Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 (48 page)

 
          
It
seemed to mollify her. And he realized, with an unpleasant jolt, that the extra
sense he relied on to tell him what people felt was
her
gift as well. Shona could read him as well as he read her.

 
          
He
was not certain he liked that.

 
          
Unexpectedly,
Shona laughed. "Aye," she agreed, "unpleasant. Unsettling, I'm
thinking—
and
you. D'ye see what we'd
be dealing with, day in and day out?"

 
          
Rebellion
flickered. "There is more to it than that."

 
          
Derision
was blatant. "Oh, aye. There's this, too. I'm thinking." And she
strode across the room to catch both of his hands in hers, grasping tightly.
"This, too, my boyo. D'ye think we can deal with
this
?"

 
          
It
flared up between them as strongly as before, but the emphasis was different.
There was less of pure, driving need and more of anticipation, of promised pleasure,
of warmth and exhilaration; of a certainty of completeness. There were layers,
Aidan realized, even to physical need, buttressed by the spiritual and
emotional. What lay between them was far more than a desire for mere physical
gratification. With Shona, there was a future beyond a single night—or hour—in
bed.

 
          
Once,
it might have frightened him. But now it was what he wanted.

 
          
This
time, Aidan broke contact, to show her that he could. Even as she tensed,
intending to release him, he pulled his hands from her grasp.

 
          
Aidan
pointed at the bed. "There is more to life than that. And I
want
more."

 
          
Color
stood high on her face. This time there was no fear, no flight, no denial. This
time there was comprehension, and control. And yet clearly she was as shaken as
he by the
kivarna
. "I want—"
Her voice was hoarse. She swallowed heavily. "I want the freedom to
choose."

 
          
"You
have it."

 
          
"Have
I?" In the light, her features were harsh. "If we face
this
every time we touch, what choice is
that? That, my lad, is helplessness—"

 
          
He
cut her off. "The first time you sat upon a horse and it ran away with
you, that was helplessness. The first time one of your wolfhound bitches
whelped you a dead puppy, that was helplessness. But you still ride, do you
not? And you still breed dogs."

 
          
Her
face was very white. "I'll not be bound by this. I'll not give up my
freedom to a whim of the gods, who no doubt find this amusing."

 
          
Aidan
very nearly smiled, thinking of the Hunter, the Weaver, the Cripple, but she
would not understand. Instead, he appealed to her taste for confrontation.
"Then prove yourself stronger. Vanquish it." Aidan turned to face her
squarely. "If we believe a falsehood, it gains strength. So challenge this
kivarna
to a duel. Find out which of
you is stronger."

 
          
Level
brows knit. "Why?" she asked. "You saw me but hours ago, and now
you argue a commitment to something that could well destroy us. We're not
required
to marry… we're neither of us
betrothed. 'Tis n't like your parents, or mine. We're bound to nothing at
all." She shook her head. "How can you be so willing to set aside
personal desires and chain yourself to a stranger in the name of
kivarna
?"

 
          
He
shrugged. "Because this
kivarna
may well be linked to my
tahlmorra
.
Which is part of the prophecy…" Aidan sighed, scratching idly at his neck.
"I am somewhat accustomed to doing what is expected, by gods and by
parents."

 
          
Shona
grimaced. "
Tahlmorras
,
prophecies—" She looked harshly at Teel, still perched upon the bedpost,
then shook her head with an expression of impatient tolerance. "Oh, aye,
my mother told me all about such things…" Tolerance faded abruptly. Shona
turned away and took two paces toward the door before swinging back. "D'ye
really believe such blather? I know my mother does; do
you
?"

 
          
Aidan's
right hand closed around the chain threaded onto his belt. "Aye," he
said. "I do."

 
          
She
stared at him, judging his commitment. When she saw he meant it, her tone was
incredulous. "And because of these beliefs, you're willing to pay the
price of the
kivarna
? That if one of
us should die, the other is sentenced to a life of abstinence and
loneliness?"

 
          
Aidan
shrugged. "Considering the cost of the
lir-bond
,
I find the
kivarna's
demands rather
tame."

 
          
Her
tone was venomous. "And you're a liar, my lad."

 
          
"Am
I? I?" Aidan laughed at her. "You should know,
my lass
. Use your accursed
kivarna
."

 
          
Brown
eyes were nearly black. Her strong chin was thrust upward in challenge.
"How am I to know you can't lie with it? 'Tis only a matter of
feelings
, not words. And even then I'm
not knowing
everything
you feel—"

 
          
"Words
lie," he told her. "Feelings, even those well-hidden, tell only the
truth."

 
          
Shona
swore. "Full of sweet words, are you? Forgive me if I don't swoon, but I'm
not that weak a woman."

 
          
"Good,"
he said flatly. "I am a man who wants a companion, not a
serving-girl."

 
          
Shona's
contempt was plain. "Don't forget whose daughter I am. They neither of
them raised a fool."

