Vatar waved that aside. “That’s what Orleus said too. But it doesn’t make sense. I’ve been in situations as bad before and never heard a voice. I never heard a voice when Maktaz forced the young men to go out and hunt those tigers three years ago.”
“Yes, but you had a plan that time. You weren’t making it up as you went along. And you weren’t alone. The others all had spears, too—spears you made for them.” Father paused and leaned forward. “Had anyone but you ever been completely defenseless in those situations? Had Thekila ever been threatened?”
“No,” Vatar answered slowly. “Well, Kiara, once or twice when we were young. And the flash flood that killed Torkaz. But never Thekila. Not . . . not when she couldn’t defend herself. You think that’s it?”
“I think that might very well have something to do with it. It’s a different kind of stress, isn’t it?” Father shrugged. “The voice doesn’t seem to have stopped you from doing anything you intended to do. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. But, as I’m going to be in the Archives anyway, I’ll see if I can find anything on this, too.”
Chapter 10: The Harbinger
As he walked back down the hill, Veleus turned the conversation over in his mind. So many things to consider.
He hadn’t asked enough about Vatar’s sense of others’ Transformations. The kind of ability Vatar seemed to be alluding to was supposed to have died out generations—centuries—ago. No one living could sense a Transformation. At least, that’s what everyone believed. He’d have to come back—soon—and follow up on that more closely. Hopefully, when he had an answer or at least a clue to some of the other questions.
He doubted he’d find anything about this Spirit magic of Vatar’s. His son might choose not to call it magic, but it certainly sounded like magic to Veleus. And a new and different form of magic, unlike anything he’d ever heard of before. Even as he thought that, a piece of a larger puzzle—one that had occupied his mind for months—slipped into place. That—being in possession of two kinds of magic—was one of the marks of the Harbinger prophesied almost six hundred years ago. No one had ever been able to understand that part, since everyone knew that there was only one kind of Talent. It appeared everyone was wrong.
Fascinating as they were, those things were secondary. The most important thing was this voice. That was clearly what bothered Vatar the most. Truth to tell, it bothered Veleus, too. Hearing voices was rarely a good thing. Still, there were always a few of the youngsters who went through a phase of thinking others could read their thoughts or plant ideas in their heads when they first learned Far Speech. Vatar was old for that, but, then, he hadn’t learned Far Speech at the usual age. If it had only been that first statement—to use his magic—Veleus would dismiss it as nothing more than that.
That second statement, though, telling Vatar to stop. That was different. He knew Vatar well enough to know that he wouldn’t hesitate when action was called for. And the family stubbornness was unlikely to allow such a thought to even surface. Vatar was right. This almost certainly was not his thought. So what was it?
Veleus hoped he’d hidden his concerns from Vatar, but this voice troubled him. Should he consult Boreala about it? That would be a breach of Vatar’s trust, since Vatar clearly didn’t want this widely known. But Boreala was a Master Healer. If anyone could help Vatar, it was most likely to be her. Veleus shook his head, rejecting the idea. Boreala likely wouldn’t appreciate his interference, either. The Healers took their oaths of patient confidentiality seriously. Besides, he knew the stubborn streak all of his sons had inherited too well. That course could drive Vatar away from help. No, better to wait and talk to Vatar about it, first. Let him go to her himself, if he chose. Wouldn’t hurt to just drop a suggestion, though.
Instead, Veleus set his mind to consider what the cause might be. He put little faith in the Spirits theory the shaman had put forward. Anyway he didn’t have enough information to take that idea much further. So what else could it be?
He’d felt uneasy ever since Vatar had first contacted him with Far Speech the previous winter. Strong emotions often transmitted through Far Speech. And there’d been something about the way his son thought of Thekila that had made Veleus think there was some sort of tie between Vatar and Thekila. Such things were uncommon among the Fasallon, but not unknown. And the records Veleus had dug up since were not reassuring. Almost every case had ended badly. Fasallon tradition suggested that this kind of connection could break a man—or a woman—if it went wrong. The histories included at least one case that had ended in insanity for both, another in mutual suicide. But Vatar and Thekila seemed genuinely happy. Could it still break Vatar’s mind if it went right? There weren’t enough cases in the records to be sure.
