The stunned guards complied. Cestus darted in and picked up the discarded swords and knives. Vatar stood up, leaving Zavar on the chair next to his twin. “Which one hit her?”
Zavar pointed at one of the disarmed guards. “Him.”
Vatar crossed the room in two strides. “Let’s see how you like it.” He put all the power of his years of working at the forge behind that punch. The guardsman went down in a heap. Everyone in the room heard the crunch of breaking bones. Vatar turned back. He stopped long enough to assure himself that Miceus was still breathing. Then he strode to his children. He gently lifted Savara and started towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Orleus asked.
“You can take care of things here. See to Miceus and Father. I need to get Savara to Boreala as soon as possible.”
“There are other Healers nearer than the farm, Vatar,” Cestus said.
Vatar shook his head. He didn’t trust anyone but Boreala right now.
Quetza stepped forward. “I’ll take her. I can get her there faster than you can.”
Vatar drew a deep breath and nodded. Quetza stepped to the window, throwing it open. She melted into a white wyvern. Her change seemed to flow outward from her center until a small dragon with snowy white scales replaced her. Vatar suppressed the chill seeing this dragon-like creature up close gave him. He held Savara out and Quetza very gently took the girl in her taloned paw. Then she turned and leaped out of the window, stroking powerfully with her leathery wings. She wheeled and flew back towards the hills and Vatar’s farm.
Vatar watched, holding Zavar close, until he could no longer see anything but a white dot high up and far away. Then he turned and his chest tightened with guilt. He’d been so taken up with worry for Savara, he hadn’t thought of the other injured.
Father sat in the chair recently vacated by the twins, breathing hard. Cestus hovered at his elbow, head swiveling between Father and the disarmed guards. Orleus knelt on the floor next to Miceus.
Vatar crossed first to Father. “Are you all right?”
Father waved a hand. “Fine. Not a scratch on me. Just not as fit as I once was.” He attempted a chuckle and ended up with a painful cough. When he’d caught his breath, he continued. “I don’t think any of the guards relished the idea of stabbing a High Councilor. But when I broke that statue over the head of one of them, his friend punched me in the gut. Knocked all the air out of me.”
Orleus snorted. “That’s what that kind of blow is supposed to do.”
“How’s Miceus?” Vatar asked with some trepidation. He’d seen Gerusa stab her own son in the back. Blood seeped from around Orleus’s hands. Vatar had to remind himself that that was actually a good sign. Dead people don’t bleed. A red stain on Orleus’s thigh looked more like it was his own blood, not Miceus’s.
Orleus didn’t look up. “He’ll need a real Healer. Still, he’s lucky Mother has no skill with a knife. Her blade seems to have struck his shoulder blade. Tore up the muscles pretty badly. He may never have full use of that arm again, but she missed anything vital. I was worried that she might have nicked his lung, but it doesn’t look like it.”
Father breathed out. “Cestus, if you wouldn’t mind, could you arrange for a Healer to come up here? I don’t think they’ll answer if we just ring.”
Cestus swallowed. “Of course. But . . .” He looked around the room and pointed first at the remaining guards and then at Gerusa. “What about them. You’re in no shape to fight them again. And Orleus is wounded—”
“This pin-prick?” Orleus scoffed. “I’ve been hurt worse in training exercises.” He moved and winced. “Though I won’t object to the Healer taking a look at it after he’s taken care of Miceus.”
“We still need at least two able-bodied men to keep the . . . prisoners under control.” Cestus wrung his hands. “And we need a Healer as soon as may be. I can’t be in two places at once.”
“Three places,” Father said. “Because I think you’re going to find there’s more waiting for you to deal with once you get downstairs. Years of politics have taught me that nothing ever works exactly as you’ve planned it.”
Vatar set Zavar down next to Father and lifted his spear. “Easily solved. Gerusa is securely tied. I recall another closet in that bedroom. I think it’ll serve to lock the surviving guards up in there. Then you can go with a clear conscience.”
