Beyond the Prophecy (24 page)

Quetza paced around Zoridan in his wyvern form, taking
measurements with a knotted string. “You’re big for a wyvern. You can’t help
that, of course. Your avatar has to be about the same mass as your actual self.
I don’t know that you’ll ever be able to truly fly, though. You surely wouldn’t
be able to take off from the ground.”

Zoridan’s draconic head hung and he squawked disconsolately.

Quetza shook her head. “That doesn’t mean you’ll never get
aloft. Just, you’re more likely to be successful soaring than flying. Which is
how you’d have to start, anyway. And that means we’ll have to get you up high.
All right, shift back.”

“What are we going to do now?” Zoridan asked.

“Nothing, until I can get a harness made that’ll fit your
wyvern shape. I need to have something to grip with my Powers while you’re
learning to ride the air currents. Unless you want to fall, that is.”

Zoridan turned a shade paler. “No, that’s all right. A
harness sounds like a good idea.”

“You could try to observe local air currents in the meantime.
They’re going to be very important to you. Study the way the soaring birds use
them.”

~

Two days later, Quetza led the way up into the nearby
mountains.

Zoridan, riding behind her, looked around at the surrounding
forest warily. “Are we safe here?”

“We’ve never seen a Themyri this far west.” Quetza looked
over her shoulder. “Anyway, I flew over the area this morning.”

Zoridan relaxed. “Oh, well, then.”

“I wasn’t just scouting for possible enemies. Mainly I was
looking for the best spot for your first flight. We need a rising air current
and—by preference—a place that’s not
too
high up to start with. I think
I found just the spot.

A short while later, she dismounted and led the way out onto
a narrow ledge. The mountain rose steeply behind and dropped away almost
vertically below, the morning sun beating upon its dark, almost glassy surface.
“This will do admirably, I think.”

Zoridan peeked over the edge and swallowed hard. “Are you
sure?”

Quetza laughed. “You never saw the cliff Thekila and I used
when we were learning how to fly. It was higher than this. And the ground below
was rockier.” She pulled out the newly-made harness. “This is your lifeline.
All these metal studs are there to give me a better grip with my Power. If you
start to fall, I’ll catch you with this.”

Zoridan licked his lips nervously. “What then?”

“I’ll probably use it to guide you to a safe landing spot.
But I won’t let you fall.”

“All right.” Zoridan strapped the harness on, trying in vain
to tighten it in a couple of loose places.

Quetza batted his hands away from the harness. “It won’t be
so loose on your wyvern form. Anyway, it only needs to be tight enough not to
fall off. You don’t want it so tight that it constricts motion.” She double
checked the fastenings and nodded to herself. “All right. Now you shift into
your avatar, spread your wings, and just step off the edge, there.” At
Zoridan’s horrified look, she added. “The rising air current will lift you up.
And I’ll stand ready to catch you if necessary.”

Zoridan nodded jerkily. He shifted, shuffled closer to the
edge, swallowed deeply, and stepped out into air.

Quetza held her Powers ready to grab at the harness, but the
promised air current lifted Zoridan’s outspread wings.
“Try circling higher
on the current,”
she suggested silently.

Obediently, Zoridan tipped one wing downward and started to
spiral upward. But his circle was a little too broad and took him out of the
rising air current. He started to drop and began making ineffective flapping
motions with his wings.

Quetza quickly grabbed the harness with her Powers and
yanked him back into the air current.
“Stop struggling and spread your
wings. Next time make sure you stay in the air current.”

She let him circle a little longer, until he was just above
the level of the ledge.
“All right. Now try to land.”

“Already?”

Quetza smiled.
“Trust me. You don’t want to overdo it
when you’re just starting out. Your arms are going to be sore enough tomorrow
as it is. Just bring your feet down as you approach the ledge and fold your wings.”

Zoridan came in gracefully enough—until his feet actually
touched the ground. Then he tilted forward, back-winging to try to prevent his
fall.

“Shift back now,”
Quetza advised.

Zoridan wasn’t quick enough. His snout struck the ledge just
before he shifted back into his natural form. He pushed himself up to a sitting
position, rubbing his jaw.

“If it helps, I didn’t do any better on my first landing,
either. You need to learn a whole new set of motor functions before you can do
these things easily. But you did well for your first flight. How’d you like
it?”

Zoridan grinned. “It was amazing!”

At Thekila’s urging, they left early on the morning of their
first meeting with the High Council so she could show them the market on the
way.

The sounds of sellers loudly calling their wares to
passersby reached them before they ever entered the market where brightly
colored stalls lined the sides of the square. Very nearly anything could be
found in the markets of Caere. Fish, fresh-caught that morning and displayed on
beds of seaweed, fruits and nuts, newly-baked breads and the fruit pies that
Vatar was so fond of all added their scents to the air. Those stalls were
interspersed with others selling pottery, fabrics,
wares
from the Smiths’ Guild, and the inexpensive shell jewelry worn by many Caerean
women, among many other commodities.  To Thekila’s eyes, it wasn’t as
thronged or the stalls as full as the first time she’d been here. Other than
the baked goods there wasn’t much grain in evidence. Or many wood products,
either.

