The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) (4 page)

Vatar drew a deep breath and tried again, focusing more
carefully.

Thekila nodded. “Yes,” she said, both aloud and reassuringly
in his mind.

“Good! You didn’t burn yourself out,” Quetza said. “With a
few days’ rest, you should be fine.”

Vatar put his hand to his temple and winced. The feeling of
spikes being driven into his eyes was back.

Quetza patted his shoulder. “Yes, I expected the headache.
And I don’t think your mother’s excellent salve will help.”

“Burn out?” Orleus asked.

Quetza turned to him. “It’s possible. If you push your
Powers beyond your capacity, you can burn them out.”

Orleus sat down at Vatar’s feet. “Permanently?”

“Sometimes,” Quetza answered. “Sometimes they return slowly.
Either way, it’s not something you want to do. But Vatar didn’t push quite that
hard. He just needs to rest and not try
anything
else,” she said the
last with emphasis looking directly at Vatar, “for a few days. At least as long
as the headache lasts. To be safe, maybe a day or so after.

“Now for the next question. Just what did you do? Thekila
said the bear bounced back from her almost as if it had run into a wall.”

“I don’t know. I just reacted,” Vatar said.

“Go backward a bit,” Quetza suggested. “Let’s see if we can
piece it together.”

“Well, I tried to use my avatar to drive the bear away. But
it wasn’t enough. I added two first-level Transformations to make it look like
a small pride of lions.” Vatar’s brows knitted. “I think Thekila added a couple
more lionesses.”

Thekila smiled and nodded.

“Impressive,” Quetza said. “Many with more training would
have had trouble doing all that, especially under pressure. Go on.”

“But when the bear turned and ran, it was headed straight
for Thekila. And she just froze there. I couldn’t let it get her.”

“But you don’t have the ability to move objects with your
mind. You never succeeded at distant manipulation,” Quetza said. “And, anyway,
it doesn’t work on living things.”

“I didn’t move it, exactly. It felt more like I put my hand
out to block it.” Vatar stared at the sky through the open tent flap, trying to
remember exactly what he’d done.

Quetza rubbed beneath her ear. “Hmm. That’s what Thekila
described, too. Almost as if the bear bounced off of something before it could
reach her.”

“I’ve never heard of that Power before,” Thekila said.

Quetza cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowed. “Vatar’s
Powers come from a different source than ours. It must come from his Fasallon
heritage. Orleus?”

Orleus shrugged. “I’ve never heard of it before, either. But
I’m not the best one to ask. Father would know more.”

Quetza nodded. “Well, then, we’ll find out more when we get
to Caere. In the meantime, I don’t think you should try that again, Vatar.”

“Vatar is never going to do that again!” Thekila said
vehemently. “It’s much too dangerous.”

Quetza shook her head. “It’s not whatever he did at the end
that almost burned him out, Thekila. It was the combination. A full shape
change and two illusions would be more than most fully-trained Valson could do
without injuring themselves. Plus whatever else he did.”

Vatar drew in his breath. He still had no idea
what
he’d done, but he remembered something else. There’d been a voice, telling him
not to do whatever it was he’d done. Hadn’t there? Or was that a result of this
“burn out” they kept talking about?

No. He clearly remembered hearing a voice inside his head at
least once, maybe twice. It hadn’t been his own thoughts. He was sure of that.
It wasn’t Far Speech, either. He hadn’t felt the tingle that preceded Far
Speech—and he hadn’t been required to answer to complete the connection. His
breath started coming fast, which made his headache worse. Now that he thought
about it without the crisis to divert him, it scared him witless, because he
could think of only one explanation. He couldn’t actually be possessed by an
Evil Spirit. Could he? After everything he’d gone through to prove he wasn’t.

Thekila’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “What’s wrong,
Vatar?”

His eyes slid away from hers. “I heard a . . . voice, in my mind,
right before I did . . . whatever it was I did.”

Thekila’s grip tightened further. “What did it say?”

Vatar swallowed. “It warned me to stop. It said I wasn’t
ready.”

Quetza snorted a laugh. “Considering the consequences, there
may have been something to that.”

Vatar scowled. This was
not
a subject for humor.

Quetza sighed. “All right, what did this voice sound like?”

Vatar started to shake his head, but stopped, wincing at the
shooting pain that caused. “I don’t know. It wasn’t like Far Speech. It felt
almost like my own thoughts. But it wasn’t. It can’t be.”

“Why can’t it?” Quetza asked.

“Because it said things I don’t know!” Vatar winced again.
“Like it knew what I was about to do.
I
didn’t even know that. I still
don’t know what I did.”

