The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (10 page)

Anyway, he liked his lessons. What Cestus was teaching him
was useful. Vatar kicked at one of the flagstones and stomped back to the gate.
He’d go on with these lessons just as long as they were worthwhile. Not because
the High Council ordered it. Certainly not because Veleus wanted him to. Not
even because the Smiths’ Guild approved. Because he
chose
to. He let
himself out the gate and marched toward the Temple and his lesson.

Cestus wasn’t in the classroom they usually used. Vatar went
searching for him and found him sitting alone out in a quiet corner of the
Temple garden.

“Vatar!” Cestus greeted him. “I’m glad you decided to come
back after all. I wasn’t sure after the way you left last time.”

“I only came back because the lessons are useful and I enjoy
them. Not because anybody’s forcing me to,” Vatar answered in clipped tones.

Cestus smiled. “Of course.”

Vatar looked around the manicured garden. It was strange,
even by Fasallon standards. The trees were all stunted and small, their trunks
and branches twisted into fantastic shapes. Even stranger, they grew up out of
a bed of washed sand that looked as though it had been combed. At the exact
center was a tiny pond on which a single lily pad floated. “What is this place?
And what are you doing out here by yourself?”

“It’s a meditation garden.” Cestus sighed. “I was attempting
to meditate, but it wasn’t working. I’m just too easily distracted—even here.”

Vatar mulled that over but still couldn’t make any sense of
it. “What’s the purpose of this meditation?”

Cestus shrugged and gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. “
You
asked, so don’t blame me for bringing it up. Our magical Talents are strongest
when our minds are calm and focused. My Talent has always been minimal, almost
non-existent. But I’ve also never been able to maintain the right frame of
mind. My brain just keeps flitting from one thing to another when I try to be
quiet. So, I keep hoping that if I manage to reach the right mental state, I’ll
show some greater Talent, enough to warrant further training.”

“Why does that matter so much?” Vatar suppressed a shudder
at the thought of magic. Cestus rarely spoke of the Fasallon magic and Vatar
preferred it that way.

Cestus shrugged. “Among the Fasallon, status depends on
Talent. The more Talent you have, the higher you can rise. My lack of useful
Talent is the main reason I’ve been held back from the teaching positions I
want.”

Vatar thought that over. Maybe it wasn’t as completely
wrong-headed as it sounded at first. “Oh. Try that islet I was stranded on.”

“Why? Did something happen while you were there?” Cestus
asked a shade too eagerly.

Vatar paused. Had something happened? That was the first
place he’d dreamed of the girl with hair the color of flame. No. That was just
a dream. There was certainly nothing odd in a young man dreaming about a girl.
He shook his head. “No. It’s just that when I was alone out there, after the moon
set, I could hardly see anything in the dark, and the only sound was the waves.
It almost put me to sleep, even cold, wet, and hungry. I can’t think of a place
with fewer distractions.”

Cestus accepted this with a nod. “Oh. Well, it’s worth a
try, I suppose. Thanks.”

Vatar worked at the forge, singing to the iron beneath his
hammer. Sometimes, when he lost himself deep in the work, he’d see the face of the
red-haired girl, Thekila, again. It never lasted long, though. Rarely, he’d see
other things. Pictures of his family, now at the winter camp or maybe just
preparing to leave for the spring camp closer to the plains. Just imaginings of
what they’d be doing about now. It wasn’t anything like the magic Cestus had
described to him. They never lasted long, either.

As he raised his hammer, a new image drifted across his
mind’s eye. Mother, sweating and writhing in pain. This one was accompanied by
that tingling feeling between his shoulder blades. He let the hammer fall as he
drew in a sharp, hissing breath. “Mother.”

“What?” Uncle Lanark asked.

Vatar shook himself. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.
“Nothing. For a moment, it seemed that Mother was ill.”

Uncle Lanark made a warding sign after the fashion of the
Caereans, two fingers raised like horns.

