The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) (8 page)

The two male dogs began barking just as Elaria, Thekila, and
Quetza cleared the breakfast dishes the next morning.

Arcas pushed away from the table and stood up. “I’d better
go see what’s got Tiger so excited.”

Vatar raised an eyebrow. “Tiger?”

Arcas half-smiled. “Well, can you think of a better name for
a dog with stripes like that?”

“What happened to the other dog?” Vatar asked. “I thought
you had two.”

“Copper? She’s in the corner of the kitchen with a basket
full of puppies. I was going to show them to Theklan after breakfast.”

Arcas opened the door and turned back to Vatar with a grin.
“I think this visitor is for you.”

“Who?” Vatar stood up to look and grinned. There was no
mistaking the cloaked figure at the gate. “Father’s early.” He hurried out to open
the gate.

Father stepped through and grasped Vatar in a hug. “Vatar!
There were times last winter when I despaired of ever seeing you again!”

Vatar stepped back, grinning. “There were a couple of times
when I almost did, too. But here I am.”

Father held Vatar out at arm’s length and looked him over.
He pointed toward the bench under the apple tree. “Let’s sit over here and talk
a moment before we go in. Maybe your new wife could join us.”

Vatar nodded and moved to sit down.
“Thekila, my father’s
here. Will you join us outside? He’d like to meet you privately before I
introduce him to Quetza and Theklan.”

“Good idea. I’ll be out in a moment.”
Thekila thought
back

Vatar settled on the bench at the opposite end from his
father, so they could see each other to talk. He twisted around to look over
his shoulder when Father looked beyond him and smiled as he beckoned Thekila
forward.

Father sighed, and Vatar turned back to him. “What is it,
Father?”

Father shook his head. “Nothing. I thought it might be your
Thekila coming to join us.”

Vatar laughed. “It is, Father.” He took Thekila’s hand as
she reached them and drew her in beside him on the bench. “Thekila, this is my
father, High Councilor Veleus. Father, my life mate.”

Father’s cough sounded suspiciously like it was meant to
cover some other reaction. Well, Father wasn’t such a fool as to judge Thekila
by her size—not for long, anyway.

Father bowed, slightly while still sitting. “I’m delighted
to meet you, my dear.”

“And I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Thekila
answered, green eyes alight with mischief, as if she’d caught his reaction and
understood it.

“Shall we go inside?” Vatar asked.

Veleus waved this suggestion away. “Let’s sit here for a
moment longer. I’m very interested to meet your other guests, but first I want
to hear about your Ordeal—in full, this time. And get to know Thekila a
little.”

Vatar drew a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. “Let’s
see. You already know I challenged Maktaz to an Ordeal. It was the only way to
counter his lies about me being possessed by an Evil Spirit without submitting
to an exorcism.” Vatar paused and grimaced at the mention of exorcism. If he
couldn’t get rid of that voice in any other way, he might have to submit to an
exorcism yet. At least Trev wouldn’t be
trying
to kill him.

Thekila squeezed his hand as if she could guess his
thoughts.

Vatar smiled down at her before continuing. “My Ordeal was
to spend a year alone in the Great Forest.” Father listened without
interrupting until Vatar finished telling about being attacked with magic as he
climbed the Pass that led to the Valley and rescued by Thekila and her friends.

“So, these vicious thugs got away?” Father asked.

“Only for a while,” Thekila answered. “Vatar was the last to
get through, before the snows closed the Pass. But Loran and his friends came
back of their own accord in the spring. The Council judged that they had broken
the Tenets—our laws, I guess you’d say—and exiled them.”

Vatar absently rubbed his left hand, which had been broken
in that attack. “Yes. And most of their families chose to go with them. It’s a
foolish form of punishment, leaving your enemies free to strike back.”

Father’s brows drew down. “Do you think these exiles will
cause more trouble, somehow?”

“No,” Thekila answered. “There are too few of them.”

“Yes, if they get an opportunity,” Vatar said at the same
time. “They won’t forget.”

Father paused for a moment. “Well, nothing to be done about
it now. What happened after you were taken to this Academy? What finally
convinced you to accept your Talent and begin to learn how to use it?”

