“No wonder he thinks his children are the answer to reviving the Talent in our bloodlines!” Montibeus said.
Amaurea leaned forward. “Where do they come from? Why have we never heard of them before?”
Veleus smiled. This was a much easier question to answer. “According to Vatar, they come from the far side of the Great Forest and across the Kragehul mountains beyond. A place they call simply the Valley.”
“Will they come talk to us?” Amaurea asked. “An alliance might be advantageous.”
Veleus sighed theatrically. “Now? I don’t know. They are Vatar’s friends, after all. This incident may make them more cautious of us.” Let them think that he had been trying to convince the Valson to come to the Council and that Gerusa’s action had delayed this event. Indeed, there was always an angle.
Amaurea nodded firmly and pushed the Book of Prophecy back toward Veleus. “Assure the Valson that they will be treated with all honor and courtesy. This is a discovery that we clearly need to explore more fully.” She looked around the table. “All those in favor of upholding the decision we made yesterday to take no action against Vatar or his family?”
Nine hands were raised around the Council table. Only one of her supporters joined Gerusa in voting against Vatar.
Good. At least that’s over.
As they reached the lower floors below the Council Chamber, Montibeus came up beside Veleus. “You should have told me.”
Veleus shook his head. “You know why I couldn’t. It’s not that I don’t trust you, old friend. But your duty requires that you report individuals with that kind of Talent, especially the ability to do fourth-level Transformations, to the Council. You would have had to report it. And Gerusa would have jumped on it. You couldn’t fail to report it to the Council without the Sooth Teller reading the lie. I have no such duty. I can—and did—simply keep my mouth shut. The Sooth Teller can’t read what I don’t say.”
“But with that kind of Talent . . .” Montibeus said. “Veleus, you know how badly we need the help. There are fewer and fewer with the kind of Talent it takes to put on the Festival every year. Only you, Gerusa, and I can maintain fourth-level Transformations for long enough. Even Amaurea has to have your help to get through the Festival. Three of us can’t maintain eleven third- and fourth-level Transformations. Some of them have to be first-level, with always the risk that the mask will slip. With Vatar’s help . . .”
Veleus reflected on the work involved in that procession of the Sea Gods, each Councilor Transformed into the image of the ancestor they represented. Montibeus wasn’t wrong. Vatar could be a lot of help, if he could be persuaded to join in. He shook his head. “Montibeus, he’s never here during the Festival. That’s when he goes out to the plains to be with his other family and to trade. His children are on the plains. He won’t give up his time with them.”
After a moment, Montibeus said, “Maybe he could arrange to stay just long enough for the Festival. We might even move it up, if he would agree to help. It could be done.”
Veleus shrugged. “Maybe he could, if he had enough reason. I don’t think he’ll do it out of love and loyalty to the High Council. That was unlikely before and I think it’s safe to say yesterday didn’t improve the odds.
“I’ll talk to him about it, when things have calmed down. Because you asked. Not now. Now, he’d refuse out of hand. You know me well enough, Montibeus. Vatar’s just like me in this. You’ve got to give him some time for the stubborn to wear off.”
Montibeus chuckled.
~
Veleus looked up as the small boat crossed the strait between Palace Island and the Temple. Cestus was waiting for him, as Veleus had asked. Good. He’d timed this for after the last of Cestus’s classes.
Veleus handed up the precious book and scroll before climbing out of the boat.
Cestus’s eyebrows rose as he looked at the cover of the book. “What was it you wanted, Father?”
Veleus smiled. “I just thought I’d walk with you out to Vatar’s farm.”
Cestus hefted the book as they walked away from the pier. “So you’re returning this to the Library on the way?”
“No.” Veleus took back the scroll, but let Cestus continue to carry the book. “Or, at least, not yet. I need it to explain a few things to Vatar.” Now that he’d dealt with the Council, Veleus needed to make sure that Vatar knew at least as much as they did. Enough to defend himself against Gerusa.
