Gerusa shook her head and her smile widened. “No. The High Council promised that his family would be safe here. It’s not quite the same thing.” Her eyes narrowed. “But this time we mustn’t rush into it. We have all winter to find the exactly right moment.”
Chapter 40: Final Plans
Cestus pushed back from the table. They’d taken over a disused conference room, now that their core group had grown. “Then it’s agreed. The first wave will be limited to the rowers and the personal servants of the Talented, especially the High Council. Inconvenience first, without endangering anyone. We’ll reserve more serious matters for the second wave, if it proves necessary.”
Belus shook his head. “I still think we need to strike harder on the first blow. If we do no more than that, the High Council will put us down before we’ve started.”
“Not so easy to do, if the most of the Temple Guard and even some of the Palace Guard are on our side,” Sergeant Lideus of the Temple Guard put in.
“We’ll hold the second wave in readiness as soon as the first is triggered.” Cestus chewed his lip and narrowed his eyes in thought. “In fact, it might be a good idea to set it to automatically trigger a specified time—say . . . half a day—after the first unless it’s called off by one of us.”
Farus grinned. “That’d do it. Make it almost impossible for the High Council to stop us. And they’d have to turn to us to put things back together again.”
Belus drummed his fingers on the table and finally nodded. “That should work.”
Cestus turned abruptly as a shadow fell across the conference table from the corridor.
Montibeus looked in. “Ah. Belus, there you are.” His eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. “What are you doing in here?”
“Uh . . . well . . .” Belus stammered.
Farus stepped forward. “We were just discussing some problems we’ve all come across recently in our work—and what to do about them.”
Montibeus nodded. “Good. Always like to see initiative.” He glanced at Cestus. “But, surely Cestus can’t share the same problems you have.”
Dinus laid a hand on Cestus’s shoulder. “No. I asked him to join us. Sometimes it’s helpful to have an outside point of view. Cestus has given us several very useful ideas.”
Montibeus nodded again. “Ah. Good. Carry on, then. Except you, Belus. Where’s that report I asked for.”
Belus stood up. “All ready, sir. Right across in my office.”
Belus strode out of the room and Montibeus followed. As their footsteps retreated down the hall, Cestus let out an explosive breath. “Maybe from now on we should designate a look out.”
Dinus huffed a dry chuckle. “Maybe we should.”
Chapter 41: Winter’s End
It had been an unusually wet winter in Caere. At least the farm was high enough above the city that they rarely had the fogs. It was odd, though, to look out over the fog-shrouded city from the top of the hill. Thekila said it was like looking at a cloud from above. She would know. Vatar had never gotten used to the fog and now the damp weather tended to make his right ankle stiffen—the ankle that had been broken during his Ordeal. So, when the dogs began to bark, alerting him to someone at the gate, he was less than pleased.
He walked slowly toward the gate to avoid limping. The figure at the gate was cloaked and hooded against the weather, but the two dogs at his side and the fine black stallion behind him told Vatar who it was immediately. He picked up his pace despite the limp. “Sky above and earth below. Orleus! We didn’t expect you until the spring.” Vatar threw the gate open. “How did you make it up from Tysoe at this time of year? And why? Nothing wrong, I trust. Not that you’re not welcome, of course.”
“Thanks, Vatar,” Orleus said, coming through the gate. “No, nothing’s wrong. But you’ve no idea how I’ll appreciate a warm, dry place to sleep and a good meal. It’s been miserably wet all the way up from Kausalya.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’ll take Racer to the pasture for you. You know your way to the guest house. Go on and get clean and dry. Quetza and Thekila are there, teaching Theklan—or trying to. I’ll hold my questions until the evening meal. There’s no sense in you having to repeat yourself.”
True to his word, Vatar waited until they were gathered at the evening meal, with Quetza seated next to Orleus. “So, Orleus. What brings you to Caere so early? It had to have been a hard trip from Tysoe. The last ship of the season sailed months ago.”
Arcas tilted his head to one side. “Yes. How did you even get here after the ships stopped running?”
