The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) (7 page)

After they made camp the first night, Thekila hummed along
as Vatar played his lullaby. She’d heard him sing it to the twins often enough
in their little sod hut in the Dardani village and before that while they were
still in the Valley. The words were simple, so she switched from humming to
singing along with him, just to share the moment with him. A quick upward
twitch of Vatar’s mouth was the only sign that he was aware of her joining him.
Well, obviously, his attention at that moment was focused on watching Zavar and
Savara as they settled down for the night.

Then, for an instant, she saw them, too, curled up in a dim
corner of a Dardani hut. Zavar smiled sleepily. Thekila’s voice faltered and
she shut her mouth with a snap. She clutched the bedroll she’d been carrying
into their tent closer to her chest. That shouldn’t have happened. Not without
her
trying
to see the twins.

Vatar smiled up at her as he finished the lullaby and
lowered his pipes. “Why’d you stop singing? Did you forget the words?”

Thekila swallowed. “No. For a moment, I could see them, too.
It surprised me. That’s all.”

Vatar reached for her hand. “I’m glad you can see them,
too.”

Across the fire, Quetza dropped the bowls and utensils she’d
been rinsing out with a clatter.
“Were you trying to see his children?”
Quetza asked silently so only Thekila could hear.

“No.” Thekila answered. “Do you think . . . Can we be
bonding this early?”

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Quetza said. “His Powers are different
than ours.”

Thekila didn’t miss the note of doubt in Quetza’s mental
voice, but she let it go. The last thing she wanted to do at that moment was
raise another question about magic for Vatar to fret over. Not that she didn’t
spend some time worrying over it herself. This was not something to be taken
lightly. Bonding would link them permanently, unbreakably. More, it meant a
complete lowering of barriers that would make keeping even the most trivial of
secrets almost impossible. It was a huge commitment. Without asking, she could
see from Quetza’s surreptitious looks that her friend had similar concerns
about this new development.

~

Vatar’s eyes narrowed as he examined the waterhole he’d been
making for as their midday stop. He couldn’t sense anything, so there weren’t
lions, but something was making the cattle restless in spite of their thirst.
“Wait here. I’ll make sure it’s safe.”

The cattle stamped, but followed Vatar’s horse toward the
water. Vatar dismounted, the better to look around while his horse drank. He’d
taken only a couple of steps before the earth lurched under his feet. Vatar had
to spread his feet to brace himself against the movement. “Sky above and earth
below!”

“Earthquake!” Quetza said from behind him.

Vatar knew what it was. He’d felt a few tremors while he was
in the Valley. Nothing like this, though. And never before on the plains.

He wasn’t the only one startled by it. A sleek, spotted
swiftcat jumped down from a tree overhanging the waterhole—and straight into
the midst of the herd. Smaller than a lion and solitary, the swiftcats normally
inhabited areas not claimed by the lion prides. They preyed on the small, agile
antelope that were too fast for the lions and usually carried their kills to a
secure place. In fact, following the path of the swiftcat, Vatar saw the remains
of its latest kill in the crotch of the tree. It was the smell of blood that
had made the cattle restless.

The cat suddenly appearing among them was too much for the
nervous cattle. A young bull bellowed and charged away from the waterhole. The
others followed. In a few moments, it would be a full-fledged stampede.

Heart pounding, Vatar leaped back into his saddle to get
ahead of the cattle and turn them back. The grey herding dog streaked out ahead
of him. He could only hope that the others had sense enough to stay where they
were. A stampede was dangerous enough without a bunch of inexperienced riders
trying to help and only getting in the way. He wouldn’t trust even Quetza with
this. But it was very hard for one man to stop a stampede once it was in full swing.
He needed to stop this one before that tipping point—if he could.

The dog got out far enough to bark at the lead bull, trying
to turn it. The bull kicked out, but shifted a little away from the dog. It was
a start. They had to turn the herd back toward the waterhole. Thirst might stop
them. If not, the knee-deep water would slow them down enough to get them back
under control.

A predator would turn them.
Vatar sucked in a breath
and shook his head so violently that he almost fell out of the saddle. Not that
voice again. Not now. Was he never going to be in a stressful situation without
hearing it? He was
not
going to use magic to solve every problem and he
wasn’t going to use it now.

