Beyond the Prophecy (5 page)

It’s all right. It’s not me. Theklan got into a fight
with Gafar. Fowin separated them. It’s all right. Go on with the procession.

You’re sure?

Positive. It’s over now.

“Are you ready to go on?” the bearer next to Vatar asked with
some asperity. “Or would you rather upset the platform completely?”

Vatar bit his tongue on the retort that it was he who’d
stopped the fall—or, well, maybe Thekila through him. After all, the near
accident was also a result of his bond with Thekila. “Sorry. Something stung
me.” It was near enough to the truth.

“Well, next time, just keep walking. We have a Festival to
get through, if we can.”

~

They didn’t stay for the games after all. Truthfully, the
kinds of wrestling and test-of-strength contests favored by the Smiths’ Guild
wouldn’t have suited Theklan’s wiry frame. Especially not when matched against
apprentices who were starting to build the kind of muscles needed to hammer
iron and steel. He’d have done better in the races held in the market, but
after the tussle at the Smiths’ Guild both Vatar and Thekila thought it would
be better to go home quietly.

Theklan remained sulky and silent all the way back up to the
farm. Vatar suppressed a smile, remembering his own attitude during the year or
so after he’d gotten his Clan mark and thought himself too grown up for
discipline—but expected to get it anyway.

Watching him, Thekila sighed heavily. “Theklan—”

No.
Vatar interrupted silently.
It’ll be better if
you let me talk to him, alone. After we get back up to the farm.

Thekila cast a quick glance at her brother and then at
Vatar.
All right. But I expect you to tell me what’s going on.

Vatar coughed to cover a laugh.
You can follow along, if
you like, from a distance. So long as Theklan thinks he’s only talking to me.
He looked over at the boy. It’s a hard age for a boy. Too old and not old
enough at the same time.

It’s not much different for a girl
, Thekila answered.

When they reached the farm, Vatar nodded to Thekila and put
a hand on Theklan’s arm. As the boy turned, Vatar rolled his shoulders. “After
a morning like that, I could use something to loosen up my muscles. Care to
make a couple of passes with quarter staves with me? I promise not to hit hard
enough to bruise.”

Theklan grinned. “You can try. I may not be as strong as a
smith, but I’m a lot faster.”

Vatar smiled. “Go get the staves, then.”

Thekila pressed Vatar’s hand and disappeared into the house.

Theklan returned quickly with the staves. He swung his in a
whistling arc, ending in a defensive posture that could quickly be turned into
an offensive one. Vatar moved into a similar position and swung his staff at
Theklan’s side. The boy danced out of the way, letting the staff swing past,
then darted in to strike at Vatar’s leg. Vatar moved his own staff just in time
to block the blow. They went on like that until both were a little winded.
Theklan got in one solid hit, but Vatar never quite managed to strike the boy,
not that he was trying that hard.

Lowering his staff, Vatar nodded to Theklan. “Orleus would
be proud.”

“I told you I was too fast for you to hit.”

Vatar stepped forward and touched a discolored spot next to
Theklan’s left eye. “Looks like Gafar got in at least one punch, though.”

Theklan threw his head up. “Only because I wasn’t ready. He
attacked me.”

Vatar sat down on the bench under the apple tree. “Why would
he do that?”

Theklan chewed his lower lip before sitting down a little
distance from Vatar. “Thekila told me to join the other boys on the catwalk
above the gate. Like I really cared about getting the best view.”

“That can’t be why Gafar attacked you.”

“No. Well . . . Gafar said . . . he said I shouldn’t be
inside the Smiths’ Guild. He said . . . he said I should be out there with the
Fasallon. That I was like them and didn’t belong in the guildhall.”

“I see.” Vatar heard what Theklan hadn’t said, too. Gafar’s
opinion was based on the incident on the beach, when Gafar had seen Theklan use
his magic. That was still a sore subject for Theklan. And not only because of
Gafar’s reaction. That episode had triggered Theklan’s first terrifying
encounter with the Fasallon High Council. “What did you say to that?”

