“I’m not sure. I knew there was help here, but I don’t know how I knew. At first, I just went east because there was no other way to go. But the nearer I got, the more sure I was that I had to come here. Father . . . ?”
“Yes?”
Vatar stole a glance up to the front of the room, where Thekila sat. “Do you remember when I told you that I didn’t have any Talent? That the only person I saw and heard in my mind was a woman who was only a fantasy?”
“Yes.” Veleus conveyed an I-told-you-so chuckle with his answer.
“She’s here. She’s been real all the time. I think . . . I think I may have been coming to her, not this place. Does that make sense?”
“Ah! Yes, it could.” It seemed to Vatar that there was something Father wasn’t telling him. “Vatar, will she be coming back with you?”
Vatar blinked against the threat of more tears. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He knew he hadn’t been able to hide the longing and hurt in that statement.
Vatar almost felt as if Father had given him a brief hug. “Now that you know how to contact me, I expect to hear from you more often.” With that, Father broke the contact.
~
Vatar had been completely miserable ever since the quarrel with Thekila. He was morose or irritable by turns. Even Theklan had stopped sitting with him in the dining hall. During his solitary walks and sleepless nights, he had realized how much he loved Thekila, which didn’t help. He knew he had understood it too late. He’d ruined their relationship. What could he do, now?
It rained on seventh day, which suited Vatar’s mood. But his temper wasn’t improved when he walked into the dining hall to find Thekila and Teran playing sheggi, their heads almost touching over the board. Jealousy and despair warred in him for a moment. Despair won. Vatar took a seat in a corner, where he didn’t have to watch them. Despite himself, he kept looking back over his shoulder.
Chapter 58: Remorse
While Teran went off to get them some tea, Thekila looked over her shoulder at Vatar sitting alone. He looked so miserable. Maybe . . . maybe she’d been just a little too hard on him. Of course he hadn’t had any right to tell her not to see Teran. But she hadn’t really given him much of a chance to explain—or apologize. That really would be the civilized thing to do, even if she didn’t completely forgive him. She started to get up.
Terania put a hand on her arm. “Where are you going?”
Thekila shrugged. “Just over to talk to Vatar for a moment. I don’t think I’ve been entirely fair to him.”
Terania’s hand closed around her arm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? I don’t have to forgive him. I’m not sure I want to . . . yet. But it’s silly to keep up this childish business of pretending he doesn’t even exist. It’d be far more . . . adult to at least give him a chance to apologize, don’t you think?”
Terania shook her head. “No. I don’t. You can’t give a man like that any reason to think that you might ever consider forgiving him.”
Thekila’s brows creased. “A man like what?”
Terania’s eyes narrowed. “One who wants to control you. Say who you can see and where you can go. Someone who’d want to divide you from your family.”
“Oh, I don’t think Vatar’s like that at all,” Quetza said. “He’s from the other side of the forest, after all. Most likely he just didn’t understand—”
“I think it’s not worth the risk,” Terania interrupted. She turned in her seat. “Ah, here’s Teran back with our tea.”
Thekila sighed and settled back into her seat for another game of sheggi.
Quetza huffed in the way that said she was irritated about something but not willing to fight about it in public. She stood up and walked away.
Chapter 59: Forgiveness
Vatar looked up when Quetza sat down across from him. “What happened between you and Thekila?” she asked without preamble or greeting.
Vatar looked away. “She misunderstood something I said.”
Quetza snorted. “It must have been quite a misunderstanding.”
“It was. She . . . she thinks I—”
“I don’t care.” Quetza cut him off. “Whatever it was, she’s unhappy. And a blind man could see you are, too. So do something about it.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Vatar said.
Quetza sighed and rolled her eyes. “For an intelligent man . . .” She shook her head. “It’s not that complicated, Vatar. Apologize.”
Quetza got up and went to sit with Terania. Vatar was left alone again. As he thought about what Quetza had said, he felt a wild flare of hope. If Thekila was miserable, too, maybe . . . maybe she still cared about him, at least a little. Maybe there was still a chance. He turned back to look at the sheggi game again. He couldn’t apologize to her in front of Teran. Somehow, he needed to get Thekila alone. But how, if she wouldn’t even talk to him outside of class—and barely then?
~
Vatar sat on the steps outside the little house assigned to him, playing his pipes. The lullaby sounded particularly plaintive and melancholy this night, matching his mood. In his loneliness, he took comfort from watching his children sleep. Savara had her thumb in her mouth. Zavar turned toward Vatar’s view in his sleep, kicking little Fenar, who was curled up next to them. Reluctantly, he let the last note fade away and the vision along with it. He sighed.
“That was lovely. What was it?”
Vatar jumped and gasped. He looked up to see Thekila standing nearby. His heart beat wildly. “Ah! Hello, Thekila. I didn’t know you were there.” He cleared his throat. “That was a lullaby my mother used to sing to my sister and me. I imagine she sings it to Fenar and my twins, now. Sometimes it helps me focus. To see my children.”
