A Turn of Light (110 page)

“Hearts of our Ancestors,” Master Jupp began, and, as one, villagers, travelers, and tinkers all, Marrowdell raised fingers to circle their hearts.

“I wish to make you an offer, Jenn Nalynn.”

Jenn finished running the knife through the cake before she looked up at Urcet. “Of what?” she asked, trying not to sound doubtful, but it wasn’t uncommon, Aunt Sybb had warned, for weddings and especially the celebrations thereafter to provoke certain urgent longings in those not yet wed.

He’d dressed for the occasion, resplendent in black, red, and gold. She thought he looked a little less exhausted, which might have had something to do with her wish earlier today. She hoped so.

Having her attention, the Eld touched fingers to throat. “Let me show you the world. Come. Travel with us. I’m aware you aren’t held by—” the fingers fluttered dismissively, “—legal constraints. Surely, a woman of your education and talent wants more than what’s here.”

She did.

Or, she had.

“There’s more to Marrowdell than you might think,” Jenn said without irony. “But thank you. Very much. I trust—you’ve enjoyed your time here?”

Dema Qimirpik, as if he’d watched, chose that moment to join them. He lifted a hand as if to pat Urcet on the shoulder, but smiled broadly instead. “Enjoyed? My companion’s been inspired!”

“How so?” she asked politely.

Before Urcet could answer for himself, the jovial dema continued with enthusiasm. “Why, he’s decided to pen a fantastical novel, full of magic and all manner of adventure. No names, of course. Authors are highly regarded in Eld.”

Why, the clever . . . Jenn ducked her head to hide a smile, quite sure who’d planted the seeds of that face-saving notion.

“The best are.” Urcet gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I have my research. It remains to be seen how well I write. I could have used—” with a dour look at Qimirpik, “—experience in casting a rite.”

“No doubt we’ll manage something back in Ansnan. Now, good lady, what do you think of our offer, for it is mine as well? Or is your fate here, in this lovely valley?”

“It is, Dema Qimirpik.” But that wasn’t, for the first time, a hard thing to admit. Jenn smiled. “I hope you’ll visit us again.”

Urcet looked to have swallowed a pickle, but the dema smiled warmly. “As the stars witness,” he said with a bow, “that’s my hope as well. I’ve felt closer to them here than I have in—” He stopped there. “Travel does so broaden the horizon. Does it not, Mistress Sand?”

“That it does.” The tinker wore her finest today as well, and Jenn thought there was a contentment to her face that hadn’t been there before. “Then there are those of us who stay close to home.”

His eyes twinkled. “Surely not you and your fellows, good lady. I’d say you’ve traveled most of us all.”

Jenn tensed, but Mistress Sand merely smiled. “Traveled na? Ah,” her eyebrows lifted. “You noticed Riverstone’s pipe and this—” she pulled her sleeve back from her gloved arm to show the bracelet of silver and amber. “You have an eye, you do, but trade goods have wings of their own, do they not na? We stay close, as I said.”

He looked disappointed, then cheered. “See, Urcet? This is why one must confirm the details. Mistress, my compliments on your fine beer, but have you tried our Ansnan wine? I insist.”

“And I accept,” Sand said smoothly, then smiled at Jenn. “First, we’ve another gift for our Sweetling’s special day.”

“I don’t need—” Jenn began.

Happy murmurs began spreading through the crowd, a way opening up.

It was a makeshift stretcher, Tooth and Chalk at one end, big Davi at the other. On it, propped up with pillows, wan but smiling, was Uncle Horst!

Jenn threw her arms around the turn-born and hugged her tight. “Thank you!”

Sand hugged her back. “No thanks are needed, Sweetling,” said so only Jenn could hear. “Healing’s a terst skill. One we use too seldom. It was time we agreed and a worthy cause for it.”

As the stretcher was set down, in a shady spot with a good view, the tinker said loudly, “It wasn’t as serious as it first looked, but the man needs time to heal. And someone to sit on him till he does!”

This brought a laugh, and even Horst smiled ruefully.

“And beer!” someone shouted. “Welcome home!” It became a cheer, glad and loud, and Jenn could see how it affected him.

All at once, the villagers encircling Horst gave way, quickly. Old Jupp smacked a final shin with a cane, then came to stand by the stretcher. Everyone exchanged curious looks.

Jenn held her breath.

“You missed the weddings,” Old Jupp accused. “I gave the Beholding. It was superb.”

“Your pardon,” Horst said quietly. “I regret I was—”

Thwap! went the cane. “I’m not done.”

Alyssa giggled and was quickly hushed.

“You missed your wedding, in point of fact.”

It was almost comical, how Horst’s mouth hung open after this, with no sound coming out, but it wasn’t, not really, and no one spoke or coughed. Jenn’s heart began to pound.

Old Jupp smiled and lifted his hand. “We can remedy that.”

Riss Nahamm stepped from behind Covie and Cynd, both of whom looked torn between tears and smiles. She wore the dress of wedding blue and silver Hettie had worn earlier, the brides having changed for the feast. On her head . . .

