Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  “You thought of everything, and you organized it all. That’s not nothing.”

  “Contare suggested it, actually,” he admitted. “He’s done this for Josselin before.”

  “Still, ‘tis well done.”

  “Thanks.” It was gratifying. He had spent a lot of time making sure everything would be perfect for Tabitha tonight. Soon he would know how well he had done. Soon.

  Most of the final course had been cleared from the platter, and their goblets were more than half-empty, when Darc brought a coin out of his pocket. “Catch!” He flicked it into the air and it landed on the table, as Graegor and the girls looked at him in confusion.

  Darc sighed. “With your powers. One of you, please. I want to test something.” He picked up the coin and again flicked it into the air.

  Graegor waited to see if Tabitha or Koren would catch it, but neither did, so he stopped the coin just before it could hit and scatter a cluster of nuts. “Like that?”

  “All right, could you do that from a distance? Catch something that small?”

  “Usually we need to be able to see it to do anything with it.”

  Darc looked at Koren and Tabitha in turn, and they both nodded in agreement. Darc asked, “But you can see things at a distance, right?”

  Koren shook her head at that, and Tabitha said, “Sadly, it’s not one of my abilities.”

  Darc looked back at Graegor. “Just you?”

  “I’m not the only one, but it’s not too common a talent.”

  Darc grabbed the hovering coin, breaking Graegor’s hold on it, and stood up. “Let’s test it. I’ll go forward, you go aft, and I’ll hold it up, and we’ll see if you can see it, and then if you can move it, without moving my hand or anything else near it.” He held out his hand to Koren, obviously meaning for her to accompany him, and she let him help her up.

  Graegor offered Tabitha his arm, and as she stood, she sent, “Just what does he want you to prove?”

  “I’m not sure. Indulge him.” But he thought he knew. Darc didn’t want him to prove anything; he wanted the length of the ship separating him and Koren from Graegor and Tabitha. And Graegor wanted that too.

  The ladder to the quarterdeck was not steep, and Tabitha managed it easily in her skirts. They went all the way to the aft rail, while Darc and Koren stood together at the bowsprit, twenty-five yards away. Darc raised his arm, presumably holding up the coin. Graegor kept hold of Tabitha’s hand as he centered his focus and extended his magic.

  Darc kept still, and the details of his upraised hand grew clearer. His silver cufflink glittered in the light of the globes overhead, and in the light of the streetlamp not far away. The coin … it seemed worn at first, but as Graegor narrowed his line of vision, he could make out the pattern of circles and the stamped value number. It was a nickel quarter-ounce, issued by Telgardia, with ridges around its edge. A couple hours’ wage for a common laborer in Lakeland.

  He’d never tried to use telekinesis while in an extended-sight trance. It made his gen feel faded, and he could no longer clearly see the ridges on the coin’s edge. But the coin did start to flutter out of Darc’s hand. Graegor managed to move it up, then down, then slowly passed it in front of the blur of Koren’s face.

  Then Tabitha called to him. Reflexively, he opened their link, and his vision dissolved. His focus snapped back, sending his eyes into rapid blinks, and he had to take a settling breath against the dizziness.

  “Forgive me,” she sent, squeezing his hand. “Did you drop it?”

  “It’s all right. I’ve never tried to do three things at once.” Telepathy, telekinesis, and extended sight? He’d have to ask Contare if it was even possible.

  Tabitha looked toward the other end of the ship, and Graegor followed her gaze to see Darc leaning over the bowsprit, stretching his arm to its limit. As they watched, the prince pulled himself entirely onto the bowsprit, and then started slowly walking up its length.

  “He will fall,” Tabitha sent worriedly.

  “Not with Koren there.” He could see that Koren was watching very carefully.

  “Oh, yes, I forgot. She used to sail with her father.” After a pause, she added disapprovingly, “Fishing.”

  “Yes.” That was all he allowed himself. Defending Koren in any way got him in trouble, and right now he refused to risk it.

