Steelfated, p.49
Steelfated, page 49
As she hoped, Radyn had been watching her from within the cube. She could see herself sitting on the ground in profile, but not her tattoos, which meant he was seeing her from her right side. She felt the small wave of nausea creep up on her, and she closed her eyes and broke the knot.
After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and stood, then trotted to the cube on the right, and placed her hand on the glass. She hoped he was giving her an approving look, though she couldn’t see him.
“What did you do?” his voice came through the glass. It was muffled, but she could hear it clearly. “You did something, and it made my eyes itch.”
“Ah, I’ll explain that later. Right now, I need to get you out of there.” she said.
Well, she’d never considered simply asking who was in each cube. She’d assumed they were soundproofed somehow.
It just further proved that there was always over one way to solve a problem.
“Fine. But hurry, the sand is getting into the back of my shirt, and it’s rather annoying.”
She paused when he said this. The sand was falling from above him? There was nothing above the cube to have allowed the sand to fall through on him, which meant that there was some sort of portal that was letting in the sand.
“Do you have anything in there with you?” She asked. “A stick or a rock, perhaps a knife?”
He snorted, and she heard him rummaging about.
“They didn’t get the knife out of my boot, no, but it’s not huge, and there is no way for me to break the glass from here.”
“How well can you hear me?” she murmured.
“That was muddled, but I can still make it out.” He said. “How loud am I?” She shook her head. “A quiet talking voice. Don’t figure anyone with human hearing could hear you from over ten feet away. The Fey- well, their hearing would be better.
“Ok, well, for this level of volume, I’m about halfway to yelling,” he said. She thought about this for a moment.
“Try sticking the knife blade through the portal, but be careful not to stick your hand through right away. We aren’t sure where it goes.” she whispered to him. She heard some shuffling, then the sound came back to her.
“These walls are as slick as wet ice, but I don’t think I want to go through the portal. My knife didn’t come back when I tossed it.” She cursed.
“How deep is the sand?” she asked.
“Ahh, an inch. Not quite two.”
“How fast is it falling?”
“Fast enough to be irritating.” Radyn said. “Not so fast as to be immediately life threatening.”
“You are hysterical, Lord Halstraad.”
“Please, my friends and fans, call me Radyn.”
She gestured rudely at him, though she couldn’t see him. She heard him laugh.
“I’m going to try something.” she said after a moment of walking around the cube.
“Please do.”
She sat cross legged, and fed her awareness down into the ground, then a flash of inspiration struck her.
“Hold on to something- and get all the way against the wall on my left of the cube.” She said, He gave her an affirmative, and with a fancy bit of knotwork, and a sharp focus of her will, she knotted the top left side of the cube to the ground ten feet from where it was. The cube jerked to the left, then turned 90 degrees and fell to the ground. What was at the top was now the right-hand side.
“What was that?” Radyn asked from inside the cube.
“That was me flipping the cube on its side, so the sand would blow in from the side, rather than the top, and it can’t fall down anymore.” She said proudly.
“Right,” his voice was skeptical, “About that- apart from stirring the sand beneath me around like a whirlwind, that did nothing in here.”
“Shite.” she growled. “Thrice cursed fey trickery.”
“Calm down.” He said. “I’m the one with sand in my ears. She gestured rudely at him again, then she paused.
“You don’t have a hammer on you, do you?”
“No, not at the moment. They took everything but my two boot knives. I’ve lost one. I’m not throwing the other into the portal.”
“Fair enough.” Morgain said. She sat for a couple of minutes, thinking, then absently bit her thumb.
Insight rushed to her, not as profound or as strong as the day she’d eaten the scale of the salmon of knowledge, but enough for her to see the problem from a new angle.
“Radyn, drop, and look at the bottom of the cube. No, wait, look at the wall to your right. Are there any sort of vents or small holes there?”
“Eh, there are four, but they are too small to do anything other than let a bit of air in, so I don’t suffocate before I drown in sand. I don’t know that I could even fit a horse-shoe nail through them.” She grinned.
“That’s enough. Step back away from them. I’m going to plug them off for a few moments.” She said,
She sat back on the ground again and focused on the small holes.
She began a knot to speed up the growth of plant life. It was not something she was exceptionally skilled with, but she knew the concepts of how to do it. She coaxed a long taproot from a dandelion to grow up and through one hole, and out another, then back in again. Then she poured her energy into accelerating its growth further and further. Finally, after a moment, there was a soft pop, and sand spilled slowly on the ground.
“There’s a seam about a quarter of an inch wide, all the way across now.” Radyn’s voice was less muffled. Morgain thanked the dandelion, then convinced it to put its roots back into healthy, nutrient rich soil, rather than sandy glass.
She knotted the side of the box that had popped loose to the ground where it lay, and knotted the top right-hand corner back to the ground on the other side of the wooden stands.
The box flipped itself over again, 180 degrees instead of 90. And, instead of staying closed, opened itself up on the left-hand side.
Radyn calmly strolled out of the box, brushing sand from his hair and shoulders.
“Well done.” He said.
“How deep did it get?” she asked. He shrugged.
“Never completely buried my feet.”