Orleus shrugged. “I’ve never minded riding across country. The hardest part is finding a safe place to cross the river, but I got lucky and convinced one of the boats to take me across Narycea Lake. Then it was just a question of riding along the river until I got close enough to the coast. Usually, the ride up the coast is quite pleasant. Well, I suppose at least there wasn’t snow up to my horse’s hocks, but it sure was wet. Never seen so much rain.”
Orleus shrugged. “As to why, well I was planning to come in the spring, anyway, for your exorcism. And there hasn’t been any activity in Tysoe. Not a sign of the Themyri for more than a year. They’ve just disappeared. And the snow’s too deep this year to patrol anyway. So there’s nothing to do in Tysoe but stare at four walls. I was never much for reading and I can’t carry a tune in a basket. And you can only play so many chess games in a day.
“But the blades and arrowheads you made for me last year were so widely admired, that the Tysoean council decided to have you make more for the Guard. I decided that if I came up early, you’d have time to make at least some of the commission and then I could take them back with me after this exorcism Trev plans. I admit I wasn’t counting on the trip being quite so wet.”
He grinned at Quetza. “But it was worth it. The company is much better here.”
Quetza smiled and leaned closer to him. “I’m glad, too. I missed you.”
Thekila’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked between Orleus and Quetza. “Well, it’s good you’re here.” She placed a hand on her swollen belly. “Now you’ll be here for your nephew’s birth.” She chuckled as her hand bounced from an internal kick. “In fact, I think it’s time we did a little shopping in preparation.”
Vatar smiled and laid his hand over hers. “We’ll go tomorrow.”
“I’ll go with you,” Arcas said. “I still bargain better than Vatar. And I need to check in at my guildhall anyway.”
Chapter 42: Springing the Plot
Gerusa turned and watched the three figures—two men and one very pregnant woman—merge into the crowd in the Temple Square. She forgot about the errand that had brought her out here the moment she recognized Vatar. The pregnant woman might be his wife. She certainly bore a resemblance to the boy who’d shown that surprising Talent. Gerusa had no idea who the other man was and she didn’t care. Vatar was away from his farm. That was all that mattered.
She’d been waiting all winter for the chance to take advantage of the knowledge that Vatar’s young children were here in Caere. Vatar didn’t seem to leave his farm often. When he did, by the time her spies reached her with the news, it was already too late to take action. She didn’t dare strike during his regular classes with Montibeus. That would be far too obvious and earn her the enmity of too many members of the High Council. This might be the best chance she was going to get.
Gerusa turned and hurried to the nearby Temple Guard post. She’d seen to it that the corporal who had first brought her news of Theklan’s Talent was promoted and had kept him close for just such a need. It didn’t take long to locate him. “I have a job for you, Tarus.”
“I am at your service, High Councilor.”
“You remember Vatar?” Of course he did. As the most likely to recognize the boy, he’d been part of the patrol sent to arrest Vatar and Theklan last year. At his nod, she continued, “I have information that he has brought his twin children with him to Caere
this year. Children who should be raised within the Temple. Children who need the training only we can give them. I want you to go to his farm and bring those children back to me.”
Tarus swallowed. “High Councilor, Vatar is—”
Gerusa waved her hand dismissively. “Vatar is in the market. If you and your men go now, you will have no trouble with him.”
Tarus smiled. “At once, High Councilor. How old are the children?”
“Three or four, I believe. Just young enough to adjust to the Temple easily. Go.” She started to leave but then turned back. “One more thing. To be on the safe side, you’d better bring them back by a different road. That way, if Vatar finishes his business before you get back, you won’t pass him on the way.”
Tarus saluted and went to collect his patrol.
Gerusa smirked as she left. “So, Vatar thinks he can cow the High Council, does he? Make us do what he wants. Well, that works both ways. If we have his children, he’ll have to do what we ask, including helping with the Festival. And, if he’s right, if his children are the key to our future, then we’ll just take control of that, too. And there won’t be anything he can do about it.”
