Rasnake(16)

The silence stretched on, and Tallant was just deciding that Cecil would speak no further at all, when a reply finally came. "It was built by Irene's grandfather, as a gift to his wife, who was foreign and homesick." Silence fell again, then Cecil added, "She went mad, too."

Tallant frowned thoughtfully. "Tell me, was she interested in magic?"

"What?"

"Did she study magic?"

"Yes, actually," Cecil replied. "How did you know that?"

Tallant grimaced. "Was she particularly interested in the wards?"

"Again, yes," Cecil said. "Are you saying there's a correlation?"

"I'm saying exactly that," Tallant replied. "Races which do not rely on magic and use it the way my country does, suffer for it gradually when they tamper with magic too strong for them. It is like giving an especially sharp knife to a child. Hell, so far as the wards go, even I would begin to suffer were I to tamper with them too much."

"I've never read or heard of such a thing."

"It's called moon madness, or lunacy, from back in the early days of magic when no one knew precisely why some people—many people back then—went mad. These days, in magic countries, it's incredibly rare. I doubt knowledge of it came this far, since so little magic is present here."

"But we did use magic for a time."

"Only your Great Sorcerers, and they worked up to their powerful magic properly," Tallant replied. "Like your battle with that dragon today. I doubt that's how your first fight with one went, and if you had tried to fight like that your first time, you would have been killed. Magic is no different."

Silence fell again, then Cecil asked softly, "So it's not something that can be inherited?"

"The latent ability to use magic is inheritable," Tallant said, "but the madness, no. It's just the end result of studying magic improperly."

Cecil seemed to slump even further, like a man suddenly relieved of a great burden. "Irene will be happy to hear that. She said that she would rather have no children, than have them and someday force them to lock her away in the tower, or be forced to see her own children locked away. She wants children, so the news will make her happy."

"I'm glad I could help in some small way. You two must be very close, but then again you are married. It is poor form of me, but somehow I keep forgetting that." Mostly because he didn't want it to be true. For Milton, and for himself. Perhaps he was biased by Milton's stories, and his own wishes, but the marriage did not feel right.

Cecil shrugged. "We did what was right for our people."

"I'm surprised it was allowed," Tallant said, because that was true. "You and Milton were orphans taken in by the late duchess, if I recall correctly?"

"Geneva took us in, yes," Cecil said. "She was kind to us, before illness took her. Always helping any stray she came across, that was Geneva. Doing that was probably what made her sick."

"Still, from orphan to duke—that's an impressive climb. Back home, the clans would never permit such a thing unless it was the dictate of fate. Even then, they would probably resent it for a long time."

Cecil snorted. "Fate."

Tallant smiled. "I hear that word, said in that contemptuous tone, a lot in this country. Yet still I feel I am where I am meant to be." He touched his fate token lightly.

"Oh?" Cecil asked, following his movements. "What is your fate, that brings you to us?"

Back home, it was considered extremely rude to ask such a personal question—especially of a stranger. But one month abroad, met with more rude questions than he could count, and Tallant had decided it was easier to stop being offended by a slight that no one realized was being given. "It says 'your destiny lies with wolves'," Tallant replied—then suddenly wished he hadn't.

"With wolves?" Cecil repeated, voice regaining the edge it had just lost. "So what—you saw my wolves and decided that your little token was telling you to make nice with me and—"

"I'm here because I want to be," Tallant replied. "Milton is my sworn brother and I cannot imagine our paths ever diverging. He is in pain, because the brother he loves seems to hate him, and the woman he loves is missing. You seem to be in pain, too. The wolves tell me only that I am on the right path, not what lies on the path or what I should do with what I find."

Cecil sneered. "What if wolves had not appeared to tell you what to do? You would have gone off—"

"No," Tallant said sharply. "Must you twist everything? Stop forcing everything you see and hear into a bad light. I am here because I want to be, where I feel I am meant to be, wolves or not. No man knows the true shape of his destiny; he must find it in his own way."

"Whatever," Cecil said.

Tallant stifled a sigh. He sorely missed conversations about fate that were not laced with disbelief, contempt, or outright hostility. "So what is the significance of the apple tree?"

"None of your business."

Frowning, Tallant said, "My fate token was none of yours. A man who knows so much about my tattoos probably knows that asking me about the token was rude."

Another silence, and then Cecil said gruffly, "The tree represents a promise between me and Irene. After Milton left, and everything went wrong, we were all the other had. The tree we planted takes at least ten years to begin producing fruit; it's waited with us all this time. It just started producing apples this year. This particular type is called Eternity Apples."