Vatar felt as if someone was watching him. It was a little like the ticklish feeling between his shoulder blades, but . . . not quite the same. Before the next game got under way, he glanced across the field, to where the Raven Clan had gathered to watch the tournament. Right there, at the front of the Raven Clan, sat Maktaz. The shaman stared and the hate in his eyes, even at this distance, made Vatar shudder. In some ways, Maktaz seemed more dangerous than the tigers in that instant.
Continuing to stare back wasn’t going to help. Vatar forced himself to break eye contact and his eyes locked with someone else who was staring at him in an entirely different way. Avaza. He’d meant to find her as soon as he returned from the hunt and collect that kiss. But first there was his family, then he couldn’t keep his eyes open in the quiet, darkened hut, and then there was the tournament. He smiled across at her, and Avaza lifted her chin and turned her head away. Maybe he should have gone to find her after all. Was there time, while the second game played out? The Horse Clan were good, especially with Daron in the game, but their horses couldn’t be as fresh as the other two teams. Usually the games took longer as the tournament continued, for that reason if nothing else.
Vatar stood up and started to walk around the field. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he got there. Avaza was surrounded, probably by her family, certainly by Clan sisters and brothers. How was he even going to get a chance to talk to her? He’d think of something.
He blew out his breath in relief as he came around the point of the field. Looked like he wouldn’t have to think of something after all. There was Avaza walking alone at the back of the crowd. He ran to catch up. “Avaza!”
She turned slowly and watched him with narrowed eyes as he approached. “Yes?”
Vatar stopped and blinked. “I . . . uh, I thought . . .” He drew a deep breath. “I thought this might be a good time for that kiss you promised me.”
She crossed her arms across her chest. “I thought you’d decided you’d rather kiss some other girl. After all, it’s been hours since you came back.”
Oh. “Uh . . . It’s not that. I . . .” Vatar stammered.
Avaza continued to stand there with her arms crossed. “What? Something was clearly more important than that kiss you suddenly seem so intent on. I actually thought, for a little while yesterday, that you meant what you said.”
“I did.” Sky above and earth below, a simple kiss wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. Was it?
“Well. So what held you up?”
Vatar took a step back. “Well, my family wanted to know all about the hunt. I couldn’t very well walk out without telling them anything. I . . . I thought you’d be listening to Ravaz, the same way. I didn’t want to interrupt your family’s reunion . . .”
Avaza uncrossed her arms. “That didn’t take you this long.”
Vatar swallowed hard. He looked down at his boots. “Well, then I kind of . . . fell asleep. I hadn’t slept much the night before. And none of us slept last night, obviously. And . . . well, and then it was the tournament. And I didn’t have a chance to . . .”
Avaza stepped still closer and pulled his face down to hers. The kiss was longer than their first and it left Vatar slightly dizzy. He raised his arms to hold onto her. He continued to stare into her eyes even when she pulled her lips from his.
Her smile at him was alluring. “There. Now you’ve collected your kiss. Is that all you want?”
Vatar swallowed hard. “No.”
Avaza’s laugh was like the tinkling of little bells. “Good. Because it’s not all I want, either.”
Vatar started to lean forward to kiss her again. Behind them a shout went up from the playing field. Vatar jerked at the sound. He gripped her shoulders tighter even as he turned his head back toward the jarai field, torn between Avaza and the game.
Avaza laughed again. “Go on. You need to go finish the tournament. We can . . . talk later.”
~
As Vatar predicted, The tournament ended with a Horse Clan victory. As soon as Vatar had congratulated Daron, he started thinking about finding Avaza again. Now, before the feast started, would be a good time, before everyone had a chance to sort themselves out into clans and family groups. It’d be harder to get her alone, then.
He didn’t see her anywhere. Hadn’t she stayed to watch him play? While he stood looking around the crowd, his teammates swept him up in the traditional march back to the village square, following the triumphant Horse Clan players. The crowd of Dardani surrounded them, cheering them on. Vatar stopped trying to fight against the tide. He was more likely to find Avaza in the village, now. Maybe he’d just have to wait until after the feast, when things thinned out a little.
