Avaza stared at her, mouth hanging open.
Vatar took another step forward. “Please don’t make me do this, Avaza.”
Avaza’s expression turned surly as she looked between them. “I’ll winter with the Lion Clan.” Avaza bit off each word off like a curse. “As long as you’re not there.”
Vatar let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank you.”
~
Draza brought Avaza and the babies to the Lion Clan women’s hut a few days later. True to his word, Vatar kept his distance and waited for Mother to bring his twins to him in the family’s hut in the mornings and evenings. He looked across at his baby brother, Fenar, now toddling across the hut on unsteady legs. It was amazing how much Fenar had changed in the months he’d been gone. That was going to be Zavar and Savara by the next time he saw them. How much was he going to miss?
On the morning he and Arcas were set to leave, Vatar held each baby in turn, stroking their tiny faces with his callused hands. “They won’t even remember me when I come back. Fenar didn’t.”
“We’ll keep them safe for you,” Pa said.
“I know you will or I couldn’t leave at all. I hate to leave them, but I promised her I would go if she agreed to come with you. Right now, they need her more than they need me.”
He kissed both babies a final time and left before he could change his mind. It was as hard as losing Torkaz. It was harder than crossing the waves to retrieve his torc.
Chapter 34: Lonely Winter
Vatar lay back on his cot in the apprentice quarters at Uncle Lanark’s. He wasn’t sleepy yet, but there wasn’t much else to do. It wasn’t like going out would do him any good. No decent Caerean father would allow his daughter within arms’ reach of a barbarian, even now that he was a master smith. And while he enjoyed a cup of wine now and then, he didn’t really like getting drunk. It interfered with his work too much. No fun hammering on iron and steel with a pounding in his temples.
The problem with staying in was that it gave him too much time to think about his children. And miss them. Strange how he missed them so much when he hadn’t had a chance to spend that much time with them in the first place, but their absence had become a huge hole in his life. Good thing his first lesson with Cestus was tomorrow evening. Maybe Father would show up for a chess game. Anything to distract him from following the same thoughts in an endless circle. Maybe he could get a book or scroll to read in the evenings. Cestus had mentioned something about that last year, but Avaza had taken up his evenings—one way or another—back then. Now, he could use the diversion.
He raised himself on one elbow at a knock on the frame of the open door. “Oh, hello, Arcas.”
Arcas came in and sat on the other cot, now pushed up against the opposite wall. “There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about for a while, but this summer . . . what with Avaza and then your babies . . . well, it just didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up.” He cleared his throat. “What are your plans? You know . . . after this winter?”
Vatar swung his legs over and sat up. “I’m going back to the Dardani, of course.” Vatar’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Well . . . I’ve been thinking. You see, I don’t think there’s really enough work to keep you busy among the Dardani—not to mention the trouble of hauling raw iron and steel out there to work. And getting charcoal for the forge. That’ll be a problem too, you know.”
“That was the whole point when I became Uncle Lanark’s apprentice. That I’d be the Dardani’s first smith.”
“Yes,” Arcas said. “But you can do everything you need to during a couple of months at Zeda. In fact, that’s the only time it’d really be worthwhile. The rest of the time, you’d be isolated from most of the clans anyway. And there isn’t anything resembling a forge anywhere but Zeda.”
Vatar cocked his head to one side. “That’s all true, but . . .”
Arcas cut him off. “So I was thinking that it’d make more sense for you to come back to Caere in the winters. You could continue your advanced training.”
“But I don’t want to be away from my children that much.”
Arcas waved that aside. “I’ll get to that in a moment. This is about more than your continued training. A golden opportunity. You see, I spent part of last winter with the Modgud—”
“How’d you arrange that?” The Modgud were well known for being reclusive.
