Beyond the Prophecy (30 page)

Vatar squirmed in the saddle, fighting to keep his balance
as his horse was pulled from a trot into a canter by the man leading it. It was
very awkward with his hands tied
behind
his back. They could just as
easily have tied his hands to the saddle horn. He wouldn’t be any less captive,
but it’d be easier to stay in the saddle.

The Captain led out, followed by the man leading Vatar’s
mount. One more guard rode to each side and another behind, as if he had a chance
of escaping. The remainder of the troop stayed behind, presumably to attend to
the horse they’d shot and the dead man.

Escape. It was a tantalizing idea, but impractical. He could
take care of his bonds easily enough. Transform them into something he could
break. Seaweed, like he’d done once before, or something else. But what then?
They’d taken his knives, as well as his spear. He couldn’t cut the reins free
of the man leading his horse and wrestling for it, surrounded like this, wasn’t
likely to go well for Vatar. On foot, they’d just run him down again.

The lion? No. He’d already demonstrated that trying to run
in that shape was only likely to get him in worse trouble. He’d be lucky to get
a dozen strides before falling on his ear. Unless he could stampede their
horses . . .  But then he’d still be on foot. No chance one of those
horses would stay near enough for him to catch later. And even if these five
guards were afoot, too, there were still the others back where he’d been
captured. And he had no way to fight them, as man or lion.

Vatar knew how to walk quietly, when it was needed—as a man,
anyway. Could he do it as a lion? Use the lion’s stealth to slip past? He
looked around. In this open country without even tall grass to hide in a white
lion with a black mane and tail would be visible for miles.

There was an answer to this puzzle, he was sure. It wasn’t
possible to imprison someone who could do the things he could. He
knew
that. It wasn’t the escaping, though, as much the keeping from being caught
again that was the problem this time.

And it wasn’t just his life at stake. He and Thekila were
bound. That had always seemed like the most natural thing in the world to him.
He’d passed off the danger Thekila had tried to warn him about, that one bound
partner almost never survived the death of the other. He wouldn’t want to
survive Thekila anyway. But . . . now it looked like being the other way
around. If Gerusa killed him, Thekila would die too. How could he live—or
die—knowing that his death would also kill her. That was the thought that made
it hard to breathe. He
had to
survive—for Thekila.

Stay calm and look for the best chance,
Taleus’s
voice said in his head. Good advice, but that chance had better come before
they reached Kausalya—and Gerusa. How far was that now? It looked like they
were heading more or less directly back to the river. Would they have to camp
overnight? Maybe at some makeshift outpost along the river? If so, that might
just provide the opportunity he needed.

Vatar, what happened?

Ah. He should have reached out to reassure Thekila before
now. Of course she would have felt the turmoil of his emotions during that
brief chase. He drew a deep breath.
A patrol out of Kausalya chased us away
from the river. I was out ahead, scouting. Couldn’t make it back to the others.
They all got away, though. Arcas will take care of them.

What about you?

Captured. Trussed like a calf. They’re taking me back to
Kausalya and Gerusa, unless I can figure out a way to escape—and not get caught
again immediately. I haven’t worked that last part out yet.

He felt the shift as she engaged her Far Sight to see his
current situation.

You need a time when they’re not paying attention to you.
Vatar could sense her fear through their bond, though she tried to sound
confident.

He huffed.
No luck with that, yet.
While Thekila
chewed on this conundrum, Vatar put mental voice to something that had been
niggling at him since his capture.
From what they said, Gerusa sent these
men specifically to look for me. They . . . recognized me.

Thekila immediately picked up the implications of that.
How?
Not that many people know you’re that far south. Couldn’t be Orleus. He’d spit
in Gerusa’s eye before he told her anything. Veleus wouldn’t, either. How could
she have known?

I don’t know, but it’s a puzzle I’d like to solve. Might
have other, more serious implications for . . . well, for a lot of things.
Arcas’s road for one.

Your situation seems serious enough to me.