Quetza put a hand on his shoulder. “All right. Calm down.
Getting excited about it is only going to make the pain worse. I’m sure it was
nothing.”

Vatar wished he felt reassured. That voice had been
unnatural. He hadn’t had time to think about it when it happened. Now that he
did, it terrified him. The specter of exorcism of an Evil Spirit rose in his
mind. He was supposed to have saved himself from that with the Ordeal, but now
. . . . That, or he was losing his mind. In either case, the outlook was grim.
He needed answers.

“It may have said something else, too,” Vatar said.

“What?”

“When I rushed out to drive the bear off with my spear, I
heard or thought—I’m not sure which—that that was foolish. That I should use my
magic.”

Orleus chuckled. “Well, that was only common sense. Charging
a bear alone with nothing but a spear! I’m amazed you’re even here for us to
worry over.”

“But—”

Orleus interrupted. “Really, Vatar. It probably is nothing.
I’ve had some pretty odd experiences in battle. It does something to your mind.
Don’t attach too much importance to it.”

Vatar tried to hold on to that thought. He’d been in crises
before without hearing any voices, but he’d never actually tried to fight a
bear all by himself before. Maybe there was something to what Orleus said. Orleus
would have a lot more experience with that kind of thing than he did. It
helped, but not quite enough. Deep down, he knew there was something really
strange going on. The kernel of fear refused to dissolve that easily.

Arcas pushed his tired horse just a little faster as they
neared Caere, glad he’d brought only half the herd—taking the horses and
leaving the cattle for Vatar to bring to Caere later. Cestus was a good rider,
but his time with the Dardani clearly hadn’t taught him much about herding.
Which left nearly all of it up to Arcas. He should have taken one of the good
Dardani herd dogs out with him to do a share of the work. He wished his cousin
better luck with the cattle, but doubted he’d have it. More numerous unskilled
helpers was probably not going to actually be an advantage.

Merciful Sea Gods! He was glad to finally be home. This was
the longest he’d been away since he’d been married. As a merchant specializing
in trade with and through the Dardani, travel was part of his business, but
Arcas didn’t like leaving Elaria alone for so long, either. Behind him, Cestus
clucked to encourage his horse, too. Arcas felt a stab of guilt. Cestus had
been away from his family for far longer than he had—almost a year.

Elaria was already in the courtyard when Arcas turned in at
the gate of the farm he and Vatar owned jointly. Leaving the milling horses to
the care of the farm dogs, Arcas leapt off his horse and ran to her.

Elaria smiled as he gathered her into a hug. She pushed
against his chest when he squeezed her closer. “Gently, Arcas.”

Arcas dropped his hands, nonplussed. “Why? You’ve never
objected before.”

Elaria smiled crookedly. “I’ve never been pregnant before.”

Arcas froze. His lips parted, but no words came out. Had he
heard right? “What?”

Elaria’s smile turned into a grin. “I’m pregnant. Boreala
confirmed it just before you arrived. You’ll be a father this winter.”

“Boreala?” Arcas swung from shock to concern. “What’s wrong?
Why did you need a Master Healer?”

Elaria’s smile turned tender. “I don’t. She was just here,
so I asked. Boreala says everything is fine.”

“Here?” Arcas had a vague impression that he wasn’t making
much sense.

Elaria nodded. “She and High Councilor Veleus came up to
meet Cestus. They’re just over there, under the apple tree.”

Nothing was wrong. He was going to be a father. The thoughts
finally penetrated. Arcas’s face split into a grin. He almost swung Elaria
around, stopped himself, and pulled her close for a kiss, but not too hard.

~

Cestus smiled as he watched Arcas’s happy reunion with his
wife. His turn for a reunion soon, now. He didn’t begrudge the time he’d spent
trying to help Vatar through his Ordeal, even if all he’d actually been able to
do was help to safeguard Vatar’s children. He’d have wanted one of his brothers
to do the same for him. But, Lords of Creation, he was ready to be home with
Lancera and their children. Little Arus probably wouldn’t even remember him.

He dismounted more slowly than Arcas and stretched his stiff
muscles. It was still a fair walk down to the Temple precinct and farther still
to his snug little house where his wife and children waited. Probably the walk
would stretch out the last of the kinks from three days of hard riding.

He turned as figures moved in the shadows of the huge old
apple tree that dominated the courtyard then blinked as he recognized them.
“Father! And Boreala! I didn’t expect you to come all the way out here to meet
me.”

“You’ve been gone a long time, son,” Father said, sweeping
him into a brief hug.

“How did you even know I’d be back today?” Cestus asked as
he received another welcoming hug from his half-sister.

