Arrow's Flight Read online

  They continued on for some time, so fascinated by this inhuman choir that they forgot any worries they had. They continued until Kris' fingers were much too tired to play any more. Although he dearly wanted to go on, after a few fumblings, which caused the chirras to flatten their ears and stare like a pair of offended old women, he was forced to admit it was time to give his hands a rest.

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  "In that case..."

  "What have I decided? This is going to be rather hard on you, little bird—

  "

  "And the past few weeks haven't?" she replied bitterly.

  "Not like this; it's going to be pretty cruel. The way I figure it, the two of us not shielding, and especially Rolan, are going to be watching you like cats at a mousehole. The least little indication of projection, and we're going to jump all over you. After a few days of that, I am willing to bet that you will by damn not be doing any projecting without knowing that you're doing it!"

  "It doesn't sound pleasant," she said slowly, "but it does sound like it may work."

  "Then once we've got you knowing when you're projecting, we'll move to handling the projection consciously. Then we'll work on you controlling the level of it. Finally we'll work on getting your shields back up."

  "If you think I can..."

  "I bloody damn know you can!" he said. "But we are not going to be doing anything tonight. If you're as worn out as I am— and if you're not more worn out, you're a better man than I, after all you've been through— you won't be able to do anything, much less working something as delicate as a rogue Gift."

  As he spoke, he became acutely aware of his own mental fatigue, and the strain of holding shields on her. Just as he felt his own control waver, he felt Tantris slip into his place.

  :My turn, brother,: the mental voice said firmly. He sighed and sent a wordless thought of thanks.

  * * *

  Talia readied things for the morning, while he cared for their Companions. She had shed her clothing and was lazily reaching for the woolen shift she was using as a bedgown, when she found her wrist caught by Kris' hand.

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  He had come upon her quietly from behind, and now captured her other wrist, holding her with her back pressed into his chest. "Surely you're not sleepy already?" he breathed into her ear, sending delightful shivers up her back.

  "No," she replied, leaning her head back as his lips touched the back of her neck and moved around to the hollow below her ear.

  "Good," he drew her down beside him, on top of the blankets he'd spread on the hearthstone, right next to the fire. He stretched himself beside her so that she was between him and the fireplace, feeling truly relaxed for the first time since Elspeth was Chosen.

  He cradled her shoulders while his free hand traced invisible patterns on her skin that seemed to tingle— she moved her own hands in half-instinctual response to what she felt from him; at first hesitantly, then with growing surety. Every inch of skin seemed to be doubly sensitive, and she murmured in surprise and delight as his hands did new and entrancing things. Just when she thought for certain that he'd roused her to the uttermost, he moved his seeking mouth elsewhere, and she learned how it was to be fully awakened to desire.

  Learning from him, she followed his lead, as he roused her to fever pitch, let her cool a little, then aroused her senses again. Finally, when she was certain neither of them could bear any more, he sought her mouth again and joined with her.

  The pain was less than nothing compared to what they shared.

  When at last Kris disengaged himself from her, they lay twined together for a long, euphoric moment, still deeply in rapport. He half-rose and handed her the nearly-forgotten shift with one hand while pulling on his own robe. She slipped it on, lazily gathered up the blankets, and remade their bed. She curled up in it with utter contentment as he banked the fire against the night.

  "That Gift of yours is not always a bad thing," he said, finally. "Should you ever choose a life-partner, I think I would envy him, little friend. Now 156

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  I see what they mean about wedding or bedding Healers— especially if all of them have the same kind of Empathy that you do."

  "Oh?" Her ears all but perked up with interest. "And what do they say?"

  "That you may not get much time with them because they're always likely to be called away— but what time you do get makes up for their frequent absences."

  She reached up to pull the blankets more securely about the two of them, and something odd about her hand caught his attention. He captured her wrist again, and held it so that the palm would catch the last of the firelight, frowning a little as he did so.

  Her palm was disfigured by a deep, roughly circular scar.

  "That," she said quietly, answering the question he did not speak, "is the reason why I was afraid of men for so long— and why I don't trust handsome ones. My brother Justus, with the innocent face of a golden-haired angel and the heart of a demon, did that to me when I was nine years old."

  "Why?" The word held a world of shock and dismay.

  "He wanted... I don't know what he wanted; maybe just to see me hurting.

  He hated anything he couldn't control. He used to inflict as much pain as he could on the farm animals whenever something had to be done with them. He'd half-drown the sheep, dipping them for insects; he'd cut them terribly, shearing them. Horses he broke were broken; there was no spirit in them when he was done. I think it galled him that I could have an escape from the boredom of Hold life that he couldn't ruin— he couldn't stop my reading or dreaming. He ordered me one day to drown a sack of kittens; I tore the sack open instead so that they all escaped. I'm sure he knew that that was exactly what I would do. He backhanded me, knocked me down flat, stepped on my wrist, and used a red-hot poker on my hand.

