Uncle Lanark clapped him on the back. “Good solid walls in this house, boy. Don’t worry about that.”
Vatar stared at him blankly, unsure what his uncle thought he was worrying about.
Pa cleared his throat. “Breathe, Vatar.”
Vatar turned to stare at him. “What?”
“Remember to breathe.” Pa smiled and nodded toward the kitchen. “Listen, she’s probably at least as nervous as you are. So just . . . take it slow and be gentle with each other.” Pa’s grin widened. “Also, it’s probably best to begin with what you know and work out from there.”
Vatar swallowed and nodded even though he didn’t have a clue what Pa meant. When Aunt Castalia came back to take her seat next to Uncle Lanark, he drew a deep breath and stood up to follow Avaza. She spun to face him as soon as he came through the door. For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other, neither knowing what to do next.
He wasn’t naïve. Neither was she, he was sure. It was nearly impossible to grow up among the Dardani without knowing what came next. Just . . . how were you supposed to start? “Begin with what you know”, Pa had said. What did he know? All they’d done up to this point was kiss. He let his breath out slowly. As good a place to start as any.
Vatar crossed the room and took her in his arms, tilting his head to kiss Avaza.
~
Their elders only smiled indulgently the next morning when Vatar and Avaza emerged, somewhat late, from the apprentice quarters, smiling and holding onto each other. Their greeting would certainly have been noisier and much less polite back at Zeda. Avaza blushed and buried her face against his shoulder. Vatar was glad they were here instead of back among the Dardani.
“Well, I imagine you’re both hungry,” Aunt Castalia said. “Bread and tea are already on the table. I’ll just go heat up some porridge for you.”
Uncle Lanark cuffed Vatar on the shoulder. “Don’t imagine you feel like working today, do you?”
Vatar ducked his head. “I promised Avaza I’d show her around today, it that’s all right with you.”
Uncle Lanark beamed. “Great idea! She should know her way around. Just make sure you stop in at the guildhall and let them know you’re back.”
“Yes, sir!” Vatar said.
Vatar and Avaza left soon after breakfast. He smiled when she took his hand as they walked. Why had he been nervous? Things had gone well. He smiled a little wider and squeezed her hand. Very well. Evidently she thought so too.
Avaza tried to stare in all directions at once as they crossed the market. It had been mostly shut down for the day when they came through yesterday afternoon. Now it was in full swing. Avaza stopped at a stall selling some of the many sea shells that either washed up on Caere’s beaches or were left over after their original owners became someone’s dinner. The shells had been cleaned up and small holes drilled so that they could be strung together in “chains”. Some of the larger and finer shells hung singly on leather thongs. They were a common form of jewelry in Caere, except for the wealthier guild masters and the Fasallon.
Vatar shuddered. The shells reminded him that the ocean was just a few blocks to the west—a fact he tried diligently to ignore. He tugged on their joined hands, but Avaza refused to move.
With her free hand, she picked up one of the larger shells, all soft creamy pink and twisted in a long spiral. “This is beautiful.”
Reluctantly, Vatar took a closer look. “Yes, but the Smiths’ Guild makes even better. And what we make won’t break. That will.” He shrugged. “Of course, it’ll be awhile before I can afford gold or even silver for you.” He fingered his torc. “Maybe copper, though.”
Avaza’s hand closed around the shell. “I like this. It’s . . . it’s the best memento of this trip to Caere I can think of.”
“The color complements the young lady’s complexion,” the old lady running the booth said.
Avaza preened.
Vatar raised an eyebrow at the older woman. He’d been in Caere long enough to know how to dicker, at least a little. From the way Avaza cradled the shell, he knew he was going to buy it for her, even if he didn’t really want to. But the seller didn’t need to know that. He took the shell from Avaza and turned it over, inspecting it carefully. “I still think we could do better at the Smiths’ Guild. We’re going there next.”
“Only five coppers for the lovely lady,” the old woman said.
Vatar squinted at the shell. “Three coppers would be more like it.”
“Four,” the old woman countered.
