The bull lowered its head to bring its horns to bear. Vatar’s pulse sped up again. What could he do now? He wasn’t near enough to sweep the boy up out of harm’s way. Neither was he close enough to try to push the bull aside. The dog, rejoining the work, was still far behind him. There really was only one thing Vatar could do. But he didn’t know how he’d done it the first time. Instinct. It was all he had to go on and he’d better act fast.
Vatar stuck his hand out as if to block the bull, just as he’d done when he shielded Thekila from the bear, and pushed. The bull bounced back as if he’d struck a wall. Dazed, the beast shook his head and stopped, head down and legs shaking. The other cattle slowed and milled around their leader.
Vatar swayed in his saddle, breathing hard.
Thekila ran past Theklan to get to Vatar.
He sagged out of the saddle to meet her. “I’m sorry, Thekila. I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”
Thekila put her hands on his shoulders and looked up at his face. “I know. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It just felt . . . it felt like the bull hit me instead of the shield. That’s all. Knocked the wind out of me.”
“That was the shield you were talking about?” Theklan asked excitedly. “Wish I could do something like that!”
Quetza came up to join them. “Sorry. I thought the wyvern would help, but it only made matters worse.”
Vatar smiled weakly. “Maybe magic isn’t the answer for everything.”
“Apparently not.” Quetza took a step closer. “Did your shield feel that way before? Like the bear hit you instead of Thekila?”
Vatar shook his head. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything after the bear hit the shield until I woke up in the tent.”
Thekila hugged him. “Well, that’s certainly a downside of your shield. And a reason not to use it unless you absolutely have to.”
Vatar hugged her back tucking her head under his chin. He had no intention of telling her he’d heard that voice again. Not right now. He’d prefer not to think about magic at all for a while. Maybe a long while.
~
Thekila could feel Vatar trembling, whether from the fright Theklan had given both of them or from casting that shield again, she couldn’t tell. Either way, she didn’t want him getting back on his horse for a while, at least. “Maybe we should make camp here to give the cattle time to settle down.”
Vatar shrugged. “They won’t. Not as long as the swiftcat’s kill is still in that tree. They smell the blood. That’s why they were restless.”
Quetza chuckled. “That’s easily taken care of.” She started forward.
Thekila reached out for her arm. “Yes. And Theklan’s going to be the one to do it. And pitch the tents. To teach him to follow instructions next time.”
“I was trying to help,” Theklan protested.
“Well, you didn’t, did you? You made things worse. Sometimes, it’s just possible, that Vatar or another adult actually knows what’s best. So now you can actually help by doing what you’re told.”
Theklan grumbled, but moved to look up at the carcass in the tree. Vatar started to step back. Thekila gripped him closer. “Not you. You’re going to rest a bit. I know you had no choice, but I still don’t like you using that shield again. Quetza can make sure Theklan does things correctly.”
“I’m all right. Not even a headache.”
Thekila looked up at his face. “Humor me.”
After such a recent demonstration, Thekila wasn’t surprised when Quetza turned the conversation to Vatar’s ability to shield as soon as the camp was made. It would have been too much to expect Quetza not to try to puzzle out the differences between the two events.
“You know, from what you describe, whatever it was you did to deflect that bear,” Quetza said, “you projected it a good distance. You were much closer to Theklan. That may account for the difference in the way it affected you. Even distant manipulation usually works best with objects that are fairly close by.”
Vatar’s shoulders were stiff. Thekila could see that he didn’t want to talk about this. But, really, if he wanted answers, these were the kind of questions they needed to ask—and preferably while the memories were fresh.
Vatar let his breath out and spoke slowly, as if he was trying to call up the memory. “It didn’t feel like it was that far that first time. Actually . . . it might have felt farther this time.”
“What did it feel like the first time?” Thekila asked.
Vatar turned toward her. “I don’t know, exactly. I think . . . It almost felt as if I reached through a connection with you. Not today, though.”
Thekila frowned. That, together with unexpectedly seeing his children with him, could mean only one thing. “As if we were . . . linked in some way?”
Vatar smiled at her. “Yes. That’s what it felt like, I think.”
Thekila exchanged a look with Quetza. Clearly, Vatar and Thekila were indeed bonding. But it was so early for that! That usually took years to even start.
“You have to tell him,” Quetza said, mind to mind. “He has a right to know, now, while there’s a choice. You have to tell him.”
Thekila chewed her lower lip. Vatar was still so skittish about his magic. “You’re right. I will. When we get to Caere.”
“Tonight.”
“We’ll be in Caere in two or three more days, Quetza. We’ll all be more comfortable there. And Vatar says we’ll have more privacy.”
Quetza jerked her chin up. “All right. When we reach Caere. But not a day longer.”
Chapter 8: Homecoming
Though the rain that had pelted them all through the third day gradually slacked off to a steady drizzle as they neared the sea coast, Vatar didn’t relax until the farm came into sight up ahead. He pushed the cattle ahead of him through the gate. Another dog—this one striped brown and black—rushed out to help control the herd. Vatar remembered that Arcas had traded for two Dardani herd dogs last year. Where was the other? Never mind. He opened the gate to the pasture and let the dogs herd the cattle through.
