Dangerous Talents (48 page)

Dahleven grimaced. Was this the place as it would be, or might be? He’d already lost several good men. He knew he would lose more; it was inevitable—such was the nature of battle. But he didn’t want the surety of it.

In the background, shadowed figures wavered indistinctly in a way that made his skin crawl, but closer stood a man with his back toward Dahleven, and with him was Celia, her face contorted with pain.

“No!” Dahleven hardly knew he spoke aloud.

The image flickered. He memorized the room, taking note of details. A moment later the image grew dark and the natural reflective surface of the quicksilver returned.

Dahleven blinked and looked up at Saeun. Her face was sweaty and gray. Thora helped her to sit, then poured her a cup of red wine and held it to her lips, wisely not trusting the young woman’s shaky hands to hold it steady.

In a moment, Saeun pushed the cup away and looked shyly at him. “I hope you saw something helpful, my lord.”

“You don’t know what the magic revealed?”

“No. The image was for you alone.” Her voice was breathy and weak.

“You said this is where Lady Celia
will
be? Why not where she is now?”

“Lady Celia is some hours ahead of you, is she not? By the time you Pathfind your way there she will be gone again, where no Tracker may know. With this knowledge, you may find her, perhaps even get ahead, if your Talent shows you a shorter way than she travels.”

“How long do I have? How far ahead did this vision look?”

Saeun’s eyes fluttered and she slumped sideways. Thora kept her from falling to the floor until Dahleven came around the table and lifted the young woman in his arms.

“The visions seldom see more than a day ahead,” Thora said.

Less than a day, then
. Not much time. Dahleven laid Saeun on the cot and looked at Thora. “Does she need a Healer? I can summon Ghav. By my order, he’ll not reveal her.”

He saw approval in Thora’s eyes and felt perversely pleased by it.

“No, my lord. She knows her limits; she’s only tired. But ritual magic is not undertaken lightly.”

Dahleven nodded. Reflexively, he said, “Perhaps that’s why it’s reserved for the priests.”

Thora’s lips tightened. “If we’d left you to Father Wirmund’s offices, you’d be no wiser. The priests know many things, my lord, but they cling to
Tradition
like some women cling to husbands who beat and bloody them, afraid to free themselves. The priests are afraid to choose their own way, so they let Tradition do it for them. It keeps them ignorant and they call it virtue, and they try to keep others ignorant as well. It’s time to move forward.” Thora laid her hand on Dahleven’s arm. “With the Kon’s approval, and the sanction of the priesthood, we could do so more safely.”

Wirmund’s approval of this kind of magic was as likely as an open pass at mid-winter, and Neven’s support could never be open and unreserved, not and remain Kon. He apparently knew of and tolerated Thora’s covert use of the runestones, but he couldn’t afford to support unsanctioned magic.

Dahleven remembered the fear on the face of the woman Ozur had banished for six months. Neven needed to remain Kon if he was to bring about the kind of changes necessary to protect woman like her. He had to maintain respect and goodwill among the Lords, Jarls, and priests to do that, even if doing so meant making compromises that left a vile taste in his mouth.

“Tradition isn’t imposed only by the priests,” Dahleven said. “It binds us all. Beliefs can’t be changed so easily.” He held up a hand to forestall Thora’s angry retort. “But your assistance today will no doubt help. Have patience. And hope that what Lady Saeun revealed to me makes a difference.”

CHAPTER TWENTY~FOUR

A man brought trays of fruit and cheese and bread to the table. Cele wondered if she was supposed to serve Jorund, but Angrim was sitting to his right and did that task with an air that it was her right to do so. The food smelled delicious, but Cele no longer had an appetite.
What did Harve mean, “I did as you said
?”

He was just trying to save his skin, she answered herself.

The sudden crack of the whip against flesh and Harve’s muffled cries echoed back into the chamber. Cele flinched but refused to feel pity for him, using the memory of his grasping hands ripping her robe to block out his screams. She chewed a bite of the bread that had smelled so wonderful just a moment before. It tasted like dust now, settling in her stomach like a stone.

Eirik bustled in. Cele stared.
He’s part of this, too
? The tall, slender skald strode into the room, bowing deeply to Jorund and again to the two women, setting the beads in his long, thin braids to clacking. “Well met, my lord! And well timed.” He looked pointedly at the trays of food until Jorund gestured for him to take a seat. An empty place waited for him at the table; obviously he’d been expected.

