The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) (6 page)

The walk gave him time to prepare himself. Normally, he
wouldn’t even consider discussing magic in any form with a Dardani. Sky above
and earth below! He’d just choked on mentioning it to his mother and she’d
grown up in Caere and wasn’t afflicted with the Dardani horror of all things
that even smelled like magic. But Trev was different.

He wasn’t Dardani for a start. Trev came from the
closely-related Modgud tribe, filling in for the Dardani’s dead and unlamented
shaman until a Dardani could be trained to take up the duties of shaman for the
tribe. From what Vatar could tell, the Modgud didn’t seem to feel the same
about any hint of magic as the Dardani did. At least, when Trev had drawn out
every detail of Vatar’s Ordeal, including his education in magic by the Valson,
it hadn’t seemed to trouble him at all. Vatar was pretty sure that Trev knew
exactly what had happened when the old shaman died, too. It hadn’t been Spirits
that frightened the vengeful old man into that fatal stroke, but first-level
Transformations projected by Vatar and Thekila. Not that the old shaman had
given them any choice when he tried to stab Vatar in front of the whole tribe.

Trev already knew about Vatar’s magic. And, so far as Vatar
could tell, he hadn’t told anyone else. Vatar felt he could trust Trev. He just
wasn’t sure how much Trev would understand about Fasallon magic. The Modgud
were generally reclusive, not mixing much even with the Dardani. Vatar was
likely the only one possessing that kind of magic Trev had ever met.

When he reached Trev’s hut, Vatar stopped outside the hide
door covering and called out to let the other man know he was there. Dardani
sod huts were pretty well insulated against sound, as well as the heat and cold
of the plains.

Trev’s head pushed through the door flap. His eyebrows rose
when he recognized Vatar, but he motioned him to come inside.

Unlike the spare interiors of most Dardani huts, Trev’s was
crowded. Bundles of herbs hung from the roof supports, drying. The ritual Raven
mask and the rest of the shaman’s regalia were placed carefully to one side of
the hut. Clay pots and baskets full of various dried herbs, pastes, and
oddments took up most of another side. Trev waved Vatar to sit in the little
free space that remained. “How can I help you, Vatar?”

Vatar moistened his lips. “Trev, you’re the only one here
who knows the full story of my Ordeal. What I learned. And the only one who
completely understands the connection to the totem Spirits. I need to ask you
about something . . . strange. Actually, several things.”

Trev nodded. “Go ahead.”

Vatar drew a deep breath and started with the thing he had
the most hope Trev could explain—seeing through the eyes of the lion.

Trev started and looked sharply at Vatar.

Vatar paused, almost holding his breath. “What is it?”

Trev picked up a bunch of dried herbs and turned it over and
over in his hands. “Only the shaman should be able to do that, after many initiations.
It is the very heart of the shaman’s magic, a sign that the true shaman has
been chosen.”

“I can’t be a shaman. The shaman is always Raven Clan. I’m
Lion Clan.”

“It wasn’t always so. Long ago, each clan had its own
shaman. But, as you say, now the Dardani shaman is always Raven Clan. And you
have not had the repeated initiations to make you one.” Trev stared
thoughtfully down at the bundle of herbs for a moment. Finally, he nodded.
“This is something new to me. I will consult the Spirits on your behalf, to
seek their guidance. I’ve suspected before now that you stand in a different
relation to the Spirits than the others of your tribe. But I certainly would
not consider that a curse. This is a gift that the Spirits grant to few.”

Vatar gulped and tried to organize his thoughts. There was
probably no point in mentioning his Transformation to Trev. Or whatever he’d
done to deflect that bear. Those things were outside his area of expertise. But
maybe he’d know something about that voice. “There’s something else.”

“Yes?”

Vatar stared at the bunch of herbs in Trev’s hands. “It’s
hard to explain. It’s like I heard another voice in my head. It almost sounds
like my own thoughts, except . . . it’s not.”