Arcas came out to help get the horses unsaddled and turned into the pasture along with the cattle. “Vatar! Welcome home!”
When the last horse had been sent into the pasture, Arcas turned to their guests. “My apologies. You can always tell a Dardani—take care of the horses first and worry about the people last. Let’s get you all settled. This way.” He led the way across the courtyard toward a new opening in the fence on the side away from the main house.
Vatar hefted Thekila’s saddle bags along with his own and started after Arcas. “Where are we going?”
Arcas paused on the porch of the house on the other side of that gate and turned around. “Well, the old man that owned this farm next to us died last winter. His sons wanted to sell, but were having trouble finding a buyer because the farm’s really too small to pay on its own. Knowing that we’d be having visitors, I thought we might want room to spread out a bit. So, you know, everyone could have their privacy. I struck a bargain with the farmer on the other side. We bought the house and he bought the fields to add to his own.” He opened the door. “So, now this is our guest house.”
Vatar grinned. “Arcas, that’s brilliant.”
The house was small and square, but it had two stories, as many Caerean houses did. When they were all gathered in the main room, Arcas continued, “The kitchen is to the right. We’ve stocked a few staples in case you get hungry. But we expect most meals will be across in the main house. Bedrooms are to the back on this floor. There are more upstairs. The first room on the left is already occupied. But all the others are free.”
Vatar’s brow creased. “Who’s here? It can’t be Orleus.”
Arcas shook his head. “No. Cestus.”
Quetza walked down the hall and opened the first door on the right. “Oh, this will be lovely. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Arcas said. “If you need anything else, just let
us know. Dinner is ready in the main house as soon as you’ve changed into dry clothes.”
Vatar stopped Theklan from running upstairs. “Not you, Theklan. You’ll be in the main house with us.”
Theklan gave one more, long look up the staircase before turning around to follow Vatar and Thekila.
As they walked back to the main house, leaving Quetza to get dry and clean, Vatar asked, “Why is Cestus staying here?”
Arcas grimaced. “Because his wife is pregnant.”
“Oh.” Vatar stopped short. “Oh, no.”
Thekila tilted her head to the side, looking up at Vatar. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Not in this case,” Vatar answered.
“Why not?”
Arcas looked back to see that they were far enough from the new guest house. “Because Cestus was with the Dardani all winter. He was gone for as long as Orleus. Almost a year.”
“Oh!” Thekila said. “Oh, dear!”
They walked in silence the rest of the way.
Just before they reached the door, Arcas paused. “I hope you don’t mind leftovers tonight. Elaria was so busy getting everything ready for you after Veleus’s messenger said you’d be home tonight. And she didn’t feel much like cooking.” His brow creased. “Though I don’t understand how Veleus knew.”
Vatar shook the rain out of his hair. He wasn’t about to stand on the porch and explain about Far Speech. “As long as the food’s not cooked over an open fire, I’m for it.”
Arcas chuckled. “No. It’s leftovers from Mother’s seventh-day dinner last night.”
Vatar grinned. “I’ve never minded Aunt Castalia’s cooking in any form. You know that.”
Arcas shuffled a little. “And . . . ah . . . you should know. Elaria’s pregnant. Our child will be born in early winter.”
Vatar clapped his cousin on the back. He understood Arcas’s desire for a little more privacy in the main house better now. Quetza wouldn’t have overcrowded the place, but there was no need to make extra work for Elaria. “Congratulations!”
Vatar handed Thekila through the farmhouse door and stepped inside behind her, making room for Theklan to come in after them. Elaria stood a little to the side, smiling uncertainly. Well, he had just nearly doubled the occupants of this house, and that didn’t even count Cestus and Quetza over in the new guest house. He supposed Elaria had a right to be a little unsure. But Vatar had always considered Elaria a sensible young woman. He was sure she and Thekila would get along fine, once they had a chance to know each other a little. That’d naturally take a little time.
As soon as the introductions had been made, Vatar started for the hallway that went back on his side of the house. “We’d better get cleaned up and changed. We can all talk more over dinner.”
~
Thekila followed Vatar down the hall on one side of the house, pulling Theklan along behind her. As far as she could tell, two wings went back from the square common area, separated by a small enclosed space.
Vatar pointed to one side. “The first door will be yours, Theklan. Nearest the kitchen.”
Theklan opened the door and grinned. Thekila peeked around him. It was a small room and somewhat bare, but comfortable. It had only a single bed, so Theklan would have the comparative luxury of a room to himself—something only the most advanced students got at the Academy. Besides the bed, the only other furniture was a chair constructed with a small storage area under the seat. A wide shelf under the single window looking out over the courtyard could double as a table or desk. It looked much more home-like than the Dardani sod hut had. Her spirits rose. She could hardly wait to see what the room she would share with Vatar was like. “Which is our room?”
Vatar took her hand and smiled down at her. “Down at the end.” The room was larger than the one he’d given Theklan and it had windows on three sides, not just one. A large bed occupied the center of the nearest and only windowless wall. The remaining furnishings were sparse, but functional. A small desk and one chair occupied the corner opposite the door. A storage trunk that could also double as seating stood at the foot of the bed.
