Song Magick Read Online Free PDF Page B

against the trunk the tree, glanced casually
upwards as it passed.
    “What is that?” Telyn demanded,
rubbing her arms against the wake of gooseflesh that rose in
response. “You called it ‘the pulse of the Wood’.”
    “I did indeed.” Mithrais studied her
thoughtfully, and came to stand beside her, his face solemn.
“Before you can truly understand, I need to show you that the
Tauron have other ways to communicate than through words.”
    He offered her his hand. Palm outward and
fingertips spread wide, it was a gesture not unlike the courtly
greeting to which Telyn was accustomed. Mystified, Telyn met his
fingertips with hers, and Mithrais slowly and deliberately closed
the distance between their hands, so that their palms touched
firmly.
    Initially, Telyn was acutely aware of the
sensation of skin on skin, her hand soft against the warm roughness
of his palm. If his touch had brought comfort the night before, it
now elicited an unexpected flare of yearning that caught her
unawares. His eyes widened as if he knew what she was feeling,
capturing her gaze. Telyn felt herself blushing under that intense
regard, and then...
    Without warning, there was a disorienting
rush of thought as a strange connection was suddenly made between
them. Telyn gasped and reeled a moment, closing her eyes against
the unexpected intimacy of the contact. Mithrais interlaced his
fingers through hers and tightened his grip, steadying her with a
gentle hand at her elbow.
    She felt as if she had plunged head first
into a deep forest pool, the shock of immersion wearing off
gradually and allowing individual sensations to be distinguished.
She realized that she could feel the steady cadence of Mithrais’
heart in her own chest, and the soft ebb and flow of his breathing.
His pulse sped up slightly, and Telyn somehow sensed that he was as
startled as she at the intensity of the shared experience.
    “Mithrais, tell me what is happening,” she
whispered, afraid to break the spell.
    His voice seemed to sound in her mind as well
as her ears. “It’s called heartspeaking. Those that have the gift
among the Wood-born are able to speak silently to each other, or
with images. You have this gift as well, Telyn, because you just
entered my mind.”
    All of her senses seemed to be heightened;
Telyn was intensely aware of the nearness of his body, giving rise
to a softly building fire within her. Through that intimate link of
hands and minds, she recognized that Mithrais was also deeply
affected by her proximity.
    That knowledge caused her to flinch, an
involuntary remnant of the rape’s aftermath. The contact faded like
mist and shadow as Mithrais released her hand with some reluctance,
that green gaze still startled. His voice was uneven as he regained
his composure, and continued quietly,
    “Those who have the gift have always come to
serve in the Tauron Order, for we have other charges than simply to
patrol the roads.”
    “Other charges?” Telyn repeated absently,
still dazed by that strange communion of minds, and confused by her
own reaction. Mithrais nodded in affirmation, his coloring high and
his expression one of mixed surprise and wonder.
    “That, perhaps, is a story best told at
another time. The morning moves on apace, and it’s several hours’
journey to Rothvori.”
    Telyn was certain he had deliberately changed
the subject, but the Westwarden was right. She needed to reach the
keep by midday, and there were preparations to make before she
could leave. It was a festival day, after all, and a bard was
expected to make a dramatic entrance. Telyn found it difficult to
meet his eyes, knowing that her own color was rising.
    “Lord Riordan will have started without me,”
the bard said at last. “He has a generous hand with the products of
his vineyards, and no doubt the villagers have already begun
sampling their share.” She found herself smiling at him, and said
lightly, “I only hope they’re still in a condition to dance when