Cele remembered Eirik’s Talent for Persuasion and Thora’s doubts about his reading of the runestones. She tried to keep her face neutral, though she was wary.

Eirik poured himself a cup of pale wine and smiled at Cele across the table, apparently unconcerned by the sounds of Harve’s punishment. “I see you recognized your opportunity when it came, Lady Celia. Lord Jorund will be a good friend to you.”

Cele’s skin tingled with a sensation similar to circulation returning to a limb that been asleep. She nodded slowly, distracted by the feeling. “He’s offered to help me get home.”

“And so he will,” Eirik said. “Lord Jorund is a man of honor.”

Again Cele’s skin tingled. Was that the effect of the amulet Thora had given her? Was Eirik trying to use his Persuasion on her?
How much is his endorsement worth, if Thora’s right about him lying
? Cele tried to ignore the thought. Jorund’s offer of help had nothing to do with Eirik’s truthfulness.

The cutting crack of the whip ceased. Harve moaned and wept.

“Hasten your meal, Eirik,” Jorund said. “We must be away soon.”

“Why such haste, my lord?” Eirik protested. “The search for Lady Celia is frustrated. The Trackers have found no trace of her. Lord Dahleven—”

“Lord Dahleven is a clever man, and will do all in his power to pursue his father’s will. And Neven will not be pleased to lose his grasp on Lady Celia.” Jorund rose. “Come, we’re going.”

*

Dahleven and his eight men moved briskly and quietly, their leather byrnies creaking softly. Moccasins, worn in place of their usual boots, muffled their footfalls. They’d been on the march for eight hours or more, with only two short breaks. Dahleven carried a lantern turned low to conserve oil and minimize the risk of discovery by those they sought.

He’d left Quartzholm in able hands. Gudrun commanded everyone’s respect and loyalty, and the Warden of the Guard would do her will without question. Even Gris and Father Wirmund would obey her, if reluctantly. He regretted the need to abandon his charge, but his choice had been clear: the potential threat of the Hidden Talents being Found was more serious than whatever Quartzholm might face.

When had he begun to take Thora’s scrying seriously? When he’d seen the vision Saeun showed him? Or was it earlier than that? Ragni would be amused to learn it was unsanctioned magic that had finally convinced him of scrying’s usefulness. Or did he believe because it allowed him to do what he wanted: to go after Celia?

Was there really any danger to Quartzholm? Celia couldn’t possibly do what generations of Finders had failed at. Even if she did succeed, her abductor would still need a priest to release the Talents.

Or would he? It had just been made very clear to him that the skill and knowledge of ritual magic was not restricted to priests.

Dahleven’s jaw tightened as he remembered the bruises on Celia’s breast. Whether she found the Talents or not, the danger to her was very real.

His men moved in near silence behind him. He hadn’t explained where he was leading them, but they followed him nevertheless. Like him, they were glad to be taking action at last.

*

Jorund pulled Cele’s hand through the crook of his arm and Angrim frowned, apparently unhappy about being escorted by the skald rather than her lover. Cele pulled away, not wanting to be a source of trouble between the couple.

Jorund turned to Angrim and lifted her chin with one well-manicured finger. “Lady Celia is our guest and is helping us. There’s no need to pout, my dove.” His rich, caressing voice drew a smile and a blush from Angrim. Jorund let his hand trail down her shoulder to her elbow. Then he signaled the group forward. “Proceed.” He drew Cele’s hand through his arm again, and after a nod from Angrim, this time Cele didn’t resist.

Two warriors carrying lanterns went first, then Jorund and Cele. Eirik and Angrim followed, and the other eight men brought up the rear, packing the blankets and food. All carried swords, and none of the men looked very appealing; they reminded Cele too much of Harve. Fortunately, he wasn’t coming along, and she didn’t have to interact with the others. Jorund kept her close by his side, following the first two men. He wore his own cloak now, and Angrim wore a shorter garment that didn’t threaten to trip her.

Jorund turned the force of his attention to Cele. “I haven’t thanked you yet, for agreeing to help me.” His deep voice rumbled softly. “The people of Nuvinland will owe you a great debt for the return of their Talents, and their freedom.”

