The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (8 page)

“Hello, Vatar. I’m Veleus,” he said. “I believe I am your
father.”

“Danar of the Dardani is my father,” Vatar said almost by
reflex. But this time as he said it, he realized that it was true. Confronted
by this . . . pretender . . . he knew that Pa was, had always been, and would
always be his father. Vatar put his hand on his heart and over the small tattoo
shaped like the print of a lion. He vividly recalled Pa standing before the
Clan Council, claiming Vatar as his son and holding his shoulders while the
tattoo that marked him as a member of the Lion Clan was punched into his skin.
“Danar is my true father.”

“Of course. The man who raised you will always be your
father, too,” Veleus answered. “Your loyalty does you credit.” He paused as if
waiting for Vatar to say something. “And how is your mother? You know, Lucina
really was one of the most beautiful women I have ever known.”

Vatar thought about it. He didn’t want to talk to this man
at all. But he couldn’t see any harm in answering. Finally, he said, “She’s
fine. She’s respected for her skill as a healer and she’s a chief in her own
Clan.”

“She’s been happy, then?” Veleus asked with some urgency.

“Yes,” Vatar kept the single syllable as short as possible.

“Good! I’m glad she found a man who could do that for her.”
Veleus sounded sincere. “Obviously, she did a fine job of raising you.”

“Yes, she and Pa did,” Vatar replied, with just a little
emphasis on “Pa”.

Veleus smiled warmly. “I think I know where you get that
stubborn streak. And, in spite of your loyalty to this Danar, I am your father.
I will help you, if I can. What is it you want to do?”

Vatar half turned away. “I want to finish my training as a
smith and then return home to the Dardani, away from the Fasallon and their magic.”

Before Veleus could respond, a chime sounded from somewhere
deeper in the Palace.

“Ah! The council meeting is about to begin. I must go. I
don’t dare be late for this one, but I’ll be back as soon as I may. In the
meantime, make yourself comfortable. I’ll have Dinus call for something to eat
and drink.” Veleus left and Vatar was alone again.

Veleus paused outside the door. He’d searched for any sign of
Lucina in the boy, but all he’d seen was a reflection of himself. Right down to
that too-familiar stubbornness. There could be no doubt that Vatar was his son.
“See to his comfort, Dinus, please.”

Veleus shook his head and turned to climb the stairs that
led to the top of the building. He drew a deep breath before entering the
Council Chamber. This was going to require a delicate dance on his part.
Montibeus would back him and he was reasonably sure of Amaurea—always good to
have the Head of the Council on his side—but Gerusa was going to be
trouble—more than usual. Apart from being his implacable enemy, the woman was
just short of paranoid about that cursed prophecy. This was one he had to win.

He straightened his back and strode confidently into the large
room high up in the central part of the Palace that served as the Council
Chamber. Eleven of the twelve chairs were already occupied. He looked around
the large table, assessing the mood of his fellow Councilors. Not an easy
crowd, but he knew how to get around enough of them—with luck. Veleus slid into
the empty seat between Amaurea, at the head of the table, and Montibeus.

“So, Veleus, is he another one of your sons?” Amaurea asked
in a slightly bemused tone. “How many does this make?”

Veleus gave her a self-deprecating smile. “It seems evident
that he is. I clearly remember his mother. She certainly disappeared suddenly
at the right time. Meeting him was almost like looking in a mirror twenty or
twenty five years ago—except that I was never quite that muscular. And he seems
also to have inherited a certain hard-headedness that I have occasionally been
accused of.”

“Oh, Lords of Creation help us all!” Gerusa muttered loudly
from the far end of the table.

Veleus gave a mock bow in her direction. “Thank you, Gerusa.
I know you always found that to be one of my most endearing qualities.”

Several of the others suppressed a snort of laughter at
this. Gerusa scowled. Well, hers was a vote he knew he wasn’t going to get
anyway. If he could win any of the others by playing the clown, so be it.

“As to the number, I’ve lost count.” That was an outright
lie. Veleus could recite the name, age, likes, dislikes, and interests of every
child he’d ever sired, legitimate or not. Well, except for three. This new
nearly-grown son he’d never known existed and the two Gerusa jealously guarded
from him. But the number was a side issue and not one that would necessarily
help his cause now.

Amaurea heaved a deep sigh. “Very well. He is one that was
missed. The question is what do we do about it now?”

“He’s too old to bring in as we do the babies and young
children. We’d never be able to train him. Especially if he has your gift for
stubbornness, Veleus,” Montibeus said.

