A Turn of Light (88 page)

Mistress Sand gestured to the apple tree overhead, her bracelet sliding up her gloved arm. “It’s true what’s rooted in the edge draws across something of the Verge. Melusine’s roses are special, Sweetling, without doubt. But . . .”

“But?” Jenn urged, though her heart sank.

“What’s of this world can’t complete such as you. Just as well, I say. Fill yourself with something that has its own opinions na?” She feigned a shudder. “I wouldn’t.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way. Jenn shuddered too.

“Don’t you worry. Flint and Chalk will cross in the morning.” Sand gave her a look, more curious than concerned. “If you’re sure none will do na?”

“I’m sure. I had a dream about white pebbles,” Jenn said truthfully. “I can’t stop thinking about them.” The words dried her mouth and she took a quick swallow of beer.

“Sure you haven’t been talking to toads na?” The tinker chuckled. “Foolish things and their stones.”

In fact, she had, but that was something she didn’t feel she should share with the turn-born. Jenn’s eyes fell on Sand’s bracelet. Unlike the villagers, the tinkers didn’t change to fancier clothes for an occasion, but the ever-businesslike Sand would wear a sample of the jewelry she’d brought to trade. Not that those in Marrowdell could afford it. The band of silver was set with polished amber, a tiny sprig of green leaf trapped in each piece. Trapped as she was. “You’re right,” Jenn said soberly. “There’s no other way, Mistress. Today’s sunset—”

“Sunsets happen to worlds,” Sand corrected when Jenn paused. She tilted her palm. “You say you want to learn. Learn this. Along the edge, where worlds touch na? Not sunset. Turn.”

“Today’s turn,” Jenn said with care, “was—difficult.” She held in a shudder. “I sank through the floor.”

The turn-born’s eyebrows rose. “So much gone, so soon na? My my my.” The click of her tongue seemed pensive. “Different in more than I’d thought,” she said at last, then gave a nod. “Tomorrow’s turn, be in my tent, Sweetling.” Sand tapped the side of her tankard. “What’s from another world na? Keeps you whole.”

Overwhelmed, Jenn closed her eyes for a moment. When she felt calm, she opened them to meet Sand’s understanding gaze. “Thank you—”

“Tsk. It’s the same for us,” the other said gruffly. “The flour we take home, kaliia grown by your light na? We bake bread. Brew it with mimrol and spice from the Verge.” She took a swallow then smacked her lips. “Marrowdell’s taste. A comfort till we cross again.” A wink. “A treat, that too.”

“Beer.” Jenn gave her own a startled look. “That’s why you come to Marrowdell?” She’d expected something more—magical.

“Beer,” Sand said smugly, “is why we built Marrowdell. This—” her gesture took in the village, the dancers, and all those watching, “—is why we come. Nothing like it in the Verge, Sweetling. Not for such as us.”

Impulsively, Jenn laid her hand on Sand’s gloved one. “You could stay longer. You’d be welcome.”

“Ah, that’s my good heart. Easing dreams, thinking of us,” the turn-born’s expression softened. “We don’t belong on this side, Sweetling, any more than you belong on ours. The time for the harvest is all we can bear. The turn of the Balance na? Easiest to cross, with all we must. No, we can’t stay, but I take it well you’ve asked. Very well.”

It was a moment so like others they’d shared as simple friends, Jenn found herself saying, “May I ask another kindness, Mistress?”

Sand narrowed her eyes. “Not for that dragon,” she guessed with dismaying accuracy and no good temper. “We’re none of us glad he’s here and none of us glad of his duty.”

“I know his duty,” Jenn defended. “To make me happy. But Wyll does more than that—he’s my dearest friend. I just—I just wish you’d think better of him.”

The turn-born scowled and took a long drink. A small growl came from beneath her chair as Kaj vouchsafed his opinion.

It wasn’t no. “Please?” Jenn dared. “You don’t know him as I do.”

