“No, sometimes she goes out with Quetza and a few others for long walks up in the woods. Thekila doesn’t like hunting the way Quetza does, but she says it’s beautiful up on the mountain slopes.”
Long walks on the mountain were also out for the time being. “Anything else?”
Theklan shrugged. “Sometimes she and Teran and Terania get together to play music. Terania plays the flute. Teran plays the harp. Thekila can play both, a little, but usually, she sings. And sometimes she and Teran play sheggi. That’s not as much fun as abas. Sheggi’s played on a board and a game can take hours if the players are good.”
Vatar thought a moment. He could play a little and sing, too, but he didn’t know what the Valson style of music was like. He’d never mastered the complicated Caerean style, despite Cestus’s lessons. Among the Dardani, music was mostly singing, sometimes with the accompaniment of a drum or reed pipes. When not singing along with the steel, his voice—a light baritone—was good enough. That was a thought for another day, maybe after his ribs had healed a little more. “Can you teach me this ‘sheggi’?”
Theklan frowned. “Sure. But I’m not very good. Quetza’s better. Maybe she’ll teach you. Why don’t you ask her? She’s probably in the dining hall. She’s on duty today.”
Vatar’s brow furrowed. “On duty?”
Theklan grimaced. “Somebody has to be in charge, in case the students get into trouble. It’s Quetza today. But she hates being stuck here all day. She’ll probably welcome something to do.”
Vatar nodded. That’d be something safe to learn and think about. “That’s a good idea. And when my ankle is better, maybe I’ll come down to the lawns to watch you play abas.”
“That’d be great!”
Quetza was happy to teach Vatar the game and he was pleased to discover that it was very similar to chess. Since the differences in the two games were small, he picked up the strategy quickly. They were locked in a serious game when Thekila and Teran came into the dining hall for the evening meal.
Thekila’s eyebrows rose. “You play sheggi?”
Vatar smiled. “Quetza’s just been teaching me. It’s very similar to chess. I often play chess with my father in Caere. Father always beats me, though.”
“Is Vatar any good?” Teran asked Quetza.
“His strategy is surprising. It makes for a very interesting game.”
Vatar chuckled. “That’s funny. Father always found my moves too predictable.”
“We’ll have to play some evening, Vatar,” Thekila said.
“Any time you like,” Vatar answered, smiling up at her. That was exactly what he’d had in mind all along.
~
The next day, Thekila finally came to their class. She taught what Vatar knew as Far Speech and Far Sight. One by one, she asked the student to bespeak her. Vatar had done this without knowing it dozens of times. She’d coaxed him into Far Speech with Orleus just days ago. Yet with her sitting right there in front of him, he couldn’t do it.
Thekila took Vatar aside after class. “Why do you doubt yourself so fiercely? It’s only your own doubts that hold you back.”
Vatar half turned away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Thekila shook her head. “You’ve already proved that you can do this, but now you back away from it like a frightened rabbit. What makes you fear your Powers so?”
Vatar blew out his breath before answering. “The Dardani distrust all magic. They say it comes from Evil Spirits. I don’t think I believe in Evil Spirits, but . . . after Quetza’s class on distant manipulation, I’m not sure what to think anymore.” He held up his injured hand. “That kind of magic certainly can be used for evil.”
Thekila laid her hand on his arm. “Magic by itself is no more good or evil than your muscles are. You use your muscles to work iron and steel. To make things. Another man might use his to fight or to intimidate others. Just like any other form of power, it’s only what you choose to do with it that makes it good or bad.”
Vatar laid his hand over hers, conscious of the warmth of his skin under her touch. “Maybe you’re right.”
Thekila squeezed his arm. “Whether you want them or not, your Powers are part of who you are. You’ll never be complete until you acknowledge that and come to grips with it. You’re a long way from the Dardani, here. Forget about their superstitions for the moment and just be who you are.” She looked up toward the door. “Oh, there are Teran and Terania, now. I told them I’d join them for a walk before the evening meal. See you later, Vatar.”
