“Well, then,” Amaurea said with a smile. “If he doesn’t know our secrets, he can’t very well reveal them. Without Talent, I don’t see how he can be the one who will destroy our power here in Caere. If he’s only going to be here for two years, we may be able to find a less drastic and less expensive means of keeping a watch on him.”
Around the table, most of the other Councilors nodded agreement with Amaurea.
Gerusa raised her chin in defiance. “But we still need to establish some means of keeping an eye on him and controlling him, if necessary.”
Amaurea nodded judiciously. “I think that is a necessary precaution. Very well. If he is no threat, there’s no point in starting trouble with the Smiths’ Guild over him. Let’s return him to his home, but continue to monitor him while he’s here.”
“How do you propose that we do that?” Gerusa asked.
“Offer him advanced training,” Montibeus said, almost too quickly. “Teach him writing and computation. The Smiths’ Guild is always asking for that. They’d find it difficult to refuse. Bring him back to the Temple for training say one day in seven. That way we can keep an eye on him.”
“Good idea,” Veleus said, as if he hadn’t already known what Montibeus would propose. “I suggest that Cestus be asked to teach him. He’s been asking for a teaching position. And he has an unusual gift for observation, which is very apropos in this case. Besides, they’re brothers.”
Montibeus nodded, but his eyes narrowed slightly. That hadn’t been part of their earlier discussion.
“Well, then. Are we all agreed?” Amaurea asked the Council at large.
“If I could make one more suggestion,” Veleus said. “Offer the training through the Smiths’ Guild not directly to Vatar. They won’t refuse. And that way, Vatar won’t realize that he’s being watched.”
All members of the council nodded in agreement, even Gerusa.
~
Veleus let himself back into the room quietly and watched his son pacing the perimeter like a caged animal. The food and wine Dinus had provided lay untouched on one of the tables. Maybe there was a little of Lucina in the grace with which he moved.
Vatar turned and finally noticed Veleus. He stopped and stared defiantly at him. “How long do you plan to keep me prisoner here?”
Veleus forced a smile. “You’re no prisoner. You can go back to your uncle’s house and complete your training.” He took a step forward. “But, I’d like you to stay for a little while. I’d like to know more about you.”
Vatar made a negative, chopping motion with his right hand. “If I can leave, I’d just as soon do it now.”
Veleus held out his hands. “You won’t spare me even a few minutes?”
Vatar tossed his head like an skittish horse. “Why should I? This is the first interest you’ve shown in me in almost sixteen years. Why now?”
Veleus’s hands fell back to his sides. “Be fair. I never knew you existed until a few days ago.”
Vatar took a single step forward, nostrils flaring. “No. Because you probably never bothered to find out what happened to my mother. You just had what you wanted and then left her to face the consequences. You knew what would happen to her, here. But that didn’t stop you, did it? You didn’t care at all, did you?”
“Vatar, I . . .”
“And now you want to claim to be my father. I already have a father—Danar. He’s my father in the only ways that matter.”
Veleus sighed. He was a politician by rank and trade. He could read men. And he was far too familiar with that stubborn streak all of his sons seemed to have inherited. There was no point in trying to talk to Vatar in this mood. He couldn’t even blame the boy for what he felt. He had been unfair to Lucina. He knew that. He’d lived with it for sixteen years. But he would dearly have loved to get to know their son, to have a small piece of Lucina back in his life, even for a little while. Well, maybe Cestus would be able to find a chink in this armor of anger. The boy’s defenses might not be raised to the same level with Cestus, especially if he didn’t know that they were half-brothers.
Veleus vented a resigned sigh. “The boat is this way.”
Chapter 14: Anger
Vatar forced himself to get back into the boat. It was the only way to get his feet back on the solid mainland again. He gripped the sides and closed his eyes, anticipating the return of the panic he’d felt coming over. Nothing. There was simply too much anger still pent up inside him to allow the terror a foothold.
