The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) (12 page)

“This boy. Is he your son?” Gerusa asked, ignoring his
question.

Vatar choked on a laugh at that. He looked aside at Theklan.
“I’d have been about eight when he was born. Even among the Dardani, it’s not
usual to become a father
that
young. Theklan is my wife’s brother.” He
held Gerusa’s eyes with his own. “Are you afraid to untie my hands?”

Gerusa ignored the question again and looked toward Theklan.
“We have a report that he used some unusual form of Talent this morning. Is
this true?”

Vatar shrugged. “He defended himself against a gang of thugs.
Obviously the Temple Guard has been slipping. It used to be safe to walk
anywhere in the city. Why are you afraid to untie my hands?”

Gerusa scowled and met Vatar’s eyes again. “Why do you keep
asking us if we are afraid of you? Why would
we
be afraid of
you
?”

Vatar smiled. “Because you should be.” He concentrated and
his bonds became the greenish brown, jointed seaweed. He pulled the seaweed
apart easily, freeing his hands. In absolute silence, he turned to untie
Theklan’s hands, too. Then he turned back to face the High Council, standing
ramrod straight. “You cannot hold me.” Vatar
knew
that was true. He’d
understood it in the boat, when he had worked out how to free himself. If he
could free himself from this, he could free himself from any imprisonment in
just the same way. “There is no place on this island that can hold me if I
choose to leave.”

Gerusa made a growling noise and her nostrils flared as she
stared back at Vatar. “Perhaps we should just have you killed, then. You and
everyone associated with you.”

Theklan gasped and drew back in terror.

“Easy,”
Vatar whispered to him in Far Speech.
“No
one’s going to hurt you. Trust me.”

Father leaned forward at Gerusa’s threat, but all the other
Councilors leaned back and away from her. Vatar glanced around the table. He
was the stepson of a chief. He’d watched Pa work on building a consensus among
the members of his clan and sometimes the whole tribe. Whatever she’d said
before to stir them up, that speech had lost her the support of nearly all of the
other Council members. And Gerusa was so focused on him that she didn’t seem to
have noticed it.

“You dare not kill me.” The words just seemed to be on
Vatar’s tongue before he could stop them, but he knew that they were true.

Gerusa jabbed her finger toward Vatar. “Why? Because you’re
a member of the Smiths’ Guild? Or because you are Veleus’s son?”

Vatar shook his head and held his ground. “No. Because I’m
your last chance. I’m the last chance you will ever have of becoming again what
you once were, what you should be. There will not be another. Without me and my
children, you will dwindle and fade until you have no Talent left to support
the Lie you have bound yourselves to. If you kill me, you kill your future.”
The words were just there, shining with truth. Vatar would have had trouble
forcing himself
not
to say them.

Several members of the Council gasped at this, including
Father, but Father’s reaction was slightly different. He was certainly
surprised, but his surprise appeared to be tinged with recognition, almost as
if he had expected something like this.

Gerusa stood up from her chair, leaning toward Vatar. “You
jumped-up little half-blood . . . . If you think you can intimidate us . . .”
She sputtered incoherently for a moment. “I’ll show you who you’re dealing
with!”

Gerusa narrowed her eyes and gradually her form shifted into
that of a sea dragon, more or less. Mostly less. Although he’d never seen one
himself, some part of Vatar knew what the dragon should have looked like. It
was painfully clear that Gerusa’s only knowledge of the monster was what she
had seen painted on a wall or drawn in a book. Her Transformation looked almost
two-dimensional, as if it was possible to walk around the edge and see the real
Gerusa behind it. Vatar had a deep-seated dislike of anything dragon-like, but
he found this comical.

He laughed. “If that’s meant to frighten me, you’ll have to
try harder.”

The thought of seeing the real Gerusa behind the dragon gave
him an idea. In his mind he pictured Gerusa and suddenly the sea dragon was
gone. Gerusa was herself again. The Council gasped as one. All except Father,
who’d seen this before that very morning.

Gerusa leaned heavily against the table, as if the sudden
and unexpected shift had affected her balance.

“Now, if you want to try to frighten someone, you have to do
a better job of it. Like this.” Vatar shifted into the newly-familiar lion
shape. The teeth of the lion flashed as he roared a challenge directly at
Gerusa. Then he let it go and became Vatar again.

Gerusa stammered as she tried to formulate a response.

Another Councilor spoke over her with a slight tremor in his
voice. “He spoke the truth. It was a true Fore Seeing.”

The woman at the far end of the table, between Gerusa and
Father, swiveled her head to look at the speaker. “What?”