“Thekila.” Vatar slipped his arm around her waist. “And
needing to know that my children were safe.”

“And what happened after you returned?”

Vatar stared at the blank wall of the barn and continued his
story. “I was accepted back by the Dardani. Maktaz had cheated on his Ordeal,
so he was to be exiled. I guess he couldn’t stand that after trying for so long
to kill me. He had to try one more time. He grabbed my knife and tried to stab
me, but Thekila prevented that.”

Father’s brows rose. “How?”

Vatar gave Thekila a squeeze. “She stopped the knife with
her magic.”

Father looked to Thekila. “You can do that?”

“Yes. Distant manipulation is a common gift among the Valson.
Nearly everyone can do it.” Thekila pointed to a windfall apple. “See that
apple.”

Father nodded. His eyes flew wide as the apple rose in the
air, stopped in mid-air between them, hovered for a moment, and then landed
neatly in Thekila’s outstretched hand. She reached out and dropped the apple
into Father’s palm.

Father stared at the apple. “The Fasallon have no ability
anything like that. A few of the Healers, like my daughter Boreala, can stop
internal bleeding. But nothing like that.”

Thekila’s brows creased. “That’s a very different Power. One
I’ve never heard of. I couldn’t manipulate a living thing like that, only
objects. Well, except my own body. Even if the apple was still on the tree, I
couldn’t move it without touching it.”

Father shook his head and set the apple aside. “What
happened to Maktaz?”

Vatar frowned. “He couldn’t stand losing, I guess. He tried
to curse me and the Dardani—a dying curse. Trev, the new shaman, explained it
to me, later. It’s very powerful. Once the shaman starts such a curse, he gives
his life to the magic. I didn’t know how serious it was, at the time; I just
wanted to put an end to the feud. I used a first-level Transformation to
project a lion in front of Maktaz, to distract him. Thekila added an eagle. The
illusions startled him enough to stop in the middle of the curse. I was going
to kill him with my knife, but the curse he had started did that for me. And
that really is all of it.”

Father nodded. “Now, while we’re on the subject of
Transformations, you said you can do a fourth-level Transformation?”

“Yes.”

“Will you show me?” Veleus asked.

Vatar paused, looking around the open courtyard and the road
just beyond the gate. This space was too open, to exposed. “Not out here. I
think we should go inside, now. We’re getting to some of my questions. We
should all talk about it together.”

Vatar led them inside and introduced Quetza and Theklan.
Arcas greeted Father and then he took Elaria outside with some excuse about
cleaning up the fallen apples in the courtyard. Thekila sent Theklan out to
help them, with a promise that he could play with the puppies in the kitchen
when he’d finished. Vatar arched an eyebrow at Quetza, noting that the group
had been deliberately reduced to the Talented, magic-educated adults. He nodded.
Just as well not to talk about magic in front of Arcas and Elaria. There really
was no reason they needed to know about it.

“What’s this all about, Vatar?” Father asked.

Vatar sat down very deliberately at the big table. He let
out is breath before speaking, bracing himself.  “I need to understand
what’s been happening, Father. Maybe, if we all talk about it, we can figure it
out. At least some of it.”

“All right. Has anything new come up since what you told me
after the incident with the bear?” Father asked.

Vatar looked at Thekila, seated beside him. He wasn’t sure
he wanted to add what she’d told him about binding. That felt like a private
thing between them. And, anyway, it didn’t have anything to do with the real
questions. He wasn’t afraid of this binding, but he was afraid of the voice.
“Not really. But something else happened before that.” Vatar paused to swallow.
“I . . . I sensed hunting lions nearby. It’s something any member of the Lion
Clan could do. But, this time I . . . sort of slipped into seeing through the
eyes of the lion, which isn’t normal at all. I asked Trev, our shaman, about it
and about the voice. He seems to think it’s all the Spirits, that they’re
paying more attention to me for some reason. But I’m not sure I believe that. At
least, it doesn’t seem to explain everything.”

Father rubbed his chin. “Start by explaining these Spirits
to me, then. Start at the beginning.”

“The beginning?” Vatar chewed his lip. “Well, during their
twelfth or thirteenth summer, all Dardani children are initiated into their
clans. Part of the initiation is an introduction to—and acceptance by—the totem
of the clan.”