Chapter 43: Attack
Theklan trotted his horse around the pasture. This was one of the days he’d normally have been taught at home, rather than go to the Temple school. But Thekila had gone off to town with Vatar and Uncle Arcas. And, since it was the first day that promised to remain fair in almost a month, Orleus had persuaded Quetza to ride out to the less-settled area to breathe a little freer air. For some reason, they wouldn’t let Theklan go with them, but they hadn’t said he couldn’t ride.
The only constraint on him today was his promise to Aunt Elaria to keep at least half an eye on the twins while she was busy in the house. He did check on them every time he circled around to that side of the pasture. They were playing happily in the mud underneath the huge old apple tree, so he urged his horse to a faster pace. He’d just reached the far end of the pasture when he heard a crashing noise—much louder than the twins should have been able to make—and the dogs barking fiercely. He reined in to listen. Then he heard Savara scream.
He galloped back across the pasture, scattering the rest of the horses before him. Before he pulled his horse up at the pasture gate he could see seven men in the courtyard. One held Savara, limp as a rag doll. Another was struggling with Zavar and the others were trying to fight off the snarling, snapping dogs. He didn’t need to wonder who they were. It would be a long time before Theklan forgot the uniform of the Temple Guard.
He dismounted with practiced ease. Slipping out of the pasture gate, he stepped to the edge of Vatar’s workshop. With Zavar and Savara playing in the courtyard, no edged weapons had been left out. But there was a stack of long straight poles Vatar intended as shafts for the spears he was making. Theklan took one. He took a deep breath, feeling very inadequate for this. But he was the only man here—or, at least, the closest thing to it. He had to do this. He took another deep breath and stepped out into the courtyard. “Let them go!”
One of the guards looked up and laughed. “Look what we have here. A cub that thinks he’s a wolf!”
The guard thrust almost playfully at Theklan with his spear and was surprised when Theklan parried with almost professional ease. “Ho! Who’s been training you, Little Cub?”
Theklan made a thrust of his own for an answer. Wolf indeed! He was an eagle, not a wolf.
“Stop playing around. We want to be gone before Vatar gets back,” the sergeant called.
Theklan recognized the voice. He risked a look at the sergeant. Sure enough, it was the same man who’d seen him using his Powers and started all the trouble last winter. A shiver went down Theklan’s spine at the memory. He knew something else. That man was cruel for the pleasure of it. Theklan certainly wasn’t going to let him take Zavar and Savara anywhere. “Coward! Afraid to come when there might be someone who could stop you.”
The sergeant’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “Watch it! That little bastard’s got Talent. Just hit him over the head and be done with it.”
The guard moved to do as his sergeant ordered. He was taller than Theklan, but Theklan managed to parry the blow. Then he feinted upward with his staff. The guard moved his own spear back to parry and Theklan drove the other end of his staff into his opponent’s kneecap as hard and fast as he could. The guard almost dropped his own spear in pain and surprise, sinking to his good knee. Theklan spun his staff to take advantage of the opening and strike at his opponent’s head.
Someone struck him in the back before he could complete the move. It was fortunate that Orleus was such a good teacher. Theklan didn’t have to try to think through the pain. He dropped and spun his staff to strike at the ankles of this new enemy. He heard the sergeant howl in pain. But then one of the sergeant’s big booted feet came up and kicked Theklan full in the chest. All the air was driven momentarily from his lungs. As he lay gasping on the ground, he heard Zavar wail.
He couldn’t fight them this way. There were too many. The only other weapon he had was forbidden. It was wrong, against the Tenets, to use his Power to cause harm. But it was even more wrong to let these men take the twins away with them. Another kick to his back almost broke his concentration, but Theklan sought everything in the courtyard that he could manipulate with his power. Rocks and fallen apples rose above the pavers. But before he could organize his thoughts to use them to defend himself and the twins, the butt of a spear came down on the back of his head. There was a clatter as the rocks fell back to the ground, then only Zavar’s wail and the sound of marching feet.