“Nor wish to.” Sand lifted her tankard toward the dance floor. “They’re playing your favorite,” a dismissal. “Dance, before the night’s done. Tomorrow we’ll take care of you.” Without looking at Jenn, she added, “As for the dragon—” with a face as if eating something sour. “You’ve made him a man. We might—might, I say, I don’t promise—deal with him as one.”

Having won more than she’d hoped, Jenn stood and smiled. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Sand glanced up. “Go on with you.” She didn’t smile.

But there was a wink.

Jenn needed no encouragement. The dance was one she loved, with a happy tempo and complex steps. She wandered along the edge of it, looking for Peggs, who was the best partner, but Kydd had her sister twirling in his arms. Wyll was busy with Tir and didn’t care to dance.

Where was . . .

“May I dance with the most beautiful woman in Marrowdell?”

Jenn schooled her face before turning to Roche; after all she’d done, he didn’t deserve her disappointment too. “I—”

“Promised the first to me,” Bannan Larmensu interrupted with a graceful bow, and swept her into the lamplight.

Heart’s Blood, if only he’d waited for any other song, but seeing Roche step forward, hearing him say what was true, for tonight Jenn Nalynn outshone the very stars?

Bannan stepped up to Covie, bowed, and looked longingly past her shoulder at Jenn, presently curtsying to Old Jupp. He’d taken his chance and must bear the consequence.

The old country dance was one he knew, thanks to Lila. The steps took partners coyly away from one another, then back again. They might as well be writing letters, the truthseer thought glumly, as Jenn’s small hand found his only to lift away a beat later. There was a moment in each other’s arms, but, as that was a rollicking high step and spin along a row of clapping spectators, Bannan found himself less aware of holding her and more anxious to avoid her toes.

Jenn stepped firmly on his and they both went off balance. She laughed like a peal of bells and he couldn’t help but do the same, his heart taking flight. “Shoes,” she mouthed before turning to curtsy neatly at Roche, who’d joined with his mother for a partner.

Most of Marrowdell had, Bannan realized as he held hands with a beaming Hettie and swung her about. The rest sat around. Tir considered dancing a waste of drinking time and, between spins, he could see Wyll with his friend. The tinkers sat and watched as well, but the dema had hooked his robe through his belt and was leaping around in time with the music, if not his fellow dancers. Urcet was deep in conversation with Dusom and Radd, doubtless about his plans for the coming day.

The Lady Mahavar smiled and nodded at him when their eyes met. Gallie sat beside her, foot tapping as she nursed tiny Loee.

Bannan found Jenn once more in his arms. Their eyes met and, wonder of wonders, she began to smile . . .

The music stopped.

As the dancers, including Bannan, exclaimed their dismay, Davi strummed his strings. “Great news!” he bellowed, then moderated his voice to loud. “Hettie. Tadd. Come here, please. Right here, where everyone can see you.”

Dismay turned to anticipation. Since no one else was moving from their spot, Bannan didn’t. It kept his arm around Jenn’s slender waist. She didn’t appear to mind.

Perhaps she didn’t notice.

Regardless, it was permission of a sort and he was unashamed to take advantage.

Hettie and Tadd, holding hands, made their way to the open space before the musicians. Both were breathless, their eyes bright. “What can’t wait till after the dance?” Hettie demanded and everyone chuckled.

“Horst, you old sneak,” Davi ordered cheerfully. “You get out here too.”

Bannan felt Jenn stiffen. At her whispered, “Uncle. No—” he looked down to meet eyes smudged with worry and understood.

Horst stepped from the shadows into the lighted space. “Ancestors Witness,” he said, his smile plainly forced. “Is there such a thing as a tactful Treff?”

Unrepentant, the big smith grinned. “Not at a time like this, my friend.” Another strum. “Go on. Tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Hettie asked.

“Tadd. Hettie.” Horst’s smile warmed as he turned to the pair. He circled his fingers over his heart. “Hearts of our Ancestors, we’re Beholden you’ve come to your senses at last.”

Friendly laughter at this, though not from Jenn or Bannan. He looked around and saw other somber faces. Zehr and Gallie Emms. Riss. They’d come to stand by the edge of the crowd, along with all those who’d been seated.