As the jarai players began to drift to their own clans, the eldest chief called for Vatar, Daron, Alion, and Ariad to come to the center of the square.
When the four boys had arrived at the center, the chief announced, “By agreement of the Chiefs, the tigers’ fangs are awarded to the four young men most responsible for killing the beasts.” He tied a leather thong from which was hung a long, curved fang around the neck of each young man. The assembled Dardani cheered. Vatar fingered his and smiled.
The chief continued, “The skins, when they have been cured, are awarded to Vatar, for the tiger he killed, and to Ariad because he struck the other tiger twice.”
The square erupted in another wild cheer.
~
The feast was winding down and Vatar was thinking of going looking for Avaza again. Except, he was so tired he thought he might fall down half-way there, which wouldn’t make a very good impression. Should he wait until tomorrow? Or would she be angry with him again?
He barely blinked when Pa handed him a cup. Vatar took a gulp and almost choked. He hadn’t drunk fermented apple juice since the night of his initiation. This was possibly even a little stronger. Wrinkling his nose, he tried to push the cup back into Pa’s hand.
Pa refused to take it. “Drink it, Vatar. You’ll need it.”
Vatar shook his head. “What for? After today, if I drink this now, I might not even make it back to the hut. And there’s someone I want to—”
Pa interrupted him. “Whoever it is will have to wait until tomorrow. Drink it. It will help you relax.”
Vatar held the cup, but didn’t take another swallow. “I don’t want to—”
Pa interrupted again. “You need to trust me on this, Vatar. Drink it.”
Vatar sighed and took another swallow, more slowly this time.
As giddy as he already was, it didn’t take much to set him reeling. Before Vatar could fall down, he was gripped by both arms and supported. He was pretty sure that was Pa on his right, but he couldn’t focus well enough to tell who was on his left. Vatar suspected dimly that they were leading him in the wrong direction, too, but his protests came out slurred. He was out before they got wherever they were going.
~
Vatar woke bleary eyed the next morning. He rolled over and absently reached to scratch his right shoulder.
Mother caught his hand. “Don’t scratch. It would be a shame to ruin that tattoo.”
Vatar sat up abruptly and then clutched his head. Of course. His manhood tattoo. That was why Pa insisted he drink that apple jack last night.
For a moment, he tried to see the tattoo on his own shoulder, but it was impossible to bring the tattoo into focus that way.
Nearby, Arcas sat up, blinking as if the light hurt his eyes. They’d tattooed Arcas, too, even though his only involvement in the hunt was helping to forge the weapons. Evidently his Caerean manhood test was sufficient. But, then, Vatar knew that the shaman’s decrees had never been about the validity of the Caerean manhood rites. That had only been about vengeance and Arcas had had no part in Torkaz’s death.
Arcas squinted at Vatar’s shoulder. “Why is yours different?”
Vatar tried again to look at his own tattoo. “Different?”
“Well, Uncle Danar’s looks like a
charging lion.”
Vatar nodded. That was the standard manhood tattoo of the Lion Clan. Arcas’s looked the same, except that it wasn’t healed yet. “What’s mine look like, then?”
Arcas cocked his head to the side. “More like the head of a roaring lion.”
Vatar blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Why?”
Vatar reverently touched the lines on his own shoulder. “Hero’s tattoo,” he breathed in disbelief. That tattoo hadn’t been used in at least two generations. Never, in his wildest dreams, would Vatar have expected that he would earn it. Slowly, he face split into a wide grin.
Chapter 25: Avaza
By afternoon, the pounding in Vatar’s head had subsided, so he went back to work in his make-shift forge. He could at least take care of some of the repairs, saving the need to haul tools and knives across the plains and back. He couldn’t help it if his mind occasionally drifted to Avaza and when he could get another kiss from her.
