The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) (16 page)

“Well, then,” Quetza said. “The first step is for you to
learn to create the shield on demand, isn’t it?”

Orleus gestured to his stack of apples. “This may take more
tries than I’d planned on. Theklan, would you run back and get more apples?”

Thekila crossed to Vatar and placed a hand on his arm. “All
right. Try to remember what it felt like when Gerusa threw that candlestick at
you.”

Vatar nodded. What had it felt like, besides the anger? Just
like the previous times, he’d raised his hand to ward off the blow and the
shield had sprung up at a distance. What else? Vatar closed his eyes and tried
to picture it in his mind. He’d felt something flowing through him, hadn’t he?
A kind of energy that didn’t seem to come from him. Chewing his lip, Vatar
raised his hand and pushed it out. “I think I’ve done it.”

Orleus nodded and lobbed an apple towards Vatar. It bounced
back about a body-length away. Orleus grinned. “All right. Harder this time.”

“No,” Quetza said. “Let Vatar release the shield and make it
again once or twice first, so he’s sure he can do it at will.”

Orleus nodded to her. “Good idea.”

They repeated the experiment twice more. The second time,
Vatar barely got the shield up in time. On the third try he stopped the apple
two body-lengths away.

“All right,” Orleus said. “This time I’m going to throw
harder, so be prepared.”

Vatar nodded and concentrated on his shield.

Orleus pitched the apple and then had to duck as it zinged
back right for his head. “Hey!”

Vatar threw his hands wide. “I didn’t try to do that.
Anyway, Thekila’s the one who can move things with her Talent.”

Thekila shook her head. “I didn’t do that either.”

Quetza laughed. “Then maybe you shouldn’t support Vatar
quite so enthusiastically. Or else Vatar shouldn’t concentrate so hard.”

Orleus chuckled. “Unless, of course, you want to use the
shield as a weapon as well as for defense. You could definitely surprise your
opponent that way. Again. Not quite so hard.”

Thekila and Vatar both nodded. Orleus moved to one side and
threw again, so that the second apple came from a different angle. Vatar moved
his shield to block this one, too, but only an arm’s length away.

“Well?” Orleus asked.

Vatar shrugged. “I didn’t feel anything either time.”

“I did,” Thekila said. “I’ve never noticed it before, but I
felt a kind of drain.”

Vatar sucked in a breath. That energy he’d felt coming from
somewhere else was coming from Thekila. “That’s enough. We don’t need to do
this anymore.”

Thekila stepped forward, facing Vatar, and put her hands on
her hips. “Of course we’re not going to stop now. It’s just a little pull. I’ve
worked much harder than that without any problem.”

Vatar held up his hands. “I just—”

Thekila’s posture softened a little. “I know you just want
to protect me, Vatar. But we’ll never get anywhere if we don’t keep working on
this. Sometimes, you have to take a little risk to get where you want to go.”
She shook her head with a smile. “It’s a good thing you weren’t around when
Quetza and I were jumping off cliffs to learn how to fly.”

Vatar spluttered incoherently at the thought of Thekila
jumping off a cliff.

Thekila gave him a mock-stern look. “What did you think? We
started off by trying to jump up into the air from flat ground? We’d never have
made it that way.”

Theklan looked up speculatively at the roof of the two-story
guest house.

Quetza laughed. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Only one of
us went off the cliff at a time and we used a metal-studded harness so we could
catch each other with our Powers, if we needed to.” She turned and spoke
directly to Theklan. “We never tried it alone until we’d mastered flight.”

Orleus barked a laugh, shaking his head. “All right. Let’s
get back to the business at hand. If you’re ready, Thekila?”

Thekila nodded.

“This time, let’s try it another way, with Thekila neither
supporting nor resisting the shield,” Orleus said. “See if that makes any
difference.”

Vatar nodded again and pushed out his shield again. He
narrowed his eyes in concentration. He had to work harder to generate the
shield. Orleus slipped to the side and threw the apple from a different angle.
Vatar swung his arm to the side to block the apple just in time. He grunted
when it struck the barrier.

