Vatar nodded. As the son of a chief, he was familiar with the tactic.
“Therastan is doing the questioning. Good. He can read a lie,” Quetza said.
Vatar followed Quetza’s gaze. Loran was standing at one end of the dais, being questioned by a white-haired old man. At the other end of the dais sat four men and two women behind a low table. A seventh seat was empty.
The story that Loran and then Platan and Lorania in turn told was familiar to Vatar, but not exactly the way he remembered it. They made him out to be the aggressor in all of their encounters. They made it sound as if he intentionally murdered Keran. Lorania tearfully described seeing Vatar raise his spear to strike Keran again, after Keran was on the ground with a spear wound in his belly.
When they had all finished, Therastan turned back to the Council. “Their truth is slanted. It serves their purposes. But most of what they say is true.”
“Very well,” the old man sitting in the center of the Council said. “Is this Vatar present?”
“He is,” Teran said, pushing Vatar forward.
Thekila grabbed Vatar’s arm. “Therastan can read a lie. Meet his eyes and don’t hold anything back. Anything.”
Vatar nodded and stepped forward to the dais. Under Therastan’s questioning, he recounted his interactions with Loran and his friends. When he reached the wounding of Keran, the guilt he still felt almost made him break eye contact with Therastan, but he remembered Thekila’s words and forced himself to meet the old man’s eyes.
“Did you raise your spear to strike Keran again?” Therastan asked.
Vatar nodded. “Yes.”
There was a gasp from the crowd at this.
“Would you have killed him?” Therastan asked.
Vatar nodded again, fists clenched at his sides. “Yes.”
Another gasp rose from the crowd.
“Why?” the old man asked.
Vatar drew a deep breath and let it out. “A gut wound is a very bad way to die. There is infection, fever, and great pain. I wouldn’t let a wild animal die that way if I could prevent it. I would have spared him that. I was trying to be merciful. But by the time I had steeled myself to do it, his friends had surrounded him.”
Therastan continued to question Vatar about events right up until the time he fell in the Pass. Then he turned to the council.
“There was no lie. Vatar has spoken the truth.”
After that, Teran, Terania, Quetza, and Thekila each told of finding Vatar just as he fell and then being challenged by their former students.
Therastan rejoined the Council, taking the empty seat. Vatar and the others waited while the council conferred. There seemed to be some argument between the members which made Vatar fidget nervously. He was the outsider here. It would be too easy for this council to take the word of Loran and his friends over his.
Finally, the man in the center seat rose. “We hold Vatar blameless—”
“No!” a man shouted. “My son is dead! Someone must pay for that!”
“I remind you, Wartan, revenge is not the Valson way,” the Council leader said sternly.
“I don’t care about the ‘Valson way!’ I only care that my son is dead!” Wartan shouted back.
The Council leader continued as if Wartan had not spoken, “On the other hand, Loran, Platan, and Lorania have, by their own testimony, broken the Tenets several times over.
“Due to their youth, some of us would be inclined to leniency were it not for their most serious breach of the Tenets. The attempt to stone a man to death, no matter the provocation, is the antithesis of what the Tenets stand for. They have shown themselves not to be Valson and are forthwith exiled from the Valley.”
At this, he raised his hand and an amulet bearing the likeness of a bear, a wolf, or a doe, flew from the neck of each youth to his upraised hand.
“If Zoria is ever restored to her true form, she will join them in exile,” the leader continued.
Wartan, Nertan, and those immediately around them roared in outrage.
“No!” Nertan yelled. “My children will not be cast out over this . . . this interloper!”
Simultaneously, Wartan shouted, “My son is dead. You’re punishing his friends and letting his murderer go!”
“There has been no murder. A young man made a foolish choice and died as a result. The Council has decided,” the old man said firmly.
“I won’t accept it! If you cast out my children, you might as well cast me out, too!” Nertan yelled
“What use are your Tenets when my son’s killer goes free!” Wartan shouted at the same time. “Keran is dead. I demand his life in return.” He pointed at Vatar.
