The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) (19 page)

Gerusa drummed her fingers on the desk. Where could that boy
be? It had been a simple enough assignment, even for Miceus. Surely even he
couldn’t have messed that up.

A diffident knock on her door interrupted Gerusa’s thoughts.
She flicked her hand and her daughter, Selena, stood up to answer it.

“Miceus is here,” Selena announced

Gerusa looked up with a scowl. “Well, about time! What took
you so long? Did you get lost? Does that idiot merchant understand exactly what
I want this time?”

Miceus swallowed and bobbed his head. “Yes, M-Mother. I
explained it just the way you t-told me t-to.”

Gerusa placed her hands flat on the desk. “That can’t have
taken you this long.” She wrinkled her nose. “You smell like a tavern.”

Miceus winced. “No, M-Mother. I . . . I m-mean yes,
M-Mother. I just—”

“Just what? Spit it out,” Gerusa demanded.

Miceus swallowed again. “I . . . I saw Orleus t-today. I
r-ran into him at the d-docks.”

Gerusa’s eyebrows arched in disdain. Her worthless older son
was entirely his father’s creature. And so of no interest to her—unless he
could be used to strike at Veleus. “Oh? Why do you think I would be interested
in that?”

Miceus looked down. “He asked me t-to come to dinner at some
f-farm on seventh-day.”

Gerusa’s head whipped up to consider her younger son.
“Vatar’s farm?”

Miceus bobbed his head without looking up. “Yes. He said
V-Vatar was one of F-Father’s b-bastards with a C-Caerean woman. He d-did say
B-Boreala would b-be there.”

Gerusa was silent for a long moment, fingers drumming on the
desk. Was this the opportunity she’d been waiting for? A chance to get more
information—inside information—about Vatar at last. Always supposing Miceus was
up to the job. He was a dreadful liar. Her lips twisted up in a tiny,
unpleasant smile. Then again, if he didn’t know her purpose, he wouldn’t need
to lie. “I think you should go.”

Miceus looked up, eyes wide. “But what if F-Father is there?
Orleus didn’t say it, but I think he means for him to be. You always said I
should stay away from F-Father. That he would s-send me away like he d-did
Orleus.”

Gerusa waved this off. There’d never been any real
possibility of that. It was just a convenient lie to keep Miceus from Veleus’s
influence. It had served its purpose long ago. “That was when you were a boy.
You’re a man now. He can’t send you anywhere. And you’re old enough to judge
for yourself. You won’t believe his lies, now.”

“You r-really think I should go?” Miceus asked.

Gerusa smiled and nodded. “Yes, Miceus, I do. I think it would
be very good for you to know more about the rest of your family, now.”

“Well, if you think s-so . . . .”

Gerusa clenched her jaw and tried for patience. It was a
simple enough instruction, wasn’t it? “I do. Definitely. Now, go on back to
Athra. She’s been wondering where you were.”

“She wasn’t in our apartment. I st-stopped there on the way
here.”

Gerusa waved her hand in dismissal. “Well, go back. She’ll
find you there.”

Selena came back from seeing her brother out. “Is that wise,
Mother? Miceus is weak. Father may turn him against you. Against us.”

Gerusa shrugged. “He may.”

Selena sat down in the chair opposite her. “You don’t care?”

Gerusa steepled her fingers and considered her second
daughter for a moment. If Selena was to be her successor, she needed to
understand the way things worked. “As you said, Miceus is weak. Too weak to
help us. You’re the one that matters, my precious. You’re the strong one. My
heir. Miceus doesn’t know anything that Veleus doesn’t already know. He can’t
hurt us. But he may be able to get me the information I need about this Vatar.”

Selena’s brow creased. “What’s so important about another
one of Father’s bastards? The Lords of Creation know he has enough of them.”

Gerusa’s face hardened. “This one is too strong to be left
to do as he pleases. He may have blinded the Council, but not me. He’s a
threat. And you and I will have to deal with him, since the Council won’t.”

On seventh-day, Orleus went down to the Temple garden hoping
to meet Miceus. He stood up as the boat from Palace Island docked, but it held
only two occupants, Father and Boreala. He wondered idly what Boreala had been
doing over in the Palace. She didn’t like the place any more than he did. A
patient, perhaps? He’d hoped Miceus would arrive first. He really didn’t want
to raise their hopes in case Miceus chose not to come after all.

“What are you doing here, Orleus? You hate the Temple,”
Boreala asked.

Orleus looked over her shoulder where a second boat was
crossing the narrow strait. “I’m hoping that someone else will join us today.”

“Who?” Veleus asked.

Orleus shook his head. “No. I don’t want to say in case he
decides not to come. You go on to Vatar’s. I’ll be there in time for dinner.”

“Now you’ve aroused my curiosity,” Veleus said. “We could
wait for this mystery guest with you.”