Arcas grinned. “Traded them some good Caerean knives for the privilege. I wanted to see for myself what they need and what they have to trade, so I could try expanding that trade. It was more than worth it.” Arcas drew a shiny lump from his pouch and tossed it in the air. “They have gold on that plateau of theirs, Vatar. Washes down an old river channel during the rainy season. They think it’s useless, which I guess it is—for their purposes. They think I’m crazy, but they’re willing to trade it for iron and steel tools and arrowheads. Of course, I need to have this checked out at the Smiths’ Guild, first.”
Vatar reached out and caught the lump on a second toss. He turned it over and weighed it in his hand. “Looks like gold to me, but you’ll need to take it to the Guild Hall to be certain. And to have them set the value. I’ll go with you, if that’s what you want, though I’m sure your father would be willing to help you with this, too.”
“It should be you.” Arcas shifted restlessly. “You see . . . I thought we could go into partnership, you and I. You make the knives and arrowheads and whatever else for me to trade with the Modgud. With you specializing in blades, it’s a perfect fit. I’m going to set up the trade to go through your father. Sort of keeping it all in the family.”
Vatar nodded. “I could do that. But I could do it as easily at Zeda.”
“It’s much easier to transport the finished goods than the raw materials.” Arcas shifted restlessly and looked around the sparely-furnished room. “You know, now that you’re a master smith, there’s no reason you need to stay here in Father’s apprentice quarters. You could get your own place.”
Vatar’s brow wrinkled, trying to follow the twists and turns of Arcas’s logic. He was leading up to something, but Vatar couldn’t see what, yet. “I don’t see the point. Until Uncle Lanark wants to get a new apprentice, this suits me. It’s not like I need more space. And there’s Aunt Castalia’s cooking.”
Arcas shifted again. “Well, see, I was thinking we could find a place outside the city to set up. Then you could maybe bring the twins with you. When they’re a little older, anyway.”
Vatar turned to stare out the window at the dark and empty courtyard. Could he really bring his children here? It would certainly keep them safe from Maktaz. But what about the dangers Father and Cestus had warned him about here? Would they be safe from discovery by the Searchers outside the city walls? He half-smiled. Father would know.
He took a deep breath. The air here smelled of city—of too many people crammed into too small a space. Sweat and sewer stink, the mixed odors of three or four family’s dinners, all overlaid with the smells of salt and rotting seaweed. The farmland outside the city walls was not the plains, but it was much greener and more open than the city. It smelled more alive. He’d feel more . . . normal working out there. “Someplace with enough room for me to set up my own forge. Maybe enough room to rest the horses and cattle before you take them to market, too.”
Arcas grinned. “Good idea! I hadn’t thought of that, but they’d bring a better price that way. And enough room for two families—eventually.”
Vatar smiled more broadly. He thought he could finally see what was behind all of Arcas’s plans. “Why do I have the feeling you already have someone in mind?”
Arcas grinned back. “Probably because I do. The lovely Elaria.” Arcas waved his hands in the air in imitation of a female figure.
Vatar smiled at Arcas’s enthusiasm. May you have better luck with that than I did.
“I’ll start looking for a place tomorrow. By the way, how much money do you have
saved?” Arcas asked.
Vatar shrugged. “I really don’t know. I haven’t needed much living here. And Aunt Castalia kept Avaza from spending much at the markets.”
“Where is your money?” Arcas asked. “Kind of need to know what our budget is before I start looking.”
“Deposited at the Smith’s Guild, of course. Safest place for it. I’ll find out how much there is tomorrow.”
~
Vatar enjoyed his lesson with Cestus, who had expanded their subjects to include geography and history as well as letters and numbers. He’d also found a flute for Vatar to practice on so they could play music together.
Vatar smiled and pulled out the chessboard when his father arrived. “I was afraid maybe you weren’t coming.”
Father smiled broadly. “Not a chance. So, how do you find fatherhood?”
“It’s . . . an awakening,” Vatar answered.
Father smiled. “That’s a very apt description. I remember the first time I held Boreala.”
“Boreala?”
