FORBIDDEN TALENTS (24 page)

Trapped, and neatly, too
. Wirmund’s arguments were sound. Ragni couldn’t object, not without raising suspicion.

*

Celia clapped and shouted along with everyone else in the Great Hall as Utta, holding a statue of Freyr displaying a rampant phallus, was pulled on a small gold-decorated wagon by two guardsmen in Magnus’s red livery. Her dress was the color of spring and she wore a garland of flowers grown in the solarium in her unbound hair. Celia had an excellent view of the betrothal pageant from her place beside Dahleven on the dais. Utta looked pleased, not startled as Celia had when it had been her turn four months past.
She grew up with these customs, after all
. The guests closest to the procession waved heavy headed stalks of barley over Utta’s head as she passed, then threw them on the floor behind her as the wagon made its way around the perimeter of the Hall.

When Utta completed her circuit of the room Ragni entered, pulling a silvered plow behind him. It was ceremonial and lighter than the real thing, and wasn’t like the wide bladed plows she’d seen pictures of back home, in Midgard. This looked more like a giant two-handled hoe. Ragni followed the same course as Utta, cutting a furrow through the barley strewn on the floor. Mourning wasn’t appropriate for a betrothal, so instead of his usual silver gray priest’s clothes, Ragni wore Neven’s house colors: a tunic of forest green velvet, and trews dyed to match.

Finally he stood beside Utta, where she waited in the open-sided wagon. Suddenly the crowd grew quiet. Ragni handed off the plow to a waiting guardsman and accepted a harvesting rake decorated with gold from Father Wirmund. With one swift motion, he swept up a sheaf of barley and offered it to Utta.

For all intents and purposes, this was more like a wedding than an engagement party. Betrothals could be broken here, but doing so was like a divorce. From what Gudrun had told her, the wedding itself was a more modest event.

It could be a pretty raucous affair and still be quieter than this
.

Utta paused, just long enough for drama, but not long enough to worry anyone, before taking the barley from the rake. The guests, already half drunk, exploded in cheers that reverberated off the stone walls.

When Celia and Dahleven had played this charade, it had taken place outdoors in one of Neven’s fields, and Dahleven had scythed the grain himself before giving it to her.

Eventually the crowd quieted again. Utta set the statue of Freyr aside and bent to remove her slippers. Some women, Celia had been told, played this part of the ritual shyly, others teased their betrothed close enough to claim a kiss before surrendering the symbol of their sexuality. Utta did neither. She held out her slippers as if offering a treasure. Ragni took them from her with a slight bow and pressed them to his heart.

The crowd cheered again even louder, the undercurrent of anxiety about Neven giving their enthusiasm an edge of desperate fervor.

Father Sigg’s Healing had failed badly. The priest now lay unseeing and unknowing in his bed. No one expected him to recover. Vali had come out of the room dazed and shaken, but unscathed. Neven, at least, was no worse, if no better. Despite everyone’s grief, all parties had agreed the betrothal should go on as planned.

The crowd continued their ribald shouts and encouragements as Ragni stepped to the side of the little cart and lifted Utta in his arms. The guests opened a path for him as he carried Utta up the center of the room, passing by the blazing fire-pits, all the way up to the dais where he set her gently on her bare feet by her chair.

Dahleven left Celia’s side and stepped between Ragni and Utta. He waited until the crowd quieted and said,
“
Welcome, sister,
”
and kissed Utta on the forehead. He moved aside as Wirmund stepped forward and took the couple’s hands, proclaiming,
“
These two have accepted one another. May Baldur’s blessings be upon them, may his servants Freyr and Freya bless them, and let their union be joyous and fruitful.
”
He lifted their hands in front of him and joined them together.

It took a long time for the cheering to die down. When it subsided, Dahleven nodded to the Kikmongsowuhti. She rose from her place and went to Utta and Ragni.

Nai’awika took Utta’s hands in her own. Celia was close enough to hear the old woman say,
“
You are now joined with a man of power, daughter. Do not forget your own. He will need your strength as you will need his.
”
Then she raised one hand palm outward.
“
Haliksa’i
! As, in the beginning, Tiowa and Kokyanwuhti came together to sing the First Song and the Song of Life, so must the two of you come together to sing your own song. Keep your
kopavi
open to Tiowa and your hearts open to each other.
”
Nai’awika draped a soft white shawl embroidered with intricate symbols over Utta’s shoulders. Its edge came nearly to her knees.
“
Take this
ovah
´, daughter. May it bring you the blessing of many strong children.
”

Utta blushed and smiled.
“
Thank you, Grandmother. You honor us.
”

“
Thank you,
”
Ragni echoed.

Nai’awika leaned close to Ragni, and Celia could just barely hear what she said.
“
You, who hear with your heart.
Haliksa’i
! You have grown lazy. Open your
kopavi
! Serve the gods truly, in deed as well as word.
”

Ragni raised his eyebrows but inclined his head in courtesy. Celia wondered if he understood Nai’awika’s odd admonition, or if it was as much a mystery to him as it was to her.

When the older woman returned to her chair, the servants began bringing out massive quantities of food and drink. Pheasant, boar, and venison, stewed and baked fruit, buttered roots and greens, and breads and pastries in the shapes of Freya’s cats and Freyr’s boar. Dahleven offered the first toast as Neven would have done, followed by toasts made by Magnus and just about every man who could lift a cup. The feasting continued until no one could consume another mouthful. Then Sangor came out and told the tale of Freyr and his love for Gerda.

