The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2)
Page 18
She sighed. The problem of information still remained. Unfortunately, her spy network did not extend beyond the city walls. She’d never needed it to spread that far before now. It would take time to cultivate better sources of information. Gerusa didn’t have to like that, but it was going to be necessary before she could go any further. She couldn’t afford another such failure.
Chapter 22: Birth
Theklan blinked, not sure exactly what had wakened him in the middle of the night. It was still dark outside his window and everything seemed quiet. Must have been a dream. He rolled over, but before he could settle himself into a comfortable position, he heard the noise again. This time he was certain someone was moving around in the kitchen and it wasn’t the dogs, but the dogs weren’t barking, either. Curiosity overcame sleepiness and he got up to see who it was. As he came cautiously through the doorway, he found Cestus. “Oh, it’s you.”
Cestus grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake anyone. I couldn’t sleep. And I got to thinking about this excellent sweet cake Castalia baked for dinner last night.”
Theklan rubbed at his eyes. “That’s okay.”
“Would you like a piece?” Cestus asked.
“Yes, please!” Theklan said. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
Cestus shrugged. “I was thinking about things. Trying to decide what to do.”
Theklan settled into the chair opposite Cestus. “What to do about what?”
Cestus smiled sadly. “Things you wouldn’t understand, yet.”
Theklan made a face. “Everybody’s always saying something like that to me. How am I supposed to understand, if nobody ever tells me anything?”
Cestus chuckled. “Some things, you just have to experience. No one can explain them to you. And you have to be a bit older than you are to experience them. If it’s any consolation, every adult who says that to you was just as frustrated as you are when they were your age. I know I was. It’s just part of—”
Cestus broke off as they heard a groan from the back of the house. It was definitely a woman’s groan and it sounded like she was in pain.
Theklan stiffened in alarm. “Was that Thekila?”
Cestus was already moving toward the door to the front room. “No. It came from—”
Arcas came running out, half-dressed and wild eyed. “Elaria’s having the baby. I have to go get Boreala. Her side of the bed is soaked. There’s no blood in it, but—”
Cestus stopped him. “That’s normal. You go back to Elaria. We’ll take care of getting Boreala.”
“Thank you!”
As Arcas disappeared, Cestus turned to Theklan. “Contact Boreala with Far Speech. Let her know what’s happening.”
Theklan edged back toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you bespeak her yourself? She’s your sister.”
“Because I can’t. Not from this distance.”
Theklan blinked. “I thought you were Fasallon.”
“I am,” Cestus answered. “But my Talent isn’t strong enough to reach so far.”
Theklan chewed his lip. “I’m sorry.”
Cestus smiled crookedly. “I can’t see how it’s your fault.”
“No. It’s just. . . Isn’t it hard? Being a Fasallon, but not really?” Theklan cast a guilty look down the corridor that led to Vatar’s and Thekila’s bedroom, knowing his sister would have scolded him for that question.
“I’m used to it,” Cestus answered. “Now you tell Boreala that Elaria’s baby is coming. I’ll go down to the Temple Gate to meet her.” Cestus started out the door.
Theklan swallowed once and nodded. He didn’t really like the idea of bespeaking Boreala, or waking her up in the middle of the night. It was a rule he’d learned back at the Academy: students don’t bespeak teachers. Even earlier than that, he’d learned that it was rarely a good idea to wake adults up at this hour of the night. Boreala wasn’t really one of his teachers, though, and it seemed he was the only one awake who could.
Elaria groaned again. Theklan squeezed his eyes shut to picture the Healer. “Boreala?” he sent somewhat timidly. Then more strongly, “Boreala!”
“What is it?” was the sleepy reply. “Who is it?”
“It’s Theklan. Elaria is having her baby.”
“I’m on my way,” Boreala responded more alertly.
Theklan hurried to finish his message. “Cestus said he’ll meet you at the Temple Gate.”
“Tell him that’s not necessary.”
Theklan shrugged, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “He’s already gone.”