If they haven’t killed me yet, I don’t think they plan to.
His captors, anyway. Gerusa was another matter. She’d already tried to
murder him—them—once, but he decided not to mention that right now.

But what does Gerusa plan?

Of course Thekila would think the same thing.
Not to kill
me immediately, I think. If so, she’d have just let her henchmen take care of
it and not get her own hands dirty. Just like she tried to do before. Maybe . .
. maybe as a lever on Father. He shook his head. I just have to figure out a
way to escape and stay escaped. Then I’ll be on my way back to you.

I’ll be waiting.

That made Vatar smile, if a trifle grimly.

And keep me informed about what’s going on,
Thekila
finished.

~

Vatar perked up, taking careful notice as they rode into the
rough outpost. A collection of tents on the river’s edge. If they just chucked
him into one of those tents, he’d have a pretty good chance of freeing himself.
Maybe, if he timed it right, get himself to the horse lines over on the east
side of camp there, and steal a horse. His eyes narrowed, studying the picket
line. He just might be able to drive off the other horses at the same time, to
make it harder for them to chase him again.

His nascent plans evaporated when his captors pulled him off
the horse and loaded him directly onto something that looked like a cross
between a barge and a boat. Oh, sky above and earth below, not the river. Not
this
river! Vatar felt the weirdly cold calm settle over him and silently
thanked Taleus for the help.

His guards took up the same positions around him, except
that the two on the sides wielded long poles to push the vessel out into the
current and, occasionally, adjust its course. From his position in the middle
of the boat-barge, Vatar observed the terrain around Kausalya. He might need to
know this, later. The land was flatter even than the plains and the river cut
through it in multiple broad, slow, muddy channels, almost like smaller rivers
spreading out from the main channel like the tines of a rake. The land between
those courses was devoted to fields of grain, some wheat, some others that he
didn’t recognize. Periodically, canals cut across those fields, providing
waterborne access between one channel and the next. In the distance, the late
afternoon sun glinted off the only height for miles around—the structures—towers?—of
Kausalya.

At each canal juncture, the pole handlers moved the vessel
toward the more central channel of the river. And at each change, the river
course became deeper and swifter, carrying him inexorably closer to the city.
Vatar could think of no possible means of escape across these successive river
channels.
Bide your time,
Taleus urged
.
Did he have any other
choice?

~

It was dark by the time the vessel bumped against a pier. His
captors pulled Vatar out. He had to stand and stretch for a moment—well, as
much as he could stretch with his hands still tied behind his back. His
shoulders were beginning to ache, but it was his right ankle that had stiffened
up worst. He’d have to limp the rest of the way. He knew from experience that
walking wouldn’t loosen it up much when it got this way. He’d rather be able to
stride proudly into his enemy’s presence. Well, nothing much he could do about
that. Better to concentrate on what he could do something about.

They marched him—slowly, due to his limp—through the
streets. Uphill, as much as there was anything like a hill here, to the stone
building at the center of the island. It was nothing like the Palace of the
Fasallon in Caere, but Vatar didn’t doubt that was its function. Then up what
seemed an interminable number of stairs until his ankle throbbed.

When they’d arrived at what had to be nearly the top of one
of those towers he’d seen from a distance, the captain finally stopped and knocked
on a door. This couldn’t be the council chamber here, could it? No. When the
door swung open it was clear that this was someone’s living space, comfortably
furnished with padded chairs and a sofa. An ornate desk sat in one corner. In
fact, the space reminded Vatar forcefully of Gerusa’s apartment in Caere when
he’d burst into it to rescue his twins just over a year ago, now.

Gerusa sailed in from the adjoining room, smirking. She
seated herself in a high-backed chair and rested her hands on the arms. “So,
Vatar. I have you at last. And this time there’s no way for Veleus to rescue
you.”

Vatar managed not to limp—or wince in pain—for the three
paces it took to reach the chair opposite her. He sat, making himself appear as
comfortable as possible with his hands still tied behind his back.

Gerusa’s eyes narrowed at his impertinence. For a just a
moment, her smirk wavered into a scowl.