“How was that?” Orleus asked.

Thekila shrugged. “About the same. Vatar?”

“I felt it when the apple struck the shield. Not quite like
it’d hit me, but I definitely felt it. And it was harder to make the shield in
the first place.”

“So, we’ve definitely established that Thekila’s support is
important for this shield of yours, but not absolutely necessary,” Quetza said.
“That’s some progress. Maybe we should stop now and continue another day.”

Thekila raised her chin. “Not yet. One more test, with me
resisting Vatar’s shield. Then we’ll have more information to work with.”

Vatar nodded. Just one more time. Then he’d insist they stop
for the day. He didn’t want this to be too great a drain on Thekila. He
concentrated on pushing out his shield again, in spite of Thekila’s resistance.
It took still more of his concentration, this time.

Orleus pitched an apple at Vatar’s midsection.

Vatar doubled over as the missile struck his shield. His
breath escaped in an explosive “Oof!” He sagged to his knees, feeling exactly
as if the apple had hit him in the solar plexus.

Thekila started toward him and then blinked her eyes wide
before dropping abruptly to sit on the ground.

Quetza ran forward to Thekila while Orleus hurried to
Vatar’s side.

“I really think that is enough for today,” Quetza said.

“What happened that time?” Orleus asked at almost the same
instant.

Vatar waved this off. “How’s Thekila?”

“I’m fine,” Thekila answered. “I was just a little dizzy for
a moment there. Nothing to be worried about.”

Quetza snorted.

Thekila shot her a reproachful glance. “All right. I was
more than a little dizzy, but it’s better now.”

“What about you, Vatar?” Orleus asked.

Vatar put his hand down and pushed himself up off the
ground. “It felt just as if the apple hit me. Hard.”

“I didn’t throw it
that
hard,” Orleus protested.

Vatar shook his head as he crossed the few steps to Thekila
and helped her to her feet. “No. Not just that. There was something about the
shield, too. It was hard work just . . . tiring to keep it up.”

Thekila leaned against him.

“Well,” Quetza said. “I suggest you don’t use your shield
again unless Thekila agrees with you.”

Vatar put his arm protectively around Thekila. “I’ll agree
with that.”

~

Two days later, Vatar stepped up to Theklan’s side as the
Temple Guard marched past the farm yet again. Despite his training, the boy
cowered a little.

Boreala, just finishing her regular visit with Elaria looked
up. “What was that?”

“The Temple Guard,” Vatar answered. “They march past here at
least once a day.”

Boreala’s brow creased. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since just after Vatar’s arrest,” Orleus answered. “I’m
going to go down to Caere and have a word with the Captains.”

Boreala looked over at him. “Don’t do that. I doubt it’d do
any good. They’ve probably got orders.”

Orleus sneered. “Yes. From Mother.”

Boreala nodded. “I suspect so. It’ll be better if you let
Father handle it.”

“I’d be glad if he could make them stop,” Thekila said.
“It’s annoying. And it’s not helping Elaria to relax about . . . everything,
either.”

Orleus shook his head. “Father doesn’t have the authority to
overrule an order from Mother.”

One side of Boreala’s mouth quirked up. “Do you think she
got the approval of the High Council for this? I don’t. And if she didn’t, then
Father can get it to stop by bringing it to the Council.”

Orleus smiled slowly. “You’re probably right.”

Vatar placed a hand on Thekila’s shoulder and the other on
Theklan’s. “I hope you’re right, Boreala. This has gotten very old. And it’s
definitely keeping both Elaria and Arcas on edge, too.”

Gerusa drummed her fingers on her desk in disgust. She
should never have permitted herself to set the Temple Guard to try to harass Vatar.
It was stupid and juvenile and she’d known it. It hadn’t done any good. And,
worst of all, it had given Veleus an opportunity to embarrass her in front of
the High Council. She should have known better. She did know better, if she
just hadn’t let that half-blood make her so angry. She was going to have to be
a lot more subtle than that to achieve her goals. That bit of petty revenge
hadn’t been important enough to risk this much of her prestige on it.