Vatar shook his head as if to clear it. “That’s not likely.
Mother’s never sick. The only time she was ever ill was at Kiara’s birth. Well,
and the two babies before who died.” Giving his head a final shake, he went
back to work, but he didn’t sing along with the iron. Why would he imagine his
mother sick? It didn’t make any sense.

~

Vatar had forgotten the incident when he was pulled out of
his class at the guildhall and sent to the Guild Master’s office. Seeing Uncle
Lanark and Arcas sitting there instead of the Guild Master brought it back and
sent a chill down his spine. There weren’t many reasons Arcas would be back in
Caere this early in the season.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Vatar asked.

“It’s your mother, Vatar.” Arcas licked his lips and
swallowed hard. “She’s pregnant and she’s very ill. Uncle Danar sent us—me and
a couple of Dardani to make sure I made it across the plains without getting
lost—to bring you back.”

Vatar collapsed onto one of the benches as his knees gave
out. His head spun so fast he couldn’t seem to absorb this news. He remembered
one thing out of the chaos of his thoughts.
Mother’d
always been careful to take precautions after Kiara’s difficult birth.
Irrationally, he focused on that one thing as if it could make the rest not
true. “But how? She chews Uza leaf.”

“There is no Uza leaf in Caere, Vatar,” Uncle Lanark
answered. “Your parents were here until late in the summer.”

“But she could have gotten Urulu weed from the Healers,”
Arcas said. “She must have known that.”

“She wouldn’t have gone to the Healers, son,” Uncle Lanark
said.

Vatar raised his head. “Because of me.”

Uncle Lanark nodded.

Oh, sky above and earth below, it could be true after
all.
His stomach sank.
And it was because of me.
Vatar chewed his
lip.
No. It was because of Maktaz.
That thought fired him to action. He
leapt up. “I have to go home.”

“You can start in the morning, as soon as the sun is up. I’ve
already cleared it with the Guild Master,” Uncle Lanark answered. “You might as
well come home now and start packing.”

Vatar started for the door, mind racing with calculations of
how many days it would take to cross the plains. He wouldn’t have many preparations.
Just shove a few clothes in his saddle bags. A horse, though. He’d need a
horse. Well, Arcas and his guides would have ridden here. Either they’d have
brought him a horse or he’d just use one of theirs. Arcas probably wouldn’t
mind staying home with his parents for a short while. Nothing else he really
needed to do. He’d catch up on any instruction he’d missed when he got back.

Instruction. His lesson with Cestus was tomorrow night, but
he wouldn’t be here. If Veleus was telling the truth, there might be trouble
over that. Well, Vatar wouldn’t be here to deal with it.
No. But Arcas and
Uncle Lanark will. And Aunt Castalia.
Vatar stopped, biting down hard on
his lip. He wanted to run straight out onto the plains, but that would be
stupid. Much better to leave in the morning—
early
in the morning. And
there wasn’t much he needed to do between now and then. “I need to tell Cestus
that I’ll be gone. If I don’t show up for my lesson, there may be trouble.”

After a moment, Uncle Lanark nodded. “You go to the Temple.
We’ll get things ready for you.”

~

After asking several people he met in the confusing hallways
of the Temple, Vatar found Cestus in the library.

Cestus rose to greet him. “Vatar, what’s wrong?”

Vatar paced across room. “I’ve just had word from home. My
mother is very ill. I’m leaving tomorrow morning to go to her. I wanted to let
you know that I won’t be here for my lessons for a while.”

Cestus sat down heavily. “Oh! I’m sorry, Vatar. What’s wrong
with her? Do you know? Is there anything I can do?”

“She’s pregnant and it’s not going well. The last time she
was pregnant, she almost died. I was very young, but I remember.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

Vatar smiled weakly. “I don’t see what. But thank you,
anyway. I have to go. We ride at sunrise.”

“My thoughts and prayers will go with you, Brother.”