Thekila’s lips parted and the corners of her mouth turned up in a slow smile. What a relief. This was nothing like the dark, stuffy Dardani hut. Windows. And a real bed instead of bedrolls on the floor. This felt like coming home. “This is wonderful. It’s almost like our little house in the Valley.”
Vatar looked around at the limited furniture as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s fairly basic. But we can improve on it as we go.”
Thekila sat on the edge of the bed. “I think it has everything it needs.” She looked around the room once more. “Well, some curtains and a rug or two wouldn’t hurt.”
Vatar grinned. “Done. We’ll go down to the market . . .” He paused. “Well, not tomorrow. Father said he’d come then. The day after.”
~
Vatar smiled to see Thekila so pleased. He knew life among the Dardani had been hard for her, too much of a change from what she was used to. Likely, it hadn’t been fair to really expect her to adjust to a sod hut at all. This was more familiar to her. He wanted her to be happy here.
When they’d both changed, gratefully, into clean, dry clothes, Vatar led Thekila back down the hall to the large common room off the kitchen. Quetza’d already arrived and been introduced to Elaria by Arcas.
Vatar looked around the table as they sat down to eat. “Isn’t Cestus joining us?”
Arcas shook his head. “No. He’s been keeping to himself. He leaves early and comes back late.”
“That’s not good.” Vatar chewed in silence for a while, thinking. This was partly his fault. If Cestus had not been gone for so long, trying to help him, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t change anything, but he at least needed to find a way to get Cestus out of his isolation, somehow. Maybe he could convince his half-brother to renew Vatar’s lessons one evening a seven-day. Both men had enjoyed that.
Thekila squeezed his hand and Vatar shook off these gloomy thoughts. That was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, Thekila deserved his full attention.
~
After dinner, Quetza headed across to the guest house, giving Thekila a significant look on her way out. Vatar wasn’t sure what that meant.
He followed Thekila back to their bedroom. While Thekila puttered around the room, Vatar took out his pipes and played his lullaby, watching Zavar and Savara sleeping side by side with his Far Sight. Then he put the pipes down and watched Thekila brushing out her long red hair. He’d gotten used to seeing her in Dardani-style tunic and trousers, which were much more practical on the plains. But tonight she had worn a simple Valson-style dress, very much like an extra-long, flared tunic, with heavy embroidery around the hem. The change was . . . exciting.
Thekila caught him watching her and gave him a quick smile. She put down the brush and started toward Vatar. She stopped an arm’s length away, looking down at her feet and shuffled them against the bare wood floor. “Vatar, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Vatar swallowed. He didn’t like the nervous sound of her voice at all. He’d thought they were doing all right, in spite of the rigors of Dardani life and the . . . the strange occurrences. He’d been certain that Thekila would be happier here, in Caere. Was it all just too much for her? Maybe it was the odd things that were happening with his magic. He paused until he could keep his voice steady. “Yes?”
Thekila came to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “It’s about my ability to see your children with you the other night. And the way you said you reached through a link between us to shield me from that bear.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. That didn’t sound like she was trying to tell him she was leaving him, anyway. “Yes? What about it?”
Thekila drew in a deep breath. “There’s one possible explanation for that. It seems likely that we’re bonding. It’s very early for that. But it’s the only explanation.”
Vatar’s brows knit. He didn’t remember ever hearing that term before. “Bonding?”
Thekila looked straight into Vatar’s eyes for the first time in this conversation. “It’s something that sometimes happens between Valson couples, because of the way we join our minds when we make love. Over time, you give little pieces of yourself to each other, until there is no boundary left between you. It usually takes years even to start, but—”
Vatar’s muscles, which had been tensed up as if for a blow, relaxed. He smiled. “You’ve had more than little pieces of me for a long time.”
The corners of Thekila’s mouth twitched as if she was struggling not to smile back. “It’s serious, Vatar. There are consequences, especially if we let ourselves become fully bound.”
He took her hands in his. “Like what?”
“There will be no barriers left, no secrets. Not about our feelings, anyway. We’ll share everything about ourselves. All the time. And it cannot be undone, once it’s complete.”
“That doesn’t sound like much of a consequence to me.” Vatar loved that feeling of closeness they shared. In fact, this binding sounded very good right now. Thekila’s calmness had been the one thing that helped him cope with the recent strangeness of his magic. Thekila knew more about magic than he did. Maybe she’d be able to help him understand what had been happening to him if she could feel it, too.
“If . . . when we disagree about something you might not feel that way. And . . . bound couples almost never survive each other. When one dies, so does the other.”
Vatar put his hand up to touch her bright hair. “I wouldn’t want to live without you, anyway. Don’t you know that?”
Thekila’s lost her fight against the smile. “Vatar, this is serious. I had to tell you this. You have the right to choose . . . not to continue. At this stage, the bond can still be broken. We’d have to stop . . . joining our minds, but otherwise . . .”
There was no way he was going to give that up. Vatar lowered his head until their foreheads touched. “Nothing you could say would scare me away from your side, Thekila. Nothing in my life has ever made me happier than I am with you.”
The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) Page 8