Gerusa forced herself to review the disastrous Council
meetings. They weren’t pleasant to think about. But if she was going to regain
her rightful position—and get her revenge—it was necessary to understand
exactly where she had gone wrong.

She really had thought the revelation of the boy’s unusual
magical Talent would gain her supporters. She had been certain at least that
Veleus would lose supporters over it, even if they didn’t come over to her. And
she had wanted to hurt one of Veleus’s half-blood bastards at the same time.
She hadn’t expected this Vatar to be able to challenge her like that in the
Council Chamber itself. Nor that the other Councilors would fold so easily to
the upstart.

Her eyes narrowed. She hadn’t
really
cared much about
Vatar before. Now, it was personal. Now, she would have to find a way to get
her revenge on Vatar to salve her injured ego.

Still, she’d clearly moved too soon and without nearly
enough information. She couldn’t allow her personal animosities to lead her
into another such mistake.

Gerusa found the very existence of Veleus’s several
half-blood children offensive. Their marriage had never been a love match, but
Veleus didn’t have to advertise it by openly sleeping with anything in a skirt.
Gerusa would have turned a blind eye to a discreet affair with a Fasallon woman
like Rula. Not that she would have liked it, but it wasn’t as if she’d ever
wanted
Veleus in her bed every night. And it wouldn’t have been a direct insult. But
all the Talentless Caerean women Veleus clearly preferred to her—that was an
affront. And the bastards he had produced with them were just walking
reminders. She hated them all.

And, of course, she was always glad to have an opportunity
to hurt Veleus, even indirectly. Quite apart from the scandal he had caused in
demanding a divorce from her so adamantly, Gerusa knew that Veleus was the real
obstacle that stood between her and her proper place at the head of the Council
table. She should be the leader of the High Council. Everyone knew she had more
Talent than anyone else on the Council except Veleus himself—and she was his
equal, whether they believed it or not.

Gerusa fumed for a moment over the memory of that long-ago
defeat. She had called in every favor, influenced every member she could, to
prevent Veleus from being named as leader of the High Council, knowing that, of
course, she would be the next choice. Veleus had blocked that so neatly she’d
had no chance to counter him. Before the High Council could reject him, Veleus
had simply withdrawn, claiming that he didn’t want the position. Then he had
said that the only reason he would accept would be to protect the High Council
from the leadership of an unbalanced woman—meaning herself! He had proposed
Amaurea as the new leader, instead. And, to prevent a rift, the Council had
gone along with him, denying Gerusa the place that should have been hers.

That was all Veleus’ fault. And Gerusa would never be able
to take her rightful place at the head of the Council until she had dealt with
Veleus. Even revenge was secondary to the primary goal—control of the Council.
Still, she had to dispose of Veleus, somehow. He was just so hard to get to. He
was nearly unassailable because of his Talent for Transformations. Sometimes
Gerusa just couldn’t help using the tools that were available, like Vatar.

Veleus seemed particularly fond of this bastard, so Vatar
had been a target of opportunity, nothing more. That was where she had gone
wrong. She had moved too quickly, before she knew all the facts. She would have
to be more careful in the future. She would have to find a way to get more
information. Then she could plan the appropriate trap for this upstart Vatar.
He was more than a tool to use against Veleus, now. He had made himself a
target for his own sake when he embarrassed her in front of the entire High Council.
And he would pay for it.

She sighed. The problem of information still remained.
Unfortunately, her spy network did not extend beyond the city walls. She’d
never needed it to spread that far before now. It would take time to cultivate
better sources of information. Gerusa didn’t have to like that, but it was
going to be necessary before she could go any further. She couldn’t afford
another such failure.

Theklan blinked, not sure exactly what had wakened him in
the middle of the night. It was still dark outside his window and everything
seemed quiet. Must have been a dream. He rolled over, but before he could
settle himself into a comfortable position, he heard the noise again. This time
he was certain someone was moving around in the kitchen and it wasn’t the dogs,
but the dogs weren’t barking, either. Curiosity overcame sleepiness and he got
up to see who it was. As he came cautiously through the doorway, he found
Cestus. “Oh, it’s you.”

