“If Baraz will let him come back,” Mother said.
Vatar sighed. “Yes. I’ll have to talk to Baraz soon. Maybe tomorrow. Try to persuade him—if Trev didn’t succeed over the winter. But, we’ll be bringing Theklan back either way. If he can’t come back here—yet—we’ll take him to Orleus in Tysoe. He’ll be happier there than in the Valley. Though I doubt he’ll be really happy anywhere but among the Dardani, now.”
“You have a busy summer planned,” Mother said.
Vatar snorted. “And that doesn’t even count potentially fighting the Exiles.” He stood up. “I’d better go and see if Thekila needs any more help.” He smiled suddenly. “Actually, you all should come too. You haven’t met Taleara yet.”
“Taleara?” Mother asked.
Vatar grinned. “Thekila’s and my daughter, born early this spring.”
Arcas greeted them when they arrived back at the hut Vatar and Thekila shared. He was just ducking back out through the door. “Oh, good. I was just looking for you, Vatar.”
Vatar paused while his parents and Kiara went on inside to see the new baby. “Problems?”
“Not really,” Arcas said. “I’ve just been thinking. If you’re going to be here awhile before you push on to the Valley, I thought I’d take a few days to ride over to the Modgud and warn them, as well. If the Exiles choose to avoid the Dardani, it’ll be the Modgud who might run into them in the Forest. The Modgud have more than enough woodcraft to avoid a group that large—if they know they’re there.”
“Good idea.” Vatar looked around. “There’s no point in starting for the Valley, yet. The Pass might not even be open. And I’d rather wait a month or so for warmer weather before taking little Taleara into the mountains. Anyway, I have to at least start on training my new Dardani apprentices—and I can’t do that until the Horse and Bear clans arrive.” He chewed his lip. “I was going to talk to Baraz tomorrow. But if you’re going to the Modgud, maybe . . . maybe you could find out how Trev’s talk with Baraz went, first.” If anyone could have convinced the new shaman that not all magic was evil, it would have been Trev, the Modgud shaman who’d filled in after the sudden death of the last Dardani shaman while a replacement could be trained.
Arcas nodded. “I can do that.”
Chapter 21: Superstition
Vatar spent the intervening days setting up the forge to allow for training half a dozen new apprentices. Setting out the two extra anvils they’d brought out from Caere and the new tools. Rearranging to provide enough space. And waiting for Arcas’s return. Arcas had once made the round trip from Zeda to where the Modgud lived and back again in a seven-day. This time, there wasn’t as pressing a need for haste.
It was just that Vatar was itching to settle Theklan’s return. He had a feeling—he hoped it wasn’t Fore Sight—that it would be vital to have someone here he could communicate with through Far Speech.
By the time he’d rearranged the forge so there was—almost—enough room, his new students were ready for him. Well . . . present anyway. The most hapless apprentice in Caere would have been better prepared for the training. It didn’t help that everything about their apprenticeship was just a little more complicated for being done out here on the plains, without the support his guild could provide.
When Arcas dropped by the forge, still dusty from his ride, Vatar was glad to take a break.
Vatar deliberately turned so his back was to the forge and lowered his voice. “I couldn’t have been that young when I started, could I?”
Arcas grinned. “Actually, about half of them have already been through their manhood test last year with Theklan, so . . . you were actually younger than those. The others look to be ready for their test this year—about the same age you were.” He cuffed Vatar on the shoulder. “Despite being masters in our crafts, neither of us has ever taken an apprentice. It’s bound to be strange the first time.” He winced as something heavy fell on an anvil. “Though, maybe you weren’t quite as clumsy or my father wouldn’t have offered to train you.”
Vatar didn’t turn around. “And in Caere I could send them to the guildhall at least once a seven-day, so I could actually get some work done. I never appreciated how much that was for Uncle Lanark’s benefit as much as mine.”
“So, I know it’s early, but how do you think this is going to work out?” Arcas asked.