Trev’s brows drew together. “What do you think this voice
is?”

Vatar shook his head. “I don’t know. And I really want to
understand.” He drew in a deep breath to say what he’d never admit in Thekila’s
presence. “It scares me.”

Trev’s pointed questions drew out the full story of the bear
attack. Finally, Trev nodded. “Well. I’ll consult the Spirits tonight. Come
back at the same time tomorrow. We’ll talk again.”

~

Vatar took Thekila with him to visit the shaman the next
day. He’d already confessed his fear and he didn’t think Trev would bring it up
again. At the solemn look on the young shaman’s face, Vatar clasped Thekila’s
hand a little tighter. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought her after all. “What is
it, Trev?”

“I do not have all the answers I sought on your behalf,”
Trev said.

Thekila gave Vatar’s hand a little squeeze. “Do you have
some answers?”

Trev’s lips twitched in a brief smile. “Yes. The Spirits
stand closer to Vatar than to the others of the tribe. This is a good thing.
Their protection and guidance is nearer to you when you need it. Though the
Spirits do not divulge their secrets, I fear that this is because you will need
their help at some time. More than you already have. When in doubt, you should
look inside yourself for their counsel.” He pulled a bundle of herbs down from
the roof support and handed it to Vatar. “When you wish to consult the Spirits,
burn a little of this and inhale the smoke. It will help.”

Vatar took the bundle with a nod of thanks even though he
wasn’t entirely satisfied with the explanation. In fact, calling it an explanation
was being generous, since it didn’t clarify anything. It didn’t even feel quite
right, although as confused as he was about all of this, Vatar wasn’t sure that
meant anything at all. He was sure that one major item had been left out of
Trev’s solution. “What about the voice? Is that the Spirits, too?”

Trev’s smile faded. “It must be. I can find no other
explanation.”

“You don’t know, then?” Thekila asked.

“That it is a Spirit seems clear to me. But . . . I’ve never
heard of a Spirit speaking in that way. Or that clearly. Usually, the shaman
must prepare himself and go seeking answers from the Spirits. Even then, the
answers are more likely to come as symbols which must be interpreted than clear
statements such as you describe.”

Vatar’s shoulders sagged. He looked down at the floor
covered in fresh grass mats, studying them as if he might find the answer
there. How was he ever going to understand this? No one had any answers for
him. He steeled himself to ask one more question, the one he had hoped not to
have to ask. “Then . . . am I possessed?”

Trev shook his head. “No. At least not in the way you mean.
I don’t believe you could have completed your Ordeal as you did, if you were
possessed by an Evil Spirit. But there are many kinds of Spirits in the world.
Not all are either good or bad.”

“It’s not much help to say I may be possessed, just not by
an
Evil
Spirit,” Vatar said bitterly.

Trev touched Vatar’s shoulder. When Vatar looked up and met
his eyes, Trev continued. “I don’t think possession is the right word, Vatar. I
don’t have any sense that you are being controlled by this voice. In any case,
it’s not common for a Spirit to possess anyone in the way you Dardani mean. It
would weaken the Spirit’s powers to be tied to a physical body.”

“What other explanation is there?”

“I don’t have an answer for this, yet. If you really believe
you are possessed, I could try an exorcism.”

Vatar took a step back. He’d never expected this suggestion
from Trev. Dardani exorcisms were brutal torture, with death a common result.
The ritual had not been practiced in generations because it was so savage. A
purely physical panic was added to the fears Vatar had been dwelling on for the
last several days and completely overwhelmed them. “I spent a year on my Ordeal
to prove myself without submitting to an exorcism for Maktaz. I won’t do it
now, either.”
Of course, then I knew that Maktaz was weaving lies to make it
seem
like I was possessed. I’d known I wasn’t. Or thought I knew. Now,
I’m not so sure.
Vatar clamped his jaw shut to keep from admitting that out
loud.