Cestus nodded. “Good plan.”
Father nodded. His breathing was already easier. “That’ll work. Between the two of us, Orleus and I ought to be able to take it from there. It’s not for long, after all. Then you should go, too, Vatar. Zavar needs the security of being home, with family. And I know you must be burning to find out what’s happening with Savara.”
As soon as all their opponents were secured, Father repeated, “Go on, Cestus. We’ll be fine. And the sooner a Healer sees Miceus, the better. You, too, Vatar. Your children need you more than we do right now.”
Chapter 47: Savara
Vatar, carrying Zavar, accompanied Cestus down the broader and better-lit main stairs.
When they reached the entry hall, Theklan stood up to greet them, eyes wide. “Where’s Savara?”
Vatar smiled reassuringly. “Quetza took her back to the farm and Boreala. She can get there faster than we can.” He looked Theklan over. The boy’s wounds had been cleaned and bandaged and it looked like his head was much clearer, too. At least he didn’t sway when he stood up. “We’re going there right now.”
“Yes, and we need a Healer—the best we have—and some reliable Palace Guards sent up to Gerusa’s chambers immediately,” Cestus said.
Despite Dinus’s imploring look, Cestus led the way down to the dock to make sure that the oarsmen knew to take these passengers back to the Temple pier. “Then come straight back here. I’ll need to go over there just as soon as I’ve dealt with a few things here.”
Vatar handed Zavar to Theklan as soon as the older boy was seated in the boat. Before stepping aboard himself he turned to Cestus. “Good luck. And thank you.”
They set a quick pace leaving the Temple. They passed several arguments in the market square which the Temple Guard would normally break up. There was no sign of the Guard now. Vatar veered off the street that led directly to the Temple Gate.
“Where are we going?” Theklan asked.
“We’re just going to make a quick stop at the guildhall. It won’t take long,” Vatar answered.
The guildhall was only a couple of blocks out of the way, so it didn’t take long to get there. Vatar left Zavar and Theklan in the outer court, just inside the safety of the guildhall gate. “I’ll be right back.”
As a master smith, Vatar was admitted to the Guild Master’s office immediately. He’d forgotten that he still carried his spear until he saw the Guild Master’s eyes go to it. He set it against one of the chairs before the Master’s desk. “Sir, I need to talk to you privately for a moment.”
The Guild Master gestured for his aides to leave the room. “What is it, Vatar?”
Now it came to the point, Vatar wasn’t quite sure where to start. He cleared his throat. “Sir, I suspect that you know who . . . what I really am.”
The Guild Master steepled his hands in front of him. “I infer that your father is Fasallon. Someone highly placed, I would guess, since High Councilor Veleus himself came to your master’s ceremony. That hasn’t stopped you from becoming a fine smith.”
Vatar’s smiled wryly. “It shouldn’t. I’m of Tabeus’s lineage.” He shook his head. “But that’s not important right now. What is important is what I know because of it.”
The Guild Master’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”
Vatar shrugged. “There is some . . . conflict among the Fasallon.”
The Guild Master sat up straighter. “What kind of trouble?”
Vatar fingered the shaft of his spear. He couldn’t begin to explain all he knew about the Fasallon and what was happening among them. And it wasn�
�t really necessary. “Nothing that should matter to anyone else. But the Temple Guard may be preoccupied for a few days. I saw signs of it coming across the market just now. If any trouble breaks out in the city, the guilds should be prepared to keep order. For everyone’s good. That’s all I came to say.” Vatar took up his spear and turned toward the door.
The Guild Master stood up. “Can’t you tell me more, Vatar? It’s hard to make plans without all the facts.”
Vatar shifted his feet. “I’m sorry, sir. My daughter was injured earlier today. I need to get home to her. I just stopped to warn you.”
The Guild Master nodded. “Then I’m grateful you came to alert me. Will you be in the guild hall tomorrow?”
Vatar grimaced. “I’ll come if you need me, sir.”