Father shrugged. “Vatar knew when you left and how many days
it should take to get here.”

Cestus edged back toward the gate, eager to be home, too.
“Unless there’s anything that needs Boreala’s attention, I’d like to start
home. We can talk on the way down the hill.”

Father and Boreala looked at each other, not moving to
follow Cestus. Boreala’s feet shuffled slightly.

Cestus’s chest tightened until he felt he had to fight for
breath. Something was wrong. His father and half-sister had come out to meet
him, but not his wife or children. His mind raced over improbable accidents or illnesses.
Had something happened to Lancera? Or the children? Surely they’d have gotten a
message to him, through Vatar or Orleus if necessary. “What’s wrong?”

Father gestured to the bench under the apple tree. “Sit
down, Cestus.”

Cestus felt rooted to the spot. “What is it? Tell me.”

“Sit down,” Boreala said gently, taking his arm to lead him
to the bench. “And we will.”

Cestus collapsed onto the bench, looking anxiously from one
to the other. “Well? What is it? I can tell something’s wrong.”

Boreala cast another glance at their father and drew a deep
breath. “Lancera is pregnant.”

“That’s impossible! I’ve been with the Dardani for almost a
year . . . Oh! Oh, no.” Lancera wouldn’t . . . she
couldn’t
have . . .
For a moment, Cestus entertained the idea that Lancera had somehow been forced.
But they would have said that. And she was safe within the Temple precincts. No
one would harm her there. Not with her political connections—through Cestus.
No, it wasn’t anything as straightforward as that. It was far worse.

Boreala sat next to him and put her arm around his waist.
“I’m sorry, Cestus.”

Cestus sagged against her as the realization hit him. “Who?”
It almost had to be one of his friends. He and Lancera knew the same people,
after all. Friend! Ha! A double betrayal.

“I don’t know, son.” Father sat on Cestus’s other side to
offer what support he could in this situation. “Lancera has refused to speak to
me about it.”

Cestus shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “It
doesn’t matter. She still . . . How could she?”

They had no answer for that. How could they have? Only
Lancera could answer that question, but she was the last person he wanted to
ask right now.

Cestus jumped to his feet and paced across the courtyard.
“How could she?” It came out almost as a howl.  “I would never . . .” He
paced several times across the courtyard. He couldn’t . . .  he had no
idea what to say or do next. He felt an urge to jump back on his horse and ride
back to the Dardani, where no one knew about this and no one expected him to .
. . find a way to deal with it. Some things were much simpler among the
Dardani.

He couldn’t stand them all looking at him, waiting for him
to do or say something. He had no idea what to do now, except scream his rage and
hurt. Or else get drunk enough to weep, but that had never been his style. And
it wouldn’t change anything when he sobered up. He blinked against a sudden
blurriness in his vision. Maybe he wouldn’t have to get drunk in order to cry.
He couldn’t stand them waiting and watching. He paused his pacing with his back
turned. “I . . . I want to be alone for a while. Please.”

“Of course,” Father said. “We’ll wait for you. You shouldn’t
walk back to the Temple alone.”

Cestus whirled around. He wasn’t nearly ready to face
Lancera. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time. “No! I can’t go back there. I
can’t . . . I don’t want to see her right now.”

“You can stay here as long as you like,” Arcas said.
“There’s plenty of room.”

Cestus shook his head, tempting as the offer was. “You’re
just home. You need time with your own family. And Vatar will be back soon,
too. Then you’ll have Quetza and Theklan here, as well.”

Arcas shrugged that off. “I doubt Vatar will be back for at
least a month or so yet. There’s plenty of time. Anyway, we’re not short on
room.” He gazed across at the neighboring house. “And I have an idea about that
anyway. Especially if that farm right next to us is still for sale. Stay.
You’re more than welcome.”

Cestus nodded dejectedly and paced off across the courtyard.
It was better than going home—or anywhere he’d be likely to see Lancera or
anyone they knew.

~

It took Cestus two days to brace himself to go home. He
wouldn’t have gone at all if it weren’t for his children. But he’d missed them
over the last year and he wanted very much to see them again. That was what cut
deepest. His family had been the one thing in his life that was completely his
and wholly right. Lords of Creation knew his career was at a standstill—and
always would be unless he suddenly manifested a magical Talent he’d never shown
before. Now his family had been taken from him, too. But he had to try, at
least, to keep his children from suffering for it.

His daughter was playing outside when he arrived. He watched
her quietly for a while before she noticed him.

“Papa!”

Cestus smiled in spite of his hurt. “Hello, Jana!”