  I think that one time he overstepped what he'd intended; I don't think he meant to burn me as badly as he did, at least not after he saw what he'd done. Gods, I'll never, ever forget his face while he was burning me, though." She shuddered, and he held her a little closer. "That— obscene 157

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  joy— I still had nightmares about it right up through my second year at the Collegium. I know they heard me screaming, but no one came very fast because they knew he was setting a task for me and figured I was being punished for slacking. When I didn't stop after a couple minutes, though, one of the Underwives came to check. After all the damage was done.

  When she saw me, he'd already thrown the poker down. He told Keldar Firstwife that he'd hit me for disobedience and I'd grabbed the poker to hit him back, but it had been in the fire too long. He didn't even have to explain why it was that my palm was burned and not my fingers. They believed him, of course, and not me."

  "Gods!" He was sickened— and a little more understanding of why she hadn't confided in him.

  "It was... a long time ago. I'm almost over what it did to me. I think if he were still alive, and subjecting a wife or children to his sadism... well, he's not. He managed to get himself killed a year or two after I was Chosen.

  There was a raid, and he had to prove just how much braver he was than anyone else. And Keltev, who was bidding fair to grow up like him, seems to have learned better, so..." She shrugged.

  "That's the one who used to tease you about wanting to be a Herald—

  Keltev? Now I know why you put up with the Blues for so long. You had practice; after Justus they must..."

  "As far as physical tormenting, they were amateurs. Mental, though... they were quite... adept. But I'd learned from my sibs that if you give them the satisfaction of knowing they've hit home by acting as if they'd hurt you in any way, they only get worse. And how was I to know I'd be believed?"

  "Oh, Talia—" he held her closely against his chest. "Poor little bird!"

  "It wasn't so bad as all that," she said softly into his shoulder. "Besides, I've learned better n
ow. I've got people I can love, friends I can trust— my year-mates, my teachers— and now—" She looked up at him a little shyly.

  "— you and Dirk."

  "And everyone else in the Circle, little bird," he replied, kissing her softly on the forehead, "I'm just sorry I didn't trust you. But we'll fix it. We'll fix it."

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  She simply sighed assent.

  * * *

  The fire was now little more than glowing coals, and Kris stared at them while he let his mind drift, not yet ready to sleep. "You know, you and Dirk will get along beautifully," he mused. "Your minds work almost the same way."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "You wouldn't do anything to save yourself pain, but you dared your brother's anger to save the kittens. That's so much like Dirk it isn't funny.

  Hurt him... he'll just go and hide in himself; but hurt a friend, or something helpless— Gods! He'll sacrifice himself to save it, or he'll rip your heart out because he couldn't. You're two of a kind; I really think you're going to be more than casual friends."

  "Do you really think so?" she said, a little too eagerly.

  All the pieces fell together, and the suspicion he'd had earlier became a certainty. "Why, Talia," he chuckled, "I do believe you're a bit smitten with my partner!"

  He felt the cheek resting on his shoulder grow warm. "A little," she admitted, knowing that it would be useless to deny it.

  "Only a little?"

  "More than a little," she replied almost inaudibly.

  "Serious?"

  "I... don't know. It depends on him, mostly," she was blushing furiously now. "I'm afraid it could get that way very fast under the right conditions."

  "But now?"

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  She sighed. "Kris, I don't know, I just don't know. And why am I bothering to get my hopes up? I don't know how he feels... whether or not he's likely to be the least bit interested in me..."

  " You may not. I think maybe I do. If I'm reading him right, he's already interested." Kris thought back on the way Dirk had acted right before he and Talia had left. He couldn't stop talking about how envious he was that Kris had gotten her as an intern, and he kept on at great length about her wonderful voice. Normally, since that bitch at the Court had hurt him, he'd paid very little attention to women, except for the occasional ribald remark.

  Then he'd hinted that it would be a good notion if they'd all practice together so they could do more as a trio. Holy Stars, he'd never once suggested that they practice together with anyone before, not even Jadus.

  "For one thing," Kris said slowly, "he wants us to play together on a regular basis. I mean, he wants us to play, and you to sing."

  "He does?" she said in bemusement. "He plays?"

  "As well as I do, or better. Since my voice isn't very good, though, and his is, he's kind enough to let me have the playing to myself. Out on the road we play together quite often, but outside of myself hardly anyone in the Circle knows he can."

  "And he said I was full of surprises!"

  "Oh, you are." He caressed her hair absently. Lord of Lights, they were so well suited to each other. There was a great deal more to both of them than would ever show on the surface. There were depths to both of them that he knew he'd never see.

  He chuckled a little.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Bright Havens, I hardly dare think what you might be like in the arms of someone you truly loved! He'd better have a strong heart, or he might not survive the experience!"

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  "Kris!" she exclaimed indignantly, "You make me sound like the widowing-spider that eats her mate!"

  He ruffled her hair. "Maybe I'd better make certain that you and Dirk make a pair of it. He's the strongest man I know."