Boreala sighed. “Very well. I’ll be there soon.”
~
As Cestus walked, a new idea swirled around in his head. As Theklan said, he was a Fasallon, but not really a Fasallon. Was he . . . could he be the Fasallon who is not a Fasallon? Could the Council have gotten it wrong for six hundred years?
For centuries, the Fasallon had brought every child with Fasallon blood into the Temple and kept them close, so that there would never be a Fasallon outside their control—until Vatar. That custom was the core of Cestus’s trouble—of the problems of all the unTalented and less-Talented. But that prophecy could be read two ways, couldn’t it? Someone like Vatar, with Fasallon blood but raised outside Fasallon control, as they had always feared. Or someone like himself, born and raised as a Fasallon, but excluded from full membership because he lacked sufficient Talent. Someone they barely noticed.
He had to stop walking for a moment and just stand, staring at a tree like he’d never seen one before in his life. The very thought was dizzying. Despite the chill night air, he felt a flush of warmth course through him. It was possible. A wide smile spread across his face and he practically bounced as he started forward again.
Instead of fearing someone outside the Temple, like Vatar, should the Council always have been afraid of someone inside the Temple, but not fully a part of it, like himself? It made a certain ironic sense. After all, who better to reveal their secrets than someone who knew them all, because he was a part of them? And if Vatar was the Harbinger, as their father believed, then the Fasallon who was not a Fasallon must also be here, now. If it was not Vatar, then . . . it could be him.
Cestus raised his chin and lengthened his stride.
~
Vatar and Thekila stumbled out of their bedroom. Vatar came instantly alert when Theklan sagged with relief on seeing them. Had the Temple Guard come back while they were sleeping? “What’s going on?”
“Arcas said Elaria’s having her baby,” Theklan answered.
Vatar relaxed. That was an entirely different kind of emergency. “I’ll bespeak Boreala.”
“I already did.” Theklan glanced at his sister. “Cestus told me to. He’s gone down to meet her.”
Thekila smiled. “Good boy!”
Vatar couldn’t suppress a wince at another groan from Elaria. By his experience, it would be hours yet, and he really hated this waiting. He hated even to think how much worse it would be if those groans were Thekila’s. He paced across the room. The next groan was too much for him. He needed to get out, to get some air. A walk would help to calm him.
Vatar turned to Thekila. “Can you manage here until Boreala arrives?”
“I’m sure we can. Why?”
Vatar shrugged a little guiltily. “I thought I’d go get Uncle Lanark and Aunt Castalia. They’ll want to be here for the birth of their grandchild.”
“Yes, they will,” Thekila said. “We’ll be fine. And, if we need more help, Quetza and Orleus are only as far away as the guest house.”
“That’s true,” Vatar said with relief. He wasn’t really abandoning her to deal with this on her own. Though he doubted Orleus would be much help. Still, Quetza was cool in an emergency.
“Go. Theklan can help me start making preparations. Boreala will need some clean cloths and . . .” Thekila paused and smiled wryly. “I don’t know what else she’ll need. But we’ll start what we can.”
~
Vatar was not surprised to find Arcas pacing across the front room. Theklan sat on one of the benches, shifting restlessly. Thekila had clearly told him firmly to sit down and stay out of the way, because, no matter how he fidgeted, he always kept his seat. Cestus sat quietly reading across from the boy. From the sounds, Thekila and Quetza were busy with something in the kitchen. Aunt Castalia and Elaria’s mother went back towards the bedrooms to offer their help, but returned quickly, looking somewhat chastened. Vatar suppressed a grin. Clearly, Boreala was in charge and didn’t want their assistance.
They all jumped a little at another groan from the back of the house.
Arcas stopped his pacing. “What’s wrong? Why is it taking so long?”
Cestus laid down the scroll he had been reading. “It hasn’t been that long, yet. It takes time. Especially for the first. Doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”
Vatar chewed his lower lip, trying to push away the memory of the twins’ birth. “It took all day for Avaza to give birth.” The memory only made him more uncomfortable. He wished he could escape to his forge, but that would hardly be fair to Arcas. Or Thekila, for that matter.