The man shrugged. “I can only tell you what I see, Amaurea.
I’m on this Council not because I’m the most Talented of my lineage, but
because I’m a Sooth Teller. He spoke no lie. He sees what he says he sees.”

Vatar felt words rise to his tongue again. “The day you
touch me or mine is the day you mark for your own downfall.”

“You threaten us, now!” Gerusa picked up a heavy candlestick
from the table and flung it at Vatar’s head.

Reflexively, Vatar formed a shield to deflect the
candlestick. He expected to feel the impact, anyway, as he had with the young
bull that had almost trampled Theklan, and braced himself for it. He was
momentarily surprised when he felt nothing as the candlestick clattered to the
table, three feet in front of him.

“No. It’s not a threat,” he answered, his voice still calm
and reasonable in stark contrast to Gerusa’s. “I will not be the one to bring
about your downfall. I am not the Fasallon who is not a Fasallon you have
feared so long. The truth is I’m as Fasallon as any of you. But if you harm me
or my family, you will set your own destruction in motion. I know that this is
true.” His voice dropped lower, so that most of the Councilors couldn’t hear.
“Though I don’t know
how
I know.”

Amaurea looked between Father and Gerusa for a moment.
“Leave us to confer for a few moments. The room immediately below is quite
comfortable. I’ll have food and drink sent to you there.”

Vatar nodded. He and Theklan descended one flight of stairs
and entered the doorway at the first landing. It was indeed a comfortable
chamber, not unlike the room by the entry desk. There were windows on three
sides. From this height, the windows gave a sweeping view of the Temple, the
main part of the city, and the mouth of the bay. Only the wharfs of the fishing
and merchant fleets to the south were hidden by the stairwell. Food and drink
was brought very quickly.

Theklan licked his lips nervously. “Vatar, how . . . ?”

“We’ll talk about all of that later,” Vatar answered. “When
we get home.”
When I’ve had time to figure it out myself.
He wasn’t
quite sure where some of the things he’d said had come from. It hadn’t been the
voice; that much he was sure of. And when that one man had said it was a Fore
Seeing, everyone else had settled right down. Well, everyone but Gerusa. So,
maybe at least it wasn’t something strange and new that no one knew anything
about. That was some comfort.

Theklan glanced up at the ceiling, separating them from the
Council Chamber above. “They’re awfully mad.”

Vatar smiled. “Not all of them. They won’t harm us. Not
today, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Vatar. I shouldn’t have . . . .” Theklan said.

“Shouldn’t have what? Defended yourself? Of course you
should! You forget I know what it feels like to be stoned. I’ll never deny
anyone the right to defend themselves against that. You don’t need to apologize
for that, Theklan.”

An hour passed before one of Palace Guards came to take them
back upstairs. The Guard came to attention at the door. “Your presence is
requested in the Council Chamber.”

Vatar smiled at Theklan and raised one eyebrow. “That’s
better.”

Two additional chairs had been placed at the end of the
Council table. Vatar and Theklan seated themselves.

“We have had no reason to quarrel with you until now,”
Amaurea said. “You’ve never caused any kind of trouble for us or in the city.”

“It has never been my intention to cause trouble,” Vatar
answered.

Amaurea nodded. “There’s no need to start a quarrel, now,
then. If you will pledge not to take action against the Council, we promise
that you and your family will be safe in Caere.”

Vatar looked around the table. Father seemed pleased. The
other Councilors looked resigned and perhaps a little shaken. Only Gerusa’s
face betrayed hatred, anger, and frustration. Her expression reminded him of
Maktaz and the vendetta that had caused the old shaman to try to kill Vatar. He
wouldn’t willingly turn his back on Gerusa. Vatar wasn’t sure how far he’d
trust any of them, aside from Father. “I give you my honor-pledge that I will not
take action against the Council or the Fasallon so long as you keep faith with
your pledge.”

“You understand, we must have some assurance,” Amaurea said.

Vatar’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t much like having his word
questioned. “What more do you need? I’ve given my honor-pledge. No Dardani
would break that. There is no greater assurance I can give.”

“You just declared yourself to be Fasallon, only an hour
ago,” Gerusa said.

Vatar waved this away. “But I was Dardani first. That’s the
strongest pledge I know.”

Amaurea tapped the table and cast a stern glance at Gerusa.
“Even so. We need closer ties. The boy will attend the Temple school.”

Vatar sat back, frowning. “Theklan’s education is a question
for my wife, not me. I can’t make that promise without consulting her.”