  Laughter rose from the yacht moored next to theirs, the quarterdeck of which was only a few feet away from the end of the bowsprit where Darc balanced. While the old-fashioned bireme behind Graegor and Tabitha was dark and silent, the yacht ahead had been taking on more and more passengers throughout the evening, and now the rowdy crowd had noticed Darc. Graegor could hear shouts in both Medean and Mazespaak, but they sounded good-natured, and Koren was close by in any case. Darc was unfazed, and at one point he even shouted back, “I’m ignoring you!” His cheerful voice carried clearly across the deck.

  “He will fall,” Tabitha repeated.

  “He’ll be all right.” The opportunity was here. Graegor’s heart began to race as he squeezed Tabitha’s hand. “Come with me. I have something for you.”

  Tabitha looked back at him, arching her eyebrows. “A gift?”

  “Yes.”

  “You do know that gifts are for winter Solstice, not summer.” But she let him lead her down the ladder from the forecastle to the deck. She did glance once toward the front of the ship, but he could feel her curiosity as he led her along the short passage to the two cabin doors. The captain’s cabin was on the right, and the owner’s cabin was on the left. Graegor took a silent, steadying breath as he opened the left-hand door.

  The cabin looked cozy, warm, and beautiful, and he knew Tabitha was impressed. Candles cast light and shadows in crossing patterns on the ceiling and floor. The windows were tilted open to let the night breeze lift the lace curtains, and the roses in their vases on the sill made the breeze sweet. The small table was covered with a white cloth and a silver bowl of blue cherries, and the chairs were tucked aside. The bed was neatly made and not highlighted, except for the single small red box sitting on the center of the coverlet.

  Tabitha gazed over the scene for a moment of wonder before tilting her head, her attention caught. “Listen.” She walked to the windows, and when he followed her, he could hear a viola playing in a minor key. He couldn’t place the tune, or the direction of its source; maybe across the river? Sound traveled rather strangely over water. It didn’t matter; Tabitha was standing with her eyes closed blissfully and her lips curled upward, so he didn’t disturb the moment. When the music ended, she sighed and opened her eyes. “How did you know?”

  He really wanted to take the credit, but it was best not to when he didn’t even know the song. “Just lucky.” He gestured to the table. “Surprise.”

  She saw the silver bowl, and her breath caught. “Blue cherries!” She clasped her hands together at her chest, as if afraid to touch the fruit. “Natayl said that they were gone last month, the crop was so small.”

  “I know someone with a tree.” Her reaction was exactly as he had hoped. He watched her eat one, delicately sliding the pit from her mouth and setting it in the little silver bowl set behind the larger one. She hesitated, glanced at him, then took another.

  “They taste exactly right,” she sent. “Why did you not have these served at supper?”

  “I didn’t want you to have to share.”

  She giggled, and stifled it. “You think me greedy.”

  “The opposite!” he protested.

  “I love them.” She leaned close and kissed his cheek. “A perfect gift for summer Solstice.”

  “That’s actually not the gift.”

  Her curiosity returned, but she didn’t follow him over to the bed like he was hoping she would. He picked up the box and considered beckoning to her, but that seemed too blatant, so instead he brought it over to her.

  A flash of panic crossed his mind—from Koren. He hesitated, but it was already gone, and she didn’t call t
o him, which she would have if it had been serious. So he ignored it, and he stood close to Tabitha to give her the little box. She opened it slowly, teasingly. She smelled so good.

  “Ooh,” she exclaimed as she lifted out the bracelet. The teardrop pearls were pure white, and in the quiet light they almost seemed to glow. “It’s beautiful!”

  “I know you wanted one in every color.”

  She extended her left arm, where the purple bracelet already circled her wrist. “Put it on me.”

  He willed his hands not to shake as he fastened the clasp at her pale wrist. A few strands of her hair had come free of the elaborate, high-piled style, and they brushed against his forehead. She held up her hand to inspect the two bracelets together, and nudged two of the pearls that were not lying smoothly against the white embroidery of her sleeve. “This is again Mistress Serra’s work, yes?”