Trev bowed his head and said in his calmest, most neutral
voice, “Then, I’ll continue to seek your answers in other ways.”

Walking back from Trev’s, Thekila paused alongside Vatar to
watch the children at play. Zavar and Savara squealed with delight as they
tried to chase three-year-old Fenar.

Vatar looked up and frowned. “Now what does
she
want?”

Thekila followed his gaze to where a tall, buxom woman
advanced toward them. The woman stopped in front of them, her hands fidgeting
with the neck of the tight-fitting blue tunic that exactly matched her eyes.
“Hello, Vatar.”

Vatar nodded coolly. “Hello, Avaza.”

Thekila tensed. Avaza!
This
was the woman Vatar had
had a relationship with before her? The twins’ mother? Though they were about
the same age, suddenly Thekila felt adolescent—almost prepubescent—next to
Avaza. She crossed her free arm over her slender chest.

Vatar gave her hand a little reassuring squeeze. “Avaza, I
don’t think you’ve met my life mate. Thekila, this is Avaza. I told you about
her.”

“I remember,” Thekila said, struggling to keep her tone
neutral.

Vatar’s eyes narrowed. “What is it you want, Avaza?”

Avaza’s gaze drifted toward the playing children. “I’m
Ariad’s year mate, now.”

Thekila wondered what that had to do with answering Vatar’s
question. She moved half a step closer to him.

“I heard. Ariad’s a good man,” Vatar answered.

Avaza nodded. “Yes, he is. He’s more . . . direct than you
in some ways. But we suit each other well. This will be our second winter
together.”

Vatar sighed as if he was also confused by this round-about
conversation. “I’m glad for you, Avaza. But how does this concern me?”

“I came to ask you something,” Avaza answered.

“Then ask it.”

Avaza looked down, tracing a pattern in the dirt with one
foot. “Are you going to take Zavar and Savara to Caere with you this winter?”

Vatar glanced toward the twins. “No. Caere is not the right
place for them just now.”

Thekila’s eyes snapped from Avaza to Vatar.
We aren’t
taking the twins with us? Why not?
She bit her lip to keep from asking the
question right then.

“Then, would you allow me to have them for the winter?
They’re not in danger anymore, now that Maktaz is dead. Ariad’s one of your
oldest friends, so you know you can trust him. And I haven’t had a chance to
spend much time with them. I . . .” Avaza said it in a rush, her eyes moist
with suppressed tears.

Vatar let out his breath. He watched the twins for a moment
before nodding. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Avaza. They should have a
chance to be with you, too.”

Avaza grinned. “Really? Thank you, Vatar!” She turned and
ran off as if she didn’t want to give him time to change his mind, straight to
where Ariad was waiting for her. Vatar smiled and nodded at his friend. Ariad
waved back, smiling too.

Thekila looked up at Vatar. She had so many questions she
wasn’t sure where to start. “That was Avaza?”

Vatar smiled. “Yes.”

“She’s very beautiful and . . . .” Thekila made a curving
gesture with her hand indicating Avaza’s voluptuous figure.

Vatar laughed and hugged Thekila closer to him. “Yes, and
when I was sixteen, I thought that was all that was important. I’m a lot wiser,
now. Even if I’d never met you, I wouldn’t want Avaza back. We’re not
compatible. She’ll never be half as wonderful as you are. You have enough
curves to suit me, Thekila.”

Thekila put her arm around him and laid her head on his
chest. “Why did she have to ask you for the children?”

Vatar rested his chin atop her head. “Among the Dardani, the
child belongs to the father’s Clan. They’re Lion Clan and should be raised in
the clan. Even so, they’d probably have been with her for at least the first
few years, but it wasn’t safe for them to be with Avaza while Maktaz was alive.
She’s Raven Clan. So was Maktaz. It would have been too easy for him to harm
the twins, just to hurt me, if they were with her. He tried, even when they
were with my clan. As you’ll remember.”

