The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) (24 page)

Her time with the Dardani had taught Thekila that the best
place for women to gather and gossip was at the waterhole. Clearly, Avaza had
been doing a lot of gossiping, so the waterhole was the most likely place to
find her. Thekila sat unobtrusively on a rock watching the other women come and
go, lying in wait for Avaza.

She didn’t have to wait long. Avaza sauntered down the path
shortly after.

Thekila stepped out directly in her path. “I heard talk of
possession and exorcism last night, Avaza. I found it very disturbing.”

Avaza half smiled. “Those are disturbing topics.”

Thekila’s eyes narrowed and she took a step closer. “Vatar
is not possessed by an Evil Spirit, Avaza.
Trev
says that he is not
possessed.”

Avaza merely arched her eyebrows and made no answer.

Thekila raised her voice slightly, so that the nearest women
would hear. “Admittedly, I am new to the Dardani. Correct me if I’m wrong. I
understood that Vatar had proven himself in the Ordeal and could not be accused
again. That such an accusation would be cause for the exile of the accuser.”

Thekila suppressed a smile when Avaza’s eyes widened in fear
for an instant.

Avaza straightened, narrowing her eyes in turn. “I heard
what I heard.”

Thekila took another step toward the other woman, lowering
her voice so that only Avaza would hear. “I don’t want to hear any more talk of
possession or exorcism, Avaza. If I do, I will know exactly where to find the
source.”

Avaza shrugged. “People will say what they will.”

“You started the rumors, Avaza. Find a way to stop them.” Thekila
watched the anger flare in Avaza’s eyes with detachment. She couldn’t blame the
other woman for not liking to be schooled by someone who was still mostly an
outsider. But Thekila could very much blame her for deliberately spreading
rumors. And she wasn’t about to back down on this. Past time Avaza knew who she
was dealing with.

Avaza stepped forward, deliberately towering over Thekila.
“Do you really think
you
could stop me from doing anything I want? Do
you think you could stop me from beating you into the ground right now?”

Thekila looked up, radiating calm. She’d not only expected
this confrontation, she’d invited it. And she’d chosen the ground. She smiled.
“You won’t.” She gestured around the waterhole, where almost everyone had
stopped whatever they were doing and watched the two women. “Not with all these
witnesses. That’s not your style at all, is it?”

Avaza smirked.

Thekila’s smile didn’t falter. “But, to answer your
question, I don’t
think
so, Avaza. I know it.”

Avaza’s smile faltered.

Very deliberately, Thekila called up just a part of her
shape change. It came more easily than ever and she had to exercise extreme
control to limit it. She allowed only the cold, sharp, golden eyes of the eagle
to cover her own for just a heartbeat. Not long enough for the other woman to
be certain of what she had seen. Then her eyes were green again, and deadly
serious.

“Trev says Vatar and I have closer ties to our totem
Spirits, Avaza. Would you like to test it?”

Cestus climbed out of the little boat at the pier, clutching
his burden of scrolls and sheets of notes. He looked up the broad stair at the
Palace of the Fasallon. It’d been years since he was here—since he’d escaped
being made part of the Palace Guard. He’d timed this visit to when he thought
his step-father, Dinus, would be wrapping up for the day.

Dinus was the one person he knew he could trust with his
ideas. One of only a handful of people who knew more about the oppression of
the unTalented and less-Talented than Cestus did. If Dinus agreed with him,
then he’d have someone to help him make realistic plans. And beginning to
recruit others to the cause would be easier with Dinus’s help. If Dinus thought
he was crazy, well, then, maybe he was, because Dinus had always supported
Cestus’s plans—whatever they were. Whatever happened, he
knew
Dinus
wouldn’t turn him in.

Squaring his shoulders, Cestus started up the broad marble
steps and through the great door. The impressive exterior gave way to an
unimposing, windowless hallway. At a desk at the far end, a middle-aged man was
just getting up and preparing to leave for the day. Cestus hurried forward.

Dinus looked up. His initial irritation turned to delight.
“Cestus! Haven’t seen much of you these last months.”

Cestus smiled. “Sorry. I’ve been working on something. I’d
like to talk to you about it. Someplace . . . private.”

Dinus’s eyes narrowed. He gestured to the rooms along the
left side of the corridor. “We’re not expecting any further visitors tonight. One
of the waiting rooms should serve.”

Cestus nodded and strode into the first, a comfortable room
with a low table and comfortable chairs and windows looking back across the
strait to the city.

Dinus followed, closing and locking the door behind them. “Now,
what’s this all about, son?”

Cestus laid out his papers and scroll on the table. “I’ve
been doing quite a lot of research about the prophecies. Especially about the
Fasallon who is not a Fasallon. I think I’ve figured something out and I wanted
to talk to you about it.”

Dinus sat down across from him. “You think it’s time?”

Cestus nodded. He handed across one of his sheets of notes,
with the five prophecies written out with references back to the Book of
Prophecies. “What’s more, so does Father. There are less-known prophecies
around the one we all know, that talk of a Harbinger. Father thinks Vatar is
that Harbinger. So do I.”