Orleus eyes brightened as he recognized the occupant of the
second boat. “You won’t have to. Here he comes.”

Miceus paused as he stepped off the boat. He looked half
inclined to jump back in the boat before it could push off from the dock.

Orleus went to him. “I’m glad you decided to join us.”

Father strode past him. “Miceus!” He grabbed Miceus into a
hug. “I’ve wanted to see you again for a long time, son! Your mother keeps you
so close, I’ve barely been able to catch a glimpse of you for twenty years.”

As he stepped back, Father’s eyes glowed. For a moment,
Orleus almost thought his father might weep for joy. Father, usually so quick
to read people, didn’t even appear to notice that Miceus had gone stiff. Well,
it would probably take some time for them all to get reacquainted.

Father only took his arm away from Miceus’s shoulder when
Boreala stepped forward.

Tears were glittering in her eyes, but she smiled. “Remember
me?”

Miceus nodded.

She hugged him, too. “It’s been too long, Miceus. You were
so young the last time I saw you.”

Miceus responded better to Boreala, actually raising his
arms to hug her back briefly. When she stepped back, he looked a little
overwhelmed, like a new recruit on the eve of his first battle.

Orleus put on his reassuring captain smile and put his hand
on Miceus’ shoulder. He gave him a gentle push to get him started. “Come on.
It’s a fair walk to the farm. We don’t want to be late for dinner. Castalia is
a fine cook.”

“C-Castalia?” Miceus asked.

“Vatar’s aunt. She usually comes out to the farm on
seventh-day. You’ll meet the whole crowd when we get there.”

“C-Crowd?” Miceus’s voice held a slight tremor.

Orleus started counting up in his head. About a dozen
adults, not counting the children. It didn’t seem like that many to him, but
they would all be virtual strangers to Miceus. Maybe this had been a mistake.
Maybe he should have come up with some less public way to bring them all back
together. Introduced—or reintroduced—them by ones and twos. “There are a few of
us. But it’s all family and close friends.”

~

Orleus watched his brother closely. Miceus didn’t say much
during dinner, but he finally seemed to relax amid the easy camaraderie of
Vatar’s household. He only achieved a degree of animation when little Caslar
woke up—loudly—and Elaria went to bring him out to join the party.

Miceus watched as the infant was passed from hand to hand.
“I have one only a little older than that. My youngest.” He smiled at Cestus’s
children, too. And Theklan.

Father turned to him eagerly. “You have three, I think.”

Miceus smiled. “Yes. My oldest is about Jana’s age. It’s
amazing how fast they grow. She’ll be starting at the Temple school the next
time I turn around, I think.”

Orleus noticed that Miceus didn’t stammer when he talked
about his children. “Cestus teaches at the Temple school. And Theklan, here,
attends three days out of seven.”

Miceus blinked. “He d-does?” He looked over at Thekila. “Are
you F-Fasallon, then?”

“No, Valson,” Thekila answered without taking her eyes off
little Caslar. She bounced him a little before handing him off to Castalia.

A little crease appeared between Miceus’s eyes. “B-But I
thought the T-Temple school was only for F-Fasallon children.”

“The High Council made an exception for Theklan,” Vatar
said. “In fact, they insisted.”

After that, the conversation turned to other things and
Miceus slid back into his silence. When Miceus started to edge toward the door,
Father and Boreala rose to go with him.

Vatar walked to the gate with them. “You’re welcome to come
back and join us any time, Miceus. And bring your family, if you want to.”

“I’d enjoy a chance to meet my grandchildren,” Father said.

Orleus could almost see Miceus trying to come up with a
reason to decline. “He’ll have to come back next seventh-day. Quetza and I sail
just a few days later. It will be the last chance we’ll have to meet face to
face for a while.”

Miceus swallowed hard. “Of course I’ll come, then.”

Orleus accompanied the three of them down the hill and saw
Father and Miceus into the boat. Orleus sat on one of the garden benches,
talking to Boreala until she had to return to her house to rest for the next
day. When he judged Father would have returned to his own apartment in the
Palace, he reached out with Far Speech.
“Well, Father, what do you think?”

Father sighed.
“She’s taken all the spirit out of that
boy.”

“Yes,”
Orleus agreed.
“But there’s still a spark
of our stubborn streak in there somewhere. He may not be a lost cause, yet.”

“He will be if he spends much more time under that
woman’s thumb. I’ve known Gerusa was capable of many things, but this just
breaks my heart. He was such a cheerful little boy.”

“I remember.”
Orleus shook his head.
“I wish I
didn’t have to leave so soon. I don’t want to lose touch with him again.”

“
He’s promised at least to speak with me again. And he
seemed a little easier with Boreala. We won’t let him slip away from us again.
I’m just glad you two found each other when you did.”

