The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (9 page)

Vatar paused outside a door that was just ajar. The interior
of the Temple had turned out to be a confusing maze, but he was reasonably sure
that this was the “classroom” he’d been directed to attend at this hour.
Finding his way here had done nothing to ease his doubts and confusion about
being sent here in the first place. What did he need to learn that the guild
couldn’t teach him? And why did it have to be learned in the Temple? Even Uncle
Lanark didn’t know.

Up ‘til now, Vatar’s only experiences with the Temple had been
the very boring and useless training prior to his manhood test. He’d pretty
much avoided the Temple, even the Healer’s Hall, otherwise. It was too clearly
connected with Fasallon magic for his tastes. He’d always been taught that
magic, except what the shaman used, came from Evil Spirits. Though he had
trouble calling what the Healers did evil. Maybe . . . maybe the Healers were
like the shaman here in Caere. He blew his breath out. Thinking about it that
way made it a lot easier to accept.

But . . . why was
he
here? Certainly not for magic,
anyway. He glanced again at the unintelligible markings on the scrap of
parchment the Smiths’ Guild Master had given him and up at the markings on the
door. They looked the same to him, so he pushed the door open far enough to
look inside.

The interior didn’t look much like a classroom—at least not
like the rooms used for teaching at the Smiths’ Guild. The room contained only
a small table and four comfortable-looking upholstered chairs. Vatar had only
seen chairs like that in that other small room in which he’s been briefly
imprisoned across on that horrible island. Not a comforting association. This
room also had a stone fireplace, but no fire was laid now. There was, however,
someone sitting in one of those overstuffed chairs, intently looking at a
rolled up parchment with more of those strange markings on it.

“Excuse me.” Vatar started to close the door again.

“Vatar?” the occupant asked. “Yes, it is you. Come in.”

Vatar stared at the young man for a moment, sure he’d seen
him somewhere before. Somewhere . . . by the sea, wet, cold, and hungry.
“Cestus?”

Cestus smiled. “Yes. I’ve been delegated to teach you.” He
chuckled. “You’ll have to pay closer attention than you did before your manhood
test, though. Hopefully, what I have to teach you this time will be more
interesting to you.”

“What’s that?” Vatar asked.

“Didn’t anybody tell you anything?”

Vatar stepped through the door into the room. “No. The Guild
Master just told me to come here tonight.”

Cestus shook his head. “Well, I’m going to teach you to read
and write and do computations.” He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit
down.”

Vatar advanced into the room and sat in the chair Cestus had
indicated. He held out the slip of parchment the Guild Master had given him.
“You mean how to understand this.”

“Yes. That and much more.” Cestus glanced at the parchment
and smiled. “See. That’s a ‘G’, which designates this corridor, and the other
symbols are numbers ‘3’ and ‘2’, together, they mean ‘32’, which is this number
of this room.”

Vatar stared at the scribbles and shook his head. They still
just looked like strange symbols to him.

Cestus dropped the scrap of parchment. “We’ll get to all of
that. Tonight, and probably for the next few classes, we’re going to
concentrate on letters. Once you understand that, the rest will come more
easily.”

Vatar’s brows drew down and he rubbed the back of his neck.
He very much doubted he’d ever be able to easily interpret those squiggly
little symbols.

Cestus’s smile faltered and then broadened to a grin. “Don’t
worry.
You
don’t have anything to prove. Whatever you learn can only
help you. I, on the other hand, have to do a good job of teaching you if I’m
ever going to have a chance to teach regularly in the school here. And that’s
what I really want to do. So you see,
I’m
the one who should be nervous,
not you.”

Vatar smiled back, some of his doubts easing. Cestus seemed
easier to talk to now that Vatar wasn’t just one of the boys being prepared for
manhood.

Two hours later by the end of the lesson, most of those
strange squiggles had resolved themselves into what Cestus called letters.
Vatar even had a reasonable idea of the sounds they represented. That was the
easy part, since the name of the letter often resembled its sound.
Differentiating some of those symbols from each other wasn’t always as easy.

Cestus leaned back. “That’s enough for tonight, I think.
You’ve done very well for your first lesson.”