Vatar led the way back to the Temple Gate, where they’d left the horses. He put Theklan up on the horse Quetza had ridden and set Zavar in front of him. On horseback, it didn’t take long to climb the hill and reach the farm.
Thekila met them at the gate. She grabbed Theklan into a fierce hug as soon as he slid from the saddle. “Elaria told me what you did. I’m very proud of you.”
Theklan blushed.
“How is Savara?” Vatar asked.
Thekila’s smile faded. “Boreala is still with her. She says Savara’s all right now, but there was bleeding . . . inside . . .” She choked and waved her hand at the side of her head.
Vatar blanched. He handed Zavar off to Thekila and rushed into the house.
Boreala looked up as he charged into the twins’ bedroom. “You didn’t find her a moment too soon, Vatar. And it’s a good thing Quetza could bring her here so quickly.”
Vatar stared at the tiny limp form on the bed. “Will she be all right?”
Boreala nodded, smiling. “Yes, she will, now. I had to use my Talent to stop the bleeding. It’s very delicate when the bleeding is in the brain.”
Vatar gulped and looked up at the Master Healer. “Will she . . . ?”
Boreala shook her head. “The bleeding was slow. I don’t believe it did any permanent damage. She should recover fully. But she needs to be kept quiet for several days.”
“Thank you, Boreala. I don’t know how to thank you properly.”
“No thanks are necessary, Vatar. I’m glad I was here to help. I’ll stay here tonight to watch her, if that’s all right.”
“Of course it is.”
Vatar sat next to Savara’s bed. Thekila came and sat next to him, holding his hand. Tears pricked at the corners of Vatar’s eyes as he watched over his daughter. He made no attempt to hide them. He could show them to Thekila, now. He knew she understood. In fact, he couldn’t have hidden what he felt no matter how hard he tried. Not now that they were bound. After a little while, the girl’s eyes fluttered open. She appeared to have trouble focusing.
Vatar stroked her hair back from her forehead. “It’s all right, Savara. You’re safe. You’re home. I’m here.”
Savara turned toward his voice. “Papa . . . the bad men . . . .”
Vatar patted her. “I know, Savara. I’ve dealt with them. They’ll never hurt you again. I promise.”
The door opened quietly. Quetza stood there, holding firmly onto Zavar’s hand. Theklan tried to peer around her shoulder.
Quetza restrained Zavar as he tried to dash forward. “He’s very worried about Savara. I told him I’d let him see for himself.”
Boreala smiled at the little boy. “Of course he is. And now he can help. Come here, Zavar.”
Zavar came to her, looking around her to Savara, his eyes wide with fear.
Boreala gently put her hands on his shoulders. “Savara has just waked up. She should stay awake for a little while before she sleeps again. Can you sit here quietly and talk to her?”
Zavar nodded solemnly.
Boreala held his eyes for a moment longer. “Call me if she starts to go to sleep again. It’s very important that she stay awake, but she must also stay quiet. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Zavar nodded.
She smiled. “Good. I’ll rely on you, then.”
Theklan took a seat next to the little boy without a word. Boreala smiled and nodded. She gestured for Vatar and Thekila to follow her into the main room.
“I’m no longer worried about her, Vatar. I’ll still stay here tonight, just in case. But I’m sure she’ll be fine, now.”
Vatar breathed a sigh of relief. Only then did he notice Tiger, his side bandaged, lying next to a sleeping Copper. He turned to Boreala.
“She’ll recover, too. Though not without a scar and she may not be able to help you with the herds again,” Boreala said. “Fortunately, the spear missed anything vital. She bled freely, but once that was stopped, the main danger was over.”
“Thank you again.”
Boreala shrugged. “Her great heart deserved a second chance. There was nothing I could do for the other dog, though.”
Vatar gritted his teeth, remembering the young dog, nearly cut in half. “I know.”
Thekila gripped his hand. “Arcas buried him in a corner of the pasture, where he can continue to keep watch over the herd.”