Jenn blinked, then smiled.

On her head was a circlet of red roses.

Melusine’s.

“Welcome home, my friend,” Radd Nalynn said, coming to take Riss’ arm and lead her to Horst. “To stay, this time.”

“Is this real?” Horst cried out in a desperate voice, rising on an shaking elbow. “It can’t be. I’ve died and—”

Thwap! went the cane again. “The man’s doubtless fevered,” Old Jupp pronounced gleefully. “You can see he needs proper care. Your thoughts, Niece?”

“I think,” Riss said, dropping to her knees beside the stretcher, “you’re absolutely right. Sennic, Dearest Heart, I—”

Jenn wasn’t the only one surprised by how much strength the wounded man had left.

And, to no one’s surprise and everyone’s joy, there was a fourth Golden Day wedding after all.

He’d been to another world and back, experienced marvels, magic, and bloodshed—not to mention four weddings and an eclipse—but get Jenn Nalynn to himself? Caught by yet another happy villager, Bannan smiled and nodded and agreed the Ancestors were exceptionally generous today, doing his utmost not to look obvious as he scanned the gathering. Where had she gone this time? He understood there was work to be done, work those newly wed were exempt from for the day, but surely—

“Bannan?”

Holding in a sigh, he turned to smile at his latest accoster, a smile that warmed when he found the Lady Mahavar at his side. “A splendid day,” he assured her.

Her eyes twinkled. “A splendid day for hunting eggs,” she corrected, tipping her head just so toward the Nalynn home. “If you take my meaning . . . ?”

“I do.” Heart soaring, the truthseer bowed, fingertips brushing the ground, then rose to plant an impulsive kiss on her soft powdered cheek. “Thank you.”

Ancestors Blessed and Bountiful, that won him a dimple.

Bannan didn’t waste time. Tir lifted his tankard to him as he passed, knowing full well, the scoundrel, where he went and why. Past the fountain, up the slope. There was the house.

Roses turned to look at him, their petals aglow in the late day sun.

He paused to bow to them as well, for he valued their good opinion.

Then it was around the log wall and by the tidy garden and there she was.

Or there her skirt was, for Jenn Nalynn was on her knees and elbows under the hedge. When she sat up, cheeks flushed with triumph and hands full of eggs, he stepped forward and bowed. “Jenn Nalynn.”

“Bannan Larmensu.” She put the eggs in her basket, then accepted the hand he offered to rise to her feet.

Neither let go. They stood like that for an endless moment, content to gaze at one another, until the corner of her mouth deepened in the start of a smile. “Did you come to help me find eggs?”

Reluctantly freeing her small fingers, Bannan pulled the strap from his shoulder, bringing around the narrow tube. “I came to give you this.”

Then, because she wasn’t just Jenn Nalynn, not anymore, he sank to one knee as he held it out.

“Bannan—”

He smiled, understanding her sudden doubt. “I’m not proposing. Not today,” he warned, his smile wider. “This is my gift. Happy birthday, Jenn Nalynn.”

Jenn’s first thought was relief. She’d planned to be ready—hoped to be ready—oh, wanted to be ready—to learn the consequences of what she’d become. Last night . . . last night in Bannan’s arms had shown her how very much she would regret if, as turn-born she . . . she stopped there, for her second, better thought.

A gift, for her birthday. Something she hadn’t seen in his home or wagon. Putting down her basket, she sat on the grass, for it wasn’t right for him to kneel before her as if she were a queen, which she most certainly wasn’t, though she quite liked the glow in his apple butter eyes and how it made her tingle.

That had to be a good sign.

Jenn took the tube. Its dark leather, now that she held it, proved to be carved in an ornate design, worn with use; the strap was new and stiff. Replaced, she decided with approval, for this clearly was a family heirloom and precious. The metal clasps were polished and glittered like gold. Perhaps they were. Altogether, it was the finest thing she’d ever been given and much too rich for Marrowdell.

Whatever was she to do with it?

When in doubt, Aunt Sybb would say, give an honest compliment, advice usually applied to her brother’s turn in the kitchen and the result, but could, Jenn realized, apply to such a gift. “It’s very well made,” she ventured. “And very useful,” she declared with rising enthusiasm, since Kydd would enjoy such a case for his paintbrushes, so here she had next year’s birthday gift for her new brother and likely something he’d share with Peggs, making both happy. In the meantime, “I’m quite sure I will use it—often. Thank you.”

Bannan, who’d sat, one arm on a knee, chuckled. “While I’m glad you like the case, Dearest Heart, the gift’s what’s inside.”

The case, she almost protested, was more than enough. She’d have settled for the way the endearment left his mouth and found her heart. Another good sign, surely.

Distracted, Jenn undid the clasps, which freed the top third of the tube from the rest, and, because she didn’t expect that to happen so smoothly, the contents didn’t wait to be pulled free but spilled out.

And unrolled, covering her lap with color.

A map.