“Me, too.”

Miceus fidgeted with the laces of his best tunic as he
prepared to answer his mother’s summons the next afternoon. She was sure to ask
him about Father, Orleus, and Boreala. Maybe about the others who were there as
well. It wasn’t so much that he minded talking about it. More that he really
hadn’t figured out what he thought about it yet.

It wasn’t just that he wasn’t good at talking to new people.
And there had been so many people, and so different from his limited
experience. He’d never spoken to Caereans before, except to convey his mother’s
instructions. And he didn’t even know what Valson were. Much to his surprise,
he’d found them all very welcoming. He even liked them. But they were all so
vivid. They made him feel pale and washed out. Every one of them seemed to know
exactly who they were, what they wanted to do, and to be certain that they were
capable of doing it. Miceus doubted everything all the time, most of all himself.

They all seemed so comfortable with themselves. Even—no
especially—Orleus and Boreala. Father couldn’t have been as bad a parent as
Mother made him out to be. Miceus felt vaguely cheated. He had to wonder: would
he have been more confident, like them, if things had been different?

He tugged on his tunic one last time and knocked on his
mother’s door. Didn’t do to keep her waiting.

Mother looked up as soon as he came into the room. “Well,
what did you think of your father?”

“I . . . I’m n-not sure, M-mother. He . . . he s-seemed to
be t-truly glad to see me. I d-don’t know. There were so m-many p-people there.
It’s hard to s-sort out my feelings about any one of them.”

“How many people were there?” Mother asked with unexpected
interest.

“About a d-dozen b-besides me. All friends or family of
V-Vatar. You know I’m n-not good in large gatherings, M-Mother. They m-make me
n-nervous.”

Mother’s lips thinned. “You need to get over that. And stop
stammering. It makes you sound feeble-minded.”

Miceus looked down. “I’ll t-try, M-Mother.”

She rapped her knuckles on the desk to make him look up
again. “Will you be seeing your father again, then?”

Miceus swallowed. “I . . . I d-did say I’d go b-back n-next
seventh-day. Orleus will be leaving C-Caere shortly after that, going b-back to
T-Tysoe. He especially wanted me t-to come.”

Mother nodded. “Good. It’ll be good practice for you, if
nothing else. You should go.”

“Vatar said I could b-bring Athra and the ch-children if I
wanted.” That’d be a help. Miceus found large groups a little easier to deal
with if Athra was with him.

Mother’s brows lowered for a moment. She shook her head.
“No. I don’t think you need to do that. But you should go. By yourself.”

Miceus ducked his head. “Yes, M-Mother.”

~

Miceus found that he was more comfortable on the following
seventh-day, although he still felt a little overwhelmed by all of them.

“I’m going to miss your cooking, Castalia,” Orleus said with
regret. “We sail day after tomorrow. The snow will be melting soon. It’s about
time I got home and back to my duties.”

Miceus digested that. There were so many questions he wanted
to ask. “We? Is someone sailing with you?”

“Quetza is coming back to Tysoe with me for a short while.
She wants to see some trees and mountains for a change.”

“R-Really?” Miceus turned to Quetza. “You’re n-not afraid
t-to t-travel alone? I mean . . . without a m-male r-relative.”

Orleus laughed. “Miceus! Give me a little credit. I’m not in
the habit of ravishing helpless women. And, even if I were, Quetza is hardly
helpless. I have no hesitation in saying that she is the most formidable woman
I know.”

Quetza arched one eyebrow. “Formidable?”

“In the best possible way.” Orleus raised his mug to her. “A
strong and trusted companion.”

“Well . . . b-but she’ll have to t-travel b-back here alone,
won’t she?” Miceus asked, trying to cover his gaffe.

“No, we’ll all meet at Zeda around midsummer,” Vatar said.
“Then, I presume, Orleus will return to Tysoe from there.”

Orleus nodded. “It will only take three or four days to ride
back to the outposts from Zeda. Far less time than it takes to travel between
Tysoe and Caere.”

“Where is Z-Zeda?” Miceus asked. “I’ve n-never heard of that
c-city.”

Vatar shrugged. “That’s because it’s not a city. It’s a
waterhole. Though the name applies as much to the village nowadays. The Dardani
gather there every summer. Arcas and I return to Zeda every year to trade.
Well, Arcas does the trading. I do the blacksmith work—mostly repairs. I make
most of the new articles, here. It’s easier than carrying the raw iron and
steel across the plains, not to mention fuel for my forge. Quetza will rejoin
us there.”

Miceus couldn’t help having his curiosity piqued. He knew so
little about the world beyond Caere. “I’ve heard the D-Dardani are—”

“Careful, Miceus,” Orleus warned jovially. “There are two
Dardani sitting at this table.”

Miceus looked around as if someone he hadn’t seen was about
to materialize. “Where?”