Veleus chuckled agreement.

“We could just keep him somewhere here in the Palace. He
can’t do any harm confined to the island,” Gerusa said.

“But he’s got family and he’s a member of a powerful guild.
It might cause difficulties. The Smiths have already made inquiries about him,”
said
Daneus
, always a cautious member of the Council.
That usually put him on Gerusa’s side, but maybe not in this.

“We could always pay off the guild. It’s been done before,”
Sareneus
said. He could be counted on as a stout supporter
of Gerusa, whatever the topic.

Montibeus grimaced. “The Smiths’ guild is harder to buy off
than most. They can be as tough as the iron they work.”

“All right, then, how much of a threat is he?” Amaurea
asked.

“That depends on how much Talent he has, doesn’t it?” Gerusa
asked.

“Does he have Talent?” Amaurea asked Montibeus. “Wasn’t
there some mention of Far Speech?”

Montibeus answered that smoothly. “That seems to have been a
mistake. Vatar has no Talent that we’ve been able to document.”

Gerusa leaned forward as if to pressure Montibeus. “How can
you say with certainty that it was a mistake?”

Montibeus smiled at her and leaned back casually. “Simple.
We’ve eliminated everyone with the Talent to have heard him. It can’t have been
Far Speech if he didn’t actually contact anyone.” He shrugged. “Probably just
stress.”

Amaurea looked directly at Gerusa for the first time. “What
do you say, Gerusa? It was your ancestress who made the prophecy.”

“‘One day, a Fasallon who is not a Fasallon will reveal our
secrets and end our rule as gods.’ I remember.” Gerusa looked as if she tasted
something sour. “If he has no Talent, I suppose it’s not likely that he’s the
one spoken of in the prophecy.” She leaned forward again. “But why take the
chance? We’ve never allowed a half-blood to live outside the Temple or the
Palace. Why make an exception for this one?”

“And, on the other hand,” Veleus said, “what secrets could
he possibly reveal? He doesn’t even know about the Lie, which is presumably the
secret spoken of in the prophecy. How can he expose it?”

Gerusa turned burning eyes on him, as if she would pin him
to the wall. Veleus had met that stare too often to be intimidated by it. “But
there’s another way to reveal our secret. If he does have Talent, he could do
something that would raise suspicions among the Caereans. We don’t want them
starting to think that our abilities don’t come from their precious Sea Gods.
They might, if they saw someone outside the Temple able to do any of the things
they think only we can do. How many Talentless children have you bred, Veleus?”

Veleus shrugged, refusing to rise to her bait. “Vatar would
be the first. But I have at least one with barely significant Talent—and some
too young to test, of course.” He wasn’t above twisting the knife just a
little. He knew that rankled with Gerusa. She’d had no more children since
their divorce. While he and Rula had five—and counting. “But even if we assume
that Vatar does have Talent, he’s not going to suddenly learn to do
transformations without any guidance or training. Assume for a moment that he
did use Far Speech—which I don’t believe. How would any Caerean even be aware
of that? It takes Talent to recognize the use of Talent, except for something
obvious, like a transformation.”

He leaned forward for what he hoped would be the coup de
grace. “Besides, he doesn’t intend to stay in Caere. He was raised by the
plains barbarians. That’s how he was missed. He insists that he’s one of them
and intends to return to them as soon as he’s finished his training. I’m not a
Sooth Teller, but I don’t believe he was lying when he told me that.”

Amaurea tapped her chin. “How long will this training take?”

“About two years, as I understand it,” Veleus said.

“Well, then,” Amaurea said with a smile. “If he doesn’t know
our secrets, he can’t very well reveal them. Without Talent, I don’t see how he
can be the one who will destroy our power here in Caere. If he’s only going to
be here for two years, we may be able to find a less drastic and less expensive
means of keeping a watch on him.”

Around the table, most of the other Councilors nodded
agreement with Amaurea.

Gerusa raised her chin in defiance. “But we still need to
establish some means of keeping an eye on him and controlling him, if
necessary.”

Amaurea nodded judiciously. “I think that is a necessary
precaution. Very well. If he is no threat, there’s no point in starting trouble
with the Smiths’ Guild over him. Let’s return him to his home, but continue to
monitor him while he’s here.”

“How do you propose that we do that?” Gerusa asked.

