The guild masters studied the drawings in silence for a moment. Finally the Smiths’ Guild Master looked up and caught the eye of the master of the Carpenters’ Guild. “We could make something like this, but we’ll need more timber—and charcoal.”
“Even if we could get past Kausalya’s blockade, we can’t sail during storm season,” The Merchants’ Guild Master protested.
“There could be a solution to that.” Vatar steepled his hands in front of him. “Arcas and I scouted two—well, if you count my . . . detour, three possible routes for a road between here and Tysoe last summer. With sturdy enough wagons, you should be able to get the supplies we need.”
The Merchants’ Guild Master nodded. “We’re going to need that road—and others—if we have Kausalyan ships outside the bay. We may be able to keep them from getting in, but that won’t stop them from bottling our ships up in the harbor.”
Amalthea sat back in shock. “We hadn’t considered that.”
“Only one of the reasons we need both perspectives,” Vatar said, drumming his fingers absently. There was something he almost remembered. The islands, Taleus said in his mind. Ah! Vatar started thumbing through the papers in front of him. He’d brought along a map in case it was needed. There it was. He pulled it out and placed a finger on a large island just beyond the mouth of the bay and just a little to the north. Larger than Palace Island, anyway. Actually one large island surrounded by smaller islets or sea rocks. “What about this?”
The Fishermen’s Guild Master leaned forward. “That’s nothing but rock and sea grasses. All up and down, cliffs and steep hills. There’s some good fishing around it, but the only things that live on that island are sea birds and some seals that haul out in a cove on the far side. Not even a fox or a wild cat to bother the birds.”
A slow smile spread across Vatar’s face. “A cove? Big enough for some of the merchant ships? Or the fishing fleet for that matter?”
“Yes,” the Merchants’ Guild Master answered. “But I don’t see how that helps us. The ships still wouldn’t be able to get into the bay if the Kausalyan fleet was between.”
“Two—no three—ways, I think.” Vatar continued to stare at the map. “First, there might well be some things we could do with ships outside the bay—essentially behind the Kausalyans. Certainly, there’s no other way to maintain trade with the cities to the north.” He bit the inside of his lip. “And if those hills are high enough, they might provide a platform for another catapult. I wager the Kausalyan fleet wouldn’t much like being caught between three such batteries.”
The Fishermen’s Guild Master shook his head. “There’d be no way to coordinate between the headlands of the bay and that island. It’s too far.”
Vatar cast a challenging look at Montibeus. “I believe I mentioned that some of the Fasallon are able to communicate with each other over distances. I’d thought that it might be useful to station a few watchers down the coast to warn us of the Kausalyans’ approach—and it would. But a Fasallon would also be able to communicate—and coordinate with us from that island. Easily.”
Montibeus reeled back in his chair, outraged. “We can’t send Fasallon out into the wild like that. Few have even been beyond the city walls. Most have never been outside the Temple compound. They’ll be defenseless.”
The Merchants’ Guild Master rubbed his chin, then he nodded toward the Fishermen’s Guild Master. “We have plenty of seamen to look after them.”
“And herdsmen who know the hills beyond the farms,” the Farmers’ Guild Master said. “To assist with watching down the coast. If they had a way of letting us know what they see.”
Father looked around the members of the High Council. “As I recall, one of the complaints of the message senders who joined with Cestus was that their job was boring.” He tapped the map. “This certainly wouldn’t be. I think there’d be no harm in asking for volunteers.”
Montibeus’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but for a moment he produced no coherent sound. “After what happened just this morning! You’d send Fasallon out with . . . with . . .”
Vatar blew out a breath in exasperation. He should have expected word of that to reach at least a few of the High Council. Boreala would know, almost certainly. And the Fasallon who’d been attacked probably worked for Montibeus.
“What happened this morning?” the Smiths’ Guild Master asked.
“Some journeymen of the Weavers’ Guild attacked a Fasallon in the market,” Vatar said. “I meant to bring it up with you when we were done here.”