Daeion rose to his feet, his face hard and angry, but Alystra held out a hand.
“Congratulations, tanglethreads. You’ve passed all the tests. You are to be bound at the equinox.” She said coldly. Her glare was no softer than Daeion’s face, but she kept herself in much better control than she had in the past.
They’d made no friends among the fey, save perhaps Cynnamora, and the other candidates for gwefri yn caomhnar, but they’d made quite the name for themselves.
Now, finally, they could spend a bit of time relaxing and enjoying themselves.
Morgain had gotten Radyn out after a bit more than an hour of his being trapped in the cube. Wren got Carina out shortly after noon. He had finally resorted to taking a diamond and scoring a square on one pane large enough for her to squeeze herself through. The sand had been to the bottom of her chest.
Naia… did not get Oren out. She kept him alive, through some sort of magical air supply, but the sand had filled the cube before she got him out. They failed, but they had lived to try again next time.
When Morgain fell into her bed that night, she was content, felt safe for the first time since they’d arrived at the Fey Court, and she intended to sleep until mid-morning at the earliest, if not early afternoon at the latest the next day.
Terrence and Rodhlann ruined those plans for her.
39
A Night of Solace and Introspection
(19th Night’s Grace, 675 3rd Era, by the Reckoning of Reysh’ar’ak, the Monitor of Times passing in Talys Rae)
The day and night before the Bonding ceremony was supposed to be passed in silent, peaceful solitude and introspection. While it was technically possible for her to manage that, Morgain was having none of it.
She had spent the afternoon reading and jotting notes down, making minor adjustments to her different apparatuses, and choosing some small objects she intended to take back to Ironlake with her stuffed in her pockets.
She had spent the early part of the evening in meditation, but the later it got, the farther and farther sleep got from her mind, nor could she think about much of anything for long without her mind jumping from topic to topic. Her windows were open, and the breeze that blew into her room ruffled the thin silk of the bedclothes she wore- a sleeveless shirt, and loose trousers that stopped mid-calf, bringing with it the smells of jasmine, clover and freshly cropped grass.
Their floor of the Sidh was silent. Not even the sound of crickets or snoring floated through the air. Four of the eight rooms were occupied. Morgain’s chamber was the southern facing one. Gwen had the eastern room. Natalia’s was the westernmost room, and the Northern room was Radyn’s. Originally Gwen had taken the Northern room for herself when they had returned, and the other three men had shoved the bed all the way against the wall between the eastern and southern suites when they had arrived in the Siedhe to give Radyn his own room, but Daeion’s “gift” of allowing them free movement around the Fae Court had made that unnecessary, and Gwen and Radyn had switched. Morgain quietly padded out of her room and started first to go to Gwen. Halfway to Gwen’s door, she paused and decided against it. Gwen would likely be asleep, and if not- well, she did not want to interrupt her… activities. She then moved towards Natalia’s door, but paused again. No, going to either of them was a poor excuse to avoid a conversation that, for all she knew, maybe quite… interesting for everyone involved. Finally she drew a deep breath, stepped across the thick carpets to the Northern door, where she had intended to go all along. She knocked softly.
There was no audible response, but after a few seconds, the door swung open. Radyn looked out at her, his face unreadable. He wore blue cotton trousers and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Can you talk?”
“Last I checked.” He said dryly. His mouth twitched in a sardonic, lopsided smirk. She stuck her tongue out at him and stopped herself from laughing.
“Damned shame too. Such a pretty face to be ruined by that voice. You’d make a wonderful picture or perhaps a statue.” She said as she brushed past him and into the room. His eyebrow twitched.
“Come in, though. You mistake me with my brother. Thoran has the pretty face. Mine’s been used as a training dummy a few too many times.”
“Oh, everything about Thoran is pretty. Too pretty for anyone’s good, but his face lacks a certain… character that yours does not. Perhaps ‘striking face’ would have been a more accurate term since you seem to think that’s what everyone seems to use your face for, anyway.” He snorted softly and closed the door.
“I thought we were supposed to be spending the night in ‘solace and introspection.’ he said as he moved gracefully about the room.
“Yes, well, I suppose I am not a superb listener.”
“Hmm.”
“No witty retort? Have I outsmarted you at last?”
“Not at all. If you were a good listener, we wouldn’t be in this… tangle…” he said. “I distinctly remember saying the words ‘Wait,’ and ‘Don’t.’ Before you tried to heal me on the walls of Ironlake.”
“Was I just to let you die?” She snipped back. He had a point.
“One, I’m already dead. We both are. Two, no and I am grateful that you didn’t-but it certainly would have been easy enough to remove the knife before you started healing me with magic.”
“In which case, we wouldn’t be here.” She said. He nodded. Her face fell and she let out a long sigh. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. It didn’t seem to bother him much. He turned instead and took a decanter from the desk by the table and poured two glasses.
“I am sorry about that, by the way.”
“You probably aren’t the only one who is sorry to have saved my life.” he said with a shrug as he offered her a small glass of chilled red Feywine. “I find great motivation in staying alive to spite those who want me dead.” She looked over at him, appreciating the smirk that teased the corners of his mouth as he took a drink of his own.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“What, the bond or the wine?”
