The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (36 page)

Chapter
2: Transformations

Vatar woke from a satisfied doze at Orleus's halloo. He
sighed and began to untangle himself from Thekila, who muttered sleepy protest.
Vatar stuck his head out of the tent flap, blinking in the sunlight.
Apparently, the storm had passed over. He hadn't noticed.

“All rested?” Orleus grinned at him. “Now I think we know
why you've been so secretive about these riding lessons of yours.”

Quetza snorted a laugh. “Riding lessons? I suppose that's
one way to describe it.”

“Give us a moment.” Vatar ducked back into the tent.
Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, he woke Thekila with a kiss. He
took her hand when she reached up to pull him back down beside her. “Orleus and
Quetza are here.”

Thekila gave a disgruntled sigh and sat up. “I told Quetza
tomorrow would be soon enough.”

They dressed and came out to find their visitors sitting by
the fire. Orleus stirred it up and added some wood. Quetza had the small pot
filled with water to brew tea. Orleus' two hunting dogs, Seeker and Arrow, lay
to one side, tongues lolling.

“We didn't expect you so soon,” Vatar said.

Orleus smiled apologetically. “We were out hunting when
Thekila used Far Speech to tell Quetza about her horse. It was easier to just
swing around and meet you here. Thekila and Quetza can ride double on the way
back.”

“You could have taken more time about it,” Vatar
grumbled. 

“I would have,” Orleus answered. “It was Quetza who was in a
hurry.”

Quetza shrugged. “I know Thekila's been trying to keep up your
training, Vatar. Teaching you shape changes. That's more usually my area of
expertise. So I want to see for myself how you're coming along. You're too
powerful to be left only half trained. And I know better than to ask about
magic among your people. This was the best opportunity I was likely to get.”
She winked in Thekila's direction. “We won't keep you long.”

Vatar set his jaw. On the whole, he'd rather his magic
weren't that powerful. Magic had been one thing, somehow safer, when he was in
the Valley, where such things were commonplace. He'd gone ahead with the
occasional private lesson in magic mostly to please Thekila and he'd meant that
to be just between the two of them. He was willing to admit there were a few
tricks worth knowing. Far Speech and Far Sight were hard to detect even by
others with magic. The Dardani need never know what he was really doing. 
But what Thekila was teaching him now was different. Obvious. Dangerous. His
every instinct was to hide that aspect of his magic from the world.

On the other hand, neither of these two were Dardani. Quetza
was Valson, like Thekila. Magic was commonplace to her. And it was hardly
likely to surprise Vatar's Fasallon half-brother, either. Orleus had to have
received training in magic, too. These two weren't afflicted with the Dardani's
distrust of anything more magical than the spiritual connection to the clan
totems. It was only the Dardani who believed the magic itself was evil,
regardless of what was done with it.

“Vatar's been working on partial shape changes to objects
and getting pretty good at it. Show her, Vatar.” Thekila looked around. “Make
the tent look like a Dardani hut.”

Vatar sighed dramatically. He probably wasn't going to get
out of this, with both Quetza and Thekila pressing him. Best just to get it
over with, then. He concentrated on the well-known shape and color of a Dardani
sod hut. He drew the picture quite clearly in his mind. Then he put that
picture over their tent. He opened his eyes. The Dardani hut was there, just as
he'd pictured it. Vatar let the illusion go.

Thekila laughed appreciatively. “That was very good, Vatar.
I could almost smell the sod.”

Quetza nodded approval. “Very realistic. That's harder than
it looks. Good work.”

“Pity you couldn't really turn it into a Dardani hut,”
Orleus said. “That would have been cozier in the rain.”

“The rain didn't bother us,” Vatar answered. He left
unspoken,
Until you two showed up.

Thekila smirked. “A hut might be asking a lot, but watch
this.” She picked up a branch from the wood set ready for the fire. “Here,
Vatar. Make me a piece of rope.”

Vatar took the branch and turned it in front of him, trying
to come up with an excuse not to do this. “Pretty heavy rope. And kind of
lumpy.”

Thekila glowered. “You know you can fix those things if you
want to. It's only the mass that has to stay the same. But make it as thick or
as lumpy as you like, so long as it's rope.”