“How is this done?” Father asked.

“It’s a ceremony. The most important part . . . Well, I
don’t know exactly what the other clans do. I assume it’s similar. In the Lion
Clan, the initiates are led up to the symbol of the clan, a lion mask carved
out of wood.” He stared at the spot on the far wall. “But it’s more than that.
We have to place our hand in the lion’s mouth. All three times, I’ve felt
something pass between me and the carving. I think that’s when the connection
is really made. After that, we get our first tattoo, the Clan Mark.” Vatar
placed his hand over his left breast, above his heart. “In the Lion Clan,
that’s the paw print of a lion. After that, there’s a sort of spiritual
connection to the Spirit of the Lion. It’s only after the initiation that we
have a connection to our Clan totem. As a member of the Lion Clan, I can sense
when lions are nearby and generally whether they’re hunting or resting.
Normally, that’s all I should be able to do.”

Veleus rested his chin on his thumb, forefinger partly
covering his mouth. “Then there’s magic involved in this initiation?”

Vatar shook his head. “It’s not magic. It’s a connection to
the Spirit of the Lion. It’s not as if I could
do
anything with it. Or
really choose
not
to know about the lions, for that matter. The
awareness is just there, like . . . like the scent of the grass. Besides, it’s
not inherited like Fasallon—or Valson magic. Mother was adopted into the Horse
Clan and Arcas into the Lion Clan. Arcas can sense lions the same as I can and
Mother can sense wild horses.”

Thekila shifted around so she could look up at Vatar. “Let’s
not worry about what we call it right now. Let’s concentrate on what we know it
does. Ever since you were accepted back among the Dardani, there’s been the
shadow of a lion when you bespeak me.”

“Hmm,” Father said. “I’ve noticed that, too. If this Spirit
of the Lion can affect your Far Speech, maybe it could also combine with, say,
your Far Sight in a similar way.”

Vatar bit his lower lip. “But I wasn’t using Far Sight.”

Father smiled indulgently. “Yes, but you haven’t been
practicing very long, either. Sometimes, early on, it’s easy to slip into Far
Sight without really meaning to.”

Quetza shook her head. “No. That doesn’t make sense. If you
gained this Dardani magic—or whatever it is—when you were twelve, we would
certainly have noticed that lion while you were first learning to bespeak at
the Academy.”

“No,” Vatar said slowly. “I was severed from my Clan and
from the Spirit of the Lion then. That was part of my Ordeal. I couldn’t even
sense lions. This only started after I came back and was made part of the Clan
again.”

Quetza pursed her lips. “Then . . . maybe.” She shook her
head. “At least, for that lion when you bespeak one of us. I don’t know about
the other, seeing through the eyes of the lion. I don’t see how the Spirit of
the Lion could interact with magic you weren’t using. But this full-sized shape
change—that just shouldn’t be possible by any rules of magic I understand.”

Thekila turned to Father. “Could the Spirit of the Lion have
enhanced his shape change, just like you think it may have affected his distant
viewing of the lions? Especially since his avatar is also his Clan totem?”

Father turned to Vatar. “I don’t honestly know. But I’d like
to see this Transformation.”

Vatar gave a resigned sigh. He’d really prefer never to a
Transformation again. “All right. If it’ll help get some answers.” He stood up
and walked away from the table. He paused a moment in concentration, then
abruptly changed.

Father gasped.

Vatar released the Transformation. “Well, Father, what do
you think?”

Father shook his head. “This is beyond anything I
understand. And, frankly, I don’t think I’m going to find the answer in the
Archives. I don’t think anything like this has ever happened before.” He paused
a moment. “Have you ever tried taking a different shape—one not associated with
your clan?”

Vatar blinked. “No.”

Thekila put a hand on his arm. “We should have thought of
that.” Her eyes narrowed. “Try a bear. I can certainly remember exactly what
that bear looked like. I bet you can too.”

Vatar closed his eyes, drawing the slightly-less familiar
form of the bear carefully in his mind. He tried to place himself into the
image, but something resisted. Unlike his first Transformation to the lion,
nothing seemed to pull him into the shape. “It’s harder.”