Vatar sighed and nodded. “Done.”
The old woman grinned at Vatar as he counted out the coins. “You bargain well.”
He grinned back as he tied the thong around Avaza’s neck. “So do you. Five coppers, indeed!”
The old woman laughed as they walked away.
Avaza reached up to touch the cool shell. “What was that all about?”
Vatar shrugged. “That’s just the way they do things here. If you don’t haggle at least a little bit, they’ll cheat you every time.” He squeezed her hand. “You’ll get the hang of it. I did.”
They stopped next at the Smiths’ Guild Hall. Avaza winced at the sound of all the hammers pounding and echoing off the enclosing walls. Vatar squeezed her hand. “It’s all right. We won’t be here long.” He nodded at the big building in the center. “I just need to go in and let the masters know I’m back. But you should know where the guildhall is.”
“Why?”
“Well, it’s a little like our clan while we’re here in Caere,” Vatar said. “Also, when I’m not working with Uncle Lanark, this is the place I’m most likely to be. If I’m not with you, that is. So, if you’re ever looking for me, this would be the place to start.”
“Vatar! You’re back!” a familiar voice called across the courtyard.
Vatar smiled to see Fowin bearing down on them. Fowin strode forward to clasp Vatar’s arm in greeting and then stopped, with his mouth hanging open, as he looked at Avaza.
Avaza grasped Vatar’s other hand more tightly.
“Avaza, this is my friend and fellow smith, Fowin. Fowin, this is my wife, Avaza.” Vatar used the Caerean term for simplicity. Fowin wouldn’t understand the more complicated Dardani system.
“Well! Vatar, you are a lucky man!” Fowin dipped his head. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Avaza nestled close to Vatar and smiled shyly at Fowin. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Fowin dragged his eyes away from Avaza. “You know, you’re going to have to get her a maretta or someone’s going to try to steal her away from you.”
Vatar scowled.
“What’s a . . . maretta?” Avaza asked.
“It’s a kind of bracelet married women wear here. I didn’t think of it before,” Vatar answered.
“I’m sure you could get one at the workshop. Discounts for members of the guild,” Fowin said.
Vatar caressed the back of Avaza’s hand with his thumb. He shook his head. “No. I want to make it myself. I’ll just get the materials. Copper wire and . . .” He weighed his purse. “Maybe a little silver to weave in. I can purchase materials on account, here.”
After Vatar had completed his business at the guildhall, he led Avaza to the Temple. They went to the Healer’s Entrance, where Vatar asked for Boreala.
“Why are we here?” Avaza asked.
Vatar shrugged. “Again, you should know where to go, if you need to. Also, Boreala made me promise to bring you here first thing before she and Cestus left us yesterday.”
“Indeed, I did,” Boreala said, coming out to them. She took Avaza by the arm and looked back at Vatar. “This is women’s business, Vatar. I think you’ll find Cestus out in the garden. I’ll bring Avaza back to you when we’re done.”
Vatar shrugged and strolled out into the garden.
Cestus hailed him right away. “Boreala said she expected you and Avaza to come by today.”
Vatar sat down next to Ce
stus and looked back toward the Healer’s Hall. “Yes. She just took Avaza off somewhere, though. I don’t know why.”
Cestus smiled. “Well, she doesn’t share what she talks about with her patients, but, at a guess, she’s probably explaining urulu weed to your bride.”
Vatar’s brow creased. “Arcas mentioned urulu weed when he brought word about Mother. What’s is it?”
Cestus leaned back. “Well, as I understand Dardani marriages—year mates—Avaza would normally chew some leaf that you have out there on the plains during the first year or two. To prevent pregnancies until you two have decided that you’re compatible for life.”
Vatar nodded. “Uza leaf. Yes.”
“Well, as far as I know, there’s no uza leaf in Caere. But we do have something similar that the Healers dispense in special cases.”
“Urulu weed?” Vatar asked.
Cestus nodded.
Vatar thought back over last night. “Good thing we came, then.”