Celia was only a little less appalled than she’d been the first time she’d heard the story, at her own betrothal. It hardly seemed appropriate for the occasion. Gerda, coerced into marriage, was essentially raped. Celia looked around the room. Pretty much everyone seemed to be enjoying the tale. Both Dahleven and Ragni were nodding in time to Sangor’s rhythmic telling. That Gerda eventually came to love the husband who had forced himself on her seemed a happy ending conceived by male arrogance.

Celia glanced at the Tewakwe leaders. She saw Nai’awika and Loloma glance at each other. Loloma frowned, and Nai’awika shook her head. What were Tewa weddings like? What stories did they tell about men and women? And how different were the Nuvinlanders, how different was Dahleven, that he didn’t see the ugliness in the story?

Celia almost felt ill. Musicians began an introductory tune as Sangor bowed and accepted the approving cheers and stomps of his audience. She certainly wasn’t interested in the dancing that was about to start, but for Utta’s sake she had to participate. The music shifted, and Ragni and Utta rose, stepping from the dais to the clear space in front of the fire-pits. Before they could begin dancing, Celia and Dahleven intercepted and separated them. They were joined by other young lords and ladies. The men formed one circle and the women another, stepping in intricate rhythm as the circles intertwined. Around and around the circles wove, in patterns ever more complex. Celia forgot her anger as she concentrated on the steps. Men and women passed by each other, not dancing as pairs until the final cycle, when Ragni and Utta were finally allowed to come together. Then the couples spun off together, in what was called the Flower Dance for its looping pattern, like petals on a flower.

“
Mother taught you well, while I was away all summer,
”
Dahleven said as he spun Celia across the floor, making her emerald dress flare out from her ankles.
“
You dance as if you were born to it.
”

Celia smiled at the complement.
“
Dancing was a lesson I enjoyed. I just wish you could have been the one to teach me.
”

“
As do I.
”

The music ended and they glided to a stop.
“
I think I’ll call it quits and head up to bed now,
”
Celia said.

“
It’s still early, and the dancing has barely begun,
”
Dahleven protested. Then he looked at her more closely.
“
Are you all right?
”

“
There’s nothing wrong with me that a little sleep won’t cure. I haven’t slept any better than you have the last few nights.
”

“
Of course.
”
Dahl glanced at her waist.
“
For a moment I thought—never mind.
”

“
You thought I might be pregnant? You haven’t been in Quartzholm enough for that.
”
Her look softened.
“
I do want that, too, Dahl. But with everything that’s going on with Ragni and Saeun and Utta and your dad, this doesn’t seem like a good time.
”
She grinned.
“
That doesn’t mean we can’t practice.
”

“
I can’t leave yet. Not until Ragni and Utta depart.
”

“
I know. Join me soon?
”

“
As soon as I can. I’ll send Fender with you.
”
Dahleven gestured to his friend, who immediately began making his way toward them.

“
That’s hardly necessary.
”

“
I know you’re an uncommonly capable woman, Celia, but there is an assassin loose in Quartzholm. In this one small matter, please, do as I ask.
”

“
He’s right, my lady. You must guard your safety, if not for your own sake, then for my lord’s sanity.
”
Fender chimed in, grinning.

Celia grinned back, shaking her head.
“
Very well. Lead on, MacDuff.
”

Fender offered his arm and soon they’d wended their way through the celebrating throng. Outside the Feasting Hall the corridors were nearly deserted. Celia dropped Fender’s arm and they walked together in companionable silence to her apartments. But as Celia reached for the latch, Fender pulled her back.
“
Please, my lady.
”

“
Oh, stop with the ‘my lady’ already. We got done with that in private when you trained me to use my Talent.
”

“
Yes, my lady,
”
Fender teased, but he still went first into her apartments.

Celia waited a slow count of five as she knew she should, then followed. Fender had turned up the lamps and was ten feet in front of her, just going into her bedroom, when a yowling screech behind her made Celia spin into a defensive crouch, every hair on her body rising at the sound. In the half shadows of the corner a thick bodied man-shape the size of a football clutched a small curved blade that dripped with blood. He bled from half a dozen shallow cuts. Facing him, a sinuous creature that was all claws and teeth leapt on him.

Suddenly Fender was between her and the fight. His long dagger was in one hand, his boot knife in the other, his muscles tensed for battle. Then he straightened and laughed.
“
Looks like puss has caught herself a hedgehog. I wonder how he got all the way up here?
”

Celia whipped her white over-tunic over her head and held it in front of her as she dashed forward.
“
Help me catch them!
”

“
Catch them?
”
But Fender obeyed, stepping forward to snatch up the sinuous one by the back of its neck.
“
Careful there, Puss—Ow!
”
The creature turned in its own skin and raked Fender with its claws until Fender dropped it. Then it dashed in a blur for the open door.
“
Blasted Balls!
”

Celia had better luck. She covered and bagged the man-creature with her over-tunic, wrapping him tightly. A fortunate twist disarmed him of his knife. He must have been nearly done in by his battle, because he quickly stopped struggling. Celia opened the tightly wrapped bundle enough to show the creature’s face and give him some air.

“
I’m sorry, Celia. The cat got away.
”
Fender shook his wounded hand.
“
At least you caught the hedgehog.
”