Cestus grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake
anyone. I couldn’t sleep. And I got to thinking about this excellent sweet cake
Castalia baked for dinner last night.”

Theklan rubbed at his eyes. “That’s okay.”

“Would you like a piece?” Cestus asked.

“Yes, please!” Theklan said. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Cestus shrugged. “I was thinking about things. Trying to
decide what to do.”

Theklan settled into the chair opposite Cestus. “What to do
about what?”

Cestus smiled sadly. “Things you wouldn’t understand, yet.”

Theklan made a face. “Everybody’s always saying something
like that to me. How am I supposed to understand, if nobody ever tells me
anything?”

Cestus chuckled. “Some things, you just have to experience.
No one can explain them to you. And you have to be a bit older than you are to
experience them. If it’s any consolation, every adult who says that to you was
just as frustrated as you are when they were your age. I know I was. It’s just
part of—”

Cestus broke off as they heard a groan from the back of the
house. It was definitely a woman’s groan and it sounded like she was in pain.

Theklan stiffened in alarm. “Was that Thekila?”

Cestus was already moving toward the door to the front room.
“No. It came from—”

Arcas came running out, half-dressed and wild eyed.
“Elaria’s having the baby. I have to go get Boreala. Her side of the bed is
soaked. There’s no blood in it, but—”

Cestus stopped him. “That’s normal. You go back to Elaria.
We’ll take care of getting Boreala.”

“Thank you!”

As Arcas disappeared, Cestus turned to Theklan. “Contact
Boreala with Far Speech
.
Let her know what’s happening.”

Theklan edged back toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you
bespeak her yourself? She’s your sister.”

“Because I can’t. Not from this distance.”

Theklan blinked. “I thought you were Fasallon.”

“I am,” Cestus answered. “But my Talent isn’t strong enough
to reach so far.”

Theklan chewed his lip. “I’m sorry.”

Cestus smiled crookedly. “I can’t see how it’s your fault.”

“No. It’s just. . . Isn’t it hard? Being a Fasallon, but not
really?” Theklan cast a guilty look down the corridor that led to Vatar’s and
Thekila’s bedroom, knowing his sister would have scolded him for that question.

“I’m used to it,” Cestus answered. “Now you tell Boreala
that Elaria’s baby is coming. I’ll go down to the Temple Gate to meet her.”
Cestus started out the door.

Theklan swallowed once and nodded. He didn’t really like the
idea of bespeaking Boreala, or waking her up in the middle of the night. It was
a rule he’d learned back at the Academy: students don’t bespeak teachers. Even
earlier than that, he’d learned that it was rarely a good idea to wake adults
up at this hour of the night. Boreala wasn’t really one of his teachers,
though, and it seemed he was the only one awake who could.

Elaria groaned again. Theklan squeezed his eyes shut to
picture the Healer.
“Boreala?”
he sent somewhat timidly. Then more
strongly,
“Boreala!”

“What is it?”
was the sleepy reply.
“
Who
is
it?”

“It’s Theklan. Elaria is having her baby.”

“I’m on my way,”
Boreala responded more alertly.

Theklan hurried to finish his message.
“Cestus said he’ll
meet you at the Temple Gate.”

“Tell him that’s not necessary.”

Theklan shrugged, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.
“He’s
already gone.”

Boreala sighed.
“Very well. I’ll be there soon.”

~

As Cestus walked, a new idea swirled around in his head. As
Theklan said, he was a Fasallon, but not really a Fasallon. Was he . . . could
he
be the Fasallon who is not a Fasallon? Could the Council have gotten it wrong
for six hundred years?

For centuries, the Fasallon had brought every child with
Fasallon blood into the Temple and kept them close, so that there would never
be a Fasallon outside their control—until Vatar. That custom was the core of
Cestus’s trouble—of the problems of all the unTalented and less-Talented. But
that prophecy could be read two ways, couldn’t it? Someone like Vatar, with
Fasallon blood but raised outside Fasallon control, as they had always feared.
Or someone like himself, born and raised as a Fasallon, but excluded from full
membership because he lacked sufficient Talent. Someone they barely noticed.