Cestus tucked the book under his arm. “You’ve certainly aroused my curiosity. What’s this all about?”
Veleus glanced over at Cestus. “How much have you heard about what happened yesterday?”
Cestus shrugged. “Rumors have been flying around the Temple, naturally. Each more unlikely than the last. The one consistent point is that Vatar was involved somehow, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it over dinner last night, so I don’t know what the real truth is. In fact, things seemed rather . . . tense last night.”
Veleus nodded. “Well, then. Let me start by telling you what really happened. Apparently it started with Thekila’s brother.” The full tale carried them almost to the gate of the farm.
“Lords of Creation!” Cestus glanced again at the book he carried. “And you think this has something to do with the prophecies?”
“I’m sure of it,” Veleus said. “Come along and hear it for yourself.”
Cestus grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Vatar met them as they came through the gate. “Welcome, Father. I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” His eyes narrowed. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
Veleus smiled reassuringly. “No. The Council stands by the agreement. But there are some things the Council already knows that you need to know, too. Is there some place we could talk in private—including your wife and her friend of course? And Orleus, if he’s interested.”
Cestus gestured toward the guest house. “The main room of the guest house is under-used and out of the way.”
Vatar chewed his lip nervously and nodded. “Good idea. Thekila and Quetza have been using that for Theklan’s lessons. I think they’re over there now.” He looked back toward the main house. “And we won’t disturb Arcas and Elaria that way.”
When they’d all taken seats around the table in the guest house and Thekila had sent her brother off to play with the puppies until dinner, Veleus pulled the heavy Book of Prophecies in front of him.
“What’s that?” Thekila asked.
“This is a record of all verified prophecies made since the Fasallon came to Caere. Some of them concern you, Vatar.”
“Me? Are you sure?”
Veleus nodded. “More than ever. I’ve suspected it for some time, but after yesterday I don’t think there’s any doubt.”
Veleus opened the Book of Prophecies and read out the same prophecies he’d shown to the High Council.
“And you think I’m this Harbinger?” Vatar asked.
“After what happened at the High Council, I can’t see how you could be anything else,” Veleus said and ticked off the same points he’d used to convince the Council.
Vatar waved this off violently. “You’re wrong. The connection to the Spirits is not magic. And no prophecy controls my actions. I’m not destined to do anything.”
Veleus sighed. He might have known that would upset this most independent of his sons. “Relax, Vatar. As far as I can see, you’ve already fulfilled your part in the prophecy. And it looked to me like you chose to do what you did. The rest is up to the High Council.”
Thekila pulled the book closer and reread Abella’s last prophecy. “So, this bit about the Fasallon who is not a Fasallon, that’s why we couldn’t bring Zavar and Savara with us to Caere?”
Vatar shrugged.
“Ultimately, yes,” Veleus answered. “That’s why the High Council has always been so uneasy about allowing anyone with Fasallon blood outside their control in either the Palace or the Temple. It’s an extremely short-sighted
policy, but by now it’s a habit so ingrained that most of them can’t see past it.” He tapped the book. “That’s why I think this is actually a good thing. It’s an opportunity.”
Vatar’s brows pinched in toward the center. “What kind of opportunity?”
“Abella’s prophecy has two forks,” Veleus said. “The High Council has fixated on the wrong one—the one that Abella said led to ruin. But the other fork leads to greatness, according to Abella. But Abella also said that the Lie couldn’t be maintained whichever choice was made. In my opinion, the correct fork in the prophecy—which means the High Council doing just what you told them to, leave you and your family alone—will lead to a more gradual change.
“Frankly, it’s past time for some change. Done right, not much would actually alter in Caere if we admitted we weren’t truly descended from their Sea Gods. Whatever the High Council fears, it’s not as if the Caereans are bubbling over with a desire to revolt against us. They have no reason to. We supply Healers, law enforcement, and stable trade relationships with the other cities up and down the coast. And leave them to manage themselves in everything else. Caere thrives under our rule.