Vatar smiled slightly. “Father didn’t rescue me last time
you tried to set a trap for me.” He paused a moment. “Or the time before that,
either.” He shrugged his shoulders, indicating his bound hands. “I could have
gotten out of this any time I wanted, you know.”

Gerusa’s smirk returned. “That’s why I had them tie your
hands
behind
your back.”

Vatar’s eyebrows rose. “You think I can’t Transform these
ropes merely because I can’t see them? How . . . quaint. You know you can’t
hold me.”

Gerusa waved that aside. “You haven’t escaped yet, have
you?”

Vatar kept his face bland. It wouldn’t do to answer that
with the truth—that he’d been waiting for an opportunity with a chance of
long-term success. He shrugged. “I could have escaped any time I chose. But it
was obvious you’d sent out a patrol just to capture me. I was curious what you
wanted me for so badly. You have no prison that can hold me for long.”

“We’ll see about that.” A gleam of pure glee showed in
Gerusa’s eyes. “I’ve had a special cell prepared for you, ever since I heard
you were foolish enough to come within my reach again. I’m not going to kill
you, you see. Or . . . not at once, anyway. Not until my plans have played out
and I’ve taken the power that is rightfully mine—not just in Caere, but in all
the cities of the Fasallon. In the meantime, it’ll be ever so much more
satisfying to dangle you in front of Veleus and watch him squirm.” One eyebrow
arched. “But not yet. It serves my purpose to have him distracted by your
predicament, while I set other plans in motion. I may
even
pretend
to offer to free you in exchange for concessions.

“Don’t worry, your turn will come soon enough. Only after
I’ve destroyed Veleus’s power completely. And this will give me plenty of time
to think of a painful, lingering death for you. So, in the meantime, I’m going
to keep you quite safe. They don’t dig basement rooms here. Not the way they do
in Caere. But I’ve had a cell excavated for you right at the base of this
tower. Lined with river rock. I think we’ll be able to imprison you for as long
as I please.”

Taunt her. Blast that wall out behind her!
Taleus’s
voice almost shouted inside his head.

What? Why?

Just do it.

Vatar forced a laugh. “You think a little bit of dirt and
some rocks can hold me?” He noticed what looked like a crack in the largest
stone in the wall, right behind Gerusa’s head. A weak spot? He’d had a lot of
experience last year breaking rocks up with no more of a start than that. Until
now, he’d never regretted that distant manipulation didn’t work on living
things. He focused on the rocks he could affect, drew on Power borrowed from
Thekila and
pushed
on that crack.

Gerusa started to laugh at his bravado, just as the crack
gave way. The stone, now split in two, hurtled out of the wall, scattering
mortar in all directions, some of it striking Gerusa, or ending in her hair.

Gerusa trembled with the effort to maintain her composure.
It was a long moment before she controlled her breathing. “You think you can
defeat me so easily? You don’t want your nice, cool cell below? All right.” She
turned her eyes to the guard captain. “Take him up to the top of the tower.
That little storage room above the council chamber.” She turned back to Vatar,
smirking again. “I’m afraid it gets dreadfully hot up there. You won’t be
getting down again unless you can fly.”

The guards grabbed his arms and marched Vatar—limping
again—up two more flights of stairs. The last flight was narrow and obviously
little-used. They pushed him through the door at the top with enough force that
he fell to his knees. Which was just as well. Otherwise he might have brained
himself on the low beam just above.

The room was dark and airless. The ceiling not quite tall
enough for him to stand erect except at the very center of the room. Vatar
shifted until his back was against the stone wall and finally
Transformed
the ropes binding his hands. He brought his
hands around in front of him, rolling his shoulders to try to stretch out the
kinks, and rubbed his abraded wrists.

He grimaced.
So, what was the point of that?

It really would have been much harder to break out of an
underground cell. Do you have any idea how much dirt you’d have had to move?
And loose dirt tends to . . . flow around your Talent, rather like water. Not
to mention nowhere to put all that dirt without it being noticed,
Taleus
answered.