He had to stop walking for a moment and just stand, staring
at a tree like he’d never seen one before in his life. The very thought was
dizzying. Despite the chill night air, he felt a flush of warmth course through
him. It was possible. A wide smile spread across his face and he practically
bounced as he started forward again.

Instead of fearing someone outside the Temple, like Vatar,
should the Council always have been afraid of someone inside the Temple, but
not fully a part of it, like himself? It made a certain ironic sense. After
all, who better to reveal their secrets than someone who knew them all, because
he was a part of them? And if Vatar was the Harbinger, as their father
believed, then the Fasallon who was not a Fasallon must also be here, now. If
it was not Vatar, then . . . it could be him.

Cestus raised his chin and lengthened his stride.

~

Vatar and Thekila stumbled out of their bedroom. Vatar came
instantly alert when Theklan sagged with relief on seeing them. Had the Temple
Guard come back while they were sleeping? “What’s going on?”

“Arcas said Elaria’s having her baby,” Theklan answered.

Vatar relaxed. That was an entirely different kind of
emergency. “I’ll bespeak Boreala.”

“I already did.” Theklan glanced at his sister. “Cestus told
me to. He’s gone down to meet her.”

Thekila smiled. “Good boy!”

Vatar couldn’t suppress a wince at another groan from
Elaria. By his experience, it would be hours yet, and he really hated this
waiting. He hated even to think how much worse it would be if those groans were
Thekila’s. He paced across the room. The next groan was too much for him. He
needed to get out, to get some air. A walk would help to calm him.

Vatar turned to Thekila. “Can you manage here until Boreala
arrives?”

“I’m sure we can. Why?”

Vatar shrugged a little guiltily. “I thought I’d go get
Uncle Lanark and Aunt Castalia. They’ll want to be here for the birth of their
grandchild.”

“Yes, they will,” Thekila said. “We’ll be fine. And, if we
need more help, Quetza and Orleus are only as far away as the guest house.”

“That’s true,” Vatar said with relief. He wasn’t really
abandoning her to deal with this on her own. Though he doubted Orleus would be
much help. Still, Quetza was cool in an emergency.

“Go. Theklan can help me start making preparations. Boreala
will need some clean cloths and . . .” Thekila paused and smiled wryly. “I
don’t know what else she’ll need. But we’ll start what we can.”

~

The merest hint of sunrise was beginning to light the east
when Vatar arrived back at the farm with both Arcas’s and Elaria’s parents.
They passed by Orleus in the courtyard, going through some practice forms with
his sword.

Vatar was not surprised to find Arcas pacing across the
front room. Theklan sat on one of the benches, shifting restlessly. Thekila had
clearly told him firmly to sit down and stay out of the way, because, no matter
how he fidgeted, he always kept his seat. Cestus sat quietly reading across
from the boy. From the sounds, Thekila and Quetza were busy with something in
the kitchen. Aunt Castalia and Elaria’s mother went back towards the bedrooms
to offer their help, but returned quickly, looking somewhat chastened. Vatar
suppressed a grin. Clearly, Boreala was in charge and didn’t want their
assistance.

They all jumped a little at another groan from the back of
the house.

Arcas stopped his pacing. “What’s wrong? Why is it taking so
long?”

Cestus laid down the scroll he had been reading. “It hasn’t
been that long, yet. It takes time. Especially for the first. Doesn’t mean
anything’s wrong.”

Vatar chewed his lower lip, trying to push away the memory
of the twins’ birth. “It took all day for Avaza to give birth.” The memory only
made him more uncomfortable. He wished he could escape to his forge, but that
would hardly be fair to Arcas. Or Thekila, for that matter.

Thekila emerged from the kitchen carrying a pitcher of cider
and a pot of hot tea. Quetza followed with platters of bread, cheese, and
fruit.

Vatar went to take the pitcher from Thekila. “I thought you
were doing something to help Boreala.”

Thekila grinned mischievously at him. “Boreala thanked us
for the clean cloths Theklan and I had gathered. Then she told us we could help
her best by feeding everyone and keeping them out of her way.”

