The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) (5 page)

Young teachers with less experience, but more Talent,
than me
, Cestus thought.
There was no point in him asking for one of
those assignments, however much he wanted it. The students in the upper grades
were old enough to start learning magic and so only Talented teachers were
assigned to those classes. Never mind that the students wouldn’t be
using
magic in, say, history class. “Yes, sir.”

“Will you be staying at the dormitory?" Montibeus
asked.

Cestus stiffened. "No. I'm . . . for the moment I've
been staying up at the farm owned by Vatar and his cousin." He held his
breath. He really didn't want to be ordered back into the Temple precincts
where anyone who knew him must also know about Lancera. There were bound to be
whispers and pitying looks. He didn't think he was ready to deal with that yet.

Montibeus narrowed his eyes for a moment and then nodded to
himself. "It's unusual, but . . . given the circumstances. I'll cover for
you—for now."

Cestus let out his breath. "Thank you, sir."

"Have you thought what you're going to do longer term?
You can't stay out there indefinitely, you know."

Cestus rubbed his forehead, hiding his face. "Not yet.
I suppose I'll have to think about divorce, but—"

"I wouldn't."

Cestus looked up. "What? Why not?"

"Well, you have the children to consider. And divorce
has to go through the High Council." Montibeus paused. "Has Lancera
named the man?"

Cestus gripped the arms of his chair. "Some Healer.
Andreus was the name she gave."

Montibeus sighed. "A Healer. Ah."

Cestus's stomach was filled with ice—sharp little icicles
like the ones that clung to bare tree branches and overhangs during winter on
the plains—as realization struck him. A Healer was bound to be more Talented
than Cestus. The High Council was likely to see it as a more suitable match for
Lancera—and possibly as a better environment for their children. Better a
Talented stepfather than an unTalented father, as far as some of the High
Councilors were concerned. He'd be sure of his father's support, and probably
Montibeus's, but Gerusa and her party would have plenty of ammunition to make
his life difficult. More difficult. Whatever else happened, he couldn't allow
Lancera to take his children away, too. They were all he had left. "I see
your point, sir." He drew another deep breath. "Well, I'll have to
consider carefully."

"Do that." Montibeus fiddled with his pen. "I
don't suppose anyone would expect you to make a decision at least until after
the child is born."

The little waterhole was more crowded with three tents set
up in the small open space. Quetza and Orleus had stayed while Vatar’s headache
gradually receded over the next two days. When he hadn’t winced at a sudden
noise or movement for one whole day, Quetza gave him permission to try his Far
Sight again. He surprised himself with how important this had become to him,
but he hadn’t been able to check in on Zavar and Savara since the night before
the bear attack. How quickly he’d come to rely on his magic for some things.
Considering how unreliable it’d been lately, maybe that wasn’t a good thing.

His misgivings eased, though, as soon as he started to play
his mother’s lullaby on his pipes and allowed himself to slip into the calm,
focused state that facilitated his magic. After much practice, the melody
guided him smoothly to his children. Zavar rolled over and smiled in his sleep.
He felt better for knowing they were safe and well. Not that he’d expected
anything to happen to them with his parents watching over them. Still, it was a
relief to see it for himself.

He lowered the pipes.

Quetza sat across from him, watching him intently. “How do
you feel? Has the headache come back?”

Vatar shook his head. “No. I’m all right.” He bit his lip. He’d
tried to take Thekila’s advice about not worrying over questions he couldn’t
answer yet. But, there was one more resource within his reach, now. “What about
Far Speech?”

Quetza’s eyes narrowed. “Everyone on these plains that could
hear you is right here. Who did you plan to bespeak?”

“I was thinking about my father—my real father—in Caere. He
may have some answers for what’s been happening,” Vatar said.

Quetza shook her head. “I’m confused. I thought Danar was
your father.”

“Danar’s my stepfather, Mother’s life mate. He raised me.
But my real father—mine and Orleus’s, and Cestus’s, too—is High Councilor
Veleus in Caere. He’s Fasallon. That’s how I came to have Fasallon magic.
Father knows a lot about magic. He may know about some of these strange things
that have happened.”

“If he doesn’t, he has access to all the archives,” Orleus
added. “So he could start looking for answers—if he knows the questions, that
is.”

“How many days’ ride did you say it was to Caere? Three?”
Quetza rubbed her cheek. “I don’t want you overdoing and relapsing, Vatar.
That’s quite a distance to reach across. But I see the advantages of starting
the search for answers before we reach Caere.” She glanced at Orleus. “Couldn’t
you bespeak your father instead?”

Orleus shrugged. “Not easily. Not across that distance. Most
of the time, Father initiates Far Speech. He’s better at it than I am. Anyway,
Vatar will be better able to answer Father’s questions.”

Quetza nodded to herself. “It’s night. I doubt he’d do
anything about it before morning anyway. Let’s wait until then. If you still
have no headache, then go ahead.”