Theklan swallowed. “I got mad. I told him it wasn’t true.
I’m not Fasallon. And I’m not a liar, like they are. That you were only out
there because it was better for the people to believe in something than to know
they’d been lied to for the last six hundred years.” He paused to swallow
again. “Then he got mad and hit me.” He touched the tender spot by his eye.
“Smiths’ apprentices hit hard.”

Vatar winced. It was hard to think of anything worse Theklan
could have said. The whole point of participating in the Festival had been to
prevent the kind of disruptions that would result if the populace knew the
truth, that the Fasallon were not—had never been—their Sea Gods. Disruptions
Gerusa might be counting on. It wouldn’t help to say that to the boy, though.
Vatar picked up a fallen apple and turned it in his hand. “It’s the muscles we
build up in our work.” Vatar looked aside at the boy and sighed. He shouldn’t
have spoken about the Lie that way, but that had clearly been a product of
Theklan’s unhappiness. “I could sponsor you as my apprentice in the Smiths’
Guild.” He smiled wryly. “You’d get muscles of your own fast enough. But I don’t
think that’s where your heart lies.”

Theklan sighed and looked out toward the east—and the
plains. “No.”

Vatar let out a breath. Maybe they’d been wrong to bring
Theklan back to the city after all. The plains had gotten into this boy’s blood
as thoroughly as if he’d been born there. He’d likely never be completely happy
anywhere else. “I feel the pull of the plains, too, you know. Maybe stronger
than you. I was born and raised there, after all. You can always talk to me
about it.”

Theklan half turned toward him. “Then why do you leave? Why
do you always come back here?”

“Well, I have family here, too. But that’s not the main
reason. I suppose the pull of working iron and steel is as strong as the pull
of the plains. For me, anyway. And it’s a lot easier to do that here. Imagine
trying to carry enough raw iron and steel—not to mention charcoal to fuel my
forge—all the way out to Zeda every year. Your sister is happier here, too.
That’s important to me. At least I get to go back to the plains every summer. I
don’t think I could be as happy here if that weren’t true.”

Theklan shifted a little on the bench. “I’ve made trouble
again, haven’t I? With what I said?”

Vatar shrugged. “It wasn’t a good thing to say. I’ll go down
later and have a word with Fowin. Possibly I can pass it off as something you
just didn’t understand because things are different where you come from. Even
though you’ve spent two winters in Caere, this was your first Festival. It’s
even mostly true. I’ll try, anyway.”

Vatar walked back down to the city the next day and found
his way to Fowin’s house.

Fowin looked up when Vatar appeared at his gate, then his
eyes slipped aside. “Vatar,” he said in a neutral tone.

Vatar let himself in by the gate. “I see you talked to
Gafar.”

“Of course. We can’t have apprentices brawling—especially
not during the Festival.”

“No, we can’t.” Vatar let out his breath. “And what Gafar
told you disturbs you.”

Fowin looked up. “Of course it disturbs me.”

Vatar leaned against the courtyard wall, forcing himself to
appear casual. “Theklan shouldn’t have said what he did, but neither should
you—or Gafar—put too much importance on it.”

Fowin’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

Vatar shrugged. “Because it’s the result of a combination of
misunderstanding, injured feelings, and anger.” He looked across at the blank
wall of Fowin’s forge. “Gafar was Theklan’s first friend here and after that
one incident two years ago, Gafar completely shut Theklan out. I’m not saying
Gafar didn’t have a right to be a little . . . well, frightened of what he saw.
But the aftermath of that episode was far harder for Theklan, even without
losing his only friend over it. He won’t say it. Sky above and earth below,
he’s an adolescent boy. He’d never admit a thing like that bothered him at all.
But you and I both know different.”

Fowin made a sound that might have been agreement.

Vatar went on. “So, when Gafar threw that up at him again,
well . . . Theklan lost his temper. And let me tell you, both Theklan and his
sister have tempers. He said what he thought would upset Gafar the most.”

“He succeeded.”

“Fowin, do you remember when I was first here in Caere? I
didn’t know anything about the Fasallon or the Sea Gods.” Vatar huffed a laugh.
“You worried that they wouldn’t permit me to take my manhood test because I
refused to pay attention to what they were trying to teach us about the Sea
Gods and our duty to them. I intended to return to the plains—and it’s at least
a three-day ride to the ocean from there. Sea Gods just didn’t seem that
important to me.”