Vatar shook his head at the odd shapes that now had some
meaning to him. Thinking about it didn’t give him a sense of accomplishment,
though. His shoulders tightened with uneasiness. Something about this felt
almost like . . . “It feels almost like magic,” he breathed.

Cestus snorted. “Oh, no. If there was any question of teaching
you
that
, they’d never have assigned me. My Talent is too
inconsequential to teach anyone else. That’s why it’s been so hard to get
permission to teach.”

Vatar jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over.

“What’s the matter?” Cestus asked.

Every muscle in Vatar’s body was so tense he was shaking. “I
don’t want anything to do with magic. Magic is . . .”

Cestus held out his hands, empty palms up. “All right. I’m
only supposed to teach you to read, write, and compute. I promise you, there’s
nothing magical about that. Anyone can learn it, with the right instruction. I
don’t understand why you feel that way about magic, but . . . let’s just agree
not to talk about it at all. The subject will never come up unless you bring it
up. How’s that?”

Vatar clenched his teeth. If the shaman ever got wind of
anything that even smelled like magic . . . Especially if he thought Vatar had
anything to do with magic, the consequences could be dire. He pulled his chin
up. No. He was a man now and he wasn’t going to live in fear of what the shaman
or anyone else thought. He’d make his own decisions. He nodded once, stiffly.
“All right.”

~

The fog rolled in off the ocean as Vatar and Uncle Lanark
closed down the forge for the day. Fog was new to Vatar and he still found it
somewhat unnerving.

Fowin came to the gate just as they emerged from the
workshop. “Good! You’re finished for the day. Come on, Vatar, get cleaned up
and come with me. It’s going to be a good night for a little companionship.”
Fowin winked.

Vatar shook his head. “I’m sorry, Fowin. I can’t tonight.”

Fowin’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not getting into a mood
again, are you? Like after our manhood tests.”

Vatar smiled. “No, Fowin, I’m not. I just . . . had a lot on
my mind then. But I have more training to go to tonight.”

Fowin took a step back. “More training? At this time of day?
Lanark’s a hard taskmaster! Apprentices always get some time for themselves,
especially after they’ve earned their torcs.”

Vatar shook his head again. “Not with Uncle Lanark. I have
to go to the Temple.”

Fowin laughed. “What! They’re not making you take remedial
classes because you refused to pay attention the first time, are they?”

“No.” Vatar chuckled, too. “I’m learning to write and
compute.”

“Write and compute! Are you our next Guild Master, then?”
Fowin said, dropping his bantering tone.

“What do you mean?”

“Usually only Guild Masters or their designated successors
get that kind of training.”

Vatar tried not to show his surprise. He’d thought he was
just getting the kind of education a Caerean boy would have had at a younger
age. Like Arcas would be learning to ride and hunt—things he wouldn’t have had
a chance to learn in the city. A dark suspicion started to form in his mind.
This had something to do with Veleus. He’d bet on it. “Don’t worry. I think
they have other reasons for training me. I don’t expect to be Guild Master.
Have a good time, tonight, Fowin. I’ll join you next time.”

~

Vatar finished adding and subtracting the problem Cestus had
set for him and braced himself to ask what was really on his mind. He hated to.
He’d been enjoying these lessons and he’d even started to like Cestus, who had
a knack for explaining the lessons clearly. Cestus was even interested in
learning about the Dardani and had adjusted their lessons to fit things Vatar
already knew. But if this all had something to do with Veleus, well . . . he’d
just as soon not participate. He wanted nothing to do with the man who claimed
to be his father.

Cestus checked Vatar’s solution. “Very good! You’re doing
very well.”

“Cestus, why am I being given this training?” Vatar asked.

Cestus paused in writing out the next problem. “What do you
mean?”

“I thought this was something everyone in Caere learned. But
it’s not. Why me?”

Cestus sighed. “I think you already suspect the answer.”

“Veleus.” Vatar spat the name.

Cestus’s eyebrows climbed near his hairline. “Yes and no. I
know he had something to do with offering this training to you and the Smiths’
Guild. Or at least he was the one who recommended me to teach you. It was the
Council that ordered it. Whatever his involvement was, he did it to protect
you.”