“How do you know it was my journeymen?” the Weavers’ Guild Master asked, outraged.
Vatar shrugged. “Blue dye on their hands. They appear to have felt it was justified by the Lie.” He looked into the eyes of each of the guild masters in turn. “I broke it up and brought the Fasallon to the Healers, but we all have to make sure that nothing like that happens again. It’s going to be difficult enough for us to work together without incidents like that. And word of the attack will spread. You really can’t expect any of the Fasallon to volunteer to team with your guild members if we can’t guarantee their safety.”
The Weavers’ Guild Master scowled. “It will be easy enough to find out which journeymen have been working with blue dyes recently. I’ll make an example of them to deter any others from following their example.”
Father drummed his fingers on the table. “We have all winter to prepare. There’s really no reason to send anyone out to watch for the Kausalyan fleet before storm season is passed, or nearly. Might I suggest we find some ways for our people and yours to work together in . . . more easily supervised settings so that they can learn to trust each other?”
“Good idea.” Amalthea nodded. “Any suggestions?”
Vatar cocked his head to one side. “The Temple and Palace Guards together won’t be enough to man the whole length of the city walls if that becomes necessary. The Temple Guard could undertake to train some volunteer Caereans. I’m sure with a little time to think, we might come up with other ways to work together, too.”
The Smiths’ Guild Master nodded judiciously. After a long moment, so did Montibeus, though Vatar suspected some invisible—possibly Far Speech—pressure from Father influenced that.
Vatar blew out a breath. It was more than he’d hoped to accomplish in this first meeting. Maybe there was hope this would work after all. Thekila had suggested the possibility of flying over—or at least near—the Kausalyan fleet, but he wasn’t prepared to explain that ability to the guild masters, if it could be avoided. “Thekila and I may be able to help with some scouting, too. As it gets closer to sailing season, not before.” Thekila’s eagle avatar could fly that distance easily—normally. But he didn’t want her to try it until after their daughter had been born sometime in the spring. “Similar to what Quetza does for Orleus,” he added. There, that should be enough for at least Father to understand, without giving too much away.
“And the third? You said there were three ways that island might help us,” the Merchants’ Guild Master asked.
“Well, your seamen know these waters. I’d wager there are places where a small boat could come ashore—perhaps under cover of night, or fog, and carry at least some goods from the north into the city.” Vatar nodded toward the Fishermen’s Guild Master. “Fish, too.”
The guild masters grinned.
Amalthea nodded. “Well, we have some solid ideas to follow up on. I suggest we adjourn to study those suggestions and any others that might occur to any of us and meet again in a seven-day.”
Chapter 7: Flying Lessons
Vatar smiled as he opened the gate into the farm. Home. Thekila was outside, working in her little vegetable plot and enjoying the rare sunshine for this time of year. Their two-year-old son, Jadar, was playing in the dirt a few feet from her. She was also, obviously, keeping half an eye on the older children playing in the courtyard, which was how she spotted him before the youngsters did.
&n
bsp; She came to greet him. “How did the meeting go?”
He gathered her in. “About as well as could be expected. It’ll take a while to build trust, especially after six hundred years of the Lie, but at least we found a few areas where the guilds and the Fasallon can work together. Montibeus even loosened up enough to allow that a few message senders might be useful as scouts—with some Caereans to look after them out there in the dangerous wild. It’s a start.”
Thekila laughed. “If the ‘dangerous wild’ is the quiet coastline south of here, what would he think of the plains in the middle of summer? Or the Great Forest?”
Vatar chuckled. “He—and the message senders—would probably die at the mere thought of a lion, let alone a Forest tiger. Fortunately, there’s no need for them to go so far.”
“Did you tell them that I can do some of the scouting?”
Vatar held her a little closer. “I told them that we could, but not until late spring. After the baby is born.”
“Vatar, anyone else could barely tell I was pregnant, yet.”