It was a hot day, much hotter than it ever got in Caere and still hotter at the forge. Sweat made his new tattoo itch and the rub of fabric across it didn’t help. Vatar pulled his tunic over his head. He looked up and smiled when he heard a tinkling laugh. Avaza stood at the other side of the anvil, studying his well-muscled arms and chest, not missing the tiger fang on its leather thong or the new tattoo on his right shoulder, either.
“You’re pretty strong, aren’t you?” she asked.
Vatar puffed out his chest just a little. “Well, I work with iron. You kind of have to be.”
Avaza smiled slowly. “It’s nice, though. To be that strong.”
Vatar smiled back. “Comes in handy from time to time.”
Avaza looked at him for another moment, then turned. “Well, I have to get back. But I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Avaza walked away, hips swaying in a way that made his heart thump almost as loud as his hammer.
“You can count on it,” Vatar said to her retreating form. He continued to smile as he watched her until he saw her stop and talk to another young man. Her bell-like laugh reached him again, this time for someone else. That warm feeling in his belly suddenly burned.
The truth was Vatar would be going back to Caere soon. They couldn’t expect Boreala and Cestus to stay much longer, now that the threat of the tigers had been dealt with. He’d be back in Caere for the winter, where the masters seemed determined not to let him get close enough to one of their daughters to talk to, let alone kiss one. And Avaza would be here, with four clans’ worth of other eligible young men. By the time Vatar got back, she’d be someone else’s year mate. Unless, of course, he asked her first.
Vatar chewed his lip. It wasn’t really fair to ask her to wait for him to come back. Then again, that was her choice to make, wasn’t it? If he didn’t ask, she couldn’t make her choice known. He’d need some token to give her, though. Something she could hold on to. He touched the tiger fang at his throat. That would make sure she remembered him. Reluctantly, he shook his head. No. Better to stick with tradition. The token was supposed to be something the young man made himself, not something taken in the hunt.
Vatar set the repair he’d been working on aside and put some rods of raw iron into the heart of the fire. Time he did some more work on that pattern Uncle Lanark had given him to prove his skills to the masters. He hadn’t gotten it quite right the last time, but the next would be better. That would be a unique gift, too. Memorable. That was the point. Something only he could have made. There were, after all, three other young men with tiger fangs around their necks. But only one who knew how to work iron.
~
Vatar held the egg-shaped piece up. It was a little larger than an apple, but hollow. Good thing. It would be pretty heavy if it was solid. He’d twisted the iron rods and woven them together in an open pattern that resembled the weave of a basket. It was a pretty, but useless thing and as near perfect as he could make it. Would Avaza like it? He drew a deep breath. Only one way to find out.
He’d seen her go by with a jug on her way down to the waterhole not long ago. He hadn’t seen her come back. That was the first place to look, then. It didn’t take long to find Avaza. It was almost as if she’d been waiting for him.
“Hello, Avaza,” he said, trying to find a way to start.
Avaza turned toward him. “Oh, hello, Vatar.”
Chilled by the distance in her voice, Vatar said, “You don’t sound very happy to see me.”
Avaza shrugged. “You’ve been spending so much time working, I thought you’d lost interest in me.”
Vatar relaxed. That was all. Not that she’d gotten interested in someone else. “I was making something for you.”
Avaza smiled and stepped closer. “You were? What?”
Vatar held out the open-work egg, holding his breath. It was early to be offering a courtship token.
Avaza cocked her head to the side. “What is it?”
Vatar smiled. “Just something pretty that I made. It’s supposed to prove my skills as a blacksmith. I . . . It’s not fair to ask you this, but I’d like you keep this for me until I return.”
Avaza’s hand, which had been reaching to take the bauble froze. “Why until you return?”
Vatar drew a deep breath and braced himself. “Well, I have to return to Caere for the winter, to complete my training, but after that—”
Avaza picked up the egg, but held it just above his outstretched hand, her fingers just barely touching his. “Well, yes. But there’s no reason I couldn’t go with you, is there? I mean . . . if we were year mates.”