Terania looked like she was resisting the urge to cover her
ears. “It’s so noisy.” She held a hand up to her nose as they passed a
fishmonger’s stall. “And smelly.”

Thekila grinned. “It is. I don’t think there’s anything in
the Valley to compare to it. But you can buy almost anything here. Well,
usually, you can. Trade’s a little disrupted right now due to the things we
talked about before.” Thekila paused for a moment. “Though, if you do decide
there’s something you want, I recommend waiting until Arcas gets back. He’s the
best negotiator among us.”

“Negotiator?” Teran asked.

“Oh, yes. Never pay the initial asking price for anything in
the market. You’re expected to dicker. I haven’t really got the hang of it yet,
though. Vatar’s better, but not much. Arcas . . . well, there’s a reason Arcas
is in the Merchants’ Guild.” Thekila checked the angle of the sun. “I suppose
we’d better head toward the Temple.”

“Is that where this meeting will take place?” Terania asked.

“Oh, no.” Thekila pointed out into the bay, where a nearby
island was nearly obliterated by the complex structure that covered it. It had
been obscured by a low-hanging cloud when they’d walked down from the farm.
“The High Council meets across the strait in the Palace of the Fasallon. But
the dock for the boat that will take us across is part of the Temple. This
way.”

Thekila pointed out the Healers’ Entrance as they went by.
“If you ever get lost in the city, you can ask anyone for directions to the
Healers. Boreala—you’ll be meeting her today. She’s on the High Council. She’s
also Vatar’s half-sister. Boreala can tell you how to get back to the farm.”
They took an unmarked side entrance that Thekila knew from the times she’d
joined Vatar’s “lessons” with Montibeus.

“Where are we now?” Teran asked as they threaded their way
through the maze of corridors.

“This is part of the Temple School. Theklan attended for a
while. You might be interested in this. Later.”

At length they exited out into part of the vast Temple
garden. Paths of ground seashells meandered seemingly at random through lawns
and stands of flowering trees, strongly reminiscent of the Valley.

“Well, now this is more like it,” Terania said.

Thekila had never been in this part of the Temple before,
but the sound of crashing waves was a reliable guide. She followed that down
one winding path to another until they came out at the pier. A small row boat
sat ready for passengers.  “Well, this is it. According to Veleus’s
instructions, we take the boat across to the Palace.”

One by one, they stepped into the boat and took their seats.
The oarsmen pushed off from the pier and started rowing them across. Teran and
Terania stared at the enormous building as they approached. Thekila reflected
on how much Vatar always hated this part, being surrounded by so much moving
water.

They disembarked at the Palace pier and climbed the
impressive stairs.

“It’s really twelve separate buildings inside,” Thekila
said. “With an outer wall to make it look like a single unit.”

Once through the enormous doors, they stood blinking in a
dark, windowless hallway, furnished with a few scattered chairs between the
doors that opened on either side.

A middle-aged man sat at a desk at the far end. “Ah, there
you are. I’ll let High Councilor Veleus know you’ve arrived.” He stood up and
opened the door nearest to his desk on the left. “You can wait comfortably in
here. I’m sure it won’t be long.”

They stepped through into the indicated room. This one was
light and airy with an entire wall of windows looking across the bay back
toward Caere. And comfortably appointed with padded chairs and a low table.
Someone had thought to provide a tray of breads and fruits and—considering the
early hour—tea.

They didn’t have to wait long. Veleus swept into the room
before Thekila had had more than a sip of her tea. Boreala followed right
behind her father.

“Welcome,” Veleus boomed. “The High Council is eagerly
awaiting you.” He put a hand on Boreala’s shoulder. “May I introduce you first
to the youngest member of the Council? My daughter, Boreala.”

Teran took Boreala’s hand, smiling. “Charmed.”

Boreala smiled back. “I’ve been very excited to meet you
ever since Father told us Thekila had brought you back.”

Thekila took advantage of the distraction to take Veleus
aside a little. “Has the High Council decided anything about Vatar’s . . .
recommendations?”

Veleus shook his head. “They won’t consider it. It strikes
too close to revealing the Lie.”

“But the Lie can’t be maintained no matter what they do now,
can it?”

Veleus drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Possibly not.”
He shook his head. “Probably not. But the Council isn’t ready to accept that.”
He excused himself to answer some question of Terania’s about the view from the
windows.

Boreala took his place, smiling. “I see you’re still doing
well. No problems, yet? Last time you had difficulty with some foods, as I
recall.”