Thekila smiled. “That’s an interesting use for music.” She looked down and then back up, meeting his eyes. “Vatar—”
“Thekila, I’m sorry,” he said before she could say anything else. Who knew when he would have another chance to talk to her alone? “Nothing will ever give me the right to tell you what to do. I didn’t mean that. It’s just . . . when I see you with Teran, it makes me feel . . .”
Her brow creased. “Feel what?”
Vatar drew a deep breath. “Jealous. When I saw him put his arm around you, I . . .”
Thekila’s eyes softened. “Jealous? I told you, Teran is like a brother to me.”
Vatar nodded. “I know you did. But I’d swear he doesn’t think of you as a sister . . . And I’m just one of your students.”
She sat down next to him. “Play something else, please.”
Vatar’s heart was in his throat. Was she going to give him a second chance? Vatar didn’t have to think about what to play. He had been practicing for just this purpose, before their quarrel. And now he knew that this song truly said what he felt. Looking into her eyes, he raised the pipes to his lips again and played a wistful love song of the Dardani.
“Oh, that was beautiful!” Thekila said. “You don’t have to tell me what kind of song that was. That was a love song.”
“Yes,” Vatar answered.
Thekila shuffled her feet. “Do you know any others?”
Vatar shook his head. “Not love songs.”
“Play something else, then. Please.”
The only thing that came into Vatar’s head at that moment was the triumphant song he and his companions had sung coming home from the tiger hunt. It suited the way he felt, with Thekila sitting so close beside him. Just like that time, he felt he’d come back from the brink. This song really needed a chorus of strong male voices, rather than the airiness of the reed pipes, but Vatar played it anyway, for her.
She smiled. “That was good, too. But not as good as the love song.”
He smiled back. “No. That one really should be sung. Preferably by a chorus.”
Thekila drew a deep breath. “Well, it’s late. I should let you get some rest. Maybe you’ll play for me again someti
me soon.”
His heart leapt. “Any time you like.”
Thekila turned to go, but then she turned back. “I’m sorry, too, Vatar. I shouldn’t have reacted that strongly. But my family is very important to me. I don’t have that many anymore.”
Vatar stood up, too. “It should be important to you. I have a large family, but I wouldn’t want to be cut off from any of them, not again. That’s the worst part of my Ordeal—being separated from my family. Especially my children.”
She brushed his hand with hers as she left. “You’re more than just one of my students, Vatar.”
Couldn’t she hear the way his heart beat suddenly faster? It was so loud in his own ears that he thought they should hear it all across the Academy.
Chapter 60: The Council
Vatar started to leave when Quetza arrived to teach the class the next day, assuming that she would be teaching distant manipulation again.
“No, Vatar, stay. We’ll be starting something new today. Maybe you’ll do better with this.”
The class quieted in anticipation.
Quetza uncovered a large mirror at the end of the room. “Today, you will attempt your first shape changes.”
The class erupted with cheers. Vatar sat silent and still. Shape changes? The same kind of magic Loran and his friends had used? He started doing the breathing exercises Terania had taught, reminding himself that it wasn’t the magic itself that was dangerous. If he ever wanted to impress Thekila, he couldn’t afford to fail at these lessons.
When the students quieted, Quetza continued. “This is more dangerous than anything else you’ve attempted in class. So you will work one at a time, so that I can watch each of you. There will be no experimenting out of turn, or you’ll answer to me. There will be no experimenting after class, either. You will try this only with the assistance of a teacher until I say otherwise. Do I make myself clear?”
A reluctant murmur of agreement rose from the students.
Quetza smiled. “Very well. You’ll only change your appearance today. Therefore, you are under no obligation to choose a permanent avatar at this time. You are free to try different shapes until you begin true shape changing. However, you’ll find that one shape fits you better than the others. You’ll also find that repeated changes make one shape easier to slip into. So, choose carefully.
“Now, before we begin, I want to review the rules. An avatar is almost always white or black or occasionally white and black. This is to distinguish it from ordinary animals. Your avatar must also be approximately the same size as your true self. Since you will be changing only your appearance today, these rules don’t really apply. But it is best to start with proper habits.”
Quetza demonstrated, slowly forming the image of a small, winged dragon with glistening white scales over her own, so that they could see how it was done.
Vatar swallowed down an urge to scream at sight of the small dragon so close. His legs trembled and he had to clench his fists to stifle an impulse to run away. Some part of him seemed to recognize and fear this creature, the same way anyone would instinctively fear a venomous snake. Vatar sternly reminded himself that it was really Quetza. In fact, if he thought about it, he could sense that the dragon was subtly wrong. He could almost see Quetza underneath. He focused on that and started his breathing exercises again.
“All right, does anyone want to volunteer to be first?” Quetza asked after releasing the mask. She pointed at one of the eagerly raised hands. “Come up here so you can see your shape change in the mirror.”
The students attempted the shape change with mixed success. Most ended up only partially masked—animal heads and human feet, most often. Another very common mistake apparently arose out of the difference in shape. Several, especially of the taller students, ended up with a pretty good transformation, except that their shoulders and head appeared to be jutting out of the neck or back of the animal they had chosen. This didn’t surprise Quetza. She reminded them that this was only their first attempt.