Vatar chuckled. “Me, for one. I was born and raised among
the Dardani. And Arcas was adopted by my Clan almost five years ago. He spent
two years among my people while I was apprenticing to Uncle Lanark, here. And
Cestus, Boreala, and Orleus have all spent time with the Dardani, too.”

Miceus blinked. “You don’t look D-Dardani. Aren’t they tall
and blond?”

Vatar smiled. “Well, that’s not surprising. My mother is
Caerean, Uncle Lanark’s sister.” He nodded toward the older man. “And Veleus is
my father.” He nodded toward Father. “But blood isn’t what makes you Dardani.
It’s belonging to one of the Clans. I’ve been a true Dardani since I received
my Clan Mark at twelve. Arcas was a few years older when he was made a member
of the clan.”

“I know I must s-sound ignorant,” Miceus said
apologetically. “I had heard that the D-Dardani scarred themselves.”

“You mean the tattoos.” Boreala frowned her disapproval.

“T-Tattoos?”

“Go ahead and show him, Vatar,” Thekila said, mischief
sparkling in her eyes. “You have more tattoos than Arcas.”

“I don’t think that’s very appropriate, Thekila,” Castalia
said in a shocked tone.

“Probably not.” Vatar nodded to Castalia. “He’d have to come
some warm day when I’m working at the forge. But I don’t think there’s any harm
in answering a few questions. Tattoos are made by pressing pigment into the
skin with a thorn.” He smiled across the table at Boreala. “In case you haven’t
noticed, our sister doesn’t approve of tattoos.”

Miceus winced at the thought. “Isn’t that p-painful?”

Arcas laughed and lifted his mug. “We wouldn’t know. The
Dardani make a drink of fermented fruit that’s a lot stronger than this wine.
They make sure you drink a large cup of it, at least, before you get a tattoo.”

Vatar nodded. “I’ve never really noticed a new tattoo until
the next day. They do itch while they’re healing, though. And you can’t scratch
for fear of distorting the tattoo.”

Miceus looked around the table. His curiosity might have
offended Castalia and maybe even Boreala. Quetza somehow hadn’t really looked
annoyed with his earlier questions which had seemed to him more dangerous. He
drew a deep breath and turned back to Orleus. “How were you able to b-be away
from your d-duties in T-Tysoe this long?”

Orleus twirled his mug between his hands and shot a quick
glance at Quetza. “I wasn’t really away from my duties. I was sent here to
recruit some much needed new members for the guard. I could train them as well
in Caere as in Tysoe. Actually, taking the time to do that allowed me to get a
better idea of their capabilities and weed out a couple who wouldn’t have
lasted long in Tysoe. So it was a benefit all around to stay longer.”

When it was time to leave, Miceus thanked his hosts. “I
guess I won’t be c-coming b-back. I’m glad I m-met you, V-Vatar.”

“Why won’t you be coming back?” Vatar asked.

“Well . . . once Orleus r-returns to T-Tysoe . . . .”

“I’ll still come here, and so will Boreala,” Father said.
“It’s been too long to let you disappear on us again after only two visits. And
Vatar and Cestus are your brothers, too.”

Vatar nodded. “You’re welcome any time, Miceus. Not just
because Orleus invited you. It doesn’t even have to be on seventh-day. You’re
family. You’re always welcome here.”

~

Miceus wasn’t too surprised when Mother summoned him the
next day.

“Well, have you decided how you feel about Veleus, yet?”
Mother turned a small gemstone around in her fingers, not looking at Miceus.

Miceus scratched his chin. “He . . . he doesn’t seem m-much
like you d-described, M-Mother. But you said he c-can be charming when he wants
to b-be. I’m just n-not sure, yet.”

“Will you be going back, then?” Mother asked, still not
looking up.

“N-Not if you d-don’t want me t-to.”

Mother waved her hand in the air. “I didn’t say that. I
asked you a question.”

Miceus licked his lips. “Well, V-Vatar has invited me t-to
go b-back. I . . . I guess I c-could for a while. He’ll be l-leaving soon,
t-too.”

Mother looked up at that, giving Miceus her full attention.
“Vatar will be leaving Caere?”

Miceus lifted one shoulder in what wasn’t quite a shrug. One
didn’t shrug when Mother asked a question. It was just one of many rules. But
this wasn’t the question he’d expected. “He s-said he and Arcas always go spend
the s-summer t-trading with the D-Dardani at a place called Z-Zeda.”

“Did he say when he was leaving?”

“No. J-Just that it would b-be soon.”

Mother sighed. “Well, I think you need to keep going until
you decide how you feel about your father. And until you stop being nervous
just because there are more than three people in the room.”

“Yes, M-Mother.”

She waved her hand again. “Go back to Athra, Miceus.”