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Authors: Frankie Robertson
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Sorn’s. “You’ve never had pizza? No, I guess you wouldn’t.” She smiled. “It’s wonderful! You put meat and onions and cheese and mushrooms and spicy tomato sauce on thin bread and bake it. I’ll make you some, sometime.”
Dahleven wished she’d offered to cook for him, then crushed the thought. “Tell us of your home and family. Your life there must be very different.”
Lady Celia looked at him as though she were surprised he could be civil. Well, he supposed he’d earned that.
“It is different. I live in a valley full of people—about a million of them. We have cars and planes and television. Of course we also have car accidents, gunshot wounds, and heart attacks.” Her mouth twisted into a sour moue on the last few words.
Dahleven didn’t recognize all of her words, but he understood what she left unsaid. She missed her home, but she hadn’t been happy.
“And your family?” Sorn prompted.
“There isn’t much to tell.” Lady Celia’s eyes dimmed a little as she looked off to the side. “My mother died two years ago after a long illness. My cousins live on the other side of the country, so I hardly know them. The family pretty much shunned my mother after she met my dad. She didn’t have much use for them either. I share a house with my best friend, Elaine.” Lady Celia’s eyes came alive again. “Poor Elaine! She’ll be out of her mind with worry.”
“And your father?” Fendrikanin asked.
“My father was never part of the picture. He took off before I was born. Mom raised me on her own.”
“He deserted a woman bearing his child?” Kep burst out.
Dahleven felt the same, but he kept his flare of outrage and disgust under control, wishing young Kep had more restraint.
The lady shrugged. “It happens. I never suffered for it. Mom saw to that.”
“Your mother sounds like a remarkable woman. I wish I could have had the honor of knowing her.” Sorn said.
Lady Celia smiled at him.
Score another one for Sorn .
*
Lord Dahleven set an easier pace for the afternoon’s leg, and Cele found herself wondering about the world she’d fallen into and worrying about the one she’d left behind.
She didn’t like being regarded as defective.
Apparently, everyone here had something called a Talent. What it was—psychic ability or whatever—she didn’t know, but not having one marked her a cripple. Talent-challenged . Well, she was fine without one. They’d just have to get over it.
Elaine would have called Search and Rescue nearly two days ago. Cele hated to think of them climbing the hills, searching for her to no good purpose. How long would they look before they called off the search? How many days would she be featured on the evening news, with the anchor solemnly intoning, “…and still no sign of the missing woman”?
In a month, I’ll be a face on a milk carton .
Would she still be here in a month? A year? Would she ever get home? And if she did, how would she explain where she’d been? What explanation could she offer that didn’t sound crazy? No one believed Dorothy, either .
Maybe it would be like in the fairy tales. She’d get home and find that no time had passed at all. Or maybe she’d be a real, live Rumplestiltskin, and twenty years would have flown by in a night.
Dahleven looked back at Sorn and gestured for him to come forward. Sorn jogged past her to join him. The gray-eyed leader had surprised her. He’d been brusque to the point of rudeness this morning, and he’d made her feel like she was walking around half clothed. But then in the cave he’d been civil, nice even.
Sorn was another matter entirely. His kindness kept this wacked-out weirdness from getting to her. She wished she could introduce him to Elaine. Her roomie would love him. A flare of embarrassment made Cele roll her eyes. She sounded like a sister, trying to fix up her brother with her best friend. From the sound of things, Sorn didn’t need another sister.
Cele
Dahleven wished she’d offered to cook for him, then crushed the thought. “Tell us of your home and family. Your life there must be very different.”
Lady Celia looked at him as though she were surprised he could be civil. Well, he supposed he’d earned that.
“It is different. I live in a valley full of people—about a million of them. We have cars and planes and television. Of course we also have car accidents, gunshot wounds, and heart attacks.” Her mouth twisted into a sour moue on the last few words.
Dahleven didn’t recognize all of her words, but he understood what she left unsaid. She missed her home, but she hadn’t been happy.
“And your family?” Sorn prompted.
“There isn’t much to tell.” Lady Celia’s eyes dimmed a little as she looked off to the side. “My mother died two years ago after a long illness. My cousins live on the other side of the country, so I hardly know them. The family pretty much shunned my mother after she met my dad. She didn’t have much use for them either. I share a house with my best friend, Elaine.” Lady Celia’s eyes came alive again. “Poor Elaine! She’ll be out of her mind with worry.”
“And your father?” Fendrikanin asked.
“My father was never part of the picture. He took off before I was born. Mom raised me on her own.”
“He deserted a woman bearing his child?” Kep burst out.
Dahleven felt the same, but he kept his flare of outrage and disgust under control, wishing young Kep had more restraint.
The lady shrugged. “It happens. I never suffered for it. Mom saw to that.”
“Your mother sounds like a remarkable woman. I wish I could have had the honor of knowing her.” Sorn said.
Lady Celia smiled at him.
Score another one for Sorn .
*
Lord Dahleven set an easier pace for the afternoon’s leg, and Cele found herself wondering about the world she’d fallen into and worrying about the one she’d left behind.
She didn’t like being regarded as defective.
Apparently, everyone here had something called a Talent. What it was—psychic ability or whatever—she didn’t know, but not having one marked her a cripple. Talent-challenged . Well, she was fine without one. They’d just have to get over it.
Elaine would have called Search and Rescue nearly two days ago. Cele hated to think of them climbing the hills, searching for her to no good purpose. How long would they look before they called off the search? How many days would she be featured on the evening news, with the anchor solemnly intoning, “…and still no sign of the missing woman”?
In a month, I’ll be a face on a milk carton .
Would she still be here in a month? A year? Would she ever get home? And if she did, how would she explain where she’d been? What explanation could she offer that didn’t sound crazy? No one believed Dorothy, either .
Maybe it would be like in the fairy tales. She’d get home and find that no time had passed at all. Or maybe she’d be a real, live Rumplestiltskin, and twenty years would have flown by in a night.
Dahleven looked back at Sorn and gestured for him to come forward. Sorn jogged past her to join him. The gray-eyed leader had surprised her. He’d been brusque to the point of rudeness this morning, and he’d made her feel like she was walking around half clothed. But then in the cave he’d been civil, nice even.
Sorn was another matter entirely. His kindness kept this wacked-out weirdness from getting to her. She wished she could introduce him to Elaine. Her roomie would love him. A flare of embarrassment made Cele roll her eyes. She sounded like a sister, trying to fix up her brother with her best friend. From the sound of things, Sorn didn’t need another sister.
Cele
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