Amaurea paused. Obviously no one on the Council had
considered that this might be a sticking point. She swallowed. “We’ll allow you
a seven-day to discuss it and give us your answer. And you will also return to
the Temple for training.” She gestured at the man sitting next to Father. “High
Councilor Montibeus has offered to undertake this training himself, one day in
seven.”

Vatar caught his father’s eye. Father nodded fractionally.

“What sort of training?” Vatar asked.

Montibeus leaned forward. “Whatever appears appropriate. Use
of Talent, perhaps. It is hoped that through this . . . association, we may
come to know one another and trust each other.”

Vatar rubbed his chin. He doubted that he had nearly as much
to learn from Montibeus as Thekila and Quetza could teach him. He wasn’t even
sure he
wanted
to learn any more magic than he already had. He shook his
head. “Every other seven-day. I have commitments to my guildhall and my
family.”

“I would be pleased to have your wife join us,” Montibeus
said.

Vatar smiled. Then the lessons really would be for
Montibeus’s benefit, much more than Vatar’s. “Whether Thekila chooses to join
me is up to her. I cannot speak for her. Though I will extend your invitation.
I’ll come every other seven-day.”

Amaurea’s eyes narrowed. “Very well. Every other seven-day.”

Vatar nodded. “Agreed. Next time you want to speak to me,
just ask.”

Vatar rose to leave. Theklan jumped up and stayed close. At
a nod from Amaurea, the Guard led them back to the Entrance Hall. This time,
Vatar looked more closely at where they were going. The interior of the Palace
was a rabbit warren of passageways and chambers laid out with no clear plan in
mind. They would never have found their way without a guide.

Vatar paused at the wharf. The eerie calm he’d felt coming
over here was wearing off and he didn’t much like the look of the white caps on
the waves, kicked up by the late afternoon breeze. He didn’t think he was going
to like going back across the strait at all, but there wasn’t much choice,
unless he could fly.
Maybe I should have changed my avatar to something that
could fly after all.
Though, if that bear was a sample, he didn’t think
he’d be eager to Transform into anything but his clan totem, either.

Father caught up to them before Vatar nerved himself to step
into the boat. As they were rowed across, Father discussed minor matters,
mostly about the Temple school for Theklan and setting up Vatar’s lessons with
Montibeus all the way across. Theklan asked a lot of questions about the
school. The discussion at least helped distract Vatar a little from being
surrounded by so much water. Father kept up on similar topics until they’d
passed through the Temple Gate and were on their way up the hill toward the
farm.

“What exactly happened back there, Vatar?” Father asked when
they were on a quiet stretch of road with no one else around.

Vatar shrugged. “I told you I would know what to do.”

“How?”

Vatar chewed his lip. He thought he’d had just about enough
magic for one day, but it was clear Father wasn’t going to let up. “I’m not
sure how. I just did.”

“Was it your voice again?” Father asked.

Vatar let out his breath slowly. “No. I didn’t hear a word.
I just knew what I had to do.”

“Has anything like that ever happened to you before?” Father
asked.

Vatar thought back. “Yes. When I challenged Maktaz.” After a
moment he added. “And when I made the spears for the tiger hunt.”

Veleus walked in silence for a little while. “Both of those
things happened before you ever heard this voice of yours. Have you ever had
any other strange feelings?”

Vatar looked away. “Yes. I’ve always had a sort of sense of danger.
A kind of prickling between my shoulder blades.” He paused and let out a long,
slow breath. “Torkaz refused to listen to me that day at the river, when the
flash flood swept him to his death.”

Father nodded. “Well, Fore Sight is in our bloodline, too.
And apparently you have some of that gift as well.” He stopped and waited for
Vatar to turn to face him. “Maybe that explains your voice.”

Vatar blinked.
Could it be as simple as that?
“Is
that how Fore Sight works?”

Father shrugged and started walking uphill again. “I’ve
never had the gift myself. I understand it varies widely.”

When the farm came into sight ahead, Father stopped again.
“A word of warning, Vatar. That was a virtuoso performance. You’ve given the
High Council a lot to think about—some of which they won’t like the taste of.
And not just Gerusa. When they’ve had a chance to calm down and think about it,
they’ll resent it. I would have advised a more diplomatic approach.”

Vatar shook his head. “Father, I
tried
. I kept asking
them to untie my hands. I stayed as calm and reasonable as I could. Gerusa left
me no choice. It was the only language she was going to understand.”

Father shrugged. “Gerusa always has been . . . difficult.”

