged her to say
yes
, but then she remembered the servant with the missing fingers and something in her quailed. “What are you going to do to him?”

Jorund shrugged. “For betraying me, he deserves death.”

As much as Harve deserved it, the summary judgment shocked her out of her fury. “That’s…extreme.”

“It is the same as his accomplices received.”

Cele remembered their bodies lying still on the floor. She hadn’t felt a shred of regret for their deaths, and Harve had come after her a second time. It was a miracle she’d escaped him. Who knew how many women he’d attacked in the past, or would in the future? “Do I have any say?”

Jorund inclined his head. “Would you have me show mercy?”

“If he’d attacked
me
, I’d have his balls!” Angrim declared.

The other men had been caught in the act, killed in the heat of battle. There was no doubt in Cele’s mind that Harve had meant to murder her after making her suffer. “I don’t know.”

Jorund’s eyes softened. “You have a woman’s natural delicacy. Would it be better if I merely make him wish he were dead?” he asked without apparent irony.

Cele grimaced. “No.”

Jorund turned to the guard waiting by the tunnel where Harve had disappeared. “Flog him.”

What little Cele knew of flogging came from movies. She feared the reality would be even worse, but at least a man wouldn’t die by her choice.

“You never answered, my lady. Will you witness his punishment?”

“No, I don’t want to watch.” It was enough to know Harve would get what he deserved. She didn’t want to feel any squeamish, softhearted sympathy for him.

*

Dahleven followed Thora though a narrow door. She led him down servants’ corridors and up winding steps and back down steep staircases to a remote part of the castle. With every step, he felt time slipping away. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been in this part of Quartzholm, even when he’d explored the hidden corners as a boy. If not for Ragni’s assurance of Thora’s loyalty and the fact that she’d cared for him in the nursery, he might almost wonder if she were leading him into trouble.

Of course she’s leading me into trouble
. And he was going with his eyes wide open. He was going to meet someone who would perform unsanctioned magic for him. He was looking for a witch to help him find a woman who may have had a hand in stealing the Staff of
Befaling. If that isn’t trouble, I don’t know what is
.

How did he get to this point: the heir to Quartzholm, the son of the Kon, sworn to protect his people and uphold the teachings of Baldur, seeking to use forbidden arts?

I must be mad
. But it was the only way to find Celia.

Wirmund was right. She was dangerous. If anyone had told him two weeks ago that he’d be conspiring with a Daughter of Freya to flout traditions guarded by the priesthood, he’d have laughed himself sick.

But Celia had changed everything. He’d failed to protect her; he couldn’t abandon her while there was a still a chance.

Wirmund had said he had no magic that could help in this situation. He could break the power of the amulet if he had it, but the
Overprest
had no ritual to find the trail that the amulet had concealed. Thora offered him a tool and hope, and Dahleven couldn’t refuse it. He might be mad, but his heart compelled him forward, following Thora through obscure passages.

The room he stepped into was sparsely appointed, holding only a table, a few chairs, a few boxes, and a cot. A pretty, dark-haired woman sat at the table. She rose when he entered.

“This is Lady Saeun,” Thora said. “She can show you what you need to know.”

He didn’t recognize her.
She must be the daughter of a minor Lord, here for the Althing
. “Lady Saeun.” He nodded his head slightly, showing the minimum of courtesy.

She curtsied deeply, and said, “Thank you for coming, my lord. Please be seated.”

Lady Saeun didn’t fit his expectations of what a witch should look and act like. Feeling somewhat churlish, Dahleven sat at a plain wooden table in a high-backed chair. He searched Saeun’s heart-shaped face. “How can you help find Lady Celia?”

Saeun smiled nervously and glanced at Thora before answering. “I can show you where she will be, my lord…I can try to, I mean.”

“How?” Dahleven demanded.

Saeun flinched. Thora put her arm around her and said, “Don’t let Lord Dahleven unsettle you, dear heart. You can do this.” She looked sharply at him. “Let her do her work, my lord. Ask your questions later.”

Saeun brought a large box to the table. From it, she withdrew a hairbrush bearing strands of Celia’s yellow hair, her waist-pack, and the torn, bloodstained robe she’d worn during her first abduction. Dahleven’s jaw tightened at the sight of it. Saeun set aside the box and put a shallow obsidian bowl in the midst of these items. Runes decorated the inside lip of the smooth, black vessel. Then she unstopped a glass bottle and poured its contents into the bowl.

Dahleven gaped as a small treasure in quicksilver rippled in the vessel before him. Saeun closed her eyes and lifted her head, stretching her arms out to her sides, palms outward. Then she began to chant in the priests’ tongue.

A tingling raced over his skin in time with the rhythm of Saeun’s words. Dahleven jerked and almost moved to stop her, a woman, from speaking the words reserved to the priests. Thora caught his eye and he stopped. What had he expected would happen here? Of course Saeun was breaking with tradition—and so was he. He listened and waited as the air grew thick, charged with the magic Saeun called upon.

Saeun turned her palms inward and swept them toward her breast three times, as though gathering something in over the bowl and its liquid treasure. The prickling of Dahleven’s flesh pulsed and grew with each sweep of her arms. Then she bent and blew on the surface of the quicksilver. Dahleven felt a rush of cold wind, and the liquid metal smoothed like glass.

Saeun startled him by speaking a word he understood. “Look,” she commanded.

Dahleven peered at the surface of the silvery liquid. It no longer reflected a distorted image of the room in which he sat. Instead, he saw a long, narrow cavern, unshaped by human hands or Talents.

Dahleven almost looked away. Danger lurked in such places; they were the province of the Dark Elves, and who was to say they couldn’t somehow reach across this scrying? But his need was too great. He peered into the bowl.

The vision opened onto a larger space where the floor was smoothed by Talent, but the walls and ceiling had been left unchanged. No single point of light illuminated the space, yet he could see the rough walls glittering with crystals. Round and oblong orbs of rough stone protruded from the walls or lay on the floor. There were hundreds of them, of various sizes. A few of them were broken, their crystals dark.
Is this where the Great Talents are Hidden
? To one side of the image, Fender slumped against a wall, blood slicking the side of his face.