Beyond the Prophecy Read online

  With a final wave, the two turned their horses toward the south and rode off. Orleus’s dogs gave a joyous bark and ran ahead.

  Thekila leaned against Vatar. “I hope they’ll be as happy as we are.”

  Vatar put his arm around her waist. “It’ll be different for them. But they’ll make their own kind of happiness together.”

  She looked up at him. “Does that feel true?”

  Vatar gave her a squeeze, knowing she was referring to his Talent of Fore Sight without mentioning anything that sounded like magic around the superstitious Dardani. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

  Chapter 2: Trust

  Vatar and Thekila watched until the departing horses were almost lost to sight before turning back to the village. When they came in sight of their hut, they found Avaza watching hungrily as the twins played under the watchful eyes of Theklan and Vatar’s younger half-sister, Kiara. They giggled as Vatar’s little half-brother, Fenar, just a year older than the twins, jumped out at them from hiding. Vatar laughed, too.

  Thekila pulled on his arm to make him stop. She cast one distrustful look at Avaza before looking up into his eyes, which wasn’t necessary with Far Speech, far less the more immediate communication through their bond, but it would make better sense to any casual observer. I overheard a few comments about possession this morning when I went down to the waterhole. Avaza hasn’t stopped spreading those rumors. Don’t trust her.

  Vatar nodded, his eyes narrowing. Thanks for the warning. Was Avaza ever going to stop causing him trouble? If she weren’t the twins’ mother, he’d just avoid her. Which was what she seemed to prefer—unless she wanted something from him. He stepped forward, making his footstep deliberately loud so that Avaza would hear him.

  Avaza turned toward him, smiling insincerely. “Hello, Vatar. I . . . I wondered if you’d let me have the twins again this summer.”

  Vatar looked past her to where the twins were now piled on top of Fenar. “We’re not going to be here that long this year, Avaza. Only a seven-day or two at most.”

  Avaza bit her lip. “Even a little time is better than none. It’s been almost a year since I last saw them. They’ve grown so much since last summer.”

  Vatar was silent for a moment as if he was considering it. He’d encouraged Avaza to spend time with the children before and would have now. They were hers, too, after all. Even though the relationship between Vatar and Avaza had soured, he didn’t want that to affect their children.

  And he could understand how she felt being cut off from them. The times when he’d been forced to leave the twins for months at a time had been the hardest of his life. Whatever else he personally felt about Avaza, he didn’t think it was any easier for her to only be able to see the twins for such a short time each year.

  After Thekila’s warning, however, he knew he couldn’t risk it. The winter had been eventful for Zavar and Savara—kidnapped, rescued with considerable use of magic, carried to safety by Quetza Transformed into a white wyvern, and Savara’s injury magically healed. It’d be only natural for Avaza, as their mother, to ask about their winter and it was entirely too much to expect four-year-olds not to talk about adventures like that.

  Vatar knew it would be as much as his life was worth to trust Avaza with knowledge of his magic among the superstitious, magic-fearing Dardani. Last summer, she’d spied on him as he sought advice from the tribe’s shaman and then deliberately started rumors that he was possessed. She seemed to have some misguided notion that she could get permanent control of the twins by discrediting him.

  Bad as that was, he could defend against it, knowing that it wasn’t true. If she started gossip about what the twins might tell her, though, it wouldn’t put just Vatar’s life in danger. The twins would be at risk, too. He wished he believed that Avaza would think things through that far and keep silent, but he knew her too well to expect that. No, much safer to keep the twins among his own family, who already knew about his magic and accepted it.

  The best he could hope for was that he might convince Avaza to give up her attacks on him. Then maybe something good would come of this and he could safely let the twins stay with her again.

  Vatar shook his head. “I don’t think so, Avaza. They’re growing fast. It’s important at their age to have good examples to follow—honorable examples. I’d trust Ariad with that, of course.” He turned his head to meet her eyes. “But not you.”