However, it seemed the voice wasn’t the only one with that
idea. A large white eagle appeared in the sky and dove at the head of the lead
bull. The bull tossed its head, but barely slowed down. And then a white wyvern
appeared in front of it. Vatar couldn’t suppress a shudder at sight of the
dragon-like creature. The bull couldn’t either. It squealed in terror and
planted all four feet, other cattle ramming into its hindquarters. Even the dog
cowered in place, whimpering. Then the bull turned and ran full-tilt in the
other direction. The other cattle whirled in panic and followed.
Now
this was a full-blown stampede.

Maybe the waterhole would still stop them, if Vatar could
just push them into it. He wheeled his horse, galloping after the terrified
lead bull as it charged past him. Without taking his eyes from the panicked cattle,
he shouted, “Get out of the way!”

It was working. Despite its fear, the lead bull was
beginning to slow down. Vatar drew his first deep breath since the earthquake.
Thekila shrieked and Vatar looked up. She couldn’t be in danger again, could
she?

No, Thekila had gotten safely out of the way. So had Quetza.
It was Theklan who’d apparently ridden out
toward
the herd. His mare,
wiser in the ways of cattle than the boy, had evidently thrown him in her rush to
get out of the way of the stampede. Theklan was just standing up, dusting off
his trousers, oblivious to the danger charging down on him.

The bull lowered its head to bring its horns to bear.
Vatar’s pulse sped up again. What could he do now? He wasn’t near enough to
sweep the boy up out of harm’s way. Neither was he close enough to try to push
the bull aside. The dog, rejoining the work, was still far behind him. There
really was only one thing Vatar could do. But he didn’t know how he’d done it
the first time. Instinct. It was all he had to go on and he’d better act fast.

Vatar stuck his hand out as if to block the bull, just as
he’d done when he shielded Thekila from the bear, and pushed. The bull bounced
back as if he’d struck a wall. Dazed, the beast shook his head and stopped,
head down and legs shaking. The other cattle slowed and milled around their
leader.

Vatar swayed in his saddle, breathing hard.

Thekila ran past Theklan to get to Vatar.

He sagged out of the saddle to meet her. “I’m sorry, Thekila.
I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

Thekila put her hands on his shoulders and looked up at his
face. “I know. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. It just felt . . . it felt like the bull hit me
instead of the shield. That’s all. Knocked the wind out of me.”

“That was the shield you were talking about?” Theklan asked
excitedly. “Wish I could do something like that!”

Quetza came up to join them. “Sorry. I thought the wyvern
would help, but it only made matters worse.”

Vatar smiled weakly. “Maybe magic isn’t the answer for
everything.”

“Apparently not.” Quetza took a step closer. “Did your
shield feel that way before? Like the bear hit you instead of Thekila?”

Vatar shook his head. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember
anything after the bear hit the shield until I woke up in the tent.”

Thekila hugged him. “Well, that’s certainly a downside of
your shield. And a reason not to use it unless you absolutely have to.”

Vatar hugged her back tucking her head under his chin. He had
no intention of telling her he’d heard that voice again. Not right now. He’d
prefer not to think about magic at all for a while. Maybe a long while.

~

Thekila could feel Vatar trembling, whether from the fright
Theklan had given both of them or from casting that shield again, she couldn’t
tell. Either way, she didn’t want him getting back on his horse for a while, at
least. “Maybe we should make camp here to give the cattle time to settle down.”

Vatar shrugged. “They won’t. Not as long as the swiftcat’s kill
is still in that tree. They smell the blood. That’s why they were restless.”

Quetza chuckled. “That’s easily taken care of.” She started
forward.

Thekila reached out for her arm. “Yes. And Theklan’s going
to be the one to do it.
And
pitch the tents. To teach him to follow
instructions next time.”

“I was trying to help,” Theklan protested.

“Well, you didn’t, did you? You made things worse.
Sometimes, it’s just possible, that Vatar or another adult actually knows
what’s best. So now you can actually help by doing what you’re told.”

Theklan grumbled, but moved to look up at the carcass in the
tree. Vatar started to step back. Thekila gripped him closer. “Not you. You’re
going to rest a bit. I know you had no choice, but I still don’t like you using
that shield again. Quetza can make sure Theklan does things correctly.”

“I’m all right. Not even a headache.”

Thekila looked up at his face. “Humor me.”

After such a recent demonstration, Thekila wasn’t surprised
when Quetza turned the conversation to Vatar’s ability to shield as soon as the
camp was made. It would have been too much to expect Quetza
not
to try
to puzzle out the differences between the two events.