“The only thing that would change is the Festival—which, frankly, is a pain anyway. And I suppose the tribute would have to become straightforward taxes for those services we supply.”
“What is this Festival?” Quetza asked.
Veleus leaned back in his seat. “A celebration of the Caerean Sea Gods. The Caereans have feasts and games as part of the festivities. From the Fasallon point of view, the main part of the Festival is a procession of the Sea Gods through the streets.”
“But you—or your ancestors—pretended to be the Sea Gods,” Thekila said.
“Yes. And so every year the members of the High Council use Transformations to impersonate those ancestors. Some lack the Talent to perform their own Transformations—or to hold them long enough. Montibeus, Gerusa, and I assist with those. Third-level Transformations where possible. As a practical matter, some have to be just first-level masks. It’s very trying.” Veleus decided not to mention the request that Vatar assist with the Festival. Not yet.
“Then why do you continue to do it?” Quetza asked.
Veleus shrugged. “Because the procession stops at each of the guildhalls in the city and receives a tribute from the guild. That’s what keeps the Palace and the Temple running—and makes it possible to provide the Healers and the Temple Guard and the other services we provide to the Caereans. But, if we ever admitted that we weren’t actually the descendants of the Sea Gods, that masquerade would no longer be necessary. Of course, we’d have to work out some way to replace the funds. It needn’t be that big a change.”
“Change is always disruptive. Even change for the better,” Quetza said.
Veleus nodded. “True. There would undoubtedly be a period of adjustment. But think of the advantages.”
“Like what?” Quetza asked.
“Well, for a start, we could put the Searchers out of a job. No more worrying about a half-Fasallon child growing up outside the Temple. That alone would be more humane to both mother and child.” Veleus smiled across at Vatar and Thekila. “And that, in turn, would mean that it would be safe for you to bring your twins with you for the winter. I’d like a chance to meet my grandchildren someday.”
Cestus leaned forward eagerly. “And the restrictions on the less-Talented and unTalented Fasallon could be relaxed. Allow us to find our own way, if we chose.”
Veleus turned to Cestus. “I thought you loved teaching. What would you do different, if you could?”
“I do love teaching. But . . . well, the Temple will never really let me teach. Not older children or more advanced subjects. They’ll never promote me, either. I don’t know. If I could do anything, maybe I’d go outside the Temple and teach Caerean children, like I did Vatar.” One corner of Cestus’s mouth twitched up. “That was certainly a challenge.”
Thekila stifled a laugh.
Vatar grinned back at Cestus and shrugged. “I hope you get the chance to try it soon.”
“If the High Council keeps their word, I think there’s a good chance you will have that opportunity,” Veleus said.
Vatar leafed idly through the pages of the Book of Prophecies. There were several blank pages at the end of the book. He thumbed back to the last page with an entry and sat up looking more closely at the book. “What’s this?”
Veleus looked over. “Your words were recognized as a true Fore-Seeing. As such, they were entered into the Book of Prophecies.”
“My words?” Vatar asked.
Veleus nodded. “Yes. The words of the Harbinger.”
Vatar shut the book with a snap. “I don’t even know where those words came from. They just sort of came out.”
“As I understand it, prophecies often do,” Veleus answered. “Don’t let it bother you, Vatar. Your part in this is over.”
“No. It’s not,” Vatar said.
Veleus leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?”
Vatar looked like he wanted to clap his hand over his mouth. “I have no idea. It just . . . feels true.”
Veleus studied Vatar’s stiff shoulders, entirely too much like two years ago when he used to reject the very idea of having Talent. Possibly it was time to change the subject away from his magic and allow Vatar a little time to adjust. He turned to Thekila. “There’s another thing we should discuss. The High Council is very interested in the Valson. They would like to meet with you. To discuss an alliance.”
“Hmph! I’m not sure we’re interested in them,” Thekila said.