How could this . . . person come into his life when he was already grown, disrupt everything by dragging him over to that cursed island, and claim to be his father? If he was Vatar’s father, where had he been all these years? It was Pa who had raised him, protected him, and guided him. Pa had taught him to ride, had taught him almost everything important in his life before he came to Caere.
It obviously hadn’t mattered to this Veleus what happened to Lucina—or to Vatar—once he’d had what he wanted. And now to come forward and claim to be his father! It took more than that to be a father.
Vatar was back on the mainland and halfway back to Uncle Lanark’s house before his rage cooled enough to realize that Veleus had been good for one thing, at least. His rage at Veleus had burned away the last vestiges of his anger at Pa. Veleus’s preposterous claim to be his father had brought out his loyalty and love for his Dardani father. He still wished that he had been told. But he knew now that it didn’t matter—at least, not that much. Pa was still his father, no matter what.
His anger was all for Veleus now. To have treated his mother that way! And then to have the effrontery to call himself Vatar’s father, to try to take Pa’s place. Pa’s love for Mother—and for Vatar himself—didn’t ebb and flow with the seasons. It was steady as a rock—and as strong. Vatar would never doubt that. What did Veleus have to offer? He hadn’t even had the honor to acknowledge his own fault.
Chapter 15: The Leash
Vatar paused outside a door that was just ajar. The interior of the Temple had turned out to be a confusing maze, but he was reasonably sure that this was the “classroom” he’d been directed to attend at this hour. Finding his way here had done nothing to ease his doubts and confusion about being sent here in the first place. What did he need to learn that the guild couldn’t teach him? And why did it have to be learned in the Temple? Even Uncle Lanark didn’t know.
Up ‘til now, Vatar’s only experiences with the Temple had been the very boring and useless training prior to his manhood test. He’d pretty much avoided the Temple, even the Healer’s Hall, otherwise. It was too clearly connected with Fasallon magic for his tastes. He’d always been taught that magic, except what the shaman used, came from Evil Spirits. Though he had trouble calling what the Healers did evil. Maybe . . . maybe the Healers were like the shaman here in Caere. He blew his breath out. Thinking about it that way made it a lot easier to accept.
But . . . why was he here? Certainly not for magic, anyway. He glanced again at the unintelligible markings on the scrap of parchment the Smiths’ Guild Master had given him and up at the markings on the door. They looked the same to him, so he pushed the door open far enough to look inside.
The interior didn’t look much like a classroom—at least not like the rooms used for teaching at the Smiths’ Guild. The room contained only a small table and four comfortable-looking upholstered chairs. Vatar had only seen chairs like that in that other small room in which he’s been briefly imprisoned across on that horrible island. Not a comforting association. This room also had a stone fireplace, but no fire was laid now. There was, however, someone sitting in one of those overstuffed chairs, intently looking at a rolled up parchment with more of those strange markings on it.
“Excuse me.” Vatar started to close the door again.
“Vatar?” the occupant asked. “Yes, it is you. Come in.”
Vatar stared at the young man for a moment, sure he’d seen him somewhere before. Somewhere . . . by the sea, wet, cold, and
hungry. “Cestus?”
Cestus smiled. “Yes. I’ve been delegated to teach you.” He chuckled. “You’ll have to pay closer attention than you did before your manhood test, though. Hopefully, what I have to teach you this time will be more interesting to you.”
“What’s that?” Vatar asked.
“Didn’t anybody tell you anything?”
Vatar stepped through the door into the room. “No. The Guild Master just told me to come here tonight.”
Cestus shook his head. “Well, I’m going to teach you to read and write and do computations.” He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit down.”
Vatar advanced into the room and sat in the chair Cestus had indicated. He held out the slip of parchment the Guild Master had given him. “You mean how to understand this.”
“Yes. That and much more.” Cestus glanced at the parchment and smiled. “See. That’s a ‘G’, which designates this corridor, and the other symbols are numbers ‘3’ and ‘2’, together, they mean ‘32’, which is this number of this room.”