~

The next morning, Vatar settled himself, pictured his father
clearly in his mind, and thought,
“Father?”

The answer came back almost immediately.
“Yes, Vatar?
You’ve been silent lately.”

Vatar accepted the hint of reproof in his father’s voice
without comment.
“Sorry. A lot has happened.”

“What does that mean?”

Vatar paused. As much as he’d rehearsed this conversation in
his mind, it still wasn’t easy to begin. Maybe he could ease into it with what
Father would consider good news.
“It seems that there are more things I can
do, Father.”

Father must have realized that this was an evasion, but he
went along with it.
“Oh? What else have you learned to do?”

Vatar swallowed to moisten his dry mouth, even though he
wasn’t really speaking.
“Transformations.”

Father’s interest sharpened immediately.
“First or
Second-Level?”

“Fourth. But, there’s something wrong with my
Transformation.”

Father transmitted reassurance through their link. “
That’s
very advanced magic for someone who’s only been practicing so short a time. I
wouldn’t worry. It often takes time to learn to do a Fourth-Level
Transformation properly.”

Vatar drew in a deep breath.
“It’s not that, Father. The
Transformation is too good. It’s . . . it’s much bigger than it should be.”

“How big?”

Vatar cleared his throat unnecessarily.
“About twice my
size.”

“That’s not possible.”

Vatar let his breath out in a long exhalation.
“That’s
what Thekila and Quetza said. I hoped you’d know something more. About that
and—”

“What else?”

Vatar paused a moment, trying to organize the story despite
his own confusion. There was really no point in telling Father about the lions.
Not right now, anyway. So he told his father about the bear, ending with, “
Somehow,
I seem to have shielded Thekila. But neither she nor Quetza have ever heard of
a Talent like that.”

“What do you mean you shielded her?”
Father asked.

Vatar stared at the trees on the opposite side of the waterhole
as he tried again to remember exactly what had happened.
“It’s hard to
explain. It’s like I put a barrier between her and danger. The bear sort of
bounced off it.”

Father radiated surprise.
“I’ve certainly never heard of any
ability like that. Then again, I can’t imagine any Talented Fasallon being put
in a position to need it in the last few centuries. I’ll go to the archives to
see what I can find.”

“Thank you, Father. I’d really like to start
understanding something.”

“What else is there that you don’t understand?”
Father asked.

Now that it had come to the point, Vatar hesitated. This
bothered him most of all. “
Right before I did whatever it was I did, I heard
a . . . sort of voice, in my head. It wasn’t Far Speech and it wasn’t exactly
my own thought, either.”

Father’s alarm was strong in the link.
“What did the
voice say?”

Vatar’s heart sank. If Father was alarmed, this really
wasn’t a good thing.
“First, I think it told me to use my magic to fight the
bear.”

Father relaxed a little.
“That sounds more like good
sense, to me.”

“Then, when I shielded Thekila, it told me to stop. It
said I wasn’t ready yet,”
Vatar said in a rush. He could feel Father’s
rising concern as he finished. Vatar’s own fear rose to a new level. He knew it
transmitted to Father despite his attempts to control it.

“Relax, Vatar,”
Father said.
“I don’t know what
that was, but it doesn’t exactly sound dangerous. Although your magic isn’t
new, it’s new to you. Youngsters with about as much training as you have often
imagine things.”

Vatar huffed impatiently. He hadn’t imagined that voice. “
Orleus
thinks it was something to do with the stress of battle. I don’t know if I
believe that, though.”

“Well, Orleus would have a better idea of that than I
would. Since I’m going to be in the archives anyway. I’ll look for anything
similar. You let me know if anything like that happens again.”

“I will.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
Father asked.

“Because I couldn’t,”
Vatar answered.

“Couldn’t?”
Father asked.

“They say I almost burned myself out. I wasn’t allowed to
do anything involving Talent for a while. But I’m fine, now.”

Father’s concern grew again. “This shield took that much
power?”

Vatar shrugged.
“Quetza said it wasn’t just that. I also
did a fourth-level Transformation and two first-level Transformations, trying
to chase the bear off. She thinks I was just doing too much. But she and
Thekila agree that I shouldn’t try the shield again until we learn more.”

“Lords of Creation! No wonder you almost burned yourself
out! How did you manage that?”

“I’m not sure. Panic, I think.”

“Well, don’t try it again. Take care of yourself.”

Vatar shook his head as if to clear it. He looked across at
Quetza, who seemed to be the one Thekila trusted with decisions about his
recovery. “Father’s going to the archives. Do you think we can start back to
Zeda, now? We’re not really accomplishing anything here.” Not even privacy for
him and Thekila. “And we can’t ask what the shaman thinks from out here.”

Quetza cocked her head to the side. “If we take it easy, I
don’t see why not.”