Cestus watched Vatar’s retreating back. “You may not know
how I can help, but I do, Brother.” Cestus closed his eyes tight and
concentrated. Contacting his own father in the Palace, just across the little
strait, was the farthest limit of his Talent.
“Father?”

“What is it, Cestus?”
Veleus mental voice responded
at once.

“Vatar. His mother is very ill. He’s leaving for the
plains at sunrise.”

“Wait for me by the dock. I’ll be right there.”

~

Veleus stood in the shadows as Cestus knocked on the smith’s
door. Cestus nearly bumped into him stepping back when an unfamiliar man who
must be Lucina’s brother answered the door. “I . . . came to see Vatar.”

Evidently at the sound of his name, Vatar appeared behind
the man. “Cestus. What do you want?”

Veleus moved forward into the light.

Vatar took a step back, eyes narrowing. “What did you bring
him
for?”

Veleus stepped forward into the front room. “Cestus told me
about your mother, Vatar. I want to help.”

Vatar’s posture relaxed slightly. He stepped back to allow
both Veleus and Cestus into the front room. “I don’t see how you can help.”

Veleus smiled. “Use your imagination, son. There’s a lot I
can do. Would sending a Healer help?”

“The Healers would never go so far from the city,” another
boy, perhaps a year younger than Vatar said.

“They will if I ask them to,” Veleus answered with
confidence. “Would it help?”

Vatar swallowed. “I don’t know. It might.”

Veleus nodded. “Then I’ll send a Healer with you.”

“We’ll be riding hard,” Vatar said. “We planned on just Ruar
and me, leaving Bolar to see Arcas safely back around midsummer. Nothing will
help if we get there too late.”

Veleus nodded. “Yes, I understand that. The Healer I send
will be able to ride with you.”

Vatar choked and offered his hand. “Thank you.”

Veleus gripped his hand. “It’s nothing, son. I told you I
would help you, if I could.”

The other boy’s eyes widened as he looked more closely at
Cestus and especially Veleus. “Vatar, that’s—”

Vatar squared his shoulders and turned to face the other
boy. “Uncle Lanark, Arcas, this is Veleus. My . . . my father. And Cestus, my
half-brother.”

Arcas swallowed hard.

Uncle Lanark hissed, “Vatar!”

Vatar shrugged. “Uncle Lanark, their Council knows who I am.
I’m not proposing to tell the whole city. But there’s no reason to keep it
secret from family anymore.”

Veleus smiled. He might—just possibly—get to know this son
after all. But first things first. He reached out with his mind and silently
contacted the Healer he knew best.

“Boreala?”

“Father? What can I do for you?”

“I need a Healer, skilled in birthing, to ride onto the
plains at sunrise tomorrow. He’d best be a very good rider.”

“I’ll go myself.”

“Is that wise?”
Veleus asked, slightly alarmed.

“Why not? There aren’t very many men with the skills you
need. And I’d just as soon be out of the city for a while right now, anyway.”

Veleus sighed. Vatar wasn’t the only one of his children
with a problem right now. He was just the one Veleus could actually do
something to help.
“I know you would. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right, Father. You tried.”

He had, but this time Gerusa had beaten him. Small and
frail-seeming Master Healer Boreala, possessor of a rare Talent, would not be
permitted to risk herself by marrying or—most especially—by trying to bear a
child of her own. Gerusa could still cause more trouble, too. It was only right
that Veleus warn her.
“If you leave now, so soon after the High Council’s
decision, there may be trouble.”

He could almost see Boreala’s shrug.
“Well. So it will be
Boreleus who leaves and Boreala will be indisposed. It seems to be what the
Council expects, anyway.”
The bitterness in her voice chilled him.

“Will you be able to maintain the transformation that
long?”
Veleus asked.

“Father, I’m stronger than I look, whatever the Council
thinks.”
Her smirk came through the connection clearly
. “Anyway, I don’t
intend to maintain it all the way. Just until I’m safely beyond the city gates
will be long enough. Who else are you sending?”