Vatar stared at the scribbles and shook his head. They still just looked like strange symbols to him.
Cestus dropped the scrap of parchment. “We’ll get to all of that. Tonight, and probably for the next few classes, we’re going to concentrate on letters. Once you understand that, the rest will come more easily.”
Vatar’s brows drew down and he rubbed the back of his neck. He very much doubted he’d ever be able to easily interpret those squiggly little symbols.
Cestus’s smile faltered and then broadened to a grin. “Don’t worry. You don’t have anything to prove. Whatever you learn can only help you. I, on the other hand, have to do a good job of teaching you if I’m ever going to have a chance to teach regularly in the school here. And that’s what I really want to do. So you see, I’m the one who should be nervous, not you.”
Vatar smiled back, some of his doubts easing. Cestus seemed easier to talk to now that Vatar wasn’t just one of the boys being prepared for manhood.
Two hours later by the end of the lesson, most of those strange squiggles had resolved themselves into what Cestus called letters. Vatar even had a reasonable idea of the sounds they represented. That was the easy part, since the name of the letter often resembled its sound. Differentiating some of those symbols from each other wasn’t always as easy.
Cestus leaned back. “That’s enough for tonight, I think. You’ve done very well for your first lesson.”
Vatar shook his head at the odd shapes that now had some meaning to him. Thinking about it didn’t give him a sense of accomplishment, though. His shoulders tightened with uneasiness. Something about this felt almost like . . . “It feels almost like magic,” he breathed.
Cestus snorted. “Oh, no. If there was any question of teaching you that, they’d never have assigned me. My Talent is too inconsequential to teach anyone else. That’s why it’s been so hard to get permission to teach.”
Vatar jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over.
“What’s the matter?” Cestus asked.
Every muscle in Vatar’s body was so tense he was shaking. “I don’t want anything to do with magic. Magic is . . .”
Cestus held out his hands, empty palms up. “All right. I’m only supposed to teach you to read, write, and compute. I promise you, there’s nothing magical about that. Anyone can learn it, with the right instruction. I don’t understand why you feel that way about magic, but . . . let’s just agree not to talk about it at all. The subject will never come up unless you bring it up. How’s that?”
Vatar clenched his teeth. If the shaman ever got wind of anything that even smelled like magic . . . Especially if he thought Vatar had anything to do with magic, the consequences could be dire. He pulled his chin up. No. He was a man now and he wasn’t going to live in fear of what the shaman or anyone else thought. He’d make his own decisions. He nodded once, stiffly. “All right.”
~
The fog rolled in off the ocean as Vatar and Uncle Lanark closed down the forge for the day. Fog was new to Vatar and he still found it somewhat unnerving.
Fowin came to the gate just as they emerged from the workshop. “Good! You’re finished for the day. Come on, Vatar, get cleaned up and come with me. It’s going to be a good night for a little companionship.” Fowin winked.
Vatar shook his head. “I’m sorry, Fowin. I can’t tonight.”
Fowin’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not getting into a mood again, are you? Like after our manhood tests.”
Vatar smiled. “No, Fowin, I’m not. I just . . . had a lot on my mind then. But I have more training to go to tonight.”
Fowin took a step back. “More training? At this time of day? Lanark’s a hard taskmaster! Apprentices always get some time for themselves, especially after they’ve earned their torcs.”
Vatar shook his head again. “Not with Uncle Lanark. I have to go to the Temple.”
Fowin laughed. “What! They’re not making you take remedial classes because you refused to pay attention the first time, are they?”
“No.” Vatar chuckled, too. “I’m learning to write and compute.”
“Write and compute! Are you our next Guild Master, then?” Fowin said, dropping his bantering tone.
“What do you mean?”
“Usually only Guild Masters or their designated successors get that kind of training.”