Chapter 48: Nothing Goes According to Plan
Cestus had barely stepped off the boat at the Temple wharf before he realized that things were not going according to plan. This was supposed to be merely a limited action that would only inconvenience the High Council and the most Talented without creating any major disruptions. Seemed the word hadn’t gotten out. Or maybe the wrong word had gotten out to the wrong people.
It wasn’t his people causing the trouble, for the most part. It was the other unTalented who’d somehow figured out that something was going on. Cestus hadn’t really thought that they wouldn’t notice. But he’d expected them to muddle through with their usual routines or else just go home. It looked—and sounded—like they’d decided to treat it as a holiday, rowdier than the all-night party that always followed the Festival. Groups of mostly younger Fasallon running wild, drunk on something liberated from the storehouse or just on freedom. So far, it was just noise and minor damage, but it could escalate much too quickly. And that could be disastrous.
Cestus hurried to the Temple office that was to be his headquarters. He had to push through a crowd in the corridor. At least this crowd was quieter and seemed sober. His chief conspirators—except Dinus, who was in charge across in the Palace—were all waiting for him.
Cestus turned to Lideus first. “Lideus, why aren’t the Temple Guard dealing with those fools out there running amok?”
Lideus shrugged. “It seemed like they were just blowing off steam—”
Cestus drew in a deep breath for calm. “Lideus, this has to stay under control. If there’s chaos over here, if we’re not in charge, then there’s no reason for the Council to deal with us.”
“Ah.” Lideus immediately went still, eyes unfocused as he contacted other members of the Guard who could hear him.
Cestus turned next to Farus and Belus, gesturing at the crowd in the hall, and spilling into the tiny office. “Now, what’s all this?”
Farus grinned. “Once the revolt started and people figured out what was going on, they decided they want to join us. We just haven’t figured out what to do with them.”
Cestus frowned. This was another problem he hadn’t foreseen. More people on their side strengthened their cause, but it also increased the risk of infiltration. They were out in the open, now, but they still couldn’t afford a spy who would run back to the Council with their plans. Or their problems and weaknesses.
He turned to scan the people in the crowd. What could he let them do? He couldn’t use them as message runners. A garbled message could be disastrous. So could a missing report of something important that needed his attention. He shook his head. “Unless one of us can vouch for them, just put them in another office or someplace for now. Clear the corridor so we can get through if we need to. Getting things under control is first priority. When we
have someone available, we’ll find out what particular skills they have and decide how to use them.”
Belus nodded. “There’s that empty conference room just across the hall. We’ll use that.”
Cestus had no time to even think about the new volunteers for the next few hours. New pockets of unrest or at least disruption sprang up almost as soon as the guard showed up to quash existing ones. Many of the Talented Fasallon hid in their homes, afraid to go out. He had to put a stop to that situation now. He needed to show that he was in control before the High Council took notice. They would only bargain with a strong leader who could deliver on his promises.
Lideus shook his head when Cestus voiced his concerns. “I need more men. The only good news is that the guilds seem to be stepping up to keep order in the city.”
Cestus rubbed his aching forehead. “Then pull your men back to the Temple. We have to keep this situation under control. If the guilds are willing and able to keep the peace in the city, let them.”
Lideus scratched the back of his neck. “I still need more men. The Temple Complex is huge. We’re stretched too thin to patrol all of it.” He looked over at the idle volunteers sitting or standing in the conference room. A few even wore the uniform of the Guard. “What about some of those?”
Cestus chewed his lip. “Take any that you can vouch for, personally. Or that someone you trust can vouch for. We can’t afford anyone who might carry tales to the High Council.”
Lideus shook his head. “That won’t be enough.”
Cestus sighed. What had made him think he was ready to deal with all of this? He’d put himself in this position. He had to deal with it somehow. At least, according to Dinus, there hadn’t been any major disruptions—beyond those that had been planned, anyway—across in the Palace. Hmm. That was an idea. “Then ask Dareus to send over some of the Palace Guard to help out.”
The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) Page 31