“You know, from what you describe, whatever it was you did
to deflect that bear,” Quetza said, “you projected it a good distance. You were
much closer to Theklan. That may account for the difference in the way it
affected you. Even distant manipulation usually works best with objects that
are fairly close by.”

Vatar’s shoulders were stiff. Thekila could see that he
didn’t want to talk about this. But, really, if he wanted answers, these were
the kind of questions they needed to ask—and preferably while the memories were
fresh.

Vatar let his breath out and spoke slowly, as if he was
trying to call up the memory. “It didn’t feel like it was that far that first
time. Actually . . . it might have felt farther this time.”

“What did it feel like the first time?” Thekila asked.

Vatar turned toward her. “I don’t know, exactly. I think . .
. It almost felt as if I reached through a connection with you. Not today,
though.”

Thekila frowned. That, together with unexpectedly seeing his
children with him, could mean only one thing. “As if we were . . . linked in
some way?”

Vatar smiled at her. “Yes. That’s what it felt like, I
think.”

Thekila exchanged a look with Quetza. Clearly, Vatar and
Thekila were indeed bonding. But it was so early for that! That usually took
years to even start.

“You have to tell him,
” Quetza said, mind to mind.
“He
has a right to know, now, while there’s a choice. You have to tell him.”

Thekila chewed her lower lip. Vatar was still so skittish
about his magic.
“You’re right. I will. When we get to Caere.”

“Tonight.”

“We’ll be in Caere in two or three more days, Quetza.
We’ll all be more comfortable there. And Vatar says we’ll have more privacy.”

Quetza jerked her chin up.
“All right. When we reach
Caere. But not a day longer.”

Though the rain that had pelted them all through the third day
gradually slacked off to a steady drizzle as they neared the sea coast, Vatar
didn’t relax until the farm came into sight up ahead. He pushed the cattle
ahead of him through the gate. Another dog—this one striped brown and
black—rushed out to help control the herd. Vatar remembered that Arcas had
traded for two Dardani herd dogs last year. Where was the other? Never mind. He
opened the gate to the pasture and let the dogs herd the cattle through.

Arcas came out to help get the horses unsaddled and turned
into the pasture along with the cattle. “Vatar! Welcome home!”

When the last horse had been sent into the pasture, Arcas
turned to their guests. “My apologies. You can always tell a Dardani—take care
of the horses first and worry about the people last. Let’s get you all settled.
This way.” He led the way across the courtyard toward a new opening in the
fence on the side away from the main house.

Vatar hefted Thekila’s saddle bags along with his own and
started after Arcas. “Where are we going?”

Arcas paused on the porch of the house on the other side of
that gate and turned around. “Well, the old man that owned this farm next to us
died last winter. His sons wanted to sell, but were having trouble finding a
buyer because the farm’s really too small to pay on its own. Knowing that we’d
be having visitors, I thought we might want room to spread out a bit. So, you
know, everyone could have their privacy. I struck a bargain with the farmer on
the other side. We bought the house and he bought the fields to add to his
own.” He opened the door. “So, now this is our guest house.”

Vatar grinned. “Arcas, that’s brilliant.”

The house was small and square, but it had two stories, as
many Caerean houses did. When they were all gathered in the main room, Arcas
continued, “The kitchen is to the right. We’ve stocked a few staples in case
you get hungry. But we expect most meals will be across in the main house.
Bedrooms are to the back on this floor. There are more upstairs. The first room
on the left is already occupied. But all the others are free.”

Vatar’s brow creased. “Who’s here? It can’t be Orleus.”

Arcas shook his head. “No. Cestus.”

Quetza walked down the hall and opened the first door on the
right. “Oh, this will be lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Arcas said. “If you need anything else,
just let us know. Dinner is ready in the main house as soon as you’ve changed
into dry clothes.”

Vatar stopped Theklan from running upstairs. “Not you,
Theklan. You’ll be in the main house with us.”

Theklan gave one more, long look up the staircase before
turning around to follow Vatar and Thekila.

As they walked back to the main house, leaving Quetza to get
dry and clean, Vatar asked, “Why is Cestus staying here?”

Arcas grimaced. “Because his wife is pregnant.”

“Oh.” Vatar stopped short. “Oh, no.”