As he strode along, Veleus’s thoughts returned to the prophecies. He had long believed that Vatar had a place in the old prophecies, though not the one the other members of the High Council feared. No. Not the Fasallon who was not a Fasallon. Veleus was sure of that. Now, he was even more convinced that Vatar was the Harbinger. Not that that would be much more reassuring to the Council, since what the Harbinger presaged was the arrival of the Fasallon who was not a Fasallon they’d feared so long.
Veleus had made a study of Abella’s prophecies—only partly because of Vatar. A part of one of those prophecies occurred to him now. “Guided by one forgotten.” That was to be one of the hallmarks—and one of the most puzzling. He hadn’t been able to find any guidance on what that cryptic comment meant. Could the voice be related to that? That was a more reassuring thought. But if that was it, who or what was this forgotten guide? And what effect was it having on his son’s mind?
Veleus hurried his pace, frustration and worry driving him forward. He doubted that the Archives would give him much comfort, but it was the only thing he knew to try.
Chapter 11: Plots
Gerusa stood up and stalked across the room to the window. From this level, nearly at the top of the sprawling Palace of the Fasallon, she could see across the strait to the city proper and beyond the city walls to the farm-covered hills. She’d had to send out a second set of spies to confirm the news, but it really was true. Vatar had returned to Caere after more than a year.
Lords! She’d thought that this time they were rid of him for good. She hadn’t cared whether he was dead or simply returned to his barbarian tribe to stay as long as he wasn’t here. Veleus had gulled the other members of the High Council with his smooth talk, but she knew better than to let that influence her—none better. She knew in her bones that Vatar was a danger to them all, the prophesied Fasallon who was not a Fasallon.
The question wasn’t how great a danger; it was what should be done about it. And the High Council had chosen completely inadequate methods in her opinion. She drummed her fingers on the window sill. Very well, then, it was up to her to take action and save them all.
A slow, unpleasant smile spread across her lips. Veleus seemed to be especially fond of this bastard. He’d certainly gone out of his way to protect him from the Council. It would be too delicious if she could strike at her hated ex-husband at the same time that she removed this threat. Discrediting Veleus would increase her own power on the High Council—maybe even give her the position at its head which should have been hers by right.
Gerusa’s eyes narrowed. Careful planning was called for to make the best of this situation. First, she’d need more spies keeping an eye on Vatar. The first requirement of a good plan was good information. She turned back to her desk and rang the bell to send for her daughter. No time like the present to get started.
Chapter 12: Settling In
Vatar smiled as he watched Thekila place the rugs in their bedroom and obligingly held the curtain fabric up for her inspection. She was going to be happy here. She was already settling in. Later, he was going to dig up a sunny spot in the courtyard for her to start a Dardani-style vegetable patch. She’d even asked Arcas to get her a few young fruit trees—something besides apples
, which they already had plenty of.
She needed friends here, next. She had Quetza, of course. But Quetza might easily choose to go back to her own life in the Valley next summer. Thekila and Elaria seemed to be getting on well, but she should have a network of friends, not just one or two. There was always Vatar’s half-sister Boreala. He thought they’d like each other. Maybe it’d be a good idea to find someone else—someone from the Smiths’ Guild—who was married. Ideally, someone with a son or younger brother about Theklan’s age. Thekila wouldn’t ever be truly happy if Theklan wasn’t and an active eleven-year-old boy needed others his own age.
Thekila gave Vatar a quick kiss as she took the bolt of fabric back. “Thank you.”
Vatar pulled her into a hug. “I’m just glad you’re happy here.”
Thekila smiled. “I am.” She looked up at Vatar from under her lashes. “But there’s something that would make me even happier.”
“What’s that?”
