A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [78]
Dallandra laughed, a soft musical note.
“Hardly that!”
In the darkness, a faint glow still hung around her face. Suddenly, and for the first time in his life, he felt lust—not some sentimental warm desire, but a sheerly physical hunger for her body. He could think of nothing else; he wanted to grab her and take her like the worst barbarian in the world. Sharply he drew in his aura and pulled himself under control, but she had already seen the violence of the feeling playing across his face.
“We broke the ritual too soon.” Dallandra’s voice shook. “I owe you the apology. We should have let the force finish itself out.”
“That would only have led to somewhat worse.”
Aderyn dropped her hands and stood up, turning his back on her in a sick kind of shame. When she laid a timid hand on his shoulder, he turned and knocked it away.
“You’d best get back to your tent.”
Biting back tears, she ran for the camp. He walked down to the water’s edge, picked up a flat stone, and skipped it across the surface like a young lad. As it sank, he imagined his lust and made the feeling sink with it.
In the morning, when they met to continue their studies, Dallandra acted as if nothing unusual had happened the night before, but Aderyn could see that she was troubled. They spent an uncomfortable, distant hour discussing the proper visualization of the bird-form while from outside the noise from the alar filtered in—children yelling, dogs barking, Enabrilia’s voice giggling as she discussed something with another woman, a brief yelling match and fistfight between two young men, the shouting as the rest of the alar ran to break it up. After they’d been interrupted for the tenth time, Aderyn’s frustration boiled over.
“By the Lord of Hell himself, why can’t they be quiet for two stupid minutes?”
“I don’t know.” Dallandra considered the question seriously. “It’s an interesting point in a way.”
Aderyn almost swore at her, too, but he restrained himself.
“It’s not the noise that’s bothering you,” she said at last. “You know it and I know it.”
He had the most unmagical feeling that he was blushing. For a brief moment she looked terrified of her own words, then forced herself to go on.
“Look, the more we work together, the more the forces will draw us together. We have to face up to that sooner or later.”
“Of course, but then—well, I mean I’m sorry, I truly am, but—it would hardly be a good idea for us to—I mean …” Aderyn’s words failed him in a celibate’s fluster.
For a long time she stared at the floorcloth of the tent, and she seemed as miserably shy as he felt. Finally she looked up with the air of a woman facing execution.
“Well, I know you love me. I have to be honest—I don’t love you yet, but I know I will soon, just from working with you, and I like you well enough already. We might as well just start sharing our blankets.”
When Aderyn tried to speak, the only sound that came to him was a small strangled mutter. He felt his face burn.
“Ado! What’s so wrong?”
“Naught’s wrong. I mean, it’s naught against you.”
When she tried to lay her hand on his arm, he flinched back.
“I don’t understand.” Dallandra looked deeply hurt. “Was I wrong? I thought you wanted me. Don’t you love me?”
“Of course I do! Oh, by the hells—I’m making a stinking botch of everything.”
Like a panicked horse, Aderyn could only think of getting on his feet and running. Without another word, he left the tent, dodged through the camp, and raced down to the beach. He ran along the hard sand at the water’s edge until he was out of breath, then flung himself down on the soft, sun-warmed beach closer in. So much for having great power in the dweomer, he told himself. You stupid lackwit dolt! He found an ancient fragment of driftwood and began shredding it, pulling the rotting splinters to fiber. He had only the faintest idea of how a man went about making love to a woman—what was she going to think of him—how could he sully