“That is not Valson! That violates the Tenets by which we live,” the Council leader said. “You cannot live here and repudiate the Tenets.”
“Fine! I’ve never believed in your Tenets anyway! They’re just a way to turn us all into peaceful little sheep! When our Powers should make us gods!”
Both fathers ripped the amulets from their own necks and stormed away. A small group consisting mostly of their immediate families followed suit.
“I don’t want to be the cause of this,” Vatar said. “I shouldn’t be the cause of a rift among your people.” Only those nearest to him heard him above the noise.
Teran turned to look at him, head cocked slightly to one side as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re not the cause. Remember the Second Tenet: ‘Accept responsibility for your actions.’ You did. This rift is caused by those who refuse to accept their responsibility. They are not Valson. You are.”
Vatar’s eyebrows rose as he met Teran’s eyes. He’d never have expected the other man—the man he knew was his rival for Thekila—to call him that. That had to be high praise coming from Teran.
They followed the crowd that was now working its way out of the Council Hall. The crowd dispersed, leaving the path back to the lake mostly deserted. They were about halfway there when Wartan strode out into the street, blocking their progress. Half a dozen of those who had supported him in the Council meeting were behind him.
“The Council are weaklings. They can’t protect you, even if they would.”
Vatar didn’t make any reply. He recognized the look in Wartan’s eyes. It was exactly the way Maktaz had looked at him after Torkaz’s death. There really wasn’t much he could say, now, that wouldn’t make things worse. His blood chilled when he saw that Wartan was playing with a large rock, tossing it up a few inches and catching it, as he spoke.
“Recognize this?” Wartan said. “Catch!”
The rock suddenly zoomed toward Vatar’s head. Vatar ducked, but the rock stopped, inches from his face.
“Can’t catch? That’s too bad,” Wartan sneered.
The rock flew back to Wartan’s hand as if it had been on a string. Wartan kept his eyes on Vatar. He started to send the rock hurtling towards Vatar again. This time the rock stopped much sooner. From the look on Wartan’s face, he wasn’t the one who’d stopped it.
“Stop this at once, Wartan!” Thekila said. “I won’t allow it.”
“You won’t allow it? Let’s see how many you can catch, then, little teacher,” Wartan answered. “You’ll be next after I deal with him.”
At a signal from Wartan, his followers also brought out rocks and tossed them into the air threateningly. Vatar stepped in front of Thekila, to shield her.
She tried to push him aside. “Vatar, I can’t control what I can’t see.”
He put out an arm to hold her back. “You’re not going to get hurt because of me.” He couldn’t let this go on. He wouldn’t be stoned like that again. And he wouldn’t allow anyone to threaten Thekila. He didn’t have the ability to catch those stones with his magic. But there was more than one way to put an end to this. Before Wartan could react, Vatar strode forward, crossing the distance between them. Without slowing, he pulled his arm back, and punched Wartan hard. Vatar didn’t put everything into that blow, but he put enough of his weight
behind it to drop Wartan.
As Wartan crumpled to the ground, his nose bloodied, his supporters dropped their rocks in shock.
“That won’t happen twice, Wartan. And no one threatens Thekila while I’m around,” Vatar said as Wartan put a shaking hand up to the blood on his face. “I could have broken your jaw, instead of your nose. Next time, I won’t hold back.”
Vatar turned and walked back to stand between Wartan and Thekila. Quetza stifled a smile. Teran and Terania appeared as shocked as Wartan, but Teran waved them forward, out of range of Wartan and his gang.
Vatar looked over at Teran’s closed face. “I didn’t break the Tenets, Teran. I didn’t use any Talent.”
“No, that’s true,” Teran said.
“I thought it was very effective,” Quetza said, suppressed laughter bubbling through her words. She looked toward Thekila. “And impressive.”