Dinus read the prophecies over twice. “If that’s so, Vatar
is not the Fasallon who is not a Fasallon. Who is?”

Cestus swallowed hard. This was the sticking point. “I think
I am.”

Dinus looked up sharply.

Cestus hurried on. “I’m different from the others with
little or no Talent because of Vatar. Because I’ve seen the way the Dardani
live. Their freedom. Because I’ve spent months at Vatar’s farm here in
Caere—outside the bounds of the Temple or the Palace. I’ve seen what life
could
be like for us.”

Dinus put down the sheet he’d been reading. “So . . . you’re
going to reveal the Lie?”

Cestus shook his head. “No. The Lie can’t be the secret the
prophecy speaks of. All the Fasallon know it already. And while the Caereans
might be surprised to learn it, they have no reason to want to overthrow the
Fasallon because of it. The government works for them. It works for the
Talented Fasallon, too. It’s us—the unTalented and less-Talented who are
trapped in this regime, into jobs that don’t do justice to us or our abilities,
because the High Council has focused on that one prophecy. We’re the ones who
suffer. And we’re the ones who have to find a way to effect change.”

“What is the secret, then?”

Cestus looked down at his hands. “I actually think it’s a
very simple one. And all internal to the Fasallon. The Talented think they rule
this city and the other cities up and down the coast. But really, we’re the
ones—the unTalented and the less-Talented—who do all the work. Keep the peace.
Administer just about everything. Keep the records. Without us, the whole
complex system would just stop. We have more power than we’ve ever realized. We
just have to figure out how to use it.”

“Revolution?” Dinus asked.

Cestus pursed his lips. “Only as a last resort. I’d vastly
prefer to find a way to break just that part of the system from the inside. A
peaceful, orderly change. Even Abella’s prophecies seem to say that’s possible.
I’m just not sure how to start, yet.”

Dinus pulled at his lip. “Who else knows about this?”

Cestus sat back. “Just Lancera. And now you.” His eyes
clouded. “Lancera doesn’t approve. She doesn’t believe in me.” Cestus swallowed.
That had been harder to say than he’d expected.

“That could be a problem. Would she betray you?” Dinus
grimaced. “Again?”

Cestus shot a quick look at his step-father. Yes. He could
see approval there. Dinus, at least, believed in him. “That’s one reason why I
want to keep her out at Vatar’s farm.”

Dinus’s eyes narrowed. “Can she use Far Speech from out
there?”

Cestus shrugged. “I can’t, so I don’t believe she could.” He
let out a slow breath. “I don’t
think
she’d betray me in this. Not . . .
not necessarily for my sake, as much as because of the possible impact on our
children. But . . . I’d rather start doing most of my work from somewhere here.
Best of all would be to let her think I’ve dropped the whole idea.”

Dinus looked out the darkening window for a long moment.
“That’s a good idea. I could talk to a few people about finding a place for you
to work—and confer with others. Too many unusual trips across the strait might
excite comment. Although . . . I suspect the boatmen would be likely candidates
for your cause, when you’re ready.”

“That’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? As soon as I
start bringing more people into this, the risks of betrayal—intentional or
accidental—multiply.”

Dinus nodded. “Sooner or later it’s a risk we’re going to
have to take, though. You’ve gotten to a point now where you can’t go much
farther alone. You’ll need at least a core of people to help you develop a
workable plan. We just have to choose them very carefully. Trust me for that.”

Cestus smiled. “I do. That’s why I’m here.”

~

A few days later, Dinus showed Cestus into an office on a
relatively quiet hallway at one end of the Temple offices. Farus and one other,
another minor bureaucrat named Belus, were already seated around two sides of
the desk.

Cestus blinked. “Do you think this is . . . private enough?”

Belus chuckled. “What, boy, do you think this is the first
time we’ve met to discuss our problems?” He shrugged. “Admittedly, nothing
quite like this before. But our gathering here from time to time won’t attract
any notice. Certainly not the way trooping off to some place at the far end of
the Temple compound would. Anyway, no one’s going to worry about us talking
about issues related to our various responsibilities. Not old Montibeus, for
sure. If and when we start talking about anything more dangerous, well, we’ll
work that out when we come to it.”

Cestus nodded. It fit his actual experience of the Temple
bureaucracy. In general, most of the men higher up in the hierarchy preferred
not to notice problems until they landed in their laps. Especially if it looked
like someone else was already trying to deal with it. He sat down at one end of
the desk. Dinus took the remaining seat.

Farus leaned forward. “Dinus has filled us in on your . . .
ideas. Needless to say, we’re very interested in the possibility. So. This
first meeting is to determine how to proceed from here.”

“As I see it,” Belus put in, “the first thing is to create a
plan for recruitment. The four of us are all very well, but we can’t do much by
ourselves. We need . . . well, not an army, but enough of us to command
attention.”

