The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (31 page)

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.

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.

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 sometime 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.

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 water, 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.”

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.