  "Keep this up much longer," she said warningly. "and I'll put snow down your back after you fall asleep."

  "Cruel, too. On second thought, maybe I'd better warn him off."

  "Do that, and I'll go directly to Nessa when we get back, tell her that you confided your everlasting passion for her to me, but that you're too shy to tell her yourself."

  "Not just cruel— vicious!"

  "Self-defense," she countered.

  "Monster of iniquity," he replied, tugging at her hair until it fell into her eyes. "You know, of all the people I can think of, I can't imagine being able to stand being snowed in with any of them except you and Dirk—especially for as long as we're likely to be stuck here."

  She grew serious. "Is it really likely to be that long?"

  "If it doesn't stop snowing soon, it could easily be a month. This Station is down in a valley and protected by trees. We're not getting the worst of it. I tried to get past the trees earlier, and you can't. The snow has drifted as high as a chirra in some places. Even after the snow stops, we'll have to wait for the Guard to clear the road, because until they do we won't be going anywhere."

  "How will anyone know where we are?"

  "I told that Healer— the bearish one, I think his name is Loris— where I intended us to hole up. Besides, little bird, this may be all to the good. We may well need all that time to get your Gift back under control again."

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  "That... that's true," she said soberly. "Oh, Kris— do you really think we can?"

  He noted with a bit of pleasure, the "we," for it meant she was no longer thinking in terms of dealing with the problem on her own. "Not only do I think so, but Tantris and Rolan do. You're not going to argue with them, are you?"

  "I... I guess not."

  "I hear a doubt. No doubts— that's what got you into this mess in the first place. We will get you back in control. I may not be a Kyril or an Ylsa, but I am a Gift-teacher. I know what I'm doing."

  "But—"

  "I told you, but me no 'buts'! Believe, Talia. In yourself as much as in me.

  That's the weakest leg your Gift has to stand on right now."

  She didn't reply to that; just stared thoughtfully at the fire until her eyes drooped and finally closed, and her slow, steady breathing told him she'd fallen asleep.

  He remained awake for much longer, engaged in a struggle with himself he had to win, a struggle to set aside a Herald's impartiality and wholeheartedly believe in her.

  For if he could not— she was certainly doomed, and quite probably so was he. The moment she sensed doubt in him, despair and betrayal would turn her wild Gift against both of them. And he had no doubt of how that would end.

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  Eight

  Kris pursued an icy apparition through the storm-torn forest, a creature that was now wolf, now wind, now an unholy amalgam of both. It glared back over its shoulder at him through snow-swirls that half obscured it, baring icicle fangs and radiating cold and evil. He shivered, unable to control the trembling of his hands, though he clenched them on his weapons to still their shaking...

  His weapons— he looked down, surprised to see that his bow was in his hands, an arrow nocked and ready. The beast ahead of him snarled, dissolved into a spin of air and sleet with hell-dark eyes, then transformed back into a leaping vulpine snow-drift. He sighted on it, and more than once, but the thing never gave him a clear target.

  Talia was somewhere ahead of him, he could hear her weeping brokenly above the wailing of the wind and the howling of the wind-wolf, and when he looked down he could see her tracks— but he could not seem to spot her through the curtains of snow that swirled around him. He realized then that the wind-wolf was stalking her—

  He quickened his pace, but the wind fought against him, throwing daggers of ice and blinding snow-swarms into his eyes. The thing ahead of him howled, a long note of triumph and insatiable hunger. It was outdistancing and outmaneuvering him— and it would have Talia before he could reach her. He tried to shout a warning—

  And woke with a start. Outside the wind
howled like a demented monster.

  Talia touched his shoulder, and he jumped involuntarily.

  "Sorry," she said, "You— you were dreaming, I think."

  He shook his head to clear it of the last shreds of nightmare. "Lord! I guess I was. Did I wake you?"

  "Not really. I wasn't sleeping very well."

  He tried to settle himself, and found that he couldn't. A vague sense of apprehension had him in its grip, and would not loose its hold on him. It 163

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  had nothing to do with Talia's problems; a quick exchange of thought with Tantris confirmed that she was not at fault.

  "Kris, do you think maybe we should move the supplies?" Talia said in a voice soft and full of hesitation.

  "That doesn't sound like a bad idea," he replied, feeling at once that somehow his uneasiness was connected with just that. "Why? What made you think of that?"

  "I kept dreaming about it, except I couldn't shift anything. It was all too heavy for me, and you wouldn't help. You just stood there staring at me."

  "Well I won't just stand and stare at you now." He began unwinding himself from the blankets. "I don't know why, but I think we'd better follow up on your dream."

  They moved everything from behind the Station to either side of the door on the front. Rather than diminishing, the sense of urgency kept growing as they worked, as if they had very little time. It was hard, chilling, bitter work, to manhandle the clumsy bundles of hay and straw through the snow, but neither of them made any move to give up until the last stick and bale was in place.