 
          
Aidan
scooped up his pouches. "Not a fool, " he agreed. "Just a
stubborn, blinkered mule." He slung the pouches over his shoulder and
walked by her through the door.

 
          
Lir. Are you coming?

 
          
Teel's
tone was amused.
I will go out the
casement. The air is clearer, out of doors
. He flew from bed to casement
sill, then slipped out the narrow slit and into the sky beyond.

 
          
Aidan
turned to the right, heading toward the spiral stair leading down to the bottom
floor.

 
          
"Aidan.
Aidan
!"

 
          
He
continued walking.

 
          
"Come
back here, you
skilfin
. D'ye think
I'd be letting you walk out of here like this?"

 
          
His
pace did not slow.

 
          
She
came up behind him. "What would my parents say if they thought
I
was the cause of you leaving without a
proper welcome or guest-gift?"

 
          
"You
are," he answered briefly, into the corridor. "You may as well face
them with the truth… or are you a coward?"

 
          
"I'm
not afraid of them. They give me no cause."

 
          
"No.
What you're afraid of is the
kivarna
itself." Aidan went down the winding staircase, attuned to her nearness.
Her steps did not flag as Shona followed him down.

 
          
For
several moments all he heard were her footsteps, echoing his own. And then
strong fingers caught in the wool of his cloak, clenching through to the
leather jerkin. "
Stop
," she
commanded.

 
          
He
stopped, even as she jerked her hand away, and turned. She stood two steps
above, which made her tower over him. She braced either hand against the
staircase walls, as if to hold herself in place. Loose cuffs fell away from her
arms, baring strong wrists and sinewy forearms more suited to warrior that
woman. The thick braid fell across one shoulder, dangling past her breast, her
waist, and hip to brush the top of her wool-clad thigh. In the dimness of the
narrow staircase much of her expression was muted, but he saw the set of her
jaw; the fierceness of her eyes; the upward slant of cheekbones too blunt for
Cheysuli elegance, yet striking all the same. The sheer power of her
personality, reflected in expression, stature, spirit, stripped the words from
his mouth; all he could do was stare.

 
          
Shona
came down one step. Palms scraped against the walls. "I
am
afraid," she admitted. "But
you're knowing that. You have only to use what
I
use, when I want to know the truth of a person." One more
step; her head was level with his. "I know the sword and the bow and the
knife. I am more content with men's things than with women's—I have that of my
mother…" Briefly, Shona smiled. "But there's more to me than that.
There's another woman inside me, one who wants a man the way other women do…
the way they dream about. The one who wants a man to love her, and to love him
back—" She lifted a staying hand as he opened his mouth to speak.
"No. D'ye hear? D'ye
feel
? What
I'm saying is the truth: I want all of it, Aidan, the way the stories promise.
A man and a woman meet, and they fall in love, and they marry…" Her mouth
jerked briefly. "You give it to me twisted. You give it to me empty."

 
          
After
a long moment he nodded. "I never meant it to happen this way. I came so
we could meet, to see if we suited one another, as friends first. I never meant
to pressure you, or make you feel trapped. I promise you that. But when you
reached out and took my hand, the choice was taken from me. The time the
stories promise was stolen from us both—"

 
          
"I
know." Shona drew in a deep breath and released it heavily. " 'Tis a
capricious thing, the
kivarna;
you're
knowing that as well as I." She caught hold of the braid and flipped it
behind her shoulder. "D'ye see? 'Tis n't right for either of us. You'd do
better with a woman not so bound up by
Erinnish
magic—a Cheysuli woman, perhaps, or a Homanan—and I'm thinking I'd do better
with an Erinnishman, a big, brawling islander who has no
kivarna
at all, so we neither of us will suffer."

 
          
Which us
? he wondered.
You and your brawling islander? Or you and
me
?

 
          
"Aidan."

 
          
It
was not Shona, who stared past him in open curiosity, but her father, who
waited at the foot of the stair. Aidan turned. "Aye, my lord?"

 
          
Sean's
face was solemn. "You'd best be coming with me."

 
          
How could they know already I intend to
leave
? He frowned faintly, trying to find the proper words. "My lord—"

 
          
"Aidan,
come with me. It has to do with Gisella."

 
          
For
a moment, the name was alien. Aidan stared at Sean. "Gisella—?" And
then he knew. "My granddame?"

 
          
Sean
nodded. "Corin has sent word from Atvia. Gisella is dying."

 
          
Keely's
face was a travesty, a mask made of stone. Only the eyes were alive: blue and
bright as glass, glittering with emotions. There was anger, shock, resentment,
even hatred. But mostly there was a cold and abiding commitment to feel nothing
at all, no matter how much she wanted to.

 
          
No
matter how much she
had
to.

 
          
She
waited as they came into the hall: Sean, Aidan, Shona. She stood rigidly by one
of the chairs,, but did not sit; nor did her posture indicate any intention to
sit. A folded, crumpled parchment lay discarded on a nearby table. In her hands
she gripped a silver goblet. The pressure of her fingers against the metal
turned them white.