They knew.

“I’ve a gift for you,” Horst began. “I’d intended to wait as long as I—I’d planned to present it at your wedding.” Bannan saw his throat work before he continued, “But Davi’s right. A time like this . . . well, there’s no keeping it secret now, is there?”

The laughter following this was light and scattered, as the villagers began to realize something more than gifting was happening.

Radd, smiling until now, suddenly frowned. “What’s this about, Horst?”

“I’m giving Hettie and Tadd my house,” the old soldier announced, strong and clear. There were soft gasps, then a hush.

Davi strummed again. “Ancestors Blessed,” he said smugly. “I told you it was good news. Now, Horst, before anyone fusses, where’ll you be hanging those bear claws now? We’ve room—”

“I won’t need it, thank you.” Horst looked at Radd. “I’m going home. It’s time.”

“What?” the miller demanded, his face drained of blood.

Strings snapped. The baby cried. Bannan felt Jenn tremble.

“No. No. Don’t leave for our sake.” Hettie touched Horst’s arm. “You’re just being kind. Too kind. So many times—so many ways. You saved—” her voice shook “—you saved Cheffy from the river.” She tried to smile, tears now streaming down her cheeks. “You can’t leave. You needn’t. We don’t need a house, do we, Tadd?” He shook his head fiercely, equally overcome. “We’re to live with Zehr and Gallie and Loee. Marrowdell’s your home too.”

Horst kissed her forehead. “Ancestors Blessed and Bountiful, child, it’s done. I’m glad the house won’t be empty. It came to me as a gift. Honor me by being happy in it.”

“Hettie’s right. Your home’s here,” Radd said solidly. “Give the house, Horst. We’ll find—”

“Heart’s Blood. Leave be.” A violent lift of his hand; a warning. “I can’t stay.”

Accept it, Bannan wished the miller, for everyone’s sake. But he hadn’t the power of Jenn Nalynn and her father wasn’t a man to settle for evasion. Not in this.

Radd Nalynn stared at his old friend, his mouth working. “Ancestors Witness,” he said in a strained voice, “you’re the brother of my heart. Whatever this is about, we’ll deal with it together. Tell me.”

“Don’t!” Riss broke from the crowd and came forward, startling everyone. “Let him go, Radd,” she pleaded, eyes fixed on the troubled miller. “As you love him, let him go as he is.”

“This is nonsense. Horst,” Radd tried to lighten his tone, “let’s take a bottle on the porch, and give the dancers their floor—”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.” So harshly said that Tadd pulled Hettie back and Bannan felt Jenn’s arm tighten around his waist. “You’d send me away yourself if you did!”

“I forgave you Melusine!” Radd shouted. “Trust me.” His arm swept out to include the village. “Trust us. Ancestors Great and Generous, Horst, we’re your family! Now—now and forever.” His voice gentled. “One day, our bones will rest together in her dear company.”

Riss covered her face with her hands and rushed away through the crowd.

Horst drew himself straight and tall, his face terrible to behold. “Melusine doesn’t lie here.”

“W-what are you saying . . . of course she does.”

“I stole her body and gave it to the Semanaryas.” When the miller gaped at him, speechless, Horst took a menacing step forward. “Fool! Did you truly think returning a ring would call off their hounds? That they’d take my word? Your peace—Jenn’s—had a price. The ring’s what lies here. Not your wife’s bones.”

In the horrified silence, the sound of Radd’s fist striking Horst was like thunder.

Horst knuckled blood from the corner of his mouth with a strangely satisfied look.

Then lightning snapped and crackled, just missing the trees. Villagers ran for shelter as the storm’s wind howled around them. Bannan tried to move with Jenn only to find his arm empty. He glimpsed her by flashes, her face distraught.

Suddenly, the storm was gone, as if it had never been. People halted, looking around in amazement.

The storm was gone, and with it, Horst.

Sand stood with Jenn in her arms. She looked to Bannan with a frown. “Take her from here.”

So he did.