  “Yes.” He sensed magic being worked somewhere close by. He pushed it away, far to the back of his mind. Nothing else was important. He rested his hands on Tabitha’s waist and kissed her.

  She shivered as she kissed him back. He moved even closer, touching his body to hers, and touching her mind with the warmth that he knew she liked, that was like a kiss itself. She shivered again, and then she relaxed against him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. For a long and perfect moment he held her, and kissed her, and let himself feel her body and her mind.

  Then she gasped, and she pulled herself away so suddenly it pushed him back a step. The silver threads darkened as her mind closed tight, and her eyes blazed almost white in the dim room. “What are you doing?”

  He stared at her, trying to think, trying to find something to say. Why was she angry?

  She pointed at the bed. “Is this what everything tonight has been for? All so you could get this?”

  “It’s because I love you.” He didn’t understand. They were sorcerers. Why would this offend her? “I want you in my nights as well as my days.” That didn’t sound as romantic out loud as it had in his imagination.

  She took another step back from him, standing tall, her voice icy. “‘No man shall lay even the softest of hands upon a woman outside the holiest of vows and promises before Lord Abban.’”

  She was quoting the holy tracts at him? About this? Sorcerers didn’t marry. “I know, but I—I assumed that—”

  “How dare you make such an assumption about me! I am a lady, not one of your little magi swimmers! Do you think that because you are a sorcerer that you can ask anything you want of anyone?”

  That was unfair. It was an effort to keep his voice low and even. “I’m not just a sorcerer. I’m a man, asking the woman I love to …”

  “To prove it?”

  He had no plan for this. He had a plan for her refusal, but nothing for this. Didn’t she love him? Didn’t she ever think about going to bed with him? Where did she think this romance was leading, if not here?

  Retreat. Right now he had to mollify her, make sure she didn’t stay angry at him. “I’m sorry,” he said carefully. “I’m sorry. I should have thought …”

  “Sorry? That is all you can say?”

  What did she want him to say? He didn’t know, so he said nothing, just let his eyes plead with her. He didn’t have the nerve to touch their bond. She had to realize that he was sincere, that he’d done everything tonight out of love.

  “What were the prince and Koren supposed to be doing while you and I were busy?” she demanded, and didn’t let him answer. “Or were they supposed to be busy too? It does not surprise me that she is the sort to sleep with someone she just met. I heard that Josselin was like that too when she was young.”

  He realized he was wincing, and tried to stop. “They—it was—”

  “And whose advice was this?” Tabitha gestured around the room. “Flowers, candles, exotic fruit. You discussed this with Jeffrei, no doubt? He gave you pointers for seduction, from his vast experience?”

  “No, nobody, I didn’t—this wasn’t—”

  “Nobody is whispering in your mind, telling you what to say to me?”

  “No!” How could she even think that?

  “You thought you knew me well enough to plan exactly what would convince me. Is that it?”

  This was bad. No matter what he said, she twisted it into an insult. “Tabitha, please don’t be angry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by any of this except to say that I love you.”

  “If you loved me, you would not try to trick me!”

  “Trick you? I’m not—”

  “Truly? On Solstice night, with Arundel and Ilene’s depraved pagan ‘blessing’ stinking through the entire city? You wanted me to go along with what everyone else is doing tonight!”

  She knows it’s traditional. She knows everyone is doing it. So why was it so surprising, so offensive, for him to suggest that they do the same, since they were in love? She loved him, he knew it, he’d felt it from her. “I’m sorry. Please, can we just talk? Can we—”

  “Go find your magi girls, those sluts who went swimming with you. Or that one who pledged to you.” She rolled her eyes to encompass the room. “This would work on her, surely.”

  He almost growled, Don’t say that about Brigita. He knew how she would turn that around. But he hated it when she insulted his friends. “Tabitha, please listen. I—”

  The silver laces that bound her to his heart suddenly flared with bright pain, so hot and sudden that he gasped, staggering against the cabin’s bulkhead. There was a sound like pebbles landing on the wooden deck, and Tabitha stalked past him and out the door.

  She hit me.