Thekila tilted her head to the side, looking up at Vatar.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Not in this case,” Vatar answered.

“Why not?”

Arcas looked back to see that they were far enough from the
new guest house. “Because Cestus was with the Dardani all winter. He was gone
for as long as Orleus. Almost a year.”

“Oh!” Thekila said. “Oh, dear!”

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

Just before they reached the door, Arcas paused. “I hope you
don’t mind leftovers tonight. Elaria was so busy getting everything ready for
you after Veleus’s messenger said you’d be home tonight. And she didn’t feel
much like cooking.” His brow creased. “Though I don’t understand how Veleus
knew.”

Vatar shook the rain out of his hair. He wasn’t about to
stand on the porch and explain about Far Speech. “As long as the food’s not
cooked over an open fire, I’m for it.”

Arcas chuckled. “No. It’s leftovers from Mother’s
seventh-day dinner last night.”

Vatar grinned. “I’ve never minded Aunt Castalia’s cooking in
any form. You know that.”

Arcas shuffled a little. “And . . . ah . . . you should
know. Elaria’s pregnant. Our child will be born in early winter.”

Vatar clapped his cousin on the back. He understood Arcas’s
desire for a little more privacy in the main house better now. Quetza wouldn’t
have overcrowded the place, but there was no need to make extra work for
Elaria. “Congratulations!”

Vatar handed Thekila through the farmhouse door and stepped
inside behind her, making room for Theklan to come in after them. Elaria stood
a little to the side, smiling uncertainly. Well, he had just nearly doubled the
occupants of this house, and that didn’t even count Cestus and Quetza over in
the new guest house. He supposed Elaria had a right to be a little unsure. But
Vatar had always considered Elaria a sensible young woman. He was sure she and
Thekila would get along fine, once they had a chance to know each other a
little. That’d naturally take a little time.

As soon as the introductions had been made, Vatar started
for the hallway that went back on his side of the house. “We’d better get
cleaned up and changed. We can all talk more over dinner.”

~

Thekila followed Vatar down the hall on one side of the
house, pulling Theklan along behind her. As far as she could tell, two wings
went back from the square common area, separated by a small enclosed space.

Vatar pointed to one side. “The first door will be yours,
Theklan. Nearest the kitchen.”

Theklan opened the door and grinned. Thekila peeked around
him. It was a small room and somewhat bare, but comfortable. It had only a
single bed, so Theklan would have the comparative luxury of a room to
himself—something only the most advanced students got at the Academy. Besides
the bed, the only other furniture was a chair constructed with a small storage
area under the seat. A wide shelf under the single window looking out over the
courtyard could double as a table or desk. It looked much more home-like than
the Dardani sod hut had. Her spirits rose. She could hardly wait to see what
the room she would share with Vatar was like. “Which is our room?”

Vatar took her hand and smiled down at her. “Down at the
end.” The room was larger than the one he’d given Theklan and it had windows on
three sides, not just one. A large bed occupied the center of the nearest and
only windowless wall. The remaining furnishings were sparse, but functional. A
small desk and one chair occupied the corner opposite the door. A storage trunk
that could also double as seating stood at the foot of the bed.

Thekila’s lips parted and the corners of her mouth turned up
in a slow smile. What a relief. This was nothing like the dark, stuffy Dardani
hut. Windows. And a real bed instead of bedrolls on the floor.
This
felt
like coming home. “This is wonderful. It’s almost like our little house in the
Valley.”

Vatar looked around at the limited furniture as if seeing it
for the first time. “It’s fairly basic. But we can improve on it as we go.”

Thekila sat on the edge of the bed. “I think it has
everything it needs.” She looked around the room once more. “Well, some
curtains and a rug or two wouldn’t
hurt
.”

Vatar grinned. “Done. We’ll go down to the market . . .” He
paused. “Well, not tomorrow. Father said he’d come then. The day after.”

~

Vatar smiled to see Thekila so pleased. He knew life among
the Dardani had been hard for her, too much of a change from what she was used
to. Likely, it hadn’t been fair to really expect her to adjust to a sod hut at
all. This was more familiar to her. He wanted her to be happy here.

When they’d both changed, gratefully, into clean, dry
clothes, Vatar led Thekila back down the hall to the large common room off the
kitchen. Quetza’d already arrived and been introduced to Elaria by Arcas.