Farus shook his head. “Recruiting is the greatest risk in
this business. There’s no point in starting that until we have an idea what
we’re going to do. Otherwise, how do we know if we’re even recruiting the right
people?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dinus said. “If the secret is that we
have more power than anyone has ever realized, then the plan has to be to find
a way to demonstrate that. It’ll have to be some sort of work stoppage or at
least a slow-down. How else can we proceed?”

Farus shook his head. “The Council would just send the
Palace or Temple Guard to put it down and force us back to work. We can’t fight
the Guard.”

Belus rubbed his chin. “Unless, of course, the Guard was on
our side. After all, apart from the officers, it’s almost entirely made up of
unTalented or less-Talented Fasallon. Even the officers tend to be
less-Talented.”

“Careful with that,” Dinus said. “I know for a fact High
Councilor Gerusa has some members of both the Palace and Temple Guards in her
pocket.”

Belus shrugged this off. “Of course we’re going to have to
be careful with our recruiting. I bet the other guards have a pretty good idea
who works for Gerusa.”

Cestus chewed his lip. “It could work. But to pull off a
work stoppage, we’d need to have almost all of the unTalented and less-Talented
as part of our plan. That’s too great a risk. We can’t possibly keep it secret
with so many in on it.”

Farus’s eyes narrowed. “Or just enough of the key people.
Those who have the authority or the respect to get others to follow them when
we give the signal.” He gestured around the table. “You can trust us with that.
Between us, I imagine we know who most of those people are. We can approach
them easily.”

Cestus shook his head. “No. Not you. If they’re approached
by someone in their own chain of command, some of them may join because they
think they must, not because they’re committed to the plan. They’d be the weak
link, most likely to betray us to the Council.” He sat up straighter and looked
around the desk. “It has to be me. You can give me the list of names, but I
have to be the one to recruit them—or not. When we’re ready.”

“What do you mean, when we’re ready?” Belus asked.

Cestus huffed. “This plan is barely a concept, yet. There
are a lot of details still to be worked out. Like what kind of signal can we
use to reach the entire Temple and Palace in a short time? Which areas of work
are to be stopped?”

“All of them!” Farus said.

Cestus shook his head again. “No. Do you really want to
stop, say, the Healers, from doing their work? Not all of them are highly
Talented, and yet their work is crucial to their patients. Or stop the Temple
Guard from keeping the peace in the city? And, if our initial plan fails, what
do we do then? To begin with, we need to think of jobs that are essential
enough to make an impression on the Council, without completely disrupting the
city or making it too difficult to restore order on our terms. We need to
choose the time carefully, too.”

Belus placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “If
we don’t make some kind of an impact, how will that give us any leverage with
the Council?”

Cestus sighed. “Let’s say we want, as much as possible, to limit
the impact to those people we’re trying to influence—the High Council and the
most Talented—not to the city as a whole. General chaos wouldn’t be good for
either side.”

Belus sat back and nodded. “Fair enough.”

Dinus nodded. “You’re right. We have a lot more work to do.
But at least we have an idea what direction we’re going.”

~

Cestus squared his shoulders and stepped into the message
office. This was only the third person he’d be sounding out as a possible
recruit to their cause—his cause, if he really believed he was the Fasallon who
was not a Fasallon. But Kareus was particularly important to that effort. His
position in the message office gave him access to Far Speech messages sent and
received for those Fasallon unable to do so for themselves.

More than that, it gave him the right to use the great bell
at the top of the Temple building. If the wind was right, that bell could be
heard across the entire Temple compound, across the strait in the Palace, and
out into most of the city. Every Fasallon had to learn the established coded
rings and what they meant. When the plans were finalized and the time was
right, all they’d need was a code of their own and someone to ring it. That
made Kareus a very important possible recruit.

Cestus remembered Kareus from when they’d been in school
together. They’d been friends, but their lives had taken them in different
directions. They hadn’t spoken in at least five years—about the length of time
they’d both been stuck in the same jobs they’d started in.

Kareus looked up as Cestus stepped through the door and
smiled wearily. “Hello, Cestus. Need to send a message?”

“No thanks. I’m just a bit at loose ends. Regular classes
are over for the day and I have an hour or so before my special student shows
up. I thought I’d use the time to look up some of my old school friends. An
opportunity to catch up. Unless, of course, you’re too busy.”

Kareus snorted. “Hardly. I wish I’d taken your path, Cestus.
At least teaching has to provide some variety. Different students, if nothing
else. This has to be the most boring job in the entire Temple. I just sit here
and wait. Maybe two or three messages in a whole day most of the time.”

Cestus sat down across from Kareus. Clearly, Kareus was a
good prospect for Cestus’s plans, but he didn’t want to pounce too quickly.
Slowly and cautiously was the way to go. “So, what else has been happening in
your life? Hopefully it’s not all as boring as this. Married? Children?”

Kareus smiled. “Oh, yes. I married Xera. Remember her? We
have a little boy, three, and another on the way. How about you?”

Cestus returned the smile. “Lancera. Right after graduation.
We have two. A girl five and a boy four.”