Cele squirmed inwardly, uncomfortable with her part in this. Returning the Talents to the people seemed like a good thing. So why did she feel so uneasy? “I didn’t do that much,” she murmured.

“You underestimate your gifts, my lady.” Jorund smiled down at her. “And you have other contributions to make.”

Her skin tingled as it had when Eirik spoke, only this time with an edge of pain. Cele’s unease grew. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Nothing as yet, my lady. Merely allow me to enjoy your company while we go to where the Talents are hidden.” Jorund put his ungloved hand on hers, where it rested on his arm. “Then, I hope, you will Find the ones I need.”

Cele shivered.
He’s trying too hard
. But Jorund’s hand felt warm on her own and he sounded so sincere. She wondered what his Talent was. Presence? Persuasion? But Thora had said her amulet would protect her from those Talents. And hadn’t he said his Talent had been taken when he was Outcast?

“And then what?” Cele asked.

“We’ll return the Talents to our people.”

“Will you get your Talent back?” Cele hoped it wasn’t rude to ask.

Jorund smiled unctuously. “So I hope.”

“How will you get me get home?”

“It’s quite complex, my lady. You needn’t concern yourself with the details.”

Cele stiffened at his,
Don’t worry your pretty little head
, answer. “I’d like to know.”

Jorund shrugged. “A nimbus of power will be freed when the Talents are released. I’ll use the Staff to focus it, say the words I spent years searching for, and invoke the magic hidden by the priests. Then the Bright Road between the Nine Worlds will open, sending you home.”

Cele grimaced. It sounded like mumbo-jumbo, but how would she know? She’d never even heard of Talents two weeks ago, let alone magic that worked.

Jorund looked faintly amused. “As I said, complicated.”

They walked for a long time. On their occasional rest breaks, Eirik entertained them with stories and songs, creating a surreal, picnic atmosphere, but Jorund never allowed them to pause for long. They stopped when they reached the end of the tunnel. It was a dead end, except for the natural fissure in the face of the far wall. Rubble scattered at the base of the walls made it apparent that until recently, the fissure had been blocked, walled off. A single man stood guard there.

“Knut!” Cele rocked back on her heels.

Knut flicked a nervous glance at Jorund. “Yes, my lady. I am glad to find you well.”

Cele stepped forward. The two guards ahead of her and Jorund moved aside. “You killed Lindy!”

Knut took a step back, bumping into the rough wall. “I defended myself!”

“You—”

“He brought me word of your arrival, my dear,” Jorund interrupted, taking her arm again and patting her hand. “I cannot hope to prevail over Neven’s corruption without the help of good men like Knut. He understood immediately how important you are.”

“But he cut Lindy’s throat!”

“Sadly, such acts are sometimes necessary to achieve the greater good. Let it go now.” Jorund patted her hand then turned to the others. “We’ll stop here for the night. Tomorrow we’ll finish the last leg of our quest.”

Cele glared at Knut but remained silent. She supposed freedom fighters did a lot of things she wouldn’t like if she saw them up close.
That’s what Jorund’s men are, aren’t they? Freedom fighters
? But she remembered how Dahleven had grieved over Lindy.

Angrim eyed the dark gaping fissure nervously. “Here, Jorund? Couldn’t we go back a bit? Further from…that?” She gestured tentatively toward the end of the tunnel, not looking directly at the natural opening.

Jorund chuckled. “I’m here, and Eirik, and these other strong men. Do you think a few hundred yards can protect you better than we can?”

Angrim looked at the ground and shook her head.

“Are we going in there tomorrow?” Cele asked. Dahleven’s warnings about creatures in the dark natural caverns made her shiver.

“You aren’t fearful as well, Lady Celia? Not the woman who so bravely fought her attackers?” Eirik teased.

Cele’s skin tingled, and she remembered something else Dahleven said. “Fear is a normal response to danger. That doesn’t mean I’m going to let it stop me from doing what I have to. Nor am I going to let it goad me into taking foolish chances.” She turned back to Jorund. “Do we have to go into the caverns?”

Jorund’s eyes narrowed as he frowned at Eirik. “Yes, my lady, it’s the only path to where we must go. Don’t give too much credence to the old tales of the Dark Ones. The worst we’re likely to encounter are a few blind spiders. You can be assured that I, and my men, will keep you safe.”