Vatar blinked. He’d never considered that possibility. Normally, they’d continue to see each other, just more frequently, through the summer. Once the clans broke up and left Zeda, he’d ride over to her clan to see her as long as the weather permitted. And next summer, if she still kept his token, he’d start digging a hut for them to share as year mates. Then, after a winter or two, life mates.
Vatar hadn’t planned on speeding things up that much. He’d never even thought that Avaza would want to come to Caere with him. But . . . why not? There was his cozy little room off the kitchen at Uncle Lanark’s. He could lash the cots together for the two of them. Aunt Castalia would be there to show Avaza how to go on in the city. He smiled. Aunt Castalia would love having another woman around the house, someone she could fuss over without complaint. He rather thought Avaza would enjoy being fussed over, too. But . . .
“I’d like that very much. More than I can tell you. But it’s only fair to warn you. I’ll be busy at the forge a lot there, too. And sometimes away at the guildhall or . . . elsewhere for training. Things are different in the city. Women aren’t given as much freedom. It won’t be like it would here.”
Avaza stepped forward and put her arms around him, the little iron egg in her hand digging into his back. “That’s all right. You’ll be with me.”
Vatar held her close. “I will.” Too late now to start digging our own hut. And it will be impossible on the journey. Too many people around. Nothing for it but to wait. Just how long is it going to take to get to Caere?
Chapter 26: New Worlds
Vatar rode beside Avaza as they neared Caere, watching her reactions. Right now, they were riding through the rich farmland that surrounded the city. Just a year ago, these farmhouses had seemed unimaginably large and permanent. Now he knew what was still ahead.
Avaza’s head turned continually from side to side. “Is this Caere?”
Vatar smiled. “No. These are just the farms that supply the city. You’ll see Caere from that rise up ahead.” And the ocean. Vatar chose not to think about that. He’d keep his eyes on Avaza. That was a much better view.
“Really?” Avaza kicked her horse into a canter.
Vatar followed, catching up so he could see her face as she looked down from the top of the bluff at the jumbled buildings of Caere.
“Oh!” She sat still for a long time, taking it all in. Vatar flinched as she lifted her eyes fr
om the city to the bay beyond. “What’s that out there?”
Vatar didn’t look. He didn’t need to. “The huge building out on the island? That’s the Palace of the Fasallon. They’re . . . sort of like the chiefs, here. There’s a lot I’ll have to explain to you about how things are here. I’ll take you on a little tour—tomorrow.”
Avaza bounced with excitement. “Ooh, I can’t wait.”
I can. Because between now and then . . . They’d be at Uncle Lanark’s in just a couple more hours. And then there was his apprentice quarters off the kitchen, just him and Avaza alone—finally. He wished again that there’d been time for him to build them their own hut back at Zeda. Avaza would probably be more comfortable in such a familiar environment. Maybe he would, too, because right now his mind kept racing around and, frankly, he was getting a little nervous. If they’d had a chance to build their own hut and spend some time . . . Then again, their friends would have escorted them to that new hut with all kinds of raucous and occasionally lewd jokes. He couldn’t picture that helping either one of them relax. Huh. Maybe this way would be better after all. Anyway, it was how it was going to be for them.
~
Much as Vatar loved Aunt Castalia’s cooking, and especially her fruit pies, he thought this dinner would never end. With Avaza sitting warm and soft beside him and his room just on the other side of the kitchen, it was hard to think of anything else. Was Avaza nervous, too? She hadn’t made any move to leave the table. He couldn’t until she did. Could he? He had a vague feeling that it was important to wait until she was ready. When was that going to be?
Finally, Avaza squeezed his hand under the table and stood up. Vatar watched her walk the short distance across the front room until she disappeared through the kitchen. Aunt Castalia followed her. Right. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants legs and tried to decide what was a reasonable interval to wait before he stood up, too.
The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) Page 14
