Vatar sighed dramatically. He probably wasn't going to get out of this, with both Quetza and Thekila pressing him. Best just to get it over with, then. He concentrated on the well-known shape and color of a Dardani sod hut. He drew the picture quite clearly in his mind. Then he put that picture over their tent. He opened his eyes. The Dardani hut was there, just as he'd pictured it. Vatar let the illusion go.
Thekila laughed appreciatively. “That was very good, Vatar. I could almost smell the sod.”
Quetza nodded approval. “Very realistic. That's harder than it looks. Good work.”
“Pity you couldn't really turn it into a Dardani hut,” Orleus said. “That would have been cozier in the rain.”
“The rain didn't bother us,” Vatar answered. He left unspoken, Until you two showed up.
Thekila smirked. “A hut might be asking a lot, but watch this.” She picked up a branch from the wood set ready for the fire. “Here, Vatar. Make me a piece of rope.”
Vatar took the branch and turned it in front of him, trying to come up with an excuse not to do this. “Pretty heavy rope. And kind of lumpy.”
Thekila glowered. “You know you can fix those things if you want to. It's only the mass that has to stay the same. But make it as thick or as lumpy as you like, so long as it's rope.”
Vatar sighed. He pictured a fairly heavy, but not lumpy, piece of rope and then in his mind put the branch into this mental picture. He handed the length of rope to Thekila with a little bow. Thekila passed it to Quetza, who passed it to Orleus.
Orleus stiffened as he turned the rope over in his hands. “Vatar, does Father know you can do a third-level transformation?”
Vatar took the piece of rope back and tossed it onto the fire, where it immediately became a branch again. “I don't think so. He knows I've mastered Far Speech and Far Sight. Why?”
“It's important, Vatar. He needs to know before you return to Caere. The Fasallon councils—especially the High Council in Caere—get a little obsessive on the subject of transformations.”
Vatar frowned at this new train of thought. Magic was so much more complicated here than in the Valley. The Dardani would shun him, perhaps worse, if they knew. And it would only be different, not better, in Caere. The High Council had set a watch on him, in the guise of lessons at the Temple, to assure themselves that he had no magic. From what Father had said, he didn't think he wanted them to find out they'd been wrong. “What the High Council doesn't know won't hurt . . . me.”
Orleus grunted.
Quetza turned to Orleus. “What do you know how to do?”
“Far Sight. That's sometimes useful for hunting. Far Speech. A little.”
“Bespeak me.”
Even though Quetza was sitting right next to him, Orleus closed his eyes, obviously concentrating hard.
Quetza frowned. “I thought you said you knew this.”
Orleus shrugged. “I usually just answer when other people contact me.”
“Orleus, I've watched you practice with your sword and bow. I know you're not lazy. Why have you neglected your Powers?”
The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of the water and the calls of the birds.
Finally, Orleus said, “Talent has never done very much good for anyone in my family. Too much, and you end up like Father, tied so tight to Caere that he's barely allowed outside its walls. Too little and you end up like Cestus, always lowest in the hierarchy in spite of his other abilities. Either way, you're forced into the mold they select for you. Answering Far Speech is just enough to let me do what I want and not so much that I draw too much attention. I like it that way.
“If I could do transformations, they'd lock me up in the city, like Father. I'd lose my place in the Guard. That's too dangerous for a Fasallon who can do transformations. I probably wouldn't even get a chance to really hunt ever again.”
“Then don't tell them,” Quetza said. “I have the impression that's what Vatar intends to do.”
Orleus blinked. “I . . . I guess . . . I never thought of that.”
“Well, you're not nearly ready to try shape changes yet, anyway,” Quetza said. “Thekila, why don't you work with Vatar for a bit and I'll try to teach Orleus the basics?”
That was unfair. Vatar might at least try to resist Quetza out of stubbornness. But they both knew he would turn himself inside out not to disappoint Thekila. That was how she'd gotten him to accept his magic in the first place.
“I think you're ready to try your first full shape change,” Thekila said.