Thekila’s nose scrunched up. “Why? Wouldn’t your family have
been able to care for them anyway? I mean, you weren’t here over the winter to
look after them.”

Vatar shook his head and gestured around the village. “No.
Even here at Zeda the clans remain separate.”

Thekila followed his gesture, noticing again the five wide
lanes that ran through the village like the spokes of a wheel. She’d thought
they were streets at first, but they really marked the clan boundaries. Zeda
wasn’t one village, but six individual villages side by side. The huts of one
clan might be divided from another’s by only a few yards, but they were clearly
separate.

“But the clans don’t stay at Zeda all year,” Vatar went on.
“In another month or so, when the herds have grazed all the grass nearby, the
clans will split up and go to their own autumn villages. It’s not far—may a
half-day’s ride—from our village to the nearest other clan, which would be the
Horse Clan. But it’s farther to the Raven Clan. Probably a day and a half there
and as far back again.”

Thekila nodded. “Oh, I see. That would have made it hard for
your family to watch over the twins.”

Vatar nodded. “Hard, but not impossible. But then, during
the winter, when grass gets scarce, even the clan breaks into smaller bands so
we don’t put too much pressure on the resources of any one place. Some winters,
the snow is too deep even to ride between the camps of the Lion Clan bands.
There’d be no way to get as far as the Raven Clan. Maktaz would have had far
too many chances to hurt the twins then. He could even afford to be subtle. All
he’d have to do was tell them a poisonous plant was safe to eat or something
like that. You know little children put everything in their mouths anyway. I
couldn’t let that happen.”

“Yet you let her have the children for the winter, now.”

Vatar shrugged. “As she said, she’s with Ariad, in the Eagle
Clan, now. I have friends there. Ariad and I have been friends since we could
ride. I know they’ll be kept safe. Anyway, I let her have the children more for
them than for her. They should know their mother. And they shouldn’t have to
learn about one of their parents only when they’re grown, like I did.”

Thekila leaned back a little to look up at his face. “Why
aren’t we taking them with us to Caere? I thought they’d be coming with us.”
Her chest tightened a little at the thought of leaving them behind. She’d grown
to love them in the short time she’d been among the Dardani. She’d miss them.
“Or is the trip too difficult for them.”

Vatar shook his head. “It wouldn’t be easy to take two
children their age all the way to Caere, at least not without more help to
watch over them. But that’s not the main reason. I’m not sure they’ll be safe
there. Especially Zavar, since he’s already aware of . . . well, you know. The
Fasallon raise all part-Fasallon children in the Temple or the Palace. They
only let me be because I was already grown when they found out about me.” He
paused, looking around them to see that no Dardani were close enough to hear.
“And they didn’t think I had any Talent. I don’t trust that they’d have the
same consideration for my children.”

Thekila cocked her head to the side. “Well, the Valson send
their children to the Academy, too.”
Though, admittedly, not as young as two
years old.

Vatar shook his head. “It’s not the same at all. This isn’t
going off to school at ten or eleven. The Fasallon take half-blood children
when they’re born. They raise them in the Temple and then they are required to
live in the Temple or the Palace all their lives. What they do, who they marry,
where they live, are all determined by how much m—” Vatar stopped, swallowing
the word magic. “By how much Talent they have. I chose the Ordeal partly so
that my children could grow up here, free. Untouched by Maktaz’s lies about me.”

Thekila cocked her head to one side. “That doesn’t make any
sense. Why do the Fasallon do that?”

Vatar shrugged. “You should ask Cestus about the history
behind it when we get to Caere. But as I understand it, they’re afraid. The
Fasallon rule in Caere because the Caereans think that they’re the descendants
of the Sea Gods. The Fasallon don’t want anyone to give the Caereans reason to
doubt that. Their greatest fear has to do with a prophecy about a Fasallon who
is not a Fasallon who’s going to reveal their secrets and end their rule. So
they try to be sure that there aren’t any Fasallon who aren’t Fasallon.”