Thekila put a hand over her belly. “All’s well so far. This
one doesn’t seem to object to meat as much as Jadar did. Or maybe it’s because
we eat more fish, here.”

Boreala nodded. “I’ll come up to see you anyway. Maybe on
seventh-day, like we used to. I enjoy the farm.”

Thekila smiled. “You’d be most welcome.”

“Are you coming to the Council meeting too?” Boreala asked.

Thekila bit her lip. She really had no desire to deal with
any members of the Council aside from the two in this room. Even after almost a
year, she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to be polite to Montibeus. And she
had a sinking feeling that, in Vatar’s absence, some members of the Council
would try to persuade her to help with the Festival. “No, I don’t think so.”
She looked toward Veleus. Vatar had said that someone needed to give the Guild
Masters a forewarning about the Festival. If it wasn’t going to be either the
High Council or Veleus, well, then. “I thought I might pay a visit to Cestus
while I wait. We haven’t seen much of him lately.”

“Oh, good idea,” Boreala said. “He needs someone to
occasionally pull him out of his office. He has a tendency to work too hard.
It’s not good for him. Plus, I know Father wanted to show our visitors the
library and the archives. That’s close to Cestus’s offices. So they can rejoin
you there.”

“I don’t know how to find Cestus—or the library, though.”

Boreala gestured back towards the door. “Why don’t you just
ask Dinus? He can probably supply you with a map.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that.”

~

Dinus did better than that. He supplied a guide, a young man
who regularly carried messages between Dinus and Cestus, to go with Thekila
across the strait and lead her to Cestus’s office.

Cestus hurried forward when he saw her. “Thekila! This is a
surprise. What brings you here?”

Thekila waited until her guide had delivered his message and
departed. “Officially, I came to deliver the ambassadors from the Valson—two
friends of mine—to their meeting with the High Council.”

Cestus grimaced. “I could wish you’d been a little less
diligent about that. Anything that strengthens the High Council’s position will
only serve to slow our progress even further.”

Thekila nodded acknowledgment of that. “I’m not sure how
much help the High Council will get out of either Teran or Terania. Certainly
no help to sustain the Lie. I’ve already warned Veleus about that. But I see
how even the perception could . . . reduce their incentive to work with you.”
She paused to make sure they were alone and lowered her voice. “Unofficially, I
have a message from Vatar.”

“Where is Vatar? I would have expected him to come with
you—at least to the Temple, if not across the strait.”

“Vatar is in Tysoe, helping Orleus. He intends to return
with Arcas’s road mapping expedition.”

Cestus snorted. “I bet the High Council didn’t like that
news.”

Thekila acknowledged that with a small nod. “According to
Veleus, they didn’t. What I’m not sure even he appreciates is that it wouldn’t
have made any difference. There was no way Vatar was going to help with the
Festival again this year, anyway. He was only persuaded last year because there
really wasn’t time to make other arrangements after Gerusa’s abrupt departure.
And he felt partly responsible for that. They don’t have that excuse this
year.”

Thekila shook her head and continued, “That doesn’t matter
at the moment. What does is that the High Council has so far refused to follow
Vatar’s recommendation. The guilds are doing most of the work of governing the
city and keeping the peace. He thinks it’s a very bad idea to blind side them
with a surprise about the Festival. I agree. It’d be much better—for everyone—if
the guilds are able to prepare for whatever happens. Manage expectations. No
one benefits by more unrest in Caere. Not the High Council. Not you. And most
especially not the people. Well, no one but potentially Gerusa.”

Cestus chewed his lower lip. “I agree. But—”

“Vatar told your father that, but we don’t know whether
he’ll act on it without the High Council’s approval.”

Cestus nodded. “That could be difficult—maybe even
dangerous—for him.”

Thekila leaned a little toward Cestus. “But you can, Cestus.
If you take the lead in this . . .”

Cestus smiled. “That could have advantages. Only . . . I
don’t know any of the Guild Masters. How would I—”

Thekila nodded. “Vatar said to start with the Smiths’ Guild
Master. He already knows Vatar is half Fasallon. He’ll hear you out and he’ll
know how to proceed.”

“Why would he talk to me, though?” Cestus asked.

“Tell him Vatar sent you.”

“Will he believe me?”

Thekila chewed her lower lip. She hadn’t considered any
difficulties with that. “If you want, I could stop by the guildhall on the way
back up to the farm and get a message to him. Tell him to expect you.”

Cestus nodded. “That would be appreciated.” His eyes
narrowed. “But . . . perhaps not today. I’d like to talk with you more about
this . . . and, if you’re willing to act as intermediary, with Vatar.
Experience has taught me that it’s best to have a plan when attempting
something like this.”

Thekila smiled. “Come up to the farm anytime. I think
Boreala intends to come up for seventh-day dinner.”

“Good. I may join her, then.”