Thekila leaned back, her hands on his arms, to look up into Vatar’s face. “I loved having your twins with us. I miss them. And now, Elaria’s pregnancy has made me think. Vatar, I want to have a baby, too. Of course, I won’t stop taking precautions to prevent it, unless you agree.”
A chill went down Vatar’s spine. His mind replayed Avaza’s screams, muffled as they were by the thick sod walls of the women’s hut, as she gave birth to the twins. He knew Avaza had never been in danger during the birth, but he hadn’t forgotten her shrieks of pain. He thought of his mother, ashen-white from loss of blood after Fenar’s birth. He knew he couldn’t risk Thekila that way. She was far too precious to him. But he couldn’t say that. Thekila already knew about his terror of water and how his magic had unnerved him recently. He couldn’t let her think he was a complete coward. “It’s still too early for that,” he said instead. “We haven’t been together a year, yet.”
“What does that matter? We’ve already declared ourselves life mates.”
Vatar swallowed. “Yes. But we should have some time together, first. Alone. Dardani couples usually wait two years.”
Thekila laughed. “Vatar, we haven’t had much time alone since we left the Valley. We have Theklan with us now. And we had Zavar and Savara with us on the plains, as well. And I loved it and them. I want to have a baby of my own, too. And you’re a wonderful father.”
Vatar pulled her closer. “I still think it’s too soon. Maybe I’m greedy. I want you to myself for a while longer.”
Thekila laughed again, touching his face. “You’ll always have that.”
~
About midmorning, Vatar looked up from his forge to see his half-sister, Boreala, at the gate. Good. The perfect opportunity to introduce her to Thekila. He hurried to open the gate.
Boreala stepped through and stopped to look him up and down. “I’m primarily here to check on Elaria. But I intend to have a look at you, too, while I’m here. After the injuries you described, I’m going to make sure you’ve healed properly.” Boreala’s tone clearly indicated that she doubted his wounds could have healed without her care. Small as she was, Boreala advanced until Vatar had no choice but to sit on the bench.
Beyond Boreala, Vatar saw Thekila come out of the house. “Boreala, I’d like to introduce you to my life mate, Thekila.”
“Later.” Boreala shushed Vatar until she had completed her examination. She carefully checked the wrist and hand that had been broken when Vatar was attacked on his way to the Valley. She made him take off his boots and tunic so she could give the ankle and ribs a similar scrutiny. When she had completed that, she made him show her where the last rock had struck his head, and she examined that, too.
“Hmph!” she said at last. “You’ll do. But I won’t be surprised if you find that ankle gets stiff in the damp weather. And I see you’ve been given another tattoo.” Her attitude suggested a disapproval of tattoos in general.
Vatar pulled his tunic back on and smiled sheepishly at Thekila. “Now, I’d like you to meet Thekila. I think you two will like each other.”
Thekila laughed. “You’re right, Vatar. I think I’m going to like her very much.”
Vatar grinned. “Thekila, this is my half-sister Boreala. She’s a Healer.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Thekila said. Her mischievous smile played around her mouth, though she tried to be serious.
Boreala smiled for the first time since she’d started examining Vatar. “I’m glad to meet you, too.”
Thekila sat down beside him, but Boreala stood in front of him as if she would block his escape. “All right. I want to hear all about whatever it was that almost caused you to burn out your Talent. I can’t take proper care of my patients if I don’t have good information.”
Vatar pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before beginning the explanation again. Thekila chimed in occasionally with details he’d left out. Mercifully, Boreala didn’t seem at all interested in Vatar’s unusual shielding ability or even Transformations, just their effect on his Talent.
At the end, Boreala asked Vatar to use Far Speech. She nodded. “Well, I agree that the cause was just trying to do too much all at once. At least it doesn’t seem to have done any permanent harm. But I don’t recommend that you do that again.”
~
Vatar grinned when Fowin and his wife and younger brother, Gafar, arrived early in the afternoon on seventh day, in response to Vatar’s invitation. Fowin was his oldest friend in the Smiths’ Guild. By great good luck, Gafar was just about Theklan’s age. Vatar hoped he’d be the boy’s first friend here. Vatar hurried forward to greet his guests, Theklan following.