Vatar reached out to touch the little charm that hung around Thekila's neck. An eagle, representing her avatar. He'd never had a chance to see her fly, yet, but both she and Quetza said that she could. “Maybe I should choose a different avatar, something with wings. That way I can fly with you.”
Quetza paused on her way across the campsite. “You can't, Vatar.”
Vatar dropped Thekila's charm and turned to face Quetza. “Why not?”
“Because the laws of Nature still apply. You may be able to shape change into a lion, if that's the avatar you choose. But it will be a small lion, because it can't be much bigger—or smaller—than you actually are.”
Quetza gestured to her body—much taller and more muscular than petite Thekila. In fact, except for the tinge of red in her short-cropped blonde hair, Quetza could easily pass for a Dardani woman. “I chose an avatar that is approximately my size that can still fly. But I grew up in the mountains, where the wyverns live. I've seen them. You can't transform into something you can't picture fully. Well, you can, but not very successfully. So, a wyvern won't work for you. Frankly, you'd be an awfully large wyvern, anyway. You still might not be able to fly. You certainly wouldn't be able to as an eagle. Thekila needs a high place to take off from and a rising air current to fly well and she's a lot smaller than you. I can't imagine the form in which you could fly. You're just too big.”
Quetza's mouth quirked up in a small smile. “And it's not just because you'd be too heavy. Even if you did find a shape that fit you and could fly, you'd still have to learn how. Shape changes don't come with full understanding of the new form. Thekila and I both had to learn how to fly. And believe me, we had some spectacular failures. You will too. The first time you actually become a lion, I guarantee that you will find four feet confusing. It takes practice to make it look smooth.” She huffed a laugh. “At least you won't have as far to fall as a lion.”
“Stay with what you know, Vatar,” Thekila said. “The lion suits you. Later, if you want a challenge, you can try what Teran does with his tiger. It's even harder, in a way. He uses two shape changes, one on top of the other. The actual tiger is only the same size as Teran—no bigger than your undersized lion will be. Teran has to change his shape and then mask the new shape with a larger version of itself in order to appear to be a full-sized tiger. Sometimes he adds a few extra touches to the illusion. You could eventually do the same with your lion. But that's hard. It takes more than double the concentration. Stick to just one thing at a time at first.”
Vatar breathed out. “All right. It was just a thought.”
Quetza nodded and gestured for Orleus to follow her to the other side of the tent. “Working on two different things, it'll probably be easier if we give each other a little space.”
When they'd gone, Thekila drew in a breath, as if ordering her thoughts. “All right, the full shape change starts the same as the illusion. You draw the image of the lion very clearly in your mind. But now, instead of drawing the image over yourself like a mask, you put yourself into the image. Just like you did with that stick. Go ahead. Try it.”
Vatar did as she instructed. He pictured a plains lion, but, following the Valson color convention, instead of the usual tawny color, he pictured a white lion, with black mane and tail. Then he tried to put himself into the image. He felt his body resisting the change and concentrated harder. He was about to let the image go, when he felt as if the resistance melted. He
felt uncomfortably stretched and then he was almost pulled into the image. He fell forward onto all fours. Turning his head, he saw the black tip of his tail lashing. He'd done it!
Vatar tried to take a step forward and almost fell on his ear. His knee didn't seem to be where it should be or move the way it should. And he had forgotten to move both a front and a back leg at the same time. This was as hard as Quetza had said it'd be.
Thekila frowned at him. “That's very good, Vatar. But don't try too much at once. There are dangers to shape changes, until you become proficient. Just do the basic shape change for now. You can learn to mask it to appear full-sized, later.”
Wait. What? Full-sized? But hadn't Quetza just said that was impossible? He hadn't meant to do anything more than Thekila asked of him. Not something else mysterious about his magic. Seeing through the eyes of the lion yesterday had been bad enough. Apparently by instinct, his unfamiliar body responded to his sudden fear by trying to leap backward—and ended up in a heap.