Vatar tried not to show his surprise. He’d thought he was just getting the kind of education a Caerean boy would have had at a younger age. Like Arcas would be learning to ride and hunt—things he wouldn’t have had a chance to learn in the city. A dark suspicion started to form in his mind. This had something to do with Veleus. He’d bet on it. “Don’t worry. I think they have other reasons for training me. I don’t expect to be Guild Master. Have a good time, tonight, Fowin. I’ll join you next time.”
~
Vatar finished adding and subtracting the problem Cestus had set for him and braced himself to ask what was really on his mind. He hated to. He’d been enjoying these lessons and he’d even started to like Cestus, who had a knack for explaining the lessons clearly. Cestus was even interested in learning about the Dardani and had adjusted their lessons to fit things Vatar already knew. But if this all had something to do with Veleus, well . . . he’d just as soon not participate. He wanted nothing to do with the man who claimed to be his father.
Cestus checked Vatar’s solution. “Very good! You’re doing very well.”
“Cestus, why am I being given this training?” Vatar asked.
Cestus paused in writing out the next problem. “What do you mean?”
“I thought this was something everyone in Caere learned. But it’s not. Why me?”
Cestus sighed. “I think you already suspect the answer.”
“Veleus.” Vatar spat the name.
Cestus’s eyebrows climbed near his hairline. “Yes and no. I know he had something to do with offering this training to you and the Smiths’ Guild. Or at least he was the one who recommended me to teach you. It was the Council that ordered it. Whatever his involvement was, he did it to protect you.”
Vatar sat back and stared at Cestus. This was not the answer he’d expected. “Protect me? From what?”
“You’re a half-blood. There are some on the Council who would have been happier just to keep you in the Palace permanently. He had to persuade them that you were not a threat. I don’t know how he managed it. I don’t know of any other half-blood that has been allowed outside the Temple or Palace.”
“Threat? Why would I be a threat to them?” Vatar asked, mystified.
“A long time ago, one of the Fasallon who had Fore Sight—the ability to see the future—made a prediction. She said that one day a Fasallon who was not a Fasallon would end their rule. Since then, every half-blood child has been brought into the Temple or Palace, so that there would never be a Fasallon who was not a Fasallon. Except you. You were brought up on the plains, where they
didn’t even know you existed.”
Vatar snorted. “So this is all just a way of keeping me under control? A leash?”
Cestus held his hands out. “I thought you found our lessons interesting.”
Vatar shrugged. “I do, but—”
“Then what’s the problem? You get to learn something useful that very few outside the Fasallon know. And, as long as they think you’re being watched, the Fasallon will leave you alone. It’s good for you both ways.”
Vatar was silent for a long moment, processing this. “I suppose so. But I don’t like being kept on a leash.”
“None of us do,” a new voice put in. They both looked up to see that Veleus was standing in the doorway. Vatar tensed. “But, as leashes go, yours is longer than most. It will allow you to return to the plains you love.”
“Father!” Cestus exclaimed in a delighted tone. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”
“I had business with Montibeus. I arrived early and decided to check on you.”
“Father?” Vatar asked, thoroughly confused. “Veleus is your father, too?”
“Yes, Cestus is another of my sons. Your brother,” Veleus answered.
“So you set him to watch me?” Vatar heard the blood rushing in his ears as his anger rose.
“No, I chose Cestus to teach you for his own sake. They haven’t been giving him assignments worthy of his abilities. I thought trying to teach someone as hard-headed as you might provide a challenge for him,” Veleus replied smoothly.
Vatar stood up, knocking over the chair he’d been sitting on. “What if I just choose to cut my leash? What if I just don’t come back for any more lessons?”
Veleus turned to him, now very serious. “Don’t do that, Vatar. Please. That really would cost you your freedom. The High Council is willing to settle for this small inconvenience on your part. Don’t push them into deciding that it would be safer just to lock you up on that island. There are limits to what even I could do to help you, then.”
That knocked the wind out of Vatar’s argument. When he’d been released from that accursed island, he really had thought that there would be no consequences to his being discovered. Now . . .
The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) Page 8