Chapter 61: Thekila’s Choice
Vatar looked toward the mountains. Now that the Pass was opening, he probably should start back. He didn’t have the excuse of snow in the Pass anymore. Or even of waiting until his ankle and hand had healed completely. Then again, he couldn’t leave the Forest until around midsummer, anyway. It’d likely be easier to walk across the Forest then. He turned back toward the Academy. At any rate, he couldn’t leave here until he’d reached some understanding with Thekila. He’d have to come back for her. Live here with her, if that’s what it took, but he couldn’t just leave without knowing she’d be here, waiting for his return.
Now that his ankle wasn’t so stiff, Vatar asked to join Quetza and Thekila on their walks through the forested inner slopes of the mountains. It wasn’t the plains of home. Still, it was beautiful. Gentle slopes and open woodland, not very different in some ways from the location of the Lion Clan’s spring village, where his family would be about now.
Vatar was used to closely observing his environment. It was a necessary skill on the plains, where lions or wolves might be hiding in the tall grass or under the trees at a waterhole. With his sharp eyes, he spotted a fox watching them pass and pointed it out to Thekila. “See it? Just there, beside that rock.” He said, moving close to her to show her where to look.
“Oh! Yes, I see it now.”
He stayed next to her just a little longer than was necessary. But she didn’t seem to object.
They were circling back toward the Academy later in the afternoon when Vatar stopped and sat on a boulder, pulling off his right boot. Thekila came back, looking for him.
“Are you alright?” she asked. “Is your ankle bothering you?”
“No, it’s not my ankle.” He smiled, glad that she was concerned about him. “I just picked up a rock in my boot.” He turned his boot upside down to demonstrate and a small pebble fell out.
Thekila grinned. “I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to re-injure it.”
Vatar pulled his boot back on. “I’m fine. Almost completely healed.”
As they walked alone down the trail to rejoin their party, Vatar took her hand. She didn’t pull away until just before they caught up to Quetza and the others. Then she gave his hand a little squeeze before withdrawing her hand from his.
~
As spring waxed, Vatar knew he’d have to do something soon. He couldn’t put off leaving much longer and he couldn’t leave until he’d told Thekila how he felt. But . . . what if she didn’t feel the same?
He lay awake at night asking himself questions. Would Thekila come back with him if he asked? Would she even consider it? Was it fair to ask it of her? Perhaps not, remembering how out of place Avaza had felt in Caere. Thekila would naturally want to stay with her brother and those she considered her family. But he could come back here and bring Zavar and Savara with him. His children would be safe here. He had to return home to complete the Ordeal, but he could come back to her. He could do that, if she wanted him to. Would she? And what would he do here? The Valson clearly didn’t need someone to mind the herds. Did they need blade smiths? Finally, he could stand it no longer. It was no good asking himself these questions. The only one who could answer them was Thekila.
He waited to make sure that he walked back from the dining hall with her alone. The setting was perfect. The fruit trees were covered with pink and white blossoms against the backdrop of the still-snowy mountains. Vatar turned aside on one of the less-used paths, drawing Thekila with him. He sat down on a bench overlooking the Valley, his back turned to the lake. Thekila sat down next to him.
Vatar took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of apple blossoms. “Thekila, do you remember the first time I bespoke you?”
She smiled. “Yes. That was actually one of your longer . . . conversations. At the time.”
“That was the night of my manhood test—my first manhood test—when I was stranded alone on that islet. I told you about that.”
“I remember.”
Vatar chewed on his lower lip. “I think . . . I think that in some way I’ve loved you—or, at least, wanted to love you—ever since that night. I know I felt a connection to you. I think, when I found my way here, that it was you I was coming to.” He turned to face her. “Thekila, I would stay here with you forever, if I could. But I have to go back to complete my Ordeal and clear my name. And for my children. But if . . . if there’s any chance that . . . that you could feel the same way about me, I’d come back to be with you.” He had never felt that so much depended on the answer to a single question. It was hard to ask it, fearing to get the wrong answer.