Veleus acknowledged this sentiment with a nod. “I understand. Still, don’t be too hasty. There could be advantages. But there’s no reason to hurry, either. Let them stew in their own juices for a while.”
Quetza snorted. “For a long while as far as I’m concerned.”
“Not too long,” Veleus said. “It might not be a bad idea to give them more reason to keep their word, after all.”
Thekila shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
Veleus decided on a slightly different tack. “Have you given any thought to sending Theklan to the Temple school?”
Thekila rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to trust them with him. On the other hand, it would be good for him to make some friends who wouldn’t be so . . . disturbed by his Powers. Gafar did not react well, from what I’ve been able to get out of Theklan.”
“He could walk both ways with me,” Cestus said. “And, though I wouldn’t be his teacher, I would be there to watch out for him.”
Thekila looked over at him. “True. Well, I suppose we could try it for a while and see. Maybe . . . maybe every other day, so we could continue his Valson lessons here. I’m not promising that I’ll let him stay there, if things don’t go well. Or if I don’t think he’s learning enough.”
Veleus smiled. “Good enough.” He turned back to Vatar. Some of the stiffness had eased out of Vatar’s shoulders. There was one more question Veleus wanted to ask before he left. “One more thing, Vatar. How were you so sure that the High Council wouldn’t imprison you? It was the logical thing for them to do.”
Vatar shook his head. “Not that they wouldn’t, Father. That they couldn’t. It’s not possible to imprison someone who can do third- and fourth-level Transformations. Not for long, anyway. Given enough time, I could transform myself into something that could escape any prison. Or I could transform the walls or the bars of my prison, like I did the ropes that bound my hands. You can’t build a prison that will hold a person who can do what we can, Father. It’s not possible.”
“Ah,” Veleus said. He had not considered it in that light before.
“Now that’s a good reason to learn Transformations,” Orleus said.
Quetza struggled not to smile.
Chapter 19: Family Matters
Thekila stood up from gathering windfall apples in the courtyard, eyes
narrowed in frustration.
“I just think it’s too soon, Thekila,” Vatar said again.
She ground her teeth. Heat flushed through her body as she swung abruptly from frustration to anger. Disagreement was one thing, as long as they discussed it. All Vatar ever did when the subject of a baby came up was to say it was too soon and then shut down. Well, she’d had quite enough of that. “It’s not just your decision to make, you know. We have to at least talk about it. But all you ever say is ‘It’s too soon.’ Well, it’s not too soon for me!” She wheeled and threw the apple she had just picked up at him. She could have thrown it with her mind, but that would have been against the Tenets. Besides, it was more satisfying this way.
Vatar reflexively raised his left hand to fend it off. His face scrunched with pain when the apple struck.
Thekila’s chest tightened. His left hand had been broken and it was still stiff and sometimes painful. She really hadn’t meant to hurt him. “Oh! I’m sorry, Vatar. I didn’t mean to—”
Vatar clutched his hand. “I know.”
Thekila spun at the sound of the kitchen door opening and swinging shut. Boreala came through and hurried toward Vatar.
“Here, let me have a look at that,” Boreala said.
Thekila flushed red and ran toward the nearest shelter—the corner of Vatar’s workshop. She stopped just inside, breathing fast. Idiot. She’d known Boreala was inside with Elaria. Not that being seen actually made what she’d done any worse, only more embarrassing.
She should never have thrown that apple in the first place. She just hoped Boreala would be able to repair whatever damage Thekila had just done. She paused and stood just inside the doorway, just to make sure that Vatar wasn’t too badly hurt. She stretched her hearing with a touch of distance viewing to be sure.
Boreala checked Vatar’s hand. “Where does it hurt, Vatar?” After a moment she released it. “No real harm done, though I’m sure it’s painful. I recommend some of your mother’s excellent salve and no more work for today.” She sat down beside him. “So, what was that all about?”
The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) Page 15