Vatar sighed. He pictured a fairly heavy, but not lumpy,
piece of rope and then in his mind put the branch into this mental picture. He
handed the length of rope to Thekila with a little bow. Thekila passed it to
Quetza, who passed it to Orleus.

Orleus stiffened as he turned the rope over in his hands.
“Vatar, does Father know you can do a third-level transformation?”

Vatar took the piece of rope back and tossed it onto the
fire, where it immediately became a branch again. “I don't think so. He knows
I've mastered Far Speech and Far Sight. Why?”

“It's important, Vatar. He needs to know before you return
to Caere. The Fasallon councils—especially the High Council in Caere—get a
little obsessive on the subject of transformations.”

Vatar frowned at this new train of thought. Magic was so
much more complicated here than in the Valley. The Dardani would shun him,
perhaps worse, if they knew. And it would only be different, not better, in
Caere. The High Council had set a watch on him, in the guise of lessons at the
Temple, to assure themselves that he had no magic. From what Father had said,
he didn't think he wanted them to find out they'd been wrong.  “What the
High Council doesn't know won't hurt . . . me.”

Orleus grunted.

Quetza turned to Orleus. “What do you know how to do?”

“Far Sight. That's sometimes useful for hunting. Far Speech.
A little.”

“Bespeak me.”

Even though Quetza was sitting right next to him, Orleus
closed his eyes, obviously concentrating hard.

Quetza frowned. “I thought you said you knew this.”

Orleus shrugged. “I usually just answer when other people
contact me.”

“Orleus, I've watched you practice with your sword and bow.
I know you're not lazy. Why have you neglected your Powers?”

The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of the water
and the calls of the birds.

Finally, Orleus said, “Talent has never done very much good
for anyone in my family. Too much, and you end up like Father, tied so tight to
Caere that he's barely allowed outside its walls. Too little and you end up
like Cestus, always lowest in the hierarchy in spite of his other abilities.
Either way, you're forced into the mold they select for you. Answering Far
Speech is just enough to let me do what I want and not so much that I draw too
much attention. I like it that way.

“If I could do transformations, they'd lock me up in the
city, like Father. I'd lose my place in the Guard. That's too dangerous for a
Fasallon who can do transformations. I probably wouldn't even get a chance to
really hunt ever again.”

“Then don't tell them,” Quetza said. “I have the impression
that's what Vatar intends to do.”

Orleus blinked. “I . . . I guess . . . I never thought of
that.”

“Well, you're not nearly ready to try shape changes yet,
anyway,” Quetza said. “Thekila, why don't you work with Vatar for a bit and
I'll try to teach Orleus the basics?”

That was unfair. Vatar might at least try to resist Quetza
out of stubbornness. But they both knew he would turn himself inside out not to
disappoint Thekila. That was how she'd gotten him to accept his magic in the
first place.

“I think you're ready to try your first full shape change,”
Thekila said.

Vatar reached out to touch the little charm that hung around
Thekila's neck. An eagle, representing her avatar. He'd never had a chance to
see her fly, yet, but both she and Quetza said that she could. “Maybe I should
choose a different avatar, something with wings. That way I can fly with you.”

Quetza paused on her way across the campsite. “You can't,
Vatar.”

Vatar dropped Thekila's charm and turned to face Quetza.
“Why not?”

“Because the laws of Nature still apply. You may be able to
shape change into a lion, if that's the avatar you choose. But it will be a
small lion, because it can't be much bigger—or smaller—than you actually are.”

Quetza gestured to her body—much taller and more muscular
than petite Thekila. In fact, except for the tinge of red in her short-cropped
blonde hair, Quetza could easily pass for a Dardani woman. “I chose an avatar
that is approximately my size that can still fly. But I grew up in the
mountains, where the wyverns live. I've seen them. You can't transform into
something you can't picture fully. Well, you can, but not very successfully.
So, a wyvern won't work for you. Frankly, you'd be an awfully large wyvern,
anyway. You still might not be able to fly. You certainly wouldn't be able to
as an eagle. Thekila needs a high place to take off from
and
a rising
air current to fly well and she's a lot smaller than you. I can't imagine the
form in which you could fly. You're just too big.”