  Avaza reeled back as if he’d struck her. “What do you mean by that?”

  Vatar sighed. Avaza never seemed to expect her actions to have consequences. “Avaza, last year you as good as admitted spying on me and my family while we conferred with the shaman. That can hardly be considered honorable. It would take a real fool not to connect that with the rumors that I’m possessed that started shortly after that. Which—again—is not true, Avaza.” Vatar had to hold his voice steady not to betray himself with that statement. He wasn’t possessed—exactly. The fact that one of his distant ancestors sometimes spoke to him in his mind was irrelevant. Taleus couldn’t actually make Vatar do anything. All Taleus could do was offer occasional advice and sometimes help to keep Vatar calm in a crisis. Not the same thing as possession, though Vatar seriously doubted Avaza would see the distinction.

  “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t make it worse by adding lying to the list,” Vatar interrupted. “I’m not a fool. And I know you too well.” He drew a deep breath. “Avaza, once before you asked me to name the price of your honor for spreading stories about me. That time, I thought Maktaz had tricked you into it, so I set the price of your honor low. To make the same mistake twice . . . Well, I’m not inclined to set a price a second time. I won’t stoop to your level and spread the word that you are without honor—unless circumstances force me to it. You might want to bear that in mind.” He looked back toward the romping children. “As for the twins, you’ll have to prove to me that you understand your wrongs—and sincerely correct them—before I’ll trust you with them.” Vatar strode on past Avaza toward the hut.

  Thekila smiled as she caught up with him. “Nicely handled. I wonder if she’ll mend her ways after she chews that over.”

  Vatar shrugged. “Knowing Avaza, I wouldn’t count on it. It’d be like her to try even harder to discredit me. Good thing Trev told all the chiefs—and the new shaman—that I’m not possessed before he went home. Pa saw to that. Won’t stop the rumors, though.”

  ~

  Vatar looked up and sighed when he saw Ariad standing outside his workshop. He should be happy to see his old friend, but he had a feeling that his appearance now had more to do with Avaza, now Ariad’s year mate, than with Vatar. He set aside the repair he’d been about to start. “Fair skies, Ariad.”

  Ariad nodded. “Fair skies, Vatar.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  Ariad shifted uncomfortably. “Avaza is very upset. Could you see your way clear to let us take care of the twins for even just a couple of days? As a favor to me?”

  Vatar drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Ariad, there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you. But I won’t let my children become part of whatever Avaza is up to this time. That, I can’t do.”

  “I know she went too far last summer, prying into your business with the shaman. But she really is just concerned about the welfare of the children,” Ariad said.

  Vatar shook his head. “I don’t really care what she thinks she’s going to accomplish by spreading rumors again, Ariad. I can’t just ignore that. Not after what happened last time.”

  Ariad spread his hands out, palms up. “She’s . . .” He paused, blinking. “Wait. What do you mean last time?”

  Vatar picked up the bent hand weeder he’d been about to straighten. How could Ariad not know this? “You remember three years ago, all the rumors that sprang up before I was forced to challenge Maktaz to the Ordeal?”

  “Y-es.” Ariad made two syllables of the word.

  “Well, all of those rumors were based on t
hings—perfectly innocent things—that Avaza told Maktaz. She was upset that I had been forced to take our children into the Lion Clan to protect them from Maktaz. She came to me at midsummer and confessed what she’d done. Ask Pa or Mother. Or old Draza of the Raven Clan. They were there. Avaza asked me to set the price of her honor. I thought that Maktaz had tricked her, so I set a simple price. Only that she tell the truth—even if no one believed her.” Vatar sighed. “Now, I think I set the price too low. She thinks she can get away with pulling the same trick that Maktaz tried.” He paused. “I don’t think she’s really thought that through. Even if she convinced the tribe that I was possessed, it wouldn’t get her the twins back. But I told her and now I’m telling you, I won’t set a price for the same breach of honor twice. And I won’t trust her with the twins until I’m sure I can trust her not to use them as Maktaz once used her. They’re at a very impressionable age. I don’t want them learning to follow Avaza’s example.”