  He couldn’t believe it. His mind struggled with it as he got his feet under him, stepping on pebbles—stepping on pearls. She’d struck him. She’d used their bond to get past or under his shields, and then she’d hit him with her magic. How could she do that?

  “Tabitha!” he shouted, grabbing the doorframe and propelling himself out to the passage. “Tabitha!” he shouted again, less harshly, telling himself that getting angry wouldn’t help, that he had to talk to her, that he couldn’t let her just leave before he fixed this.

  He saw her passing the dining table, her hips swaying with that imperious stride. He drew closer. She was stepping off the edge of the gangplank to the wharf just as he as stepping onto it from the ship. He took a breath to call to her again, and the world flipped over.

  Solid wood struck the back of his head. Water hit him next, closing over him, filling his mouth in the middle of a yell, chilling his crotch so fast it hurt. He gagged and thrashed, his boots dragging him down into the canal.

  Then, like lightning from below, the earth magic flared. It caught hold of him, slicing through the water and pushing it back from him in a spreading curve. It fed his shields, surrounding him like a bubble, and then punched straight up to break the surface of the water and throw him into the air.

  He couldn’t see anything at all. He couldn’t feel anything around him. Fused with his gen, the earth magic kept pushing him higher. He tried to take a breath, but a convulsing, strangling cough took its place and took all his focus. As he hacked and spat, the earth magic faded, and then it dropped him. It slowed his fall but could not cushion the ship’s deck where he landed on his knees.

  That pain swallowed all his strength. He collapsed onto his side, shaking and coughing up water. His head hurt, his legs hurt, he was wet, and she had hit him. The deck pitched, and he rolled sideways all the way into the rail, and something thumped against his back. He could not stop coughing, and now his throat hurt too.

  The deck pitched the other way. He managed to hold onto something. Why were they moving? They were moored in a canal.

  He finally cleared the water from his lungs. His chest hurt, and he was hiccoughing now. His head and knees still throbbed with fierce pain, and his crotch had nearly gone numb. Anger boiled in his mind, a litany of swear words as regular and rhythmic as a spellcasting, but the earth magic was gone.

  Not gone. Jus
t … somewhere else, not drawn to him.

  He heard water splash as the ship’s deck rocked again, on a smaller, less violent wave. What had happened? Had she flipped the gangplank over, to make him fall into the water?

  Yes. After she had turned their bond into pain. He would never even think of hitting her, but she thought she could hit him? They weren’t ordinary people, they were sorcerers, she had the same power he did, so shouldn’t she follow the same rules?

  A strong hiccough made his chest spasm painfully and his eyes pop open. His forehead was pressed to his arm, and his hand was gripping the curved edge of one of the port-side scuppers. He looked across the deck to see the dining table and chairs all overturned. Broken glass and the overturned platter slid toward him as the deck rocked, along with a bottle of wine spilling its last dregs. All the potted trees along the starboard rail had fallen forward and tangled into each other. Had Tabitha done this? To make sure that he knew how much he had offended her?

  He climbed to his feet, though the deck was still tipping back and forth. He saw Koren a few paces away. She was holding onto the rail with one hand, and just behind her, Darc was too. Both stared at him with wide eyes. He saw faint white mist surrounding her skirt.

  Earth magic. Tabitha hadn’t done this—he had. He’d summoned a rogue wave in the canal, just like the rogue wave in the lake at home so many years ago. And it would have been worse if Koren hadn’t been here to pull the earth magic away from him. He felt irrationally angry at her for it, simply because he knew he should be grateful.

  “Everything all right now?” Darc asked quietly, warily.

  Graegor looked at the prince and saw bloodstains on the collar of his linen shirt. They were faded to pink by a soaking splash of water, but that was blood. “Did I do that?” he blurted, pointing. Contare would kill him for letting Darc get hurt.

  Darc looked down, then patted his shirt self-consciously. “No. No, I got—I hit my nose, before.” Koren was biting her lip. “Not badly. I’m sorry, some got on here too.” He wiped at a dark blotch on his borrowed blue vest. “I hope it won’t stain.”