Vatar sat back and stared at Cestus. This was not the answer
he’d expected. “Protect me? From what?”

“You’re a half-blood. There are some on the Council who
would have been happier just to keep you in the Palace permanently. He had to
persuade them that you were not a threat. I don’t know how he managed it. I
don’t know of any other half-blood that has been allowed outside the Temple or
Palace.”

“Threat? Why would I be a threat to them?” Vatar asked,
mystified.

“A long time ago, one of the Fasallon who had Fore Sight—the
ability to see the future—made a prediction. She said that one day a Fasallon
who was not a Fasallon would end their rule. Since then, every half-blood child
has been brought into the Temple or Palace, so that there would never be a
Fasallon who was not a Fasallon. Except you. You were brought up on the plains,
where they didn’t even know you existed.”

Vatar snorted. “So this is all just a way of keeping me
under control? A leash?”

Cestus held his hands out. “I thought you found our lessons
interesting.”

Vatar shrugged. “I do, but—”

“Then what’s the problem? You get to learn something useful
that very few outside the Fasallon know. And, as long as they think you’re
being watched, the Fasallon will leave you alone. It’s good for you both ways.”

Vatar was silent for a long moment, processing this. “I
suppose so. But I don’t like being kept on a leash.”

“None of us do,” a new voice put in. They both looked up to
see that Veleus was standing in the doorway. Vatar tensed. “But, as leashes go,
yours is longer than most. It will allow you to return to the plains you love.”

“Father!” Cestus exclaimed in a delighted tone. “I wasn’t
expecting to see you tonight.”

“I had business with Montibeus. I arrived early and decided
to check on you.”

“Father?” Vatar asked, thoroughly confused. “Veleus is your
father, too?”

“Yes, Cestus is another of my sons. Your brother,” Veleus
answered.

“So you set him to watch me?” Vatar heard the blood rushing
in his ears as his anger rose.

“No, I chose Cestus to teach you for his own sake. They
haven’t been giving him assignments worthy of his abilities. I thought trying
to teach someone as hard-headed as you might provide a challenge for him,”
Veleus replied smoothly.

Vatar stood up, knocking over the chair he’d been sitting
on. “What if I just choose to cut my leash? What if I just don’t come back for
any more lessons?”

Veleus turned to him, now very serious. “Don’t do that,
Vatar. Please. That really would cost you your freedom. The High Council is
willing to settle for this small inconvenience on your part. Don’t push them
into deciding that it would be safer just to lock you up on that island. There
are limits to what even I could do to help you, then.”

That knocked the wind out of Vatar’s argument. When he’d
been released from that accursed island, he really had thought that there would
be no consequences to his being discovered. Now . . .

Veleus sighed. “I didn’t come here to start an argument.
I’ll go find Montibeus.”

When they were alone, Vatar turned to Cestus. “You should
have told me.”

Cestus shrugged. “I was directed not to.”

Vatar’s eyes narrowed. “By Veleus?”

Cestus gave his head a single shake. “No. By my superior,
Montibeus.”

Vatar gripped the arms of the chair. “You’ve been reporting
to him all along haven’t you? Veleus. Telling him about me.”

Cestus sighed. “Yes. He asked. He wants to know more about
you, Vatar. He cares about all of his children. Including you. He really will
help you, if you’ll let him.”

“I don’t want his help! I have a father, already. I don’t
need him. And I don’t trust him. Not after what he did to my mother.”

“What did he do to your mother?” Cestus asked.

Instead of answering, Vatar walked out the door and headed
back to Uncle Lanark’s house. He’d had as much of this as he could stand
tonight. He needed time to clear his head and make up his mind what to do now.

~

Vatar paced back and forth from the gate to the kitchen
door, trying to decide whether he was going to his next lesson with Cestus or
not. He didn’t like to admit it, but Veleus’s warning really had frightened
him. Uncle Lanark seemed to take the threat seriously, too. One thing Vatar was
very clear on—he never wanted to go back to that island ever again as long as
he lived. Just the thought of all that water made him shudder.