Veleus made a decision.
“I’ll send Cestus with you. And
Vatar, of course. It’s Vatar’s mother that needs your aid.”

“Vatar? The one you told me about?”
Boreala asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be with two of my brothers, then. What could be
safer?”

Releasing the contact, Veleus said aloud, “It’s all
arranged. We’ll leave you to make your preparations. And we’ll make ours.
Cestus will go along, too, if he’s willing. Not to hold your leash,” he added
hastily, seeing Vatar’s face. “He has some training. He can assist the Healer.
And he’s an excellent rider. Everything will be ready before sunrise.”

Vatar accompanied them to the door. “Thank you, again . . .”
Vatar swallowed hard as if tasting the next word. “Father.”

It was the first time Vatar had addressed him as “Father”
and it made Veleus smile. Not that he was fooling himself. This was just a
small step, a tiny crack in the shield of Vatar’s resentment. It was important to
him, just the same. With luck, it could be the start of a better rapport
between them. Veleus fervently hoped so.

Veleus nodded, not pushing the delicate bond too far.
“You’re quite welcome, Vatar. Come back when you can. Now that we begin to
understand each other, I’d like to have a chance to get to know you.”

Vatar nodded. “I will.”

~

On the way out, Veleus cast an appraising eye over the three
horses standing heads-down in the courtyard. Two men were checking the horses’
legs and hooves, and wiping the sweat stains from their coats.

Veleus frowned. “It must be serious. They nearly killed
their horses to get here. They won’t ride as hard as Vatar wants on any of
those, not for a month.”

Cestus nodded. “I understand his need, though.”

“Of course,” Veleus said. “That’s why we’ll provide two
extra horses—for Vatar and this Ruar.”

“I can see to that. I was going to have to get horses for
the Healer and me anyway.”

They walked through the darkened evening streets in silence
for a while, accompanied only by the sound of their footfalls.

“You’re silent,” Veleus said. “Do you want
not
to go?
Will your wife not like it?”

Cestus shook his head. “It’s not that. Lancera’s mother has
been practically staying with us anyway, helping to take care of Jana. As long
as I get back before our second child is born, I don’t think she’ll mind.”

“What is it, then?”

Cestus shrugged. “I had a little training with the Healers,
but it didn’t include birthing. That’s usually a woman’s specialty. How can I
be of help?”

“I need you to go because Boreala is going herself,” Veleus
answered.

“Oh!” Cestus blinked. “How are you going to explain that to
the Council?”

Veleus laughed. “It’s kind of you to think of me, my boy.
But, really, politics is my game much more than yours.”

“But sending a Healer—a Master Healer—so far . . . And
Boreala, at that. . .”

“It will be Boreleus that leaves the city. Very few have
caught on to that ruse even now. The Council will believe that Boreala is ill
and keeping to her quarters. As for sending a Healer, the Council will see it
as another extravagance of eccentric Veleus, putting too much importance on a
half-blood child and a former lover. They may rant a bit, but they won’t cause
any real trouble over it. Or none of them but Gerusa will. There’s a limit to
what even she can do against me. Like it or not, the Council needs me for the
Festival. Without me, they haven’t a chance of maintaining the necessary
transformations.”

They walked in silence for a moment. Veleus spoke first.
“Cestus, I want to ask a favor of you.”

“Keep an eye on Vatar?” Cestus said unhappily.

“Well, yes, that too. But not the way you think. Take care
of both of them for me. Especially if anything happens to . . .” Veleus
couldn’t quite bring himself to say that Lucina might die. He remembered her as
being so full of life.

“I will. You didn’t have to ask,” Cestus answered.

Veleus nodded. “Good. What I wanted to ask of you was that
you use your exceptional gift for observation. I’m curious about these Dardani.
Especially now that we seem to have one in the family. So, observe, ask
questions, find out about them for me.”

“I can do that,” Cestus answered, sounding much happier
about that assignment.