Vatar turned and surveyed his group of students. “The Horse Clan boy—young man—and the one from the Wolf Clan show some promise. The Raven Clan boy is good for working the bellows.” He shook his head. “If things don’t change, I’m going to have to speak to Pa about the Lion Clan boy soon. The other two . . . may be able to make simple repairs—someday.”
“My condolences,” Arcas said, trying hard not to laugh.
“And to you, too. You realize you’re going to have to take over for a few seven-days teaching them to flatten out a piece of iron—preferably without also flattening someone’s hand or burning themselves—while Thekila and I take Miceus on to the Valley. And bring Theklan back. Speaking of which, what did Trev have to say?”
Arcas frowned, all his good humor evaporating. “He tried. Baraz was too wrapped up in his duty to protect the Dardani from Evil Spirits—and not convinced that what he saw could have any other explanation. Trev says he thinks you’re going to have to find a way to persuade Baraz that the Spirits of the Lion and the Eagle support you and Theklan to win him over.”
Vatar’s stomach clenched at the thought. “I don’t know how to do that without demonstrating something that would likely make Baraz call for an exorcism.” Of Thekila, anyway. Theoretically, Vatar was immune. The old shaman had already accused him—before Vatar even knew about his magic—of being a sorcerer, possessed by an Evil Spirit. Vatar had undertaken an Ordeal to prove that accusation false. It couldn’t be raised again, technically. All of which didn’t have anything to do with how the Dardani would feel about him, if they knew.
Arcas shook his head. “Neither do I.”
~
Vatar waited to talk to Baraz as long as he could, hoping that some inspiration would strike. He wasn’t—quite—as reluctant to expose his magic to Baraz as he would have been to the old shaman. But very nearly. His more unique abilities might have convinced Trev that the Spirits stood closer to him—and by extension Thekila and Theklan. But Baraz seemed to be more of a traditionalist. And if a demonstration failed to convince the new shaman, it could well mean that none of them could stay among the Dardani. That wasn’t a chance he could take. Not just for his own sake. If the Exiles did attack, someone with comparable magic had to be here to fight back or the Dardani wouldn’t stand a chance.
Finally, he couldn’t put it off any longer. In two days, they’d be leaving to guide Miceus and his escort to the Valley—and bring Theklan back with them. He knew this would be the first thing Theklan asked when they arrived. Besides, he needed to know whether he’d be bringing the boy—young man—back here, or taking him on to Tysoe.
So Vatar drafted Arcas to watch over the student smiths—apprentices would be entirely too generous a term—while he talked to Baraz.
“Me? I’m a merchant, not a smith,” Arcas protested.
“You were your father’s apprentice for more than a year before I arrived in Caere to take your place and free you to apprentice to your uncle as a merchant. You know enough to deal with this lot. They’re all still just learning the basics—how to judge the heat of the fire and the heat of the iron, plus a little hammering. They’re not nearly ready to try to actually make anything, even a repair.”
Arcas shrugged reluctant acceptance.
Vatar braced himself for an even less pleasant task and strode away toward the Raven Clan enclave. By tradition, the shaman’s hut was a little beyond the outermost of the Raven Clan huts. He hadn’t gotten halfway through the Raven Clan subvillage when he was accosted by someone else. Someone he didn’t want to talk to. His first year mate and mother of his twins, Avaza. So far this trip, he
’d avoided running into her. He’d rather have kept it that way. Their interactions rarely ended well.
She placed herself directly across his path. “Vatar.”
He nodded recognition and tried to keep walking, but Avaza moved to stay in front of him, stopping in a narrow space between two huts. Rather than push past her, Vatar stopped, too. “What is it, Avaza?”
“I’ve heard down at the waterhole that you’ll be leaving soon, to take those city-men that came with you on to the same place your new life mate came from.”
Vatar drew in a deep breath for patience. “Thekila isn’t my new anything. We’ve been life mates for four years now. And she’s the only life mate I have ever—or will ever—have.”
Avaza shrugged this off. “Last time you went back there, you left the twins with your family. What about this time?”
