“I think so.” There were sounds of someone thrashing his way through bushes, leaving, then returning. “It looks big enough. Hang on, I’m going to make a light.” She winced at the sudden flare of light, and looked away, toward the rear of the cave. Interestingly, she couldn’t see an end to the darkness. When she looked back again, Eldan had a candle in one hand, and was leading Hellsbane in, the horse whickering her protest at being taken through scratchy bushes, but obeying him readily enough. Which was a miracle.
“She should be breaking your arm, you know,” she said conversationally, as Eldan coaxed the mare down the slippery gravel slope to the bottom of the cave. “She’s trained not to obey anyone but me, or someone I’ve designated that she’s worked with in my presence. She should be trying to kill you, or at least hurt you.”
“One of my Gifts is animal Mindspeech,” he said, just as casually. Then he dropped the reins, grinned at her thunderstruck expression, and scrambled back up the slope, leaving the candle stuck onto a rock.
“Oh,” she said weakly to the mare. “Animal Mindspeech. Of course. I should have known....”
“Doesn’t this hurt?” Eldan asked, peeling blood-soaked and dried cloth away from a slash on her leg. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was very messy; she was bleeding like the proverbial butchered pig.
And now that they were safe, it definitely did hurt. Quite a bit, as a matter of fact.
“Yes,” she replied, from behind gritted teeth. “It hurts.”
“Then why don’t you yell a little—it might do you some good.”
“It isn’t going to do any good to howl, much as I’d like to,” she pointed out. “And there might be someone out there to hear me.”
He sighed, and repeated what he’d just told her earlier. “One of my Gifts is animal Mindspeech, my lady. If there was anyone out there, the wild things would know it, and I’d know it. The only creatures that are going to hear you are some deer and a couple of squirrels.”
“Call it force of habit, then,” she replied, clenching her fists while he continued to clean the wound as he talked.
She’d already done the same service for him, finding mostly bruises, and a couple of nasty-looking cuts and burns where the priestess had tried a little preliminary “work” on him. He proved to be quite a handsome fellow; lean and muscular, a little taller than she was, with warm brown eyes and hair of sable-brown, but with two surprising white streaks in it, one at each temple. He had high cheekbones, a stubborn chin, and a generous mouth that looked as if he smiled a great deal.
“I don’t think this needs to be stitched,” he said, finally, “Just bandaged really well.”
“That’s a relief.” She allowed herself to smile. “Thanks for taking care of everything. I’m sorry I had to find this place with my head.”
Eldan had spent a couple of candlemarks pulling up armloads of grass and bringing it into the cave for the horses, then hunting up food for the humans. That was when he’d assured her that his Gift of understanding animal thoughts would keep him safe. Somehow she hadn’t been too surprised that he’d brought back roots, edible fungus, and fish. Obviously if there was going to be any red meat or fowl brought in, she would have to be the hunter. And that would have to wait until tomorrow, since she’d managed to give herself a concussion when she fell.
But the ceiling of the cave was high enough that a fire gave them no problems, and the hot fish, wrapped in a blanket of clay and stuffed with the mushrooms, together with the roots roasted in hot ashes, tasted like the finest feast she’d ever had.
“How in the Havens did you ever become a mercenary?” Eldan asked, wrapping a bandage around her leg, and securing it.
“Sort of fell into it, I suppose,” she replied. “I expect this is going to sound altogether horrible to you, but I happen to be good at fighting. And I didn’t want the kinds of things considered acceptable for young ladies.”
“Like husbands and children?” To her mild amazement, Eldan nodded. “My sister felt the same way. It’s just that I can’t imagine anyone with the Gift of Mindspeech being comfortable with killing people.”
“I don’t use it, much. The Gift, I mean. Wouldn’t miss it if it got taken from me.” She felt a little chill; Eldan was the only person besides Warrl to know about this so-called Gift, and the idea frightened her as nothing else in the past five years could. “Don’t—let anyone know, all right?”
“There’s no reason why I should,” he assured her, and somehow she believed him. “But I must admit, I don’t understand why you’d want to keep it secret if you don’t use it that much.”
“I live with mercenaries,” she pointed out to him. “People who value their privacy, and who generally have secrets.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Where, among the Heralds, such Gifts are commonplace, and we understand that one doesn’t go rummaging about in someone else’s mind as if it were a kind of old-clothes bin. There’s a certain protocol we follow, and even the ordinary, unGifted people understand that in Valdemar.”
For a moment she tried to imagine a place where that would be true, a land where she wouldn’t be avoided for such an ability, or considered dangerous. She shook her head; places like that were only in tales.
“Well, we’re different,” he admitted. “Let me look at that slash along your ribs, hmm?”
She pulled off her tunic and pulled up her shirt without thinking twice about it; she’d have done the same with Tre or Gies, or Shallan. But when Eldan cleaned the long, shallow cut with his gentle hands, she found her cheeks warming, and she discovered to her chagrin that she found his touch very arousing.
That’s not surprising, she rationalized. We both came very close to death back there. The body does that, gets excited easily, after being in danger—I’ve seen Shallan vanish into the nearest bushes with Relli, both of them covered in gore. Coming close to death seems to make life that much more important. Hellfires, I’ve felt that way plenty of times, I just never did anything about it because there wasn’t anyone around that I wanted to wake up with.
He’s somebody I wouldn’t mind waking up with.
She caught the way her thoughts were tending, and sternly reprimanded herself. But that’s no reason to start with him.
:You know, my lady,: whispered a little caress of a thought across the surface of her mind, :just because you’ve always been afraid of something, that’s no reason to continue to fear it.:
For a moment she was confused, then angry with him for eavesdropping on her thoughts, until she realized he was talking about Mindspeech, not sex. But the touch of his mind on hers was as sensuous as the touch of his hands just under her breasts; the only other Mindspeaker she’d ever shared thoughts with was Warrl, and he was not only unhuman, “he” was a neuter. She had never felt anything quite so intimate as Eldan’s thought mingling with hers ... there were overtones that speech alone couldn’t convey. A sense that he found her as attractive as she found him; an intimation that his body was reacting to the near-brush with death in the same way....
We’re going to have to stay in here until the hunt dies down, she thought absently, more than half her attention being taken up with the feel of his warm hands soothing her aching ribs, and the silken touch of his thoughts against her mind. It’s going to happen sooner or later—we’re both young, and we’re both interested. There’s no earthly reason why we shouldn’t. If we don’t, things are only going to get very strained in here.