As soon as they came through the gate, Thekila ran to
Vatar’s arms, holding him as tight as she could. “You were magnificent! But I
was so scared for you!” She freed one arm to pull Theklan in, too. “And for
you.”

Vatar threw his arm around Thekila and hugged her back. “You
helped. I felt you following us with Far Sight.”

He stepped back to allow Theklan his sister’s full attention
for a moment. The boy had been more frightened than Vatar had. He looked around
the others. Orleus and Quetza stood side by side, grinning at him.

“Well done!” Quetza said.

“From what Thekila said, you sure showed Mother,” Orleus
added.

Vatar blinked. He’d never really thought about it, before,
but Orleus and Boreala weren’t just Father’s children. They were Gerusa’s, too.

Vatar looked to the other side, where Arcas and Elaria
stood. Arcas’s smile was forced. Elaria was huddled close to him, as if for
protection. Vatar’s breath caught. There could be no doubt that they knew about
his magic now—and weren’t happy about it. He’d been right not to mention it
before now. Or had he? Would this have been easier if he’d simply told Arcas as
soon as they got back? He let his breath out. Too late now, in any event.

Vatar swallowed before speaking. “Arcas?”

“What . . .” Arcas paused to clear his throat. “What was all
that about, Vatar?”

Vatar drew in a deep breath and let it out, trying to
organize his thoughts. He held out his hands, palm out, wordlessly pleading for
understanding. “You’ve known Veleus was my real father for three years, Arcas.”

“Yes. But I didn’t know . . . I didn’t know you had Fasallon
magic. The things Thekila described . . .”

Vatar shrugged. “I didn’t know it myself until last winter.”
He huffed. “I suppose I was too Dardani to admit it to myself.”

“And . . . and everyone else here?” Elaria asked, her voice
breaking.

Vatar sighed. “Cestus and Orleus are my half-brothers. Part
of Cestus’s trouble is because he
doesn’t
have very much Fasallon magic
and Orleus . . . doesn’t use his much. Less even than I do. Thekila, Quetza,
and Theklan are Valson. Their magic is similar to that of the Fasallon in some
ways and different in others. It was something Theklan did earlier with one of
those abilities that they have and the Fasallon don’t that drew the attention
of the Fasallon High Council.”

Veleus stepped forward. “The High Council has promised to
leave Vatar and all those associated with him alone. You have nothing to fear
from them.”

“Magic itself is neither good nor evil, Arcas. Just like my
strength or your talent in negotiations is neither. It’s what we do with it
that’s either good or bad. It took a lot for me to finally understand that.” He
held his cousin’s eyes for a moment. “For what it’s worth, Arcas, Trev knows
about my magic and he doesn’t seem to think it’s anything to be concerned
about.”

Arcas nodded provisionally. “It was just . . . unexpected.”

Vatar sighed relief.

“It was more than that. It was terrifying.” Elaria’s eyes
were wide and her knuckles were white where she clung to Arcas’s arm. “The
Temple Guard coming here.” She pointed at Thekila. “Her telling all about what
was happening as if she could see it—”

“She
could
see it, Elaria,” Vatar said. “The same way
I can see my children on the plains every night when I play my pipes. It’s
nothing to be afraid of.”

Elaria glared at him. “And the things she said
you
did. Becoming a lion!” She made horns with her fingers, the Caerean sign
against evil and ran back into the house.

Vatar’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, Arcas. I guess I
should have told you about it when we arrived.” He shook his head and sighed.
“Would you rather we moved into the guest house?”

Arcas glanced back toward the door where Elaria had
disappeared. “I . . . No. This is your home as much as ours. Elaria . . .”
Arcas broke off, shaking his head.

“Someday, she may be glad of our magic,” Vatar said and then
blinked. More words that had just seemed to spill out. If this was Fore Sight,
he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Arcas shrugged and turned to follow Elaria into the house.

Father clapped Vatar on the back. “They trust Boreala. Maybe
I’ll ask her to reassure them if she’s coming out soon anyway. And I might as
well get back and do that. I want to spend some time in the library anyway.”

“Thank you, Father.” Vatar watched as Father let himself
back out the gate.

Thekila wrapped her arm around Vatar’s back. “You know, it’s
not entirely logical to trust Boreala’s magic implicitly and yet fear us for
having the same or very similar magic.”

“Fear often isn’t very rational,” Vatar said.

“I think I’m beginning to understand why you’re so reluctant
to tell your family about your magic,” Thekila said. “If the Caereans are less
frightened by magic than the Dardani, I shudder to think what Danar’s or
Kiara’s reaction might be.”

Vatar pulled her close and said nothing.