The little girl ran to him and he swept her up in a fierce
hug. “I’ve missed you,” he said, kissing her face.

“I missed you, too, Papa.”

Lancera came to the door. “Cestus, you’re home!” She started
toward him but froze at whatever she saw in his face.

Cestus swallowed against his first retort. Not in front of
the children. He managed an icy, “Lancera.”

She held out her hand. “Cestus, I . . .”

Cestus walked past her into the house. “Not now, Lancera. I
only came to see the children.”

Lancera paused with a hand on the door frame. “They told
you.”

“Of course they told me, Lancera. Did you want me to just
come home and find you . . . like that?” He looked pointedly at the swell of
her belly.

Lancera stiffened. “I hoped they’d let me see you first. Try
to explain.”

Cestus clenched his jaw. “How could you explain that,
Lancera?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I just . . .”

Cestus walked past her to pick up his son. Arus had been
only two years old when he left. The little boy struggled to get down. But
Cestus spoke gently to him and he calmed down.

“He remembers your voice,” Lancera said.

Cestus ignored her. He sat down, still holding Arus and
brought Jana into his lap, too. For several minutes, he just held and talked to
his children, ignoring Lancera. Finally, he put them both down.

“Take Arus back into your bedroom,” he told Jana. “Your
mother and I have to talk. I’ll see you again soon. I love both of you.”

When they had gone, he turned to face Lancera. “How could
you do this, Lancera? I thought you loved me.”

She held out her hands again, pleading. “I do love you.”

Cestus snorted. “Forgive me if I find that a little hard to
believe right now.”

She drew a deep breath. “Cestus, that was . . . just
something that happened. It was stupid, but—”

Cestus interrupted her. “It just happened? That helps. You
didn’t care enough about me to say no?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Cestus strode across the room toward the door and then
turned to face her. “It’s exactly that simple. How long has this been going on,
Lancera? Were you just waiting for me to leave?”

She shook her head and took a step toward him. “No! I . . .
It started before you left. In the spring. It was a mistake . . .”

Cestus stepped back, reeling as if he had been slapped.
“While I was still here? While we . . . while we were still sharing the same
bed? I held you every night while he . . . Not even the bad excuse of being
lonely! Who is he? One of my friends? Were you laughing at me behind my back
the whole time?”

Lancera wrung her hands. “No, Cestus! Of course not!”

Cestus balled his hands into fists to control the trembling.
“Who is he?”

Lancera shrugged. “You don’t know him. His name is Andreus.
He’s the Healer I saw when I was ill that spring.”

“I see.” Without another word, Cestus went into their
bedroom and began packing his belongings.

Lancera followed him into the room. “What are you doing?”

Cestus didn’t turn around. “I’m leaving. I can’t stay here.
Not now.”

“Where will you go? This is your home.”

Cestus shoved his clothes into the pack. “Not any more. Not
after what you’ve done. I’ll be at Vatar’s and Arcas’s farm, for now. Until I
can figure out what to do next.”

“Don’t go!”

He turned and started toward the door. “Goodbye, Lancera.”

“Cestus!” Lancera broke into sobs.

Cestus wasn’t moved. Not now. “I’ll come to see the children
in the mornings, before I go to teach my class. And maybe again after classes
are over. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me see them without . . .
interference.”

~

Cestus started back, his hastily packed bag bouncing with
every step. He kept his head down, hoping not to be recognized. Everyone must
know by now. They'd all be whispering about it behind his back. Gossip ran
around the Temple at the speed of a lightning flash. He'd seen it often enough
before—just not at his own expense.

The quickest route to the Temple Gate was through the Temple
itself. Cestus hesitated. He could go around, but if he meant to go back to
teaching, he needed to go in and let his superior, Montibeus, know he was back.
Cestus drew a deep breath and plunged into the rabbit-warren that was the
Temple offices.

He stopped outside Montibeus's office and squared his
shoulders before stepping inside and asking Montibeus's assistant if the High
Priest was available. He didn't have to wait long.

Montibeus looked up and gestured to a seat when Cestus
crossed the threshold of the inner office. "What can I do for you,
Cestus?"

If Cestus had had any doubt that his superior knew all about
his personal problems, Montibeus's attitude proved the point. "I just came
in to let you know I'm back and ready to start teaching again."

Montibeus steepled his fingers. "Are you sure? Don’t
you think you should take a few days to . . . clear your head?"

Cestus shook his head. "I've had a couple of days
before I came here. Thinking . . . hasn't helped."

"Well, if you're sure. I'll make the arrangements. Come
by here tomorrow for your assignment. There are always young teachers requesting
assignments to the upper grades.”