When Vatar’s turn came, the obvious choice was his Clan totem, the one animal with which he had always felt a spiritual connection, the plains lion. Although the lion was more than large enough to cover his frame, Vatar wasn’t sure how he was supposed to deal with the difference in height. He chose to kneel down on the floor so that it wouldn’t be an issue. Then, as Quetza instructed, he concentrated on the shape and color of the lion, attempting to use it as a mask over his own appearance.
The class gasped as Vatar suddenly appeared to be a lion, snowy white except for his mane and the tuft at the end of his tail, which were jet black. When Quetza signaled, he released the mask.
“Very good, Vatar. I’m not familiar with that creature, but it was quite impressive.”
~
Vatar looked away when Teran and Terania joined their table at the dining hall. He wasn’t about to start another quarrel, so the best thing was just to try to ignore the man.
“What’s wrong?” Quetza asked. “I haven’t seen you look that grim since we chased off Loran and his cronies.”
“That’s just it,” Teran said. “The Pass is opening. Loran and the others have returned.”
Vatar swallowed hard and turned to listen to Teran. This couldn’t be good.
“How are they?” Thekila asked.
Terania shrugged. “Ragged and underfed, but otherwise well—except for Zoria.”
Thekila stopped mid-chew. “What happened to Zoria?”
Terania sighed. “Apparently, she overused her avatar because it didn’t feel the cold as much.”
Quetza closed her eyes. “Oh, no! She’s not . . . locked?”
Teran nodded. “Yes, she’s unable to resume her true shape.”
Quetza made to stand up. “How soon will they be here?”
Terania put her hand on Quetza’s arm, shaking her head. “They’re not coming here. They’re going straight on to the City.”
Thekila nodded firmly. “Good. The Council can deal with them.”
Teran drew a deep breath as if he was reluctant to go on. “Loran’s father, Nertan, has influence, Thekila. So does Keran’s family. You know they never held either one of those boys responsible for their actions. It was always somebody else’s fault.”
Quetza glanced toward Vatar before adding, “And, if they’re looking for someone to blame this time, Vatar is the obvious choice.”
Vatar’s hand on top of the table closed into a fist. He should have known better than to think that was finished.
Teran nodded. “Wartan is going to be particularly hot for some kind of punishment. Despite what I told him, he’s been holding out hope that Keran was only wounded and would return when the pass opened. Now he’ll know Keran is dead.”
Thekila looked across at Vatar and placed her hand over his. “Vatar didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I think he showed great restraint. And you know those three boys were the worst bullies in the Academy.”
Teran nodded. “I do know it. But does the Council?”
Quetza stood up. “Well then, we’d best go to the Council ourselves. If they hear only one side, they can’t make a fair decision, can they?”
~
Vatar balked at getting on the boat, which was a large raft-like affair with a wide, flat deck rimmed by a rail. “I’d rather ride. Or even walk.”
Quetza grabbed his arm. “Well, we don’t have any of your horses here in the Valley. And we don’t have time to walk. This is the fastest way to the City.”
Thekila took his other arm more gently. “It really is the only way to get there in time for the Council.”
Vatar drew a deep breath to steady himself, nodded, and walked aboard, gripping the rail so hard his knuckles were white.
“He doesn’t like boats?” Teran asked.
“It’s not the boat. It’s the water,” Vatar said through tight lips.
Thekila huffed. “He was caught in a flash flood almost four years ago. He doesn’t like large bodies of wate
r, especially if there are waves.”
“He lives on the ocean,” Terania said with some exasperation.
“I live near the ocean, not on it. And not all that close to it, either,” Vatar said. “I really hate this.”
Thekila stood next to him and talked to him about anything that came into her mind, trying to ease the crossing for him. It helped, a little.
As they neared the far shore, a brown head covered in water-slicked fur suddenly popped out of the water directly in front of Vatar. It emitted a strange whistling call that made Vatar look down despite his efforts to ignore the water altogether. The animal was almost as big as Vatar, whatever it was. It was sleek and powerful, covered in a dense brown fur. The creature looked up at Vatar with remarkably intelligent eyes. Then it turned effortlessly in the water and slapped its long muscular tail on the surface, sending a spray of water up into Vatar’s face. Quetza burst into laughter. Even Thekila couldn’t help joining her as Vatar spluttered.
Vatar wiped his face on his sleeve. “What was that thing?”
“A giant Lake otter,” Thekila said, mastering her laughter. “They have quite a sense of humor.”
~
Vatar was the first ashore when they finally reached the other side. He looked around at the City as he followed the others to wherever this Council met. It was very different from Caere. Cleaner, for a start. The streets were wider and straight as an arrow and the buildings were taller, but not set as close together as in Caere. Gardens separated the buildings and fruit trees stood between the buildings and the streets. Where there would be busy market squares in Caere, here there were parks with green lawns and trees. As they walked, Vatar realized that the streets were arranged like the spokes of a wheel converging on a central building, the Council Hall—their destination.
The Council was already under way when they arrived.
Teran looked around, his eyebrows rising. “Nertan thought he could get only his own side out if he acted fast.”
The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) Page 30