Father nodded and moved his first walker. “Yes. She’s my first child.” He looked up at Vatar. “So, will you be bringing your twins to Caere next year?”
Vatar made his first move. “That depends.”
“On what?” Father asked.
Vatar looked up from the board. “On how safe they’d be here. Safe from the Searchers, I mean. You see, Zavar has my eyes.”
Father sat back. “That could complicate things.”
“Yes, but my cousin Arcas has this plan. He wants us to go into business together. Trading with the Dardani and the Modgud. I’d be making the blades and other items for trade, as well as going out to Zeda to make the repairs and small items there. He thinks we could buy our own place outside the city walls with room for my forge and a small pasture to rest the horses and cattle before he sells them.”
Father smiled. “It sounds idyllic.” He rubbed his chin. “Outside the walls, eh? You know, very few Fasallon go outside the city. Most never leave the Temple grounds—which are much larger than you’d expect from the outside. Unless there was a good reason to suspect something, I doubt the Searchers would even go beyond the gates.”
Vatar smiled. “Then maybe I’ll have them with me next year. I’d like that. I miss them more than I could have expected. I’d like to have them with me, if I can find someone to take care of them.”
“And what of Avaza?” Cestus asked. “Won’t she be coming back with you?”
Vatar shook his head. “No. That’s over. It was never . . . never really right anyway. Not like what Pa and Mother have.”
“That kind of relationship takes time to develop.” Father shrugged. “As well as compatibility.”
“You’ll find a new wife, then? A new year mate, I mean,” Cestus asked.
Vatar shrugged. “Maybe next year. If Arcas’s idea works out. I won’t bring another Dardani woman to Caere otherwise. The city is too hard on them.”
“Well, what about a Caerean woman, then?” Father asked. “You’ll be here more than half the year.”
Vatar snorted “I still don’t know any. The guild masters may like me as a pupil and as a smith, but they still see me as a barbarian. They don’t want to introduce their daughters to me. They’re afraid I’ll take one of them back out onto the plains to live in a dirt hut.”
Father moved his horseman. “I’d offer to introduce you to some charming half-blood girls, but that would embroil you in Fasallon politics. I think you’re better off without that. Especially now, with your children”
Vatar moved one of his priests to counter the horseman.
Father looked across at him. “Speaking of missing your children, there could be a way for you to see them for yourself.”
Vatar sat back. “We’re not talking about magic again, are we, Father?”
Father rubbed his chin. “No, I wouldn’t call it that. It is, certainly, a use of Talent, but not one that can actually affect anything. Far Sight only allows you to see things that are not within eye-sight. How can there be any harm in that?”
Vatar blew out his breath. It would be wonderful to see Zavar and Savara, but this was all just conjecture. He had no magic. And he’d rather not talk about the impossible. It only made him miss the twins more. Besides, the Dardani had strict rules about snooping into others’ lives. “It’s dishonorable to pry into the privacy of others.”
Father chuckled. “An admirable sentiment—with adults or even those nearing adulthood. But really, Vatar. Parents watch over infants and young children all the time, for their own safety. Surely there’s no harm in that.”
Vatar shook his head. “Maybe not, but there’s no point in talking about the impossible. I don’t have any magic—and I don’t want any.”
Father’s eyes held Vatar’s. “Haven’t you ever felt that you could see someone even though you weren’t near them? Your parents, maybe. When you were first here alone?”
Vatar shrugged. He had, once or twice, but always just before he fell asleep or when he seemed to see an image in his forge fire or the red-hot metal. “Only on the edge of sleep or in daydreams, as anyone might. I know that’s not real.”
“How do you know?” Father asked.
“Because I don’t always see real people. Most times, it’s only a girl I dreamed up years ago. I know she’s not real, because I’ve never seen anyone with hair the color of flame. It’s only dreams.”
Father moved one of his walkers. “Maybe it is.”