Thekila grabbed Theklan’s arm as he passed. “No Powers. Play fair,” she whispered.
Theklan nodded. “It’s okay if we play with the puppies, though, right?”
Thekila smiled. “I’m sure that would be fine. As long as you’re gentle with them.”
The adults sat under the apple tree and watched the boys romping with the puppies. It made Vatar miss Zavar and Savara more acutely. He looked aside at Cestus. He had to be missing his children just as much. Vatar hesitated just a moment, afraid that this suggestion would remind Cestus of other things best forgotten, if only for an afternoon. Still . . . “Maybe you should bring your children out next seventh-day, Cestus. They’d enjoy it out here, too.”
Cestus blinked. Clearly, he’d never considered the possibility. “Maybe Jana. Arus is still very young.”
Vatar gestured around the courtyard. “There’s no shortage of eyes to watch them. It would do you good to spend more time with them.”
Cestus smiled. “I’ll think about it, if the weather holds. Thank you, Vatar.”
Arcas’s parents, Uncle Lanark and Aunt Castalia arrived shortly after and the women all went inside to help prepare the evening meal. Thekila and Quetza came back out a few moments later.
Thekila snuggled in next to Vatar. “There were too many cooks in there. The kitchen isn’t that large. We decided to let the Caereans cook tonight. We’ll prepare a Valson meal next seventh-day.”
Vatar smiled. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
“What’s the difference?” Fowin asked.
Vatar shrugged. “More fruits and vegetables, less meat and fish, mostly.”
Theklan ran over to the bench. “Can I teach Gafar to ride?”
Thekila looked up with her eyes narrowed. “Do you think you know enough to teach it?”
“He knows enough to start.” Vatar looked to Fowin. “What do you think?”
Fowin glanced toward the horses. “Is it safe?”
Vatar shrugged. “I think so. But then I’ve been riding since my fourth summer. Seriously, I don’t think either boy will get hurt—at least not more than a bruise or two.”
Fowin chewed his lower lip. “If you think it’s all right.”
Vatar saddled the steadiest and most stolid mare and boosted Gafar into the saddle. Then he turned to Theklan. “No galloping. Not yet.”
Vatar stood just outside the pasture and kept an eye on what the boys were doing until Tiger’s barking alerted him to someone else at the gate. His brow wrinkled. They weren’t expecting anyone else. When he went to check he found Orleus on the other side, his dogs, Seeker and Arrow, leashed at his side.
“Orleus! Welcome!” he said, throwing the gate open. “We weren’t expecting to see you again so soon.”
Orleus grinned. “I came hoping I could stay here. I’ll pitch a tent if necessary. You’ve no idea how much I hate being in Caere. Staying down at the Palace or even the Temple would be torture.”
Vatar grinned back. “Of course you can stay here. And there’s no need to pitch a tent. Arcas had the foresight to get us a guest house. It’s right this way. And you’ve arrived in time for seventh-day dinner, if you want to join us. What brings you here? Just the short version for now, we can catch up more thoroughly later.”
“The short version is that I’ve been sent to recruit for the Tysoean Guard. We need at least a dozen more men by spring. Actually, I volunteered. It gives me a chance to have you make new blades and points for me.”
Quetza appeared at Vatar’s elbow. “I’ll show Orleus to the guest house.”
Vatar grinned. “All right. I’ll leave you in Quetza’s capable hands and let Aunt Castalia know that we’ll be one more for dinner.”
The rest of the evening was relaxed and congenial. Before they left, Gafar asked, “Can I come back here sometime?”
Vatar smiled. “It’s all right with me, if it’s all right with your family.”
Fowin nodded. “I don’t see why not.”
Gafar turned to Theklan. “Maybe next time I can show you around Caere.”
Theklan looked up hopefully at Vatar and Thekila. Vatar gestured to Thekila, deferring this decision to her.
Thekila tapped her lip, though the corners of her mouth quirked up. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your lessons.”
The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) Page 10