“Then you’re never going to take the twins to Caere?”
Thekila was surprised at how sad that made her feel. Would they have to leave
the twins behind not just this winter but
every
winter?

Vatar drew a deep breath. “I hope someday. But not until
they’re older. Or I come up with some way to convince the Fasallon to leave
them alone. Permanently.”

Thekila swallowed back her disappointment. Leaving the twins
hurt Vatar far worse than it hurt her. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t think it
was necessary. Nevertheless, she was going to miss their laughter and hugging
their warm little bodies every day.

~

Vatar had hesitated about letting Avaza have the twins for
the winter, but not out of concern for their safety. He didn’t doubt that Ariad
and Avaza would keep the twins safe.  His concern was with Zavar’s ability
to sense Vatar’s Far Sight.
That
was definitely something he didn’t want
Avaza to know about. She’d caused him enough trouble without knowing anything
about his magic. If she knew about that . . .  

On the morning they were to leave Zeda, Vatar sat down and
pulled Zavar into his lap. “You and Savara are going to spend the winter with
your mother, Zavar. I’ll watch over you every night, just like always. But you
mustn’t tell anyone but your sister about that. That’s just between us. All
right?”

Zavar nodded.

Vatar smiled at him and bounced him slightly in his arms.
“Good boy!” He had to hope it would be enough. Or that anything the little boy
did say would be considered just a child’s imagination. Vatar’s own mother had
seen his talk about sensing danger that way—and she knew about Fasallon magic.

With a sigh, he stood up. “Time to go.”

Thekila picked up Savara and they walked the short distance
to the Eagle Clan village.

Avaza came running to greet them. “You brought them! You
really brought them!”

Vatar stiffened at her tone. “I told you I would, Avaza.”

She nodded, reaching for Zavar. “I was just afraid that . .
. you’d change your mind. I’ve missed them so much!”

Vatar grunted. “I understand that.” He hugged Zavar, kissed
him, and told him that he loved him. Then he handed the little boy to Avaza.

As he took Savara, he kissed Thekila more passionately than
he normally would have in such a public place.

“What was that for?”
she asked silently.

“So Avaza will stop smirking at you, as if larger breasts
somehow make her better than you.”

Thekila leaned back to look into Vatar’s face.
“You
noticed?”

Vatar snorted.
“I know Avaza.”

Then he kissed Savara and handed her to Avaza, who’d set
Zavar down and held his hand. “Be good.” Vatar winked at Zavar. “I’ll play your
lullaby and think of you every night.”

“That’s sweet, Vatar,” Avaza said.

“That’s our special way of being together,” Vatar answered.
“Just between us. Isn’t it, Zavar?”

Avaza took both children by the hand and led them to the
hut. Vatar watched until the hide covering the door swung shut.

Ariad clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve made Avaza very
happy. We’ll take good care of them for you.”

Vatar turned back to him. “I know that, Ariad.”

Thekila gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze.

Vatar squeezed back and let his breath out explosively.
“We’d better go. The others will be waiting and it’s a long ride to Caere.”

“Fair skies, Vatar,” Ariad said.

Vatar walked away with difficulty. It was always so hard to
leave his children behind. He never had enough time with them. But, if he had
to leave them, it was just slightly easier to do it quickly.

When they got back, Theklan, Quetza, and Orleus were already
mounted. Orleus would accompany them at least until their midday stop, before
turning south to return to his duties in the frontier town of Tysoe. The mottled
gray and black dog Vatar had acquired to help with the cattle was already at
work, displaying great speed and agility in spite of his short legs. Orleus’s
two longer-legged hunting dogs watched him with identical puzzled expressions.

Vatar boosted Thekila into her saddle and swung up into his
own. He waved goodbye to Mother, Pa, and Kiara, who’d all come to see them off.
Then he turned his horse’s head toward the west and started for Caere.