Thekila emerged from the kitchen carrying a pitcher of cider and a pot of hot tea. Quetza followed with platters of bread, cheese, and fruit.
Vatar went to take the pitcher from Thekila. “I thought you were doing something to help Boreala.”
Thekila grinned mischievously at him. “Boreala thanked us for the clean cloths Theklan and I had gathered. Then she told us we could help her best by feeding everyone and keeping them out of her way.”
Vatar turned a bark of laughter into a cough.
Breakfast wasn’t a sufficient diversion. Especially since no one seemed to have much of an appetite. Not even Theklan. Vatar looked towards Arcas. He had to stay here to support his cousin, but there was no reason the boy had to suffer through this. “I saw Orleus outside working on some weapons training. Why don’t you go out and join him, Theklan?”
Theklan looked up at Thekila hopefully. She nodded and Theklan jumped up from his seat at the chance to get outside.
Conversation was desultory at best among those who waited. Thekila sat next to Vatar, nestling close as he put his arm around her. Having her next to him, calm, seemingly untroubled by the moans coming from the back of the house, helped to ease his nerves. How any woman could want to go through such torture was beyond his understanding.
The morning passed with unbearable slowness, while Elaria’s groans came more frequently and louder. Gradually, the sun rose past midday and the women started to talk unenthusiastically of preparing a noon meal. That’d be a waste. Most of what they prepared for breakfast is still sitting on the table, uneaten.
A series of groans turned almost to screams stopped all conversation, followed by a thin wail. Arcas froze, even holding his breath. After what seemed forever, Boreala came out into the main room carrying a small blanket-wrapped bundle.
With a smile, she handed the baby to Arcas. “You have a son.”
Arcas took the infant, searching Boreala’s face. “How’s Elaria?”
Boreala smiled. “She’s fine, now. The baby had turned again, but I arrived early enough to get him back in the right position. She’s resting now, but you can go in to her in a moment.” She looked around the crowded room. “The rest of this throng will have to wait a little longer.” Then she went back to tend to Elaria.
Arcas heaved a sigh of relief and looked down at the tiny boy in his arms for the first time. Absolute wonder transfused his face. “He’s . . . perfect! He’s . . .”
“I know,” Vatar said with a smile, remembering the first time he held Zavar and Savara. Now that it was over, he remembered the wonder and joy of holding the twins for the first time. “I know, Arcas.”
Uncle Lanark leaned over to get a look at his grandson. “What will you name him?”
Arcas smiled without looking up. “We’d decided on Caslar if it was a boy.”
“That’s a fine Lion Clan name,” Vatar said.
One side of Arcas’s mouth quirked up. “It is a strong name.” Only Vatar and Arcas recognized the Dardani formula of a man acknowledging a baby boy as his son. Arcas looked up at his cousin. “Thank you. It’s because of you that Boreala got here in time.
Vatar smiled in relief. “Actually, you should thank Theklan for that. But any of us would have been happy to help.”
~
Vatar stopped in the doorway coming back from telling Orleus and Theklan the news—and relaying Arcas’s thanks. Thekila sat next to Aunt Castalia, holding little Caslar. The soft expression on her face as she held the infant struck him like a blow. He understood, now. Something about that scene just looked so . . . right. He had no justification to deny her the happiness he felt every time he looked at his twins.
Thekila looked up at him. “Oh, Vatar!” she said. “He’s so . . . .”
“I know, Thekila. You’re right. We’ll have one of our own,” he answered mind to mind.
She grinned impishly as she handed the baby back to Castalia. “Maybe more than one.”
Vatar rocked back a step. “One thing at a time!”
Thekila’s smile softened. “Yes. In this, at least, that is necessary, isn’t it?”