Fowin chuckled. “I remember.”

“Well, Theklan comes from even farther away than I do.
Across the plains, through the forest beyond and over the mountains beyond
that. I couldn’t make the trip from here to where he was born in less than two
seven-days. The biggest body of water he knew before coming here was a lake.
You can hardly expect him to believe in Sea Gods any more readily than I did,
can you?”

“Maybe not. But he’s been in Caere for two years now.”

“But this was the first Festival he’s ever seen. It must
have seemed very strange to him.” Vatar chuckled. “My first, too. Arcas’s and
my business keeps us away on the plains during the time the Festival takes
place—until this year. At least I’d heard about the Festival and knew what to
expect, more or less.”

“Does he believe in the Sea Gods now?”

“I haven’t asked him. His people have their own beliefs. I
wouldn’t deny him that.”

“But . . . when he goes to prepare for his manhood rites—”

Vatar shook his head. “No. I suspect Theklan will become a
man by the rites of my people. He joined the Eagle Clan last year. I think he’d
prefer that.”

Fowin was silent for a moment. “
Were
you . . . out
there? With the Sea Gods?”

Vatar turned to face Fowin. “Yes. Carrying one of the platforms
along with the Fasallon. My father asked me to, since I’d be here for the
Festival. I didn’t see a reason to refuse.”
I would have, if I could.

“And your father is . . . ?”

“A highly-placed Fasallon. A descendant of Tabeus, actually.
That’s . . . a long story. And not entirely mine to tell. I didn’t know about
it at the time of our manhood rites. I only found out about that later, and it
took me a while to come to accept it. It was important to my father that I join
him this year. So I did.”

“So you know all about the Sea Gods and the Fasallon. Now.”

One side of Vatar’s mouth quirked up. “More than they ever
tell us when they prepare us for our manhood rites.”
You have no idea how
much more.

“Why did you come here today?”

“I didn’t want any more misunderstandings between us. You
were my first friend in Caere, too.”

Fowin blinked at that. “Are the Sea Gods failing?”

Vatar drew in a breath. “The Sea Gods are the same as they
ever were.”
And that’s true—as far as it goes.

Fowin smiled. “That’s good.”

~

He was on his way back up the hill when Vatar felt the
tickle at the back of his mind of Far Speech. He stopped along the side of the
road and opened himself to the contact. Not that he couldn’t walk and carry on
a Far Speech conversation at the same time, but he preferred not to divide his
concentration unnecessarily and he was in no hurry today.

“Vatar.”
It was his father’s mental voice.

Vatar smiled.
“Hello, Father.”

“
You left early yesterday. You didn’t even wait for the
first cup to be passed around.”

“It wasn’t exactly something I wanted to celebrate. I
didn’t see the point in sticking around. And I wanted to get back to Thekila.”

“Yes, well . . . Montibeus wanted to ask you what had
happened. You almost let things . . . slip.”

Vatar huffed something that might have been a chuckle.
“Very
nearly. I was distracted.”

“
I’ve never known you to have difficulty with your
concentration. What distracted you?”

“I felt anger and fear from Thekila through our bond. I
only know what she’s thinking if she wants me to, but I always know what she
feels.”

“What caused it?”
Father asked.

Vatar sighed.
“Theklan got into a fight. He said more
than he should about the Festival, too. But I think I’ve just covered that as a
misunderstanding because his people have different beliefs and he’d never seen
a Festival before.”

“Hmm. Well, we’d better hope the Council don’t learn
about that. They’re already unhappy about
your
. . .
misstep. Darea raised quite a fuss about being tossed around and almost losing
her masking Transformation.”

“That’s easy enough to fix,”
Vatar answered.
“Just
don’t ask me to do it again. I won’t be sorry.”

“That’s not the solution the Council is likely to favor.”

Vatar frowned.
“It’s likely the one they’ll have to
settle for, though. I’m not planning to do that again. There’s a whole year
before the next Festival. Plenty of time for them to arrange something else.
Something that doesn’t involve me.”