Thekila laughed. “Slow down, Vatar. It'll take practice to learn to walk, let alone jump, on all fours.”
Vatar's attempt to answer her came out as a roar. His concentration evaporated dumping him back into his true form. He drew in a ragged breath, trying to calm himself. “I wasn't masking, Thekila.”
Thekila opened her mouth and then shut it again with a snap. She shook her head. “Vatar, that's not possible.”
Vatar fell back on his haunches and dropped his head into his hands. He rocked slightly. “I wasn't masking. That . . . just happened.”
Thekila put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. I'm sure everything's all right.” She raised her voice. “Quetza, could you come here for a moment?”
Quetza looked around the side of the tent. “What is it?”
Thekila beckoned her over. “Vatar's shape change was a full-sized lion. But he says he wasn't doing the second masking transformation. How is that possible?”
Orleus followed Quetza back to the fire pit, looking relieved at the interruption.
“Do it again, Vatar,” Quetza said, turning to him.
Vatar clenched his jaw. That was the last thing he wanted to do, but if he wanted an answer, he'd have to. He formed the image of the lion and put himself into it. It was easier this time. The stretching didn't last as long, almost as if some other force were helping to push him into the shape. Quetza reached out to touch the top of the lion's head. At Quetza's signal, he released the transformation and fell back to sit cross-legged on the damp ground.
“Well?” he asked, hoping he didn't sound as desperate for an answer as he felt.
Quetza looked puzzled and a little shocked. “It was solid, not an illusion. You really weren't adding a second transformation.”
Vatar clasped his hands between his knees to keep them from trembling. “I told you I wasn't.”
Quetza shook her head. “I don't understand it. That lion was easily twice your actual size. That shouldn't be possible.”
Vatar's shoulders sagged. “Then what happened?” His voice was shaking. Everything about his magic was going wrong, doing unexpected things. First that strange view through the eyes of the lion this afternoon, almost as if he had become the lion, and now this. “What's happening to me?”
Quetza sat down in front of him. “It's strange, Vatar. But it's certainly no reason to panic.”
He looked up, not at Quetza, but at Thekila. “Am I . . . really becoming a lion?”
Quetza snorted. “Of course not. Our magic can do a lot of things, but it can't change our basic nature.”
Thekila knelt beside him and took his hand. “What's wrong, Vatar? This is more than just your shape change.”
Vatar shook his head, but clung to her hand. “Strange things have been happening today. And I don't like it.”
“What kind of strange things?” Quetza asked. “Something besides this?”
Vatar drew a deep breath and nodded. “When we were riding here, I sensed lions nearby. That's not unusual for a member of the Lion Clan. But I saw that the lions were hunting a herd of wild horses. It was like I actually saw through the lion's eyes for a moment. Almost like I was one of them. I shouldn't have been able to do that. It's never happened to me before.”
Quetza shook her head. “I don't understand your Dardani magic. Maybe you should ask someone who does.”
“The shaman?” Vatar asked. “But he doesn't know anything about Valson or Fasallon magic. He won't know anything about that transformation or even Far Sight.”
Quetza cocked her head to one side. “Maybe not. Is there anyone who knows about both kinds of magic?”
Vatar didn't even have to think about it. No Dardani would want to know about Fasallon magic. And he was sure no Fasallon, before him, had ever been initiated into a Dardani Clan. He was the first, the only one to have access to both kinds of magic. “No. I don't think there were very many people who even knew there were two kinds of magic before me. The Dardani don't even think of the connection to the totem Spirits as magic.”
Thekila squeezed Vatar's hand. “Then we'll just have to talk to the best experts we can find on each.”
Quetza chewed her lip. “You know, that might be it. If there's never been anyone with both kinds of magic before, then no one knows how they would work together. What you experienced earlier sounds a little like your Distant Viewing was somehow amplified.”
“Kind of like the sense of a lion that accompanies your Far Speech now,” Orleus put in.
The tightness in Vatar's chest loosened a little. He breathed out a long exhalation. “Ah. Thekila had asked what the lions were hunting. I was trying to see if I could identify a herd. But I wasn't trying to use Far Sight.”