“Are you going to come to your lesson with me day after tomorrow or . . .” Cestus nodded back toward the Hall, “not?”
Vatar started. “Is it day after tomorrow? I’ve lost count of the days. At least how they’re reckoned here.” He shrugged. “I guess I’d better get back in the habit, but . . . can we make it a short lesson?”
Cestus grinned. “Absolutely.”
Vatar was silent a moment, looking back toward the Hall. “Cestus, I need you to ask Veleus . . . Father something for me.”
“What?” Cestus asked.
“Ask me yourself,” Veleus said at the same time, walking toward them down the nearest path.
Vatar jumped to his feet.
Veleus pulled him into a hug, thankfully only a brief one. “Lords of Creation! I’m glad to see you back safe. And I’m proud of you, too.” He chuckled. “Has anyone mentioned to you that I am—and therefore you are, too—of Tabeus’s lineage?”
Vatar cocked his head to the side. “No. I didn’t know that.”
“Well, I think you’ve proven to be his true great-great-many-times-great-grandson. He would be proud. And so am I. Now, what can I do for you?” Veleus asked.
Vatar kicked at some of the small pebbles and pieces of broken shell that formed the path. “I hate to ask for more.”
“Nonsense, son. One of my greatest joys is helping my children. What do you need?” Veleus said.
“It’s Pa . . . Danar, I mean. He’ll want to see you, to try to pay his honor-debt to you.”
“Honor-debt?” Veleus asked.
Vatar nodded. “By our laws, the child belongs to the father’s clan. When Mother went to the plains with Pa, they also took me away from you. For that, he owes you an honor-debt. He’ll ask you to set the price of his honor.”
Veleus shook his head. “Vatar, first, this Danar is your father, too. There’s no need to stumble over calling him that. I’m not in the least offended by it. Second, for the most part, he did just what I would have wished for you. I don’t consider that he owes me anything.”
Vatar shook his head. “That’s what Cestus said. And that’s why I needed to talk to you. If you refuse to set a price, it means that the debt can never be forgiven. He can never regain his honor. Pa doesn’t deserve to be shamed like that.”
Veleus put a finger to his lips. “No, he doesn’t. Thank you for telling me. What sort of price is expected?”
“Only you can set the price. It’s usually a service or task that offsets the harm done.”
“I’ll give it some thought.” Veleus rubbed his chin. “Seems to me it should have something to do with keeping you safe. Boreala and Cestus have told me about this shaman who seems to have it in for you. What I don’t know is why?”
Before Vatar could answer, Boreala and Avaza found them.
“We’ve got it all arranged, Vatar,” she said. “Your wife knows what to do, now.” A barely-suppressed smile was playing about her mouth.
Vatar grinned. “Thank you, Boreala.”
“Wife?” Veleus asked.
Vatar took Avaza’s hand. “Yes, Father. This is my year-mate—what you would call wife—Avaza.” He squeezed her hand. “Avaza, this is Veleus, my father here in Caere.”
Veleus bowed to her. “I’m very pleased to meet you, my dear. Please regard me as your father, too, while you’re here.”
Chapter 27: Flight
Thekila finished buckling the metal-studded harness on as she watched Quetza wheel and soar on the updrafts. It looked like a lot of fun, if she could just master flight as well as her friend.
Truth was Quetza had chosen her avatar better than Thekila had. No matter how good either of them got with their shape changes, their mass would always stay the same. As a wyvern, Quetza was slightly small and also slightly heavy, but not as heavy as a wyvern carrying its prey back to the nest. So those large leathery wings were meant to carry her weight. All she’d needed was practice.
Thekila, on the other hand, though slight as a human, made a very large and very heavy eagle. Much too heavy for the wingspan. The mechanics of flight were never going to be as easy for her. She could do all right in an up draft now, but without that boost, she’d fall like a rock without some additional magic. She’d come up with a plan for that, though.
Quetza swooped below the level of the ledge and then rose up to land gracefully. She took a step forward and melted back into her natural shape. She stood still for a moment with her eyes closed. The sudden change could be disorienting. Then she smiled as she crossed to sit with her back to a sun-warmed boulder. She took several deep breaths.