Vatar watched her go. Teran put his arm around her briefly as they took the steps down towards the Lake. Vatar felt the blood pounding in his veins at the sight. He hated thinking of Thekila with Teran, even for an evening walk. Even accompanied by Terania. If he was a better student, would Thekila take him more seriously? How could she have much respect for him, seeing him constantly outdone by ten-year-olds?
The next morning, before class, Vatar stumped down to the water’s edge. He had to keep taking deep breaths, like Terania advised in her focus classes, just to keep from wanting to scream. His fear of magic paled before his terror of large, wave-filled bodies of water. He avoided looking out at the deep water. He kept telling himself that the water’s edge wasn’t that different from the verge of the Zeda water hole back home. What he wanted would be there, in the shallows, anyway. He harvested a dozen of the hollow reeds and took them back to his house to dry for later.
That night, he fashioned the reeds into a set of pipes. He hadn’t played pipes like these in a long time, but he had to do something to get Thekila’s attention away from Teran. He didn’t think he could play anything very complex on them, even if his left hand wasn’t still stiff. Nothing like Cestus’s intricate Caerean compositions. Best to stick with the simpler melodies of the Dardani, the songs he knew well.
Every evening, he played on the pipes in his isolated little house until he started to produce recognizable melodies. To his surprise, he also found that playing the familiar melodies helped him to focus. He often played the simple lullaby his mother had sung to him and later Kiara, Fenar and his own twins. When he did, sometimes he saw, in his mind, Zavar and Savara as they slept, side by side. Surely there was no harm in that. It was a good way to end the day.
Chapter 57: Quarrel
During quiet moments, Vatar reflected on what Thekila had said. What did make magic so evil in the eyes of the Dardani? He couldn’t remember anything ever really happening that he’d call magic, outside of a few old stories. What experience did the Dardani even have of magic? He’d been glad to use magic to see that Zavar and Savara were safe. Was happy to use his Powers that way every night. He certainly didn’t feel that there was any trace of evil in that. Except for Loran and his friends, all Vatar had ever seen of magic had been good or, at worst, neutral. The Healers were good, definitely. Boreala had used magic to save his mother’s life.
When he thought about it, it seemed obvious that the Valson—or the Fasallon—would have more wisdom on the subject of magic than the Dardani. The Dardani shunned any hint of magic, distrusting even the abilities of the shaman at the same time that they relied on him to protect them from “Evil Spirits”. The critical part of his brain, trained by Cestus, recognized that as hypocrisy.
And the Tenets . . . well, if people with magic actually followed the Tenets, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Even at the Academy, he’d seen enough to know that wasn’t true. There’d always be a few, even here, frustrated by the restraints. That was their fault, though, not the fault of their abilities—whatever those were. Even among the Dardani, there were those who tried to skirt around the standards of conduct. It was the responsibility of the chiefs and the clans to keep them in order. Though he hadn’t seen it in operation, he imagined the Valson must have some method to do the same thing.
He remembered what Pa had told him when they left him in Caere the first time. Never pass up an opportunity to learn about something new. Other pe
oples have wisdom different from ours, but it is still wisdom. Learn it. You never know where your life will take you or what knowledge or people may be of help to you. So learn about other people and learn the things that they know, whenever you can. Well, that certainly applied here, didn’t it?
He needed to open his mind and learn what he could while he was here. He knew how to do that, if he would just allow himself to do it. Cestus’s lessons had taught him more than the subjects they covered. He’d also learned how to learn. And, if he happened to gain Thekila’s approval, that wouldn’t be a bad thing, either.
~
Thekila smiled at Vatar’s progress when she taught the class again. The effort had been well worthwhile for that smile. It made him bold. He had been practicing every night on the pipes he’d made and there was one song he was eager to play for her. Vatar approached her after the class ended.
Thekila smiled at him again. “You did very well, today, Vatar.”