Well, she’d find out soon enough. “We’ll be leaving the twins and little Jadar here. Taleara is too young to be separated from Thekila, yet.”
Avaza clasped her hands in front of her. “Then will you let me have the twins, just for as long as you’re gone?”
Vatar rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was why he’d been doing his best to avoid her. It wasn’t that he didn’t sympathize with Avaza’s desire to have time with their children. He remembered how hard it had been for him to be parted from them when they were much younger and needed her more than him.
He wished, for their sakes, that he could let them spend time with their mother. They should know her, too, even though tradition demanded that they be raised among his clan. But it was simply too great a risk. Not after what they’d seen—and done. Zavar could hear and answer Vatar’s Far Speech and sense his Far Sight. Savara had healed that raven—which was still following her around. That was bound to excite comment among the Raven Clan. And they’d both seen too much magic in so many forms over the last few years. At six, they were still too young to understand the need for secrecy or why these weren’t safe things for them to babble about among the Dardani.
He shook his head and met her eyes. “I can’t, Avaza. I know you think I’m being cruel. I promise, I’m not. But I can’t explain, either. I just can’t let them stay with you.” As her face crumpled, so did his resistance. It was still a risk, but maybe an acceptable one, all things considered. “But I have no objection to your seeing them during the day as long as a member of my family is present. That’s the best I can do.”
Vatar turned away and took a different route through the Raven Clan enclave. He found Baraz sitting outside the shaman’s isolated hut, grinding some herb mixture to powder. “Fair skies, Baraz.”
The young shaman looked up warily. “Fair skies.”
Vatar cleared his throat and looked around. “I’d like to speak to you—privately.”
Baraz gestured toward the wide gap between his hut and the rest of the Raven Clan. “Surely this is private enough.”
Vatar frowned. A distant waterhole would scarcely be private enough as far as he was concerned. But it was clear he wasn’t going to get a better invitation. Reluctantly, he sank to sit cross-legged across from the shaman. “Have you considered allowing Theklan to return?”
Baraz shook his head. “It’s my duty to protect the Dardani from Evil Spirits.”
“Trev thinks—”
Baraz made a chopping motion. “I know what Trev thinks. But he didn’t see what I did. What I saw . . . I can only ascribe to Evil Spirits, especially after some of the things Avaza has told me about Caere. I can’t see any way to bring him back without an exorcism.”
Vatar let out his breath. Of course Avaza had taken the opportunity to mix into this. She just couldn’t help herself when she saw a chance to hurt him in some small way. At least, it would seem small to her, since she couldn’t understand the stakes.
“The Dardani chiefs have not allowed an exorcism in generations,” Vatar argued. His own experience with exorcism had been enlightening—it had forced Taleus to reveal himself as more than a mysterious voice. But it had hardly been painful. However, that had been the Modgud-style exorcism practiced by Trev. Vatar had a bad feeling that Baraz meant the old form, using torture to force the Evil Spirit out. He wasn’t about to allow Theklan to face that.
“Then I don’t think it’s wise to allow Theklan to return to the Dardani.”
He’d had hopes that Trev could influence Baraz. Vatar had reason to know how persuasive the Modgud shaman could be. That would have been much less risky. But he didn’t dare argue too hard and accidentally reveal his own magic. If Theklan couldn’t come back this year, it was imperative that nothing keep Vatar and Thekila from trying to protect the Dardani.
There was nothing more he could do—right now, anyway. He stood up and started back toward his forge. He squinted at a movement at the edge of the Raven Clan enclave. At this distance, he couldn’t be sure, but that figure that had suddenly slipped back among the huts looked very like Avaza. He measured the distance with his eye. Hopefully, she’d been too far away to overhear any talk of Evil Spirits. He’d warn Mother to be alert for any gossip, anyway. Gossip did seem to be Avaza’s weapon of choice when she was thwarted.
Chapter 22: Back to the Valley
The afternoon before they were set to leave for the Valley, Kiara came to find Vatar in the hut his and Thekila’s hut.