Vatar turned a bark of laughter into a cough.

Breakfast wasn’t a sufficient diversion. Especially since no
one seemed to have much of an appetite. Not even Theklan. Vatar looked towards
Arcas. He had to stay here to support his cousin, but there was no reason the
boy had to suffer through this. “I saw Orleus outside working on some weapons
training. Why don’t you go out and join him, Theklan?”

Theklan looked up at Thekila hopefully. She nodded and
Theklan jumped up from his seat at the chance to get outside.

Conversation was desultory at best among those who waited.
Thekila sat next to Vatar, nestling close as he put his arm around her. Having
her next to him, calm, seemingly untroubled by the moans coming from the back
of the house, helped to ease his nerves. How any woman could
want
to go
through such torture was beyond his understanding.

The morning passed with unbearable slowness, while Elaria’s
groans came more frequently and louder. Gradually, the sun rose past midday and
the women started to talk unenthusiastically of preparing a noon meal.
That’d
be a waste.
Most of what they prepared for breakfast is still sitting on
the table, uneaten.

A series of groans turned almost to screams stopped all
conversation, followed by a thin wail. Arcas froze, even holding his breath.
After what seemed forever, Boreala came out into the main room carrying a small
blanket-wrapped bundle.

With a smile, she handed the baby to Arcas. “You have a
son.”

Arcas took the infant, searching Boreala’s face. “How’s
Elaria?”

Boreala smiled. “She’s fine, now. The baby had turned again,
but I arrived early enough to get him back in the right position. She’s resting
now, but you can go in to her in a moment.” She looked around the crowded room.
“The rest of this throng will have to wait a little longer.” Then she went back
to tend to Elaria.

Arcas heaved a sigh of relief and looked down at the tiny
boy in his arms for the first time. Absolute wonder transfused his face. “He’s
. . . perfect! He’s . . .”

“I know,” Vatar said with a smile, remembering the first
time he held Zavar and Savara. Now that it was over, he remembered the wonder
and joy of holding the twins for the first time. “I know, Arcas.”

Uncle Lanark leaned over to get a look at his grandson.
“What will you name him?”

Arcas smiled without looking up. “We’d decided on Caslar if
it was a boy.”

“That’s a fine Lion Clan name,” Vatar said.

One side of Arcas’s mouth quirked up. “It is a strong name.”
Only Vatar and Arcas recognized the Dardani formula of a man acknowledging a
baby boy as his son. Arcas looked up at his cousin. “Thank you. It’s because of
you that Boreala got here in time.

Vatar smiled in relief. “Actually, you should thank Theklan
for that. But any of us would have been happy to help.”

~

Vatar stopped in the doorway coming back from telling Orleus
and Theklan the news—and relaying Arcas’s thanks. Thekila sat next to Aunt
Castalia, holding little Caslar. The soft expression on her face as she held
the infant struck him like a blow. He understood, now. Something about that
scene just looked so . . . right. He had no justification to deny her the
happiness he felt every time he looked at his twins.

Thekila looked up at him. “Oh, Vatar!” she said. “He’s so . .
. .”

“I know, Thekila. You’re right. We’ll have one of our own,”
he answered mind to mind.

She grinned impishly as she handed the baby back to
Castalia.
“Maybe more than one.”

Vatar rocked back a step.
“One thing at a time!”

Thekila’s smile softened. “Yes. In this, at least, that is
necessary, isn’t it?”

~

Cestus drifted back outside and sat under the apple tree,
deep in thought. Until that morning, he’d never considered the possibility that
he—he, himself—might be the Fasallon who was not a Fasallon. Now the thought
kept running through his head relentlessly. The initial elation of that
realization had worn off, but now he felt tensed up, ready for action.

The problem was in knowing what action. He needed to do some
research. He needed to go back to the Book of Prophecies.

Yes, that was the first step, certainly. And, after that,
then what? He couldn’t just go to the main market square and announce that the
Fasallon were frauds. No. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, he realized. Most
Caereans probably wouldn’t care. Why should they?