Thekila smiled. “There you go.”
“That's probably it, then.” Quetza sighed and rubbed her temples. “It wouldn't hurt to consult your shaman, at least as far as your Dardani magic is concerned.”
“There's Father, too,” Orleus said. “You really should talk to Father about this when you get to Caere. Maybe even before.”
Vatar nodded glumly. “I guess I hoped you'd know the answer. Something I just hadn't learned yet. I don't like not understanding things. Especially things that concern me. And most especially things to do with my magic.”
Thekila's free hand rose to Vatar's shoulder and she gave him a little shake. “If you're the first, we're all in uncharted territory here. But we're up to the challenge. We'll find the answer. Anyway, none of it seems particularly threatening to me.” She leaned over to kiss him.
Orleus cleared his throat loudly. “I think it's time we started back for Zeda.”
Vatar broke off the kiss, but continued to hold Thekila close against him.
Quetza gave Thekila a conspiratorial wink. “I think we interrupted them too soon, Orleus. They can use a little more time out here together. We can come back out tomorrow and bring a fresh horse for Thekila with us. That'll be easier on everyone. Besides, I think we should all take a little time to let what just happened sink in before we go running around chasing will o' the wisps.”
Chapter 3: Burn Out
Thekila sat beside Vatar and watched the other two ride off towards Zeda. Vatar was still much too tense beside her. Still too uneasy about his own magic to take these little anomalies in stride. In her experience, no one understood all there was to know about magic, but that wasn't what Vatar wanted or needed to hear right now. No. What he needed was a diversion, something to take his mind off these minor oddities. Offering to go back to bed, while effective, would probably be too obvious. There was bound to be something else. The injured horse? No, Vatar would already have taken care of her. Dardani never neglected their horses.
Thekila's gaze swept their little camp. She forced herself not to smile when she saw the answer. “Oh, no. I think we're going to have to call them back after all. Unless your horse can carry both of us all the way back to Zeda.”
Vatar turned to her, brows rising. “Why?”
Thekila picked up the nearly empty pack that had held their midday meal. “It's just, if we're going to be here overnight, we didn't bring enough food. There's not near enough left for the evening meal, let alone breakfast.”
Vatar smiled. From the way he relaxed, she knew she'd chosen well. It was clear he was glad to have a problem he knew how to solve. “That's no trouble. You're married to a Dardani. If I couldn't feed us for a couple of meals at a waterhole as rich as this one, I wouldn't be worthy of the name.” He rinsed out one of the shallow bowls from their midday meal and handed it to her. “If you go back to where the spring comes down from the rocks, I think you'll find some berries. There ought to be some ripe at this time of year. I'll see what else I can find.”
Thekila went where Vatar pointed. She was delighted to find vines laden with ripe and ripening berries, enough for a generous dessert and still have some left for breakfast.
When she came back with her bowl overflowing, she found Vatar sitting a little distance from their camp, plucking a fat young duck. He looked up and smiled. “I set a fish trap in a likely spot. With luck, we might have fish for breakfast. If not, there're plenty of birds' nests.”
Thekila set her bowl of berries down. “I didn't think the Dardani ate fish.”
“We don't, generally. I got used to fish in Caere. Then I had to learn to make traps when I was in the Forest on my Ordeal.”
Thekila almost tripped over a couple of odd-shaped roots on the ground by the cook fire. “What are these?”
“Water lily roots,” Vatar answered. “Not one of my personal favorites, but they are edible.”
Thekila picked one up and turned it over. “What do I do with them?”
He shrugged. “We can eat them raw. Or you can bake them in the fire, if you like. It won't make much difference either way. They pretty much taste like the same no matter what you do to them. But they're the best substitute for bread I can come up with here.”
Vatar cleaned, quartered, and roasted the duck on spits over the fire. All told, it was a plentiful meal. As the sky darkened, the bird calls were replaced by the croaking of innumerable frogs.
The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) Page 35