He shrugged. “But there’s no point in any kind of scouting yet. The Kausalyan ships can’t sail before next spring. And by then—”
She leaned back to see his face. “Boreala said that it’s not dangerous, as long as I don’t overdo it. The shape change has no effect on the baby. I couldn’t fly as far as Kausalya, but far enough to scout shouldn’t be a problem.”
It was that proviso about not overdoing it that worried Vatar. That, and the potential danger from the Exiles. “Maybe Transforming to an eagle and flying for a few hours isn’t dangerous. That doesn’t mean that trying to scout the enemy isn’t. We know they have bows. And being shot with an arrow is unhealthy at any time.”
Thekila made a face.
There was no way he was going to risk Thekila and their child unnecessarily. And no way she was going into danger without him. The difficulty was in getting her to agree with him about that. “You’re not going to do this alone.” Vatar held up a hand to cut off her protest. “Maybe the area to be scouted isn’t the most dangerous place we know. But even if the Fasallon message senders were capable of taking care of themselves outside the city, it’d still make sense to send them out with partners. Dardani scouts rarely go out alone, either. It just makes sense to have a partner if anything does go wrong. And I’m the only one here who can go with you.”
“You only took eagle form once. And you only soared—semi-successfully. You didn’t fly.”
Vatar smiled down at her. “Well, then. It’s a good thing you have some time to coach me, isn’t it?”
~
Vatar stood in the courtyard, in an angle shielded from the road beyond the gate by the side of the barn. He pushed through the discomfort of the Transformation. Becoming a lion—the totem Spirit of his Dardani clan—always felt like being drawn into the shape. Like the Spirit of the Lion was helping him. Becoming anything else required a lot more concentration. Which wasn’t aided by the pain of the Transformation. It never hurt this much when he Transformed into his avatar. Still, perhaps because the eagle was Thekila’s avatar and totem Spirit of her clan, this Transformation was nowhere near as bad as the one time he’d tried a bear shape. With a grunt that came out as a squawk, Vatar pushed through the last resistance.
He looked up to meet petite Thekila’s eyes—which was unusual enough in itself. The rules of magic required that a normal Transformation retain the same mass as whatever was being Transformed. And, while Vatar would never be as tall as his Dardani stepfather, his work as a blacksmith ensured that he had plenty of muscle. But they’d established three years ago that the combination of Fasallon or Valson magic with the Dardani Spirit magic altered that rule. His avatar—the plains lion that was the totem Spirit of his clan—should have been puny by lion standards. Instead, he was a full-sized male lion—more than twice Vatar’s actual mass. And Thekila’s avatar was a normal-sized eagle—far smaller than even her diminutive body. Last summer, Vatar had discovered that the Spirit of her clan favored him with a little borrowed help, too. His eagle was large, but not ridiculously so. Which ought to make it possible for him to fly, with a lot of instruction. He’d barely managed to soar competently from the top of a tower last time he’d taken this shape.
Thekila circled him, smiling. “Well, you’re certainly a very large eagle. But only a little on the large side for a condor—and they can fly every bit as well as an eagle. So there’s a good chance this will work.” She chuckled. “You are going to be noticed, though. I don’t see any way around that.”
He answered in the only way available to him in this form, mind to mind through their bond. Probably. But since none of the Exiles know about the effects of the two kinds of magic, they’re more likely to think I’m a very strange bird than to think I’m a Transformed human spy.
Thekila tapped her chin. “You’re right about that. Let’s just hope none of them decide to collect a sample of this strange new kind of bird.”
Let’s hope not.
Thekila nodded. “Spread your wings, please.” She used a measuring string to note his girth above and below his wings and the length between those two points. “Well, then. You won’t be able to take off from ground level for some time—if ever. Condors usually don’t, anyway, though they can. We’ll need to plan on regular lessons. But first we’ll need to get a harness made so I can keep you from killing yourself with your first attempts. You might as well release this form for now.”
Vatar let go of his concentration on the eagle shape and returned to normal.
Thekila looked up into his eyes. “You realize that the only place we’re likely to find the updrafts you need for your early lessons is on the bluffs above the coast, don’t you?”