“Vatar,” Thekila said, looking straight into his eyes. “I do feel the same way. I hated it when we quarreled. I’ve been dreading the day you have to leave.”
His heart beat faster. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until he let it out. He smiled at her and took her hand in his. Then he shook his head. “I have no token to give you.”
That little crease appeared between her eyes again. “Token?”
“Among the Dardani, when a man wants to ask a woman to become his mate, he offers her a token. If she accepts it, she accepts him. But I have no token.”
“You undervalue yourself,” she said with a little smile. “But, since we cannot follow the customs of your people, we will just have to follow those of mine.”
He stroked the back of her hand. “What’s that?”
“Ask me.”
He drew another deep breath. “Thekila, will you be my life mate?”
Thekila cocked her head to the side. “Not year mate?”
Vatar smiled. “No. Not you. I have loved you for more than two winters already. Will you?”
“Yes. I will,” she answered, smiling back at him.
He breathed out again, grinning madly. He gathered her close to him and kissed her. A long, slow kiss that left them both breathless. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he said, without releasing her. “Before the Pass closes again.”
Thekila shook her head. “No. I want to see your home and meet your family. I’ll come with you.”
Vatar’s smile broadened further until it seemed his face would crack open. “I’d like that very much.”
~
There was a long, expectant pause. Thekila could hear her own heart beating faster than normal. Being held this close by Vatar was more exciting than she’d expected. He was different than the fantasy she had created, but he had driven the fantasy from her mind. She didn’t want to let him go out of her life again.
Vatar swallowed hard. “If we were home among the Dardani, I’d start building a hut for us to live in. When the hut was complete, we’d . . . be together. What do we do now, by your customs?”
Thekila’s smile turned mischievous. She’d made her choice. She had fallen in love with him and she didn’t see the point of prolonging the courtship. His passion was contagious. She wasn’t used to feeling like this but she didn’t want it to stop.
“It’s not so different. Except that you don’t need to build a hut. Now, we go somewhere more private.” She
took his hand and pulled him to his feet to follow her.
~
When she pulled her shift off, Vatar was struck by how small Thekila really was. She was tiny compared to Avaza. He was suddenly frightened that he would hurt her. She put her hand up to lightly caress the lines of his tattoo.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the Healer first took your tunic off,” she confessed, smiling mischievously up at him.
He loved that smile. It made his heart race. He pulled out the combs that held her long, red hair up, gathering the bright curls in his hands as they fell.
Despite his mounting desire, Vatar forced himself to be extraordinarily slow and gentle with her, conscious of the difference in size between them. She looked into his eyes and joined their minds. Then he knew he wasn’t hurting her at all.
~
Vatar woke first to a moment of disorientation. Then he smiled. By reflex, his arm tightened around Thekila, pulling her closer to him. He lay still, afraid to move further for fear of waking her. He wanted to make this moment last a little longer. No. Forever.
Vatar didn’t dare believe it. But the proof was lying beside him. She loved him, too. She had said she would be his life mate and come back with him. And she was so much more than he had thought possible. How could anyone think that any magic that made that level of joining possible was evil? He knew he was the luckiest man in the world. And he didn’t intend to do anything to jeopardize that.
~
Vatar smiled as he walked back from class toward his little house. With luck, Thekila would already be there and then . . .
He stopped when he saw Teran, blocking his way. Nothing could ever be simple, could it? He squared his shoulders and stepped forward. He nodded to acknowledge the other man. “Teran.”
“I know that Thekila has chosen you,” Teran said.
“Yes,” Vatar answered simply, uncertain where this was leading.
Teran shook his head as if he’d deny it. “I’ve loved her since she was fifteen years old. But she’s always seen me as her older brother, no matter how I tried to make her see me in another way. So now, that’s what I’ll be. If you hurt her. . .”
The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) Page 31
