were just sharing confidences. Care to play?”
“It sounds like a dangerous game. Whose turn is it?” Dahleven asked, sitting against the opposite wall. He bent his legs to avoid blocking the entrance and propped his elbows on his knees.
Cele glanced at him with surprise at his unstuffy reply and saw a smile lurking around his lips.
“Lady Celia’s, but she has reserved a lady’s prerogative.” Fendrikanin grinned at her.
Cele knew she was supposed to ask, and knew she shouldn’t, but did anyway. “To which of my prerogatives do you refer?” she asked with mock dignity.
Unrepressed, Fender replied, “Why, to change the rules at any time, my lady.”
Cele had to laugh, and so did everyone else, including Dahleven. “And don’t you forget it.” She wagged her finger at Fender.
“You’ve heard about me,” Sorn said. “Now tell us about your family, Lady Celia.”
“I’d rather hear more about this Talent thing you mentioned.”
Sorn’s eyebrows rose, and Fendrikanin darted a look at Dahleven.
What did I say ?
“Do you not have Talent among your people, Lady Celia?” Dahleven’s face and voice were very casual. Too casual.
Cele answered carefully. “We have people back home who are talented in art and music. Or we might say someone has a talent for fixing things, but that sounds different from what you’re talking about.”
Sorn’s brows were drawn together. “We have those among us who are skilled in the Arts as well, but Talent is a separate thing.”
“Separate how? Are you talking about some kind of magic?”
Sorn glanced at Dahleven, who gave a slight nod. “Our Talents are neither trickery nor ritual magic,” Sorn said. “They’re part of us, but separate from gifts of skill. A man might have a Talent for shaping wood, but no skill for woodcarving. So he might become a cooper or a wainwright. My father could have applied his Talent by working with paint, or cut stone, or fabric and laces, but his skill and his heart lie in working with metal and fine stones. His Talent enhances the natural beauty of his creations, and the beauty of those who wear them.”
Cele wasn’t sure what to think. Were these guys serious? It sounded like they were talking about psychic stuff, and they obviously took it very seriously.
“A few poor fools have Talents of little use. I know one fellow whose Talent is imitating sounds and voices. Entertaining, but not of much value,” Fendrikanin added.
Cele thought of the highly paid performers back home who’d built their fortunes on mimicry, but said nothing. Home . She’d been there only three days ago. Now it seemed very far away.
*
“ Do you have Talent among your people, perhaps called by another name?” Dahleven asked softly. From Lady Celia’s questions, he feared he knew the answer already.
Falsom came in off watch and picked his way past the others. A little of the midday heat drifted in with him. It would be a while yet before the day cooled enough for them to move on. Dahleven wished they could have kept moving, but none of them, bred in the mountains, tolerated the lowland heat very well, so they rested each midday while in the drylands.
Lady Celia waited for Falsom to pass before she answered. “I don’t think so. Not the way you talk about it.”
Fendrikanin studied the ground. Dahleven felt awkward, but he forced himself to meet Lady Celia’s eyes. What did you say to someone who was Talentless? Sorn reached out and squeezed Lady Celia’s hand. To his surprise, Dahleven wished he were the one comforting her.
Lady Celia gave Sorn a quizzical look. “What’s wrong? You all look as though someone died.”
Dahleven exchanged an embarrassed glance with the other two men.
Sorn broke the awkward silence. “We’re just sorry that you’re…Talentless.”
“You’re new to Alfheim. Your Talent could still Emerge,” Fender suggested.
Dahleven knew that was unlikely, but he didn’t gainsay Fender. Talent Emerged
“It sounds like a dangerous game. Whose turn is it?” Dahleven asked, sitting against the opposite wall. He bent his legs to avoid blocking the entrance and propped his elbows on his knees.
Cele glanced at him with surprise at his unstuffy reply and saw a smile lurking around his lips.
“Lady Celia’s, but she has reserved a lady’s prerogative.” Fendrikanin grinned at her.
Cele knew she was supposed to ask, and knew she shouldn’t, but did anyway. “To which of my prerogatives do you refer?” she asked with mock dignity.
Unrepressed, Fender replied, “Why, to change the rules at any time, my lady.”
Cele had to laugh, and so did everyone else, including Dahleven. “And don’t you forget it.” She wagged her finger at Fender.
“You’ve heard about me,” Sorn said. “Now tell us about your family, Lady Celia.”
“I’d rather hear more about this Talent thing you mentioned.”
Sorn’s eyebrows rose, and Fendrikanin darted a look at Dahleven.
What did I say ?
“Do you not have Talent among your people, Lady Celia?” Dahleven’s face and voice were very casual. Too casual.
Cele answered carefully. “We have people back home who are talented in art and music. Or we might say someone has a talent for fixing things, but that sounds different from what you’re talking about.”
Sorn’s brows were drawn together. “We have those among us who are skilled in the Arts as well, but Talent is a separate thing.”
“Separate how? Are you talking about some kind of magic?”
Sorn glanced at Dahleven, who gave a slight nod. “Our Talents are neither trickery nor ritual magic,” Sorn said. “They’re part of us, but separate from gifts of skill. A man might have a Talent for shaping wood, but no skill for woodcarving. So he might become a cooper or a wainwright. My father could have applied his Talent by working with paint, or cut stone, or fabric and laces, but his skill and his heart lie in working with metal and fine stones. His Talent enhances the natural beauty of his creations, and the beauty of those who wear them.”
Cele wasn’t sure what to think. Were these guys serious? It sounded like they were talking about psychic stuff, and they obviously took it very seriously.
“A few poor fools have Talents of little use. I know one fellow whose Talent is imitating sounds and voices. Entertaining, but not of much value,” Fendrikanin added.
Cele thought of the highly paid performers back home who’d built their fortunes on mimicry, but said nothing. Home . She’d been there only three days ago. Now it seemed very far away.
*
“ Do you have Talent among your people, perhaps called by another name?” Dahleven asked softly. From Lady Celia’s questions, he feared he knew the answer already.
Falsom came in off watch and picked his way past the others. A little of the midday heat drifted in with him. It would be a while yet before the day cooled enough for them to move on. Dahleven wished they could have kept moving, but none of them, bred in the mountains, tolerated the lowland heat very well, so they rested each midday while in the drylands.
Lady Celia waited for Falsom to pass before she answered. “I don’t think so. Not the way you talk about it.”
Fendrikanin studied the ground. Dahleven felt awkward, but he forced himself to meet Lady Celia’s eyes. What did you say to someone who was Talentless? Sorn reached out and squeezed Lady Celia’s hand. To his surprise, Dahleven wished he were the one comforting her.
Lady Celia gave Sorn a quizzical look. “What’s wrong? You all look as though someone died.”
Dahleven exchanged an embarrassed glance with the other two men.
Sorn broke the awkward silence. “We’re just sorry that you’re…Talentless.”
“You’re new to Alfheim. Your Talent could still Emerge,” Fender suggested.
Dahleven knew that was unlikely, but he didn’t gainsay Fender. Talent Emerged
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