Chapter 44: Kidnapped
Just as they were ready to leave the market, Vatar suddenly stood stock still, his head thrown up like one of Orleus’s hounds scenting the wind. He pushed through the crowd, back towards the Temple Gate. “Hurry!”
Arcas grabbed his arm. “Vatar, what is it?”
Vatar barely paused. “Zavar. He’s frightened. Something has happened at the farm.”
Thekila reached for his other arm. “Theklan will know what’s going on. That’ll be faster than trying to run up the hill.”
Vatar let his breath out and nodded. His urge was to run, but this would be much faster. And Thekila could reach Theklan more easily than he could.
Thekila’s eyes flew wide with fear. “I can’t reach Theklan. It’s like he’s not there.”
Vatar and Arcas both turned to pushing their way through the crowd. They’d reached the edge of the market square when Vatar realized Thekila wasn’t with them. He swallowed down panic and turned back to look for her.
Thekila waddled out of the crowd towards them. “It’s no good, Vatar. I can’t keep up with you, now. Go on ahead. I’ll follow.”
Vatar clutched her arm. “I’m not leaving you alone in the city.”
“Then take me to the Healers. The Healers’ Entrance is on the way to the Gate. Boreala is there. She’ll look after me.”
Vatar nodded. He could leave Thekila with Boreala without worry. In fact, if there was anything wrong up at the farm, the Healers’ Hall might be the safest place for her. “That’s probably best.”
They walked as fast as Thekila could comfortably go. Vatar calculated the time it would take to reach the farm. What else could he do? There was no one else currently at the farm who could hear his Far Speech. Orleus and Quetza had gone out for a ride. But . . . they were mounted. Maybe they could get back faster than he could. He reached out with Far Speech. “Orleus!”
“Yes?” Orleus didn’t sound pleased with the interruption.
Another time, Vatar would have sympathized. Not today. “Get back as fast as you can. There’s some trouble at the farm.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, yet. I only know Zavar is frightened and Thekila can’t bespeak Theklan. You’re mounted and we’re on foot. You may be able to get there before us.”
“We’re on our way.”
~
>
The first thing Vatar saw when he and Arcas burst through what remained of the farm gate was Copper, lying by the gate, bleeding from a deep wound in her side. Vatar paused to stroke her head while Arcas ran on to the main house.
“Good girl, Copper. I’ll be back.”
He scanned the courtyard. One of the young dogs lay dead in the middle of the yard. There was no question he was dead. He had been nearly cut in two. Tiger lay, whimpering, under the bench, clearly also wounded. There was no sign of the twins or of Theklan. Clearly something bad had happened. The cold calm that he had felt in other crises settled over him again. It didn’t diminish his urgency, only made it possible to think. Whatever had happened out here, the children might be in the house.
Swallowing down hope, Vatar followed Arcas into the main house. Silver and the other young dogs swirled around his feet. Arcas had Elaria and Caslar in his arms. Lancera stood nearby, wringing her hands. Jana and Arus hugged each other in the corner behind her. Elaria was hysterical, gripping Caslar so tightly that the boy wailed in pain.
“What happened, Elaria?” Arcas asked while he gently tried to loosen her grip on their son.
Elaria gulped, choking on her own tears. “They came . . . they came right through the gate. They—”
Vatar interrupted. “Slow down. Who are they?”
Elaria looked up at him, wild-eyed. “Temple Guards. They came and they . . . they took the children. I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry, Vatar. I couldn’t stop them!”
“No one would expect you to, Elaria,” Vatar said gently. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Zavar and Savara were playing in the courtyard. The guards grabbed them. Savara screamed. Theklan tried to take her back. They beat him for it. One of the guards hit him in the head with the butt of his spear. The dogs attacked the guards, trying to save the children. I’ve never seen anything like it. They were ferocious. But the guards struck them with their spears. Then they took the twins and Theklan and left. I got the other dogs in here, to protect us if they come back.”
The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) Page 28