Vatar blew out a breath, smiling wryly. “I was afraid of that.” His eyes narrowed at the small sheltered corner.
“What are you thinking now?” Thekila asked.
Vatar shrugged. “Last summer, when I tangled my feet up and rolled down a hill trying to run as a lion, I promised myself I’d get in some practice in that form, too. But I don’t know if this space is large enough.”
“Hmm.” Thekila tapped her chin. “Well, I like the idea of you practicing your avatar. This doesn’t seem large enough for much, though. Maybe learning to fight in that shape.”
“Who would I fight? And why?”
She grinned. “Because it’s part of your avatar and it just might be useful someday. As for who . . . you know, ever since you tried the eagle shape, I’ve been curious whether the Spirit of the Lion would help me in the same way—make me a little bigger. Maybe not the size of a real lioness, but . . . bigger.” She looked around. “But for running, hmm . . .” Thekila looked around. “The only place large enough is probably the pasture, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Vatar shook his head, thinking of the panicked horses and cattle that would be the result of that. “No. It’s not.”
Thekila was silent a moment. “I have it. Maybe we can use the same cliffs where we practice your flying.”
Vatar smiled. “That’s a possibility. Even if a Fasallon sees us, they already know about Transformations. And if we tie them far enough away, we won’t scare the horses.”
~
A few days later, they stood at the top of the bluff at the end of the northern headland. They’d last been here when they were helping to unblock the shipping channel following a landslide. It had been hard enough looking down at the turbulent waters at the mouth of the bay then. Now, he was going to actually have to try to fly out over all that water. Vatar swallowed hard.
Thekila patted his chest and held up the metal-studded leather straps she’d had made. “Don’t worry. If anything goes wrong, I’ll catch you by this harness. It worked for Quetza and me. It’s been working for Theklan, by his reports. It’ll work for you, too. I’m very good at distant manipulation, remember?”
Meaning that she would use her magic to keep him from falling into the w
ater if he dropped out of the sky. The harness was necessary because that particular kind of magic didn’t work on living things. “You know I trust you.” Vatar closed his eyes so the abrupt change in height wouldn’t make him dizzy before he even started and concentrated on the form of a white eagle. In his mind, he put himself into that image, pushing through the discomfort of the Transformation.
Thekila slipped the top strap of the harness around his neck. The bits of leather had looked entirely inadequate before, but they were in better scale with him in this form. She knelt down to fasten the belt that ran beneath his wings and paused to stroke his breast feathers. “I never knew how soft those feathers are.” She grinned impishly as he shivered at the touch. “Hard to tell from the inside.”
She double checked the two straps, one in the front and one in the back, which connected the collar and the belt, making a minor adjustment in the back. Then she stepped back. “All right, you’re set. Now all you have to do is spread your wings and step over the edge. Then I can help you learn to fly.”
That’s all, huh? Vatar hopped forward and turned his bird’s head sideways to look down, unsure if he was more afraid of the waves or the drop. This felt like it was higher than the tower prison he’d escaped the first time he used this form. With a deep breath, he spread his wings and launched into the air. He expected the drop this time and was reassured when the warm updraft caught his wings and held him aloft. He tilted one wing downward so he could spiral back up above the level of the bluff top.
Thekila watched him. Good. You soar very well, she said through their bond. Now, let’s try flying.
Vatar started to flap his wings. Just as had when he tried flying . . . soaring over the river during his escape, he dropped, not quite like a rock. He spread his wings again, to regain the updraft. A freak gust of wind pushed him toward the cliff face. He closed his wings to keep from breaking a bird-fragile bone. And then he tumbled downward, spinning dizzily as he fell. Before he could spread his wings again, he jerked to a stop. He could feel the pull on the harness as he rose again. The harness—no, Thekila manipulating the harness—turned him over so that he was looking down into the water instead of at an odd angle of sky and much-too-close cliff-face. Forcing himself to breathe slowly, he started to spread his wings.
War of Magic (Dual Magics Book 4) Page 5