“The wine.”
“A small glass of red isn’t enough to get a ten-year-old child drunk unless he hasn’t eaten in two days. Besides, it would be rude of me to not offer my guest some refreshment.” He said, taking another small sip of his wine. She snorted, then downed hers. The sweet, strawberry sunburst of flavor flowed across her tongue and down her throat with crystalline clarity, though the taste did not last long enough for her preference.
“Hmm. Maybe saving you was a mistake after all.” She said coyly.
“Are you saying you’d do something differently given the opportunity to relive the night in question?” He asked with a smirk. Damnable man, not the retort she’d been expecting from, or hoping for. Why couldn’t he ever make sense?
“No, not that. I’d do the same, given the opportunity to relive that night. No, I am sorry for this, all of this. The Bond is… well, I’ve talked to more than one of the Fey. It is not something to be undertaken lightly.” Morgain said with a large intake of breath. “Would you care for a walk? I think better and I’m positive I can explain better while I’m outside, and moving.” He shrugged and slid his boots on, then pulled open the door and motioned for her to lead the way.
They walked for a time in silence, out of the Siedhe and west towards the boundary. The larger of the two moons was full tonight and bathed the whole of the Fey Court in its wan silver light. The other hung in a waning crescent not far above the horizon. It was more than enough light to see by. The pair walked up one of the four hills near the edge of the Court and stood atop it, looking out at the vast, deep blue plains of grass that rolled away before them like the ocean. A few feet away from them was a small, perfectly round pond, maybe twenty-five feet across. Water babbled down from what was apparently a spring in the hillside, pouring out of the ground and running in a thin sheet over the edge of a flat stone about a foot and a half across.
“Is this any better to help you think?” Radyn asked after a time. She glanced over at him and nodded slightly.
“Yes. It is, thank you. I’m sorry for my-” He held up a hand dismissively.
“It’s a pretty night out, and fresh air did no one harm.” He said. She smiled gratefully, and they fell back into a companionable silence. After a short time longer, Morgain spoke.
“This bond- I’ve heard it’s more intimate than a marriage. Every one of the Bonded Fey I’ve ever talked to can ‘feel’ the other.” She took a deep breath and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then crossed her arms beneath her breasts, unconsciously raising them slightly. “They say you grow used to it, but the longer the bond lasts, well, I don’t know how many remain private. Not so much individual thoughts, or reactions or things a telepath can sense through magic. But a general feeling of emotion, or of pain, or joy. Secrets that you could keep from a spouse. Everyone has, and should have, things that remain solely their own property. You can never feel deeply, head over heels in love with someone and me not know how you feel about them in a way that words could never adequately express. You’ll never be able to hide moments of fear, of weakness, of great joy. At least, not completely. I’ll know, and you will know the same from me. I am sorry that this bond between us will drive a wedge between you and whomever your future bride may be. I’m sorry that it will drive a wedge between myself and my future husband. And Truth be told I am sorry for robbing you of your solitude most of all, that’s why they preach to spend the night before the bond in ‘Solace and Introspection.’ It’s got nothing to do with going into the bonding ceremony clear headed or mentally prepared. It’s for enjoying your last night of total independence, and realizing what a sacrifice it is to make this bond. And what am I doing? I’m invading your solitude, when the hours that are left of it could be counted on one hand. I don’t know for sure, and I-” she said with a shake of her head and a desperate, almost broken laugh. Her eyes stung suddenly with unshed tears. She sat down on the ground.
“We all face our last night of solitude sometime, Morgain. It is not given to most of us to decide when that might be. None of us realize when we enjoy that solitude for the last time it was, in fact, the last time until much later. Just like we all have one final, free afternoon to go out and play with childhood friends. You don’t know at the time that it was the last time you’d be able to do that- it just happens, and you honestly don’t think about it much until years later.” He said. Looking at her calmly. She looked up, swallowed hard, and sighed.
“Radyn… I…” she started. “Radyn, those that I have talked to, they claim that the reason that marriages between the bound Fey are so common is because of that. It’s not just that they share the bond. It’s much more multifaceted and confusing. I’ve been told that eventually they lose some of their identity, some things that make them individuals, and it rubs off on the other person. They say that the bond can toy with your emotions and poison relationships within and without it. I just…”
“The only thing we can do, Morgain, is take things as they come at us. It will be fine.” How was he taking this so calmly? If she’d been wearing boots, her feet would have shaken audibly in them. As it was, she knew her knees were quaked. She was such a ball of mismatched emotions she thought she might explode if he didn’t give her some sort of sign of what he was thinking. Of course he did not, and she shook her head. The man was infuriating. He stood at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back, and looked for all the world like he was doing nothing more important than choosing between two loaves of freshly baked bread.
“That’s not what… Octet, damn it, that’s not…”
“Then what?” She stood up and turned away from him.
“I…”
“You.” She shot him a withering look, then her face fell again. She sat down once more and drew her knees up to her chest and was quiet for a time. Finally, she set her jaw and turned to look at him. He was crouched beside her on the balls of his feet. She couldn’t look him in the eye for this admission, so she turned back to face out into the distant darkness.