Vatar looked around the table as they sat down to eat.
“Isn’t Cestus joining us?”

Arcas shook his head. “No. He’s been keeping to himself. He
leaves early and comes back late.”

“That’s not good.” Vatar chewed in silence for a while,
thinking. This was partly his fault. If Cestus had not been gone for so long,
trying to help him, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t change
anything, but he at least needed to find a way to get Cestus out of his
isolation, somehow. Maybe he could convince his half-brother to renew Vatar’s
lessons one evening a seven-day. Both men had enjoyed that.

Thekila squeezed his hand and Vatar shook off these gloomy
thoughts. That was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, Thekila deserved his full
attention.

~

After dinner, Quetza headed across to the guest house,
giving Thekila a significant look on her way out. Vatar wasn’t sure what that
meant.

He followed Thekila back to their bedroom. While Thekila
puttered around the room, Vatar took out his pipes and played his lullaby,
watching Zavar and Savara sleeping side by side with his Far Sight. Then he put
the pipes down and watched Thekila brushing out her long red hair. He’d gotten
used to seeing her in Dardani-style tunic and trousers, which were much more
practical on the plains. But tonight she had worn a simple Valson-style dress,
very much like an extra-long, flared tunic, with heavy embroidery around the
hem. The change was . . . exciting.

Thekila caught him watching her and gave him a quick smile.
She put down the brush and started toward Vatar. She stopped an arm’s length
away, looking down at her feet and shuffled them against the bare wood floor.
“Vatar, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Vatar swallowed. He didn’t like the nervous sound of her
voice at all.
He’d
thought they were doing all right, in spite of the
rigors of Dardani life and the . . . the strange occurrences. He’d been certain
that Thekila would be happier here, in Caere. Was it all just too much for her?
Maybe it
was
the odd things that were happening with his magic. He
paused until he could keep his voice steady. “Yes?”

Thekila came to him and put her hands on his shoulders.
“It’s about my ability to see your children with you the other night. And the
way you said you reached through a link between us to shield me from that
bear.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. That didn’t sound
like she was trying to tell him she was leaving him, anyway. “Yes? What about
it?”

Thekila drew in a deep breath. “There’s one possible
explanation for that. It seems likely that we’re bonding. It’s very early for
that. But it’s the only explanation.”

Vatar’s brows knit. He didn’t remember ever hearing that
term before. “Bonding?”

Thekila looked straight into Vatar’s eyes for the first time
in this conversation. “It’s something that sometimes happens between Valson
couples, because of the way we join our minds when we make love. Over time, you
give little pieces of yourself to each other, until there is no boundary left
between you. It usually takes years even to start, but—”

Vatar’s muscles, which had been tensed up as if for a blow,
relaxed. He smiled. “You’ve had more than little pieces of me for a long time.”

The corners of Thekila’s mouth twitched as if she was
struggling not to smile back. “It’s serious, Vatar. There are consequences,
especially if we let ourselves become fully bound.”

He took her hands in his. “Like what?”

“There will be no barriers left, no secrets. Not about our
feelings, anyway. We’ll share everything about ourselves. All the time. And it
cannot be undone, once it’s complete.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a consequence to me.” Vatar
loved that feeling of closeness they shared. In fact, this binding sounded very
good right now. Thekila’s calmness had been the one thing that helped him cope
with the recent strangeness of his magic. Thekila knew more about magic than he
did. Maybe she’d be able to help him understand what had been happening to him
if she could feel it, too.

“If . . .
when
we disagree about something you might
not feel that way. And . . . bound couples almost never survive each other.
When one dies, so does the other.”

Vatar put his hand up to touch her bright hair. “I wouldn’t
want to live without you, anyway. Don’t you know that?”

Thekila’s lost her fight against the smile. “Vatar, this is
serious. I had to tell you this. You have the right to choose . . . not to
continue. At this stage, the bond can still be broken. We’d have to stop . . .
joining our minds, but otherwise . . .”

There was no way he was going to give that up. Vatar lowered
his head until their foreheads touched. “Nothing you could say would scare me
away from your side, Thekila. Nothing in my life has ever made me happier than
I am with you.”

Thekila pulled back to look into his eyes again. “I’m glad.
Because I feel the same way.” Mischief glinted in her eyes as she reached up to
open his tunic, exposing his tattoos. She began to lightly trace the tattoo on
his right shoulder—the roaring lion—with her finger tip.