“Offer him advanced training,” Montibeus said, almost too
quickly. “Teach him writing and computation. The Smiths’ Guild is always asking
for that. They’d find it difficult to refuse. Bring him back to the Temple for
training say one day in seven. That way we can keep an eye on him.”

“Good idea,” Veleus said, as if he hadn’t already known what
Montibeus would propose. “I suggest that Cestus be asked to teach him. He’s
been asking for a teaching position. And he has an unusual gift for
observation, which is very apropos in this case. Besides, they’re brothers.”

Montibeus nodded, but his eyes narrowed slightly. That
hadn’t been part of their earlier discussion.

“Well, then. Are we all agreed?” Amaurea asked the Council
at large.

“If I could make one more suggestion,” Veleus said. “Offer
the training through the Smiths’ Guild not directly to Vatar. They won’t
refuse. And that way, Vatar won’t realize that he’s being watched.”

All members of the council nodded in agreement, even Gerusa.

~

Veleus let himself back into the room quietly and watched
his son pacing the perimeter like a caged animal. The food and wine Dinus had
provided lay untouched on one of the tables. Maybe there was a little of Lucina
in the grace with which he moved.

Vatar turned and finally noticed Veleus. He stopped and
stared defiantly at him. “How long do you plan to keep me prisoner here?”

Veleus forced a smile. “You’re no prisoner. You can go back
to your uncle’s house and complete your training.” He took a step forward.
“But, I’d like you to stay for a little while. I’d like to know more about
you.”

Vatar made a negative, chopping motion with his right hand.
“If I can leave, I’d just as soon do it now.”

Veleus held out his hands. “You won’t spare me even a few
minutes?”

Vatar tossed his head like an skittish horse. “Why should I?
This is the first interest you’ve shown in me in almost sixteen years. Why
now?”

Veleus’s hands fell back to his sides. “Be fair. I never
knew you existed until a few days ago.”

Vatar took a single step forward, nostrils flaring. “No.
Because you probably never bothered to find out what happened to my mother. You
just had what you wanted and then left her to face the consequences. You knew
what would happen to her, here. But that didn’t stop you, did it? You didn’t
care at all, did you?”

“Vatar, I . . .”

“And now you want to claim to be my father. I already have a
father—Danar. He’s my father in the only ways that matter.”

Veleus sighed. He was a politician by rank and trade. He
could read men. And he was far too familiar with that stubborn streak all of
his sons seemed to have inherited. There was no point in trying to talk to
Vatar in this mood. He couldn’t even blame the boy for what he felt. He had
been unfair to Lucina. He knew that. He’d lived with it for sixteen years. But
he would dearly have loved to get to know their son, to have a small piece of
Lucina back in his life, even for a little while. Well, maybe Cestus would be
able to find a chink in this armor of anger. The boy’s defenses might not be
raised to the same level with Cestus, especially if he didn’t know that they
were half-brothers.

Veleus vented a resigned sigh. “The boat is this way.”

Vatar forced himself to get back into the boat. It was the only
way to get his feet back on the solid mainland again. He gripped the sides and
closed his eyes, anticipating the return of the panic he’d felt coming over.
Nothing. There was simply too much anger still pent up inside him to allow the
terror a foothold.

How could this . . . person come into his life when he was
already grown, disrupt everything by dragging him over to that cursed island,
and claim to be his father? If he was Vatar’s father, where had he been all
these years? It was Pa who had raised him, protected him, and guided him. Pa
had taught him to ride, had taught him almost everything important in his life
before he came to Caere.

It obviously hadn’t mattered to this Veleus what happened to
Lucina—or to Vatar—once he’d had what he wanted. And now to come forward and
claim to be his father! It took more than
that
to be a father.

Vatar was back on the mainland and halfway back to Uncle
Lanark’s house before his rage cooled enough to realize that Veleus had been
good for one thing, at least. His rage at Veleus had burned away the last
vestiges of his anger at Pa. Veleus’s preposterous claim to be his father had
brought out his loyalty and love for his Dardani father. He still wished that
he had been told. But he knew now that it didn’t matter—at least, not that
much. Pa was still his father, no matter what.

His anger was all for Veleus now. To have treated his mother
that way! And then to have the effrontery to call himself Vatar’s father, to
try to take Pa’s place. Pa’s love for Mother—and for Vatar himself—didn’t ebb
and flow with the seasons. It was steady as a rock—and as strong. Vatar would
never doubt that. What did Veleus have to offer? He hadn’t even had the honor
to acknowledge his own fault.