~

Vatar sat up very straight in the saddle as they rode
through the summer settlement at the Zeda waterhole. He dismounted slowly in
front of the hut he shared with Thekila, unwilling to admit that the quiet ride
into Zeda had made him dizzy. He was almost immediately surrounded by concerned
family.

Mother reached him first and enveloped him in a hug. “You
were gone so long, I was getting worried.”

“Sorry, Mother,” Vatar said.

“What kept you?” Pa asked. Though Danar was Vatar’s
stepfather, he was a true father in every other sense of the word, including
joining Mother in worrying.

Vatar placed a hand on his horse’s saddle for balance,
hoping the gesture appeared casual. “We had a little trouble with a bear. Lost
one of the horses and had to wait for Quetza and Orleus to bring a fresh one.
We decided it was better to wait until my headaches stopped before riding back.
That’s all,” Vatar answered.

“Headaches?” Mother asked sharply.

Ah! He shouldn’t have said that. His mother was the best
healer on the plains. Of course she’d follow up on that one. He wasn’t about to
try to explain about magic and burnout in the middle of the village. By
preference, he’d never even mention it to anyone who didn’t already know. Vatar
was saved from having to come up with a believable lie, when Theklan ran up,
breathless. Kiara was right behind him.

“You’re back!” Theklan said.

Thekila laughed and hugged him. “Of course we’re back.”

Theklan’s chin jerked up as he turned to Vatar. “Will you
call her off, now?” He gestured with his head towards Kiara standing close
beside him. “I’ve barely been able to relieve myself without her watching since
you’ve been gone.”

Vatar laughed. “I don’t suppose you need to be watched quite
so closely now that we’re back.” He turned to his sister. “Thank you, Kiara.
You obviously did a very good job of making sure Theklan didn’t run off to
follow us. I knew you would.”

The young girl beamed up at Vatar.

Conscious of his mother’s eye on him and the unanswered
question about his headaches, Vatar patted his horse’s shoulders. “We’d better
take care of our mounts.” It was unfair, but even Mother knew better than to
try to interfere with a Dardani tending to his horse. And it’d give him some
time to come up with a plausible reason for his headaches that didn’t involve
magic.

Thekila glanced at him, lips pursed. “While you do that,
I’ll go with your mother to bring the twins back to our hut.”

On his return, Vatar stepped down into the hut to find
Thekila watching the two-year-old twins as they toddled about exploring their
change in dwelling again. He smiled as he sat next to her and grabbed up Savara
as she passed by. “Thank you for getting them.”

Thekila smiled. “No thanks are necessary, Vatar. I love
being with them.” She glanced up at him through her lashes. “I told your mother
you tripped and hit your head after chasing the bear off and that’s what caused
your headaches. She muttered something about head injuries. She may concoct
some unpleasant remedy for you, but I doubt she’ll ask any more questions.”

Vatar grunted. “Thanks for that.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell her. There’ve been
enough hints, like Orleus knowing to bring extra horses—twice now—she must
suspect something about your magic. She does, obviously, know who your real
father is—and what he is.”

Vatar bowed his head and rubbed his forehead with his free
hand. “Mother would
probably
understand, but . . . well, there’s still
Pa and Kiara. And . . . I’d just rather not have any more people know than
necessary. There’s no real reason to tell her. All right?”

Thekila shrugged. “They’re
your
family.”

Her tone suggested that she wouldn’t be keeping something
like this secret from her family. Thekila just didn’t understand how deep the
Dardani fear of magic ran. Mother was different. She’d been born in Caere and
trained in the Temple with the Healers. She’d been around Fasallon enough not
to be uneasy about their magic—his magic. But, well, it was hard to keep much
of anything secret in a Dardani village and Mother
wouldn’t
keep a
secret from Pa. And Kiara’d be sure to find out somehow. And . . .

Savara squirmed to get down and chase after her brother.

Vatar sighed and stood up. “I guess I’ll go talk to Trev.
Might as well get it over with.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Thekila asked. “Or would
you rather talk to Trev alone.”

Vatar paused, thinking back over his earlier talks with
Trev, when he’d first returned from his Ordeal. The man had a way of drawing
out more truth than was really comfortable. “Maybe it’d be better if I go
alone, this time. I’ll tell you everything he says, I promise. If you don’t
mind keeping an eye on the twins, that is. I’d rather not take them straight
back to Mother. It’d be bound to raise questions.”

Thekila smiled down at Zavar, who’d toddled over to clutch
Thekila’s bright hair. “I never mind spending time with these two.”

Vatar strolled across the roughly hexagonal common area
toward the Raven Clan enclave. Here at Zeda, the clans organized themselves
into six separate but adjoining villages, all fronting on this common area. The
Raven Clan enclave was almost diagonally opposite to the Lion Clan’s. He’d have
to walk across the entire Raven Clan village, too, to get to the shaman’s hut,
which was traditionally placed just on the outskirts of the community.