~
Vatar followed Arcas to a gate along a country lane about a mile from the Temple Gate. Easy walking distance to the guild halls. “Here. This is it.”
Vatar looked over the gate and smiled. The yard between the gate and the house was dominated by a huge old apple tree. Beyond that a large one-story house rambled. He spotted a shed or workshop in the yard that could be converted to house his forge.
“Come on,” Arcas said. “We can go in and look around.” He led the way to the house. “A large family lived here—two brothers and their families. But one had only daughters who married into the guilds and live in the city. The other brother’s only son ran the place for a while, but his children have moved into the city, too and now he wants to move closer to his grandchildren. That’s why the place is for sale.”
Vatar wandered through the building. The family history helped to explain its odd layout. The central block, facing the gate, contained a large kitchen and two large rooms, meant to hold several people at a time. The rest of the house was divided into two wings, going back from the central block on either side. Almost two separate houses that shared a kitchen and dining/living area.
He wandered out the back of the house to inspect the shed. There was also a slightly ramshackle barn. They wouldn’t need that to house Dardani horses, not in Caere’s mild climate, but it could be used to store grain for feed and maybe some of their trade goods. Beyond that was a large fenced pasture, cut by a small stream. Plenty of room to rest the herds they’d bring back for trade and to keep a small string of horses for their own use.
He breathed in the air. Grass, a faint whiff of manure—presumably from the neighbor’s pasture that backed up onto this one, since nothing but wild creatures had grazed this pasture for a while. Familiar, homey smells. Not even a hint of the salt-and-seaweed tang of Caere. This was a place he could truly feel at home. He could already picture the twins—a little older—climbing in that apple tree and himself teaching them to ride out in the pasture. “It’s perfect.”
Arcas grinned. “I hoped you’d think so. I’ve already made an offer.”
Vatar laughed. “And what does Elaria think of it?”
Arcas shrugged. “She hasn’t seen it yet. But I described it to her last night. She likes the idea, too. Neither of us wants to start out with our mothers popping in all the time.”
Vatar’s imagination expanded to include Zavar and Savara romping with a few younger cousins provided by Arcas and Elaria. “You might fee
l different when your first child arrives.”
Arcas shifted uncomfortably. “Well, that’s not going to happen right away. And anyway, there’s plenty of room for my mother or hers to come out and stay for a little while.”
“True,” Vatar said.
~
Marriages in Caere were different than pairing off as year mates among the Dardani. For one thing, there seemed to be a lot more preparation involved. Vatar watched it all with a certain bemusement and only a little regret—not that he and Avaza hadn’t found a way to live together. More that he’d allowed himself to be captivated by her external charms rather than find someone . . . stronger, more adaptable, more interested and interesting on other, deeper levels. Spending only a few months a year among the Dardani was going to make it hard to find someone he could grow closer to as time went on.
Arcas asked Cestus to officiate at the wedding. From Vatar’s perspective, Elaria’s parents seemed a little dubious. Their attitude changed dramatically when High Councilor Veleus and Master Healer Boreala arrived to join the festivities.
Vatar strode over to greet his father and half-sister. “Glad you could come. It’ll mean a lot to Arcas.”
“Well, no disrespect to Arcas, but I’m here for you,” Father said. “I wouldn’t pass up another chance to spend some time with you. Besides, I thought Arcas getting married might make you feel a little . . . sad. Maybe a little left out.”
Vatar shrugged. “Only a little. I’m not sorry Avaza’s not here. I do miss the twins, every day. They’ll have changed so much by the next time I see them. As for marriage, I’m afraid my crazy half-and-half lifestyle is going to make it difficult to find someone else.”
Father laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re what? Seventeen?”
“Almost eighteen,” Vatar said.
“Well, give yourself some time. You’ll find the right girl,” Father answered.
Vatar flashed briefly on the well-known face—red hair, green eyes, and a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of the nose. He half-smiled, even though he knew she wasn’t real. “Maybe someday.”
The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) Page 19