Vatar smiled back. “I’ve been trying to take your advice.”
She patted his arm. “I’m glad. It seems to be working for you.”
Vatar cleared his throat. “Thekila, I hoped, maybe, you would come by tonight. I miss the talks we had while I was recovering. And I . . . I’ve made something I want to show you. If . . . if that’s not improper . . . since I’m a student now.”
Thekila shook her head. “Not tonight, Vatar. I’ve already promised Teran and Terania to practice with them this evening. Some other time.”
Vatar’s heart seemed to shrink. He clenched his jaw until he saw spots in front of his eyes. It was always Teran. “I wish you wouldn’t spend so much time with Teran. You never have time for—” It was out before he had a chance to stop himself.
Thekila’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think you can tell me who to spend my time with? I’ll go where I please and see whom I please.”
Vatar backed up a step. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just . . . Teran is . . . I want . . .”
Thekila’s nostril’s flared. Her green eyes flashed with anger. “I’m not interested in what you want. Teran is like a brother to me.”
Vatar’s lips thinned. “I don’t think that’s how he sees himself. He’s . . .”
Thekila advanced, punching a finger into Vatar’s chest. “You don’t know anything about Teran. I’ve known him for ten years. He and Terania have been very good to me. No one is going to tell me not to spend time with them—or anybody else I choose. Would you tell me I can’t see Theklan, too?”
Vatar took another step back and held out his hands, palms up. “Of course not. It’s just . . .”
Thekila backed away and crossed her arms across her chest. “It’s just Teran you dislike. Well, that’s your problem, not mine. You’re not coming between me and my family.”
Vatar raised his arms toward her, pleading. “I don’t want to do that! I would never . . .”
Thekila jerked her chin up. “No one tells me what I can and can’t do. Nobody controls me.”
Vatar raked his hand through his hair. Suddenly he felt like those last months with Avaza, when he couldn’t say anything right. And it mattered so much more than it ever had with Avaza. He’d give anything to take those words back. This time, he’d put his own foot squarely in it, though. He just didn’t know how to pull it back out. “I don’t want to control you. It came out wrong . . .”
Thekila stalked out of the classroom.
~
Vatar sat at an empty table in the dining hall that night. The way Thekila had turned her face away from him when he came in made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want him to sit with her. Theklan apparently didn’t know about the quarrel. He came and sat with Vatar. Not that that helped much.
“How come you’re over here? You usually eat with Thekila and her friends,” Theklan asked.
“I . . . just felt like it,” Vatar said. But his eyes kept going to Thekila’s flame-red hair, where she sat with her back to him. And he ate very little of his dinner.
Vatar wandered back to his small house. He wanted to kick angrily at the stones in the path, but his crutch made that difficult and the pain in his ankle forced him to stop trying. But the physical pain did not drown out the other. She had misunderstood him. She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain what he meant. And now she wouldn’t even look at him, much less talk to him. That last thought cut like a knife. It made his chest tighten so that he could hardly breathe.
Vatar sat disconsolately on the bed. Not knowing what else to do, he picked up the pipes and began to play his mother’s lullaby. He found it unusually difficult to concentrate. He did manage to see Zavar and Savara sleeping for a moment. But his throat was too constricted to allow him to continue playing the lullaby. He lay down, fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep, either. And when he did doze off, dreams of Thekila turning her back, turning to Teran instead of him, woke him. This was ridiculous! Why should he feel so miserable over a simple misunderstanding? But the thought of Thekila walking away from him, refusing ever to talk to him again, burned like fire. How had she become so important to him in such a short time? It didn’t matter. She was. He had to blink back tears. Tears! He hadn’t cried since Torkaz died. Why did this feel like another kind of death?
~
Vatar didn’t know if he was happier or more miserable when Thekila came to teach their class again a couple of seven-days later. She had to look at him, at least. But there was no warmth in her eyes.