~
Cestus drifted back outside and sat under the apple tree, deep in thought. Until that morning, he’d never considered the possibility that he—he, himself—might be the Fasallon who was not a Fasallon. Now the thought kept running through his head relentlessly. The initial elation of that realization had worn off, but now he felt tensed up, ready for action.
The problem was in knowing what action. He needed to do some research. He needed to go back to the Book of Prophecies.
Yes, that was the first step, certainly. And, after that, then what? He couldn’t just go to the main market square and announce that the Fasallon were frauds. No. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, he realized. Most Caereans probably wouldn’t care. Why should they?
No, change would never come from the Caereans. Father was right about that. They had no reason to want change. Things were good for them. So who, then?
The question might be moot. Maybe, if Father was right, there’d be no need for the Fasallon who was not a Fasallon at all. The change could come quietly and gradually. That was fine as long as it came—and didn’t take too long. What if Father was wrong, though? Or what if the Council made the prophesied wrong choice. Someone should probably have a plan for that. But the questions remained. If not the Lie, what were the secrets to be revealed? And to whom must they be revealed?
The only ones who had a reason to want change were those like himself, Fasallon of little or no Talent. But what secrets did he know that they didn’t also know? What made him different?
He looked up toward the east, beyond the farms, in the direction of the plains stretching away toward Zeda. Maybe only this. That he had had a chance to see other ways of life, to see what freedom looked like. There was so much to think about. The thoughts spun around in his head almost making him dizzy, they came so fast.
~
That night, watched Thekila brushing out her long hair. She seemed thoughtful. Vatar was also a little preoccupied. If it weren’t so ridiculous, he would have said he was nervous. He had made a promise, but he wasn’t entirely happy about it.
“Vatar?” Thekila said, breaking him out of his reverie.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking. I know that you’re still frightened for me . . .”
“I promised you, Thekila. I won’t break a promise.”
She smiled. “I know that. Let me finish. I don’t really want to be in the last stages of a pregnancy when we ride out to Zeda and back next summer, either. If we were to start n
ow, I could be. And I won’t be left behind. Much as I want a baby, I think we should wait a little while. If we stop preventing a pregnancy a month or two before we leave for Zeda, then, if I get pregnant, I will still be in the early stages, even when we ride back here. That would be easier for me, too. And I would be here, in Caere, during the last part of the pregnancy and for the birth.”
Vatar let his breath out. “Where Boreala could take care of you,” he said, coming to stand behind her.
“Yes, if that makes you feel better. I think I’d rather be here for that, too. I’d just be more comfortable, I think. This is more like home, to me.”
Vatar smiled. “All right. That’s what we’ll do, then.” After a moment, he asked, “Will you know . . . when a new life starts?”
Thekila considered the question. “Not when it starts, but soon after, I think.”
“Will you tell me when you know?”
She turned to put her arms around him. “Of course I will. You don’t think I could keep something like that to myself, do you?”
Chapter 23: Forgiveness
Cestus watched Jana and Arus romp with the half-grown puppies. He was grateful to Boreala for bringing them up with her. Now that tensions had eased, she and Father were frequent visitors for seventh-day dinner.
But he couldn’t help a little sadness, too. They reminded him of what he’d lost. Never again would he share these moments—or anything else—with Lancera. He’d never loved any other woman. Not that he hadn’t had opportunities. During his time with the Dardani, there’d been more than one appealing young woman who gave him inviting looks. But he’d resisted the temptation. If only Lancera’d had anything like the same self-control. The same respect for him.
He sighed. Would it ever stop hurting to think of Lancera? Would there come a time when he could watch their children play without thinking of her?
Boreala stood up from where she’d been sitting next to him, also watching the children at play. She looked towards the gate, her expression grim. “What’s this?”
Cestus turned to follow her gaze. A very pregnant woman was making her slow way up the road. Probably someone needing Boreala’s professional services. The Healers’ Hall really shouldn’t be sending patients directly to her up here at Vatar’s and Arcas’s farm. Boreala deserved some rest, too.