Quetza's mouth quirked up in a small smile. “And it's not
just because you'd be too heavy. Even if you did find a shape that fit you and
could fly, you'd still have to learn how. Shape changes don't come with full
understanding of the new form. Thekila and I both had to learn how to fly. And
believe me, we had some spectacular failures. You will too. The first time you
actually become a lion, I guarantee that you will find four feet confusing. It
takes practice to make it look smooth.” She huffed a laugh. “At least you won't
have as far to fall as a lion.”

“Stay with what you know, Vatar,” Thekila said. “The lion
suits you. Later, if you want a challenge, you can try what Teran does with his
tiger. It's even harder, in a way. He uses two shape changes, one on top of the
other. The actual tiger is only the same size as Teran—no bigger than your
undersized lion will be. Teran has to change his shape and then mask the new
shape with a larger version of itself in order to appear to be a full-sized
tiger. Sometimes he adds a few extra touches to the illusion. You could
eventually do the same with your lion. But that's hard. It takes more than
double the concentration. Stick to just one thing at a time at first.”

Vatar breathed out. “All right. It was just a thought.”

Quetza nodded and gestured for Orleus to follow her to the
other side of the tent. “Working on two different things, it'll probably be
easier if we give each other a little space.”

When they'd gone, Thekila drew in a breath, as if ordering
her thoughts. “All right, the full shape change starts the same as the
illusion. You draw the image of the lion very clearly in your mind. But now,
instead of drawing the image over yourself like a mask, you put yourself into
the image. Just like you did with that stick. Go ahead. Try it.”

Vatar did as she instructed. He pictured a plains lion, but,
following the Valson color convention, instead of the usual tawny color, he
pictured a white lion, with black mane and tail. Then he tried to put himself
into the image. He felt his body resisting the change and concentrated harder.
He was about to let the image go, when he felt as if the resistance melted. He
felt uncomfortably stretched and then he was almost pulled into the image. He
fell forward onto all fours. Turning his head, he saw the black tip of his tail
lashing. He'd done it!

Vatar tried to take a step forward and almost fell on his
ear. His knee didn't seem to be where it should be or move the way it should.
And he had forgotten to move both a front and a back leg at the same time. This
was as hard as Quetza had said it'd be.

Thekila frowned at him. “That's very good, Vatar. But don't
try too much at once. There are dangers to shape changes, until you become
proficient. Just do the basic shape change for now. You can learn to mask it to
appear full-sized, later.”

Wait. What? Full-sized? But hadn't Quetza just said that was
impossible? He hadn't meant to do anything more than Thekila asked of him. Not
something
else
mysterious about his magic. Seeing through the eyes of
the lion yesterday had been bad enough. Apparently by instinct, his unfamiliar
body responded to his sudden fear by trying to leap backward—and ended up in a
heap.

Thekila laughed. “Slow down, Vatar. It'll take practice to
learn to walk, let alone jump, on all fours.”

Vatar's attempt to answer her came out as a roar. His
concentration evaporated dumping him back into his true form. He drew in a
ragged breath, trying to calm himself. “I wasn't masking, Thekila.”

Thekila opened her mouth and then shut it again with a snap.
She shook her head. “Vatar, that's not possible.”

Vatar fell back on his haunches and dropped his head into
his hands. He rocked slightly. “I wasn't masking. That . . . just happened.”

Thekila put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. I'm sure
everything's all right.” She raised her voice. “Quetza, could you come here for
a moment?”

Quetza looked around the side of the tent. “What is it?”

Thekila beckoned her over. “Vatar's shape change was a
full-sized lion. But he says he wasn't doing the second masking transformation.
How is that possible?”

Orleus followed Quetza back to the fire pit, looking
relieved at the interruption.

“Do it again, Vatar,” Quetza said, turning to him.

Vatar clenched his jaw. That was the last thing he wanted to
do, but if he wanted an answer, he'd have to. He formed the image of the lion
and put himself into it. It was easier this time. The stretching didn't last as
long, almost as if some other force were helping to push him into the shape.
Quetza reached out to touch the top of the lion's head. At Quetza's signal, he
released the transformation and fell back to sit cross-legged on the damp
ground.