“Today, we will practice bespeaking again,” she said. “However, this time, you will attempt to contact someone who is not in this room, someone you cannot see as you bespeak them. This is more difficult, so it is best to try to contact a relative or someone you know well. Choose whom you will contact. Focus your thoughts. And begin.”
Vatar knew he couldn’t contact Danar, Lucina, or Kiara, much as he wanted to. They didn’t have the Talent to hear him. It had to be the other side of his family. He thought of Veleus, concentrated, and in his mind said, “Father?”
“Orleus?” The reply was barely more than a whisper. Did distance matter in Far Speech?
“No. Vatar.”
“Vatar!” Vatar felt his father take hold and make the connection firm and solid.
“I’m supposed to be doing this, Father,” Vatar said. “It’s practice.”
“You can practice next time,” Veleus answered with a mental wave of his hand. “Are you well?”
Vatar drew in a breath before answering. “Mending.”
“Then you were injured? Badly?”
Vatar flexed his left hand and winced. “Yes. Mostly broken bones. They’re healing.”
“What happened?”
Vatar shook his head. “There’s too much. It’d take too long to tell. I’ll explain when I get back.”
He could sense Father’s smile. “I have all day. And I can maintain the contact that long. But you can summarize, if you prefer.”
Vatar sighed. “What do you already know?”
“I know about the Ordeal. I sent Orleus and Cestus to help you, but they never caught up to you. They tracked you to a mountain pass, but it was blocked by snow. Orleus thought you were being pursued.”
“Orleus? He’s the one I spoke to in Pa’s camp isn’t he?”
“Yes. He’s a great hunter as well as being Captain of the Tysoean Guard. I thought he’d prove useful in your Ordeal.”
Vatar ducked his head to hide the tears of gratitude that sprung up in his eyes. Father had sent two more of his sons into danger to help him. Cestus at least knew Vatar. Orleus was a brother he’d never even met. Yet they’d both come to his aid. He swallowed hard before answering. “Orleus was right. I was pursued.”
“By whom?”
“Valson. People from the Valley.”
“Where is this valley?” Father asked
“Here.”
“From there! Are you safe?” Vatar could hear the alarm in his father’s mental voice.
“Yes. Yes, I’m safe enough.”
“Well, what happened?” Veleus asked, frustration growing in his tone.
Vatar sighed. “It started as a misunderstanding. It was mostly just small mischief at first. I tried to stay out of their way, but they can transform. And I accidentally injured one of them who was in the shape of a stag.”
“They have Talent?”
“Yes. They call it Powers.”
“Go on,” Father said.
“They came to my camp in animal form. I . . . I killed one of them.”
“Ah! Orleus said one had been wounded in the gut.”
“Keran. Yes.” Vatar’s regret was clear in his tone. “After that, things got serious. They chased me across the Forest. I almost made it here.”
“Almost?” Father asked.
“They caught up to me in the pass. But other Valson came to rescue me. The ones who chased me were breaking their laws. And now the Valson are training me while I heal. Until the snow melts.”
“They rescued you? How did they know you were there? And how did you know where to go?”
“They said I was sending a call for help.” Vatar said, answering the first question.
“Yes. Orleus picked up on that, too.”
Vatar bit his lip. “Father?”
“Yes?”
“Are my family safe and well? I felt panic from Zavar some time ago.”
“They’re safe now. Orleus is usually quite terse in his communications, but I gather Maktaz instigated it.”
Vatar blinked. “Maktaz? He’s alone in the Northern Wilderness.”
“No. He cheated. He was caught outside the camp of another clan. It seems he persuaded some of them to kidnap your children, but they were stopped. They are currently being held by other clans until they can be judged.”
“It seemed to me that Pa was hurt.”
“Yes. He got a slash on the back from one of the would-be kidnappers. Orleus says he’s healing well. Orleus and Cestus will stay until you return.”
“Thank you.” Vatar tried to let the connection go.
Father refused to release it. “You didn’t answer my other question, Vatar. How did you know where to go for help?”
The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) Page 29