“You’re not bringing Theklan back here, are you?” she asked.
Vatar shook his head. “It’s not safe. Baraz hasn’t changed his opinion. In fact, when I tried to talk to him about it, he mentioned an exorcism. And I don’t think he means the kind Trev practices.”
Kiara tugged on the end of her pony tail. “Then I want to go with you to the Valley.”
Vatar stood up from where he’d been preparing his travelling pack. “And what do Pa and Mother have to say about that?”
Kiara tossed her pony tail behind her and looked up at him defiantly. “I was recognized as an adult the winter before Theklan left. I haven’t moved into the women’s hut only because I don’t want to encourage suitors, not because I need to ask anyone’s permission. For anything.”
Vatar paused, thinking this claim over—in all of its implications. He shook his head. “We won’t be coming straight back here. We’ll take Theklan to Orleus in Tysoe. And, depending on what we may learn about the Exiles, we might be delayed there.”
Kiara shrugged. “That would only give me more time with him.”
Vatar paused, fighting down the kind of pronouncement that sometimes came with his Fore Sight. Why was he suddenly feeling wings and feathers instead of arms and skin? After a moment he choked out, “We might have to come back in a hurry, again depending on what we might learn about the Exiles.”
“I’m as good a rider as you. I won’t slow you down.”
Vatar shook his head. Unwilling to open his mouth to answer for fear a prophecy would force itself out, whether he wanted to speak it or not.
“I want to see him.” Kiara’s voice rose almost to wail.
The force of Fore Sight ebbed. Vatar laid a hand on her shoulder. “I understand that.” He let out a slow breath. “Kiara, you know some of what Thekila and I—and Theklan, too—can do. If we have to get back here quickly, we have means of travel that just wouldn’t be possible for you.”
She glowered. “Because I don’t have access to the magic that should be mine. I’m just as much Taleus’s descendant as you are.”
Vatar held his hand between them, palm facing down, in a suppressing gesture. “Don’t say that so loudly. Baraz . . . Baraz isn’t like Trev in this. You have to be discreet about what you know. Which reminds me, I need you to help keep Zavar and Savara from babbling too much where others can hear. Especially Avaza. She’ll probably try to get closer to them as soon as we’re gone. It’s all right if she sees them, a little. But only when you or Mother or Pa are present. Never alone.”
Kiara let her breath out explosively. Her eyes glittered. “I’ll never get to see Theklan again, will I? Just beca
use the Dardani have this superstition against magic and no one—not even Baraz—knows why.”
Vatar pulled her into a brotherly hug. “Don’t give up. We’re not going to stop trying. And not just for you—or him, either. I think . . . I’m very much afraid that the Dardani need Theklan to be here. We just have to find a way to convince Baraz of that.” He held her out at arms’ length. “In any case, once the danger of the Exiles is past, we should be able to get you to Tysoe—at least for a visit.”
Kiara nodded and turned to leave.
Thekila watched the hide door covering swish closed behind her. “She’s not going to give up.”
Vatar sighed as he settled back down to sit on the grass mats covering the floor of the hut. “I know.” He smiled across at Thekila. “I wouldn’t have, either. If . . . if you hadn’t come with me when I had to return to the Dardani, I’d have found a way back to you. Whatever it took.”
She reached across and took his hand. “I know.”
~
Vatar breathed out in relief when the Pass came into view. The Forest was never his favorite part of this journey. To someone raised on the open plains, the Forest felt . . . suffocating. There were so few places where he could see even a patch of the sky and no place—until he got high up in the mountains—where the sky went from horizon to horizon, the way it should. Usually it only took a few days, but it had taken far longer to get Miceus and his ten guards, along with Thekila and baby Taleara, across the Forest. Well, not longer than the first time, when he hadn’t even known there was anything on the other side of the Forest and had only struggled on trying to escape a vengeful magic he didn’t—yet—understand. Still, he was more than glad to walk out under the open sky again.
War of Magic (Dual Magics Book 4) Page 14