Thekila took a step forward toward the ledge.
Quetza grabbed her arm. “Give me a moment. As much fun as that is, I still get a little out of breath when I fly. I wouldn’t want to drop you.”
Thekila grinned. “I wouldn’t want that either.” She hunkered down next to Quetza and picked up a handful of pebbles, rolling them around in her closed hand.
After a moment, Quetza opened one eye a slit to look at Thekila. “So, have you had any more contact with your secret admirer?”
Thekila tossed a pebble over the edge. “Just flashes. It’s very frustrating.”
Quetza laughed. “He’s too shy to actually say anything to you.”
Thekila tossed another pebble, allowing her red hair to obscure her face. “I don’t think that’s it. Last time . . . last time, I swear he was thinking about kissing me.”
“Hmm.” Quetza sat forward. “When was this?”
Thekila shrugged and let the rest of the pebbles fall through her fingers. “It’s been a while. Longer than usual. There hasn’t even been a flicker since midsummer.” That was the longest she’d ever gone with nothing since that first contact.
“See. He’s shy. He scared himself by thinking that.” When Thekila continued silent, Quetza added. “Any idea where he is?”
Thekila shook her head. “Nothing more definite than west. I’m never prepared when I see him, and then the contact is gone too fast. Like I said, frustrating.”
“He’s either shy or he’s a terrible tease,” Quetza said.
Thekila stood up. “Ready?”
Quetza stood, too. “Sure. You know, it’s not too late to change your avatar. You’d be even lighter as a wyvern than I am. And probably most of your flying practice as an eagle would still apply. You could really be flying before our tests come up.”
Thekila’s eyes narrowed. “No. I don’t have a feel for the wyverns the way you do. I don’t think I could build a convincing wyvern in my mind. But I have a plan.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve been practicing doing two things at once—like Teran using a masking shape change to make his tiger avatar look full-size.”
Quetza cocked her head to the side. “I don’t see how that will help.”
Thekila smiled. “Another shape change wouldn’t. What I need is to learn to do my own pushing. Outside of an updraft, I have to learn to push against the ground with my Po
wers in order to help keep me up in the air. So I won’t be dependent on someone else to keep me from falling.”
“That won’t be easy,” Quetza said.
Thekila nodded. “But I’m sure I can do that—eventually. I just can’t do three hard things at once. So the first thing I need to do is practice flying, until that part becomes second nature. Like walking. Then I can focus on maintaining the shape change and pushing. And then I’ll be able to really fly by myself.”
Quetza nodded thoughtfully. “Then, let’s start your practice. You won’t mind if I give you some suggestions, will you?”
Thekila laughed. “I’ll take all the help I can get. Our tests aren’t that far off.”
Chapter 28: The Journeyman’s Wife
Avaza stomped across the tiny courtyard to the gate. Before coming to Caere, she’d never been glad to have her monthly cycle start. Now, it was her one excuse to get away from Castalia and outside for a while, at least while Vatar was busy during the day. She’d barely gotten away today.
The older woman had been so intent on getting Avaza into “appropriate dress” as she called the ridiculous garments that Caerean women wore, with their tight bodices and layered, flounced skirts. Avaza much preferred her comfortable and practical tunic and trousers. The dress was just the latest issue between them, though. There was always something Avaza was doing wrong, or at least “not the way we do things here in the city.” Sometimes, it just made Avaza want to scream.
It didn’t help that she was shut in with Castalia all day every day. After those first few days, Avaza had found that her view of Caere had mostly shrunk to the house and its courtyard, with only occasional trips to the market to break things up. Vatar went out, to the guildhall or to his lessons with Cestus. All Avaza saw most of the time was either the inside walls of the house or the outside walls of the surrounding houses. No wide vistas of grassland. Not even a garden. Barely a view of the sky or a breath of the wind—and what breeze did reach her smelled strange.
The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) Page 15