  Ariad swallowed. “I . . . I didn’t know any of that.”

  Vatar smiled wryly. “I gathered that. I trust your honor implicitly. Avaza will have to prove hers to me. I’m sorry, but that’s my final word.”

  Ariad nodded. “I understand.” He winced. “Avaza’s still not going to be happy.”

  Vatar thought back on what living with an unhappy Avaza had been like for the few months they were year mates. “My sympathies.”

  Ariad drew a deep breath and let it out. “We should have become life mates last year. She wants to have more children—children she can keep, this time. But then when she . . . spied on your interactions with Trev. I thought maybe she still . . . had some feelings for you. So, I put it off. Now . . .”

  “Oh, she has feelings for me all right. She hates my guts.” Vatar closed his eyes, briefly. “Ariad, Avaza and I were always a mistake. We were too young and inexperienced to know it or see past mere physical attraction to more important things. The things that make a relationship work over time. If we’d taken the time to know each other better first, we’d never have become year mates at all. By the end, we were barely talking to each other. And then I had to take our children from her to keep them safe from Maktaz. I can’t really blame Avaza for having a very particular kind of enmity for me.” He grimaced. “Her actions are another matter. She can hate me all she wants, but trying to harm me or mine is something entirely different.” He let out his breath. “What I’m saying is that you shouldn’t judge based only on how she behaves toward me. What’s important is whether you think you can trust her.”

  “Maybe. As you’ve said yourself, it’s also important what her example would teach any child of ours.”

  Vatar nodded agreement with that. “Maybe you should talk to someone less biased. I confess, Avaza isn’t my favorite person, either.”

  Ariad started to leave, then turned back. “Is this why you asked me and my father to sponsor Thekila and Theklan into the Eagle Clan last year? So that their word would carry more weight than Avaza’s in my clan.”

  Vatar shook his head again. “No. I won’t pretend I didn’t recognize that aspect. But there are other reasons why Thekila belonged in the Eagle Clan.” Vatar paused. The next obvious question was what those reasons were. And, since they all involved magic, they were not things he could explain to any Dardani. He wasn’t about to tell Ariad that Thekila could Transform into an eagle, just like Vatar could take the form of a lion. There was, perhaps, one thing he could tell Ariad, though. “When they tattooed her Clan Mark, did you see the little charm Thekila wears around her neck?”

  Ariad cocked his head to one side. “I was preoccupied with Theklan, but my father said she wore a little metal eagle on a chain. I thought it was maybe something you’d made for her.”

  “No, that’s not my handiwork,” Vatar said. “Her people all wear similar amulets, though they’re all different. It’s always some animal that represents that person’s . . . spirit, if you will. The eagle was the symbol they chose for her. Thekila was an eagle long before she was adopted by your clan.” That much, at least, was certainly true. Truer than Ariad would ever know.

  Ariad nodded. “Then she’s in the right clan.”

  Chapter 3: Kausalya

  Gerusa looked around her new apartment with displeasure. It was not quite rustic, but the Fasallon Palace in Kausalya wasn’t nearly as large or luxurious as the Palace of the Fasallon in Caere. She could make do with it for the time being. At least it was better than the first place they’d given her.

  It had taken Gerusa longer than she’d hoped to establish herself here. Unbelievable, but there’d actually been some chance they’d send her back to Caere. It’d taken some work to prevent that. She’d never thought that the rebellion led by Veleus’s bastard—not Vatar, the other one, Cestus—would benefit her. First, she’d had to persuade them to cut off all but the highest-level communication with Caere. They’d done that themselves just as soon as she informed them that the message senders in Caere were part of Cestus’s faction. Then she’d exploited their fear as the wedge she’d needed to break the Kausalyan Council apart and take over as its new leader.

  She finally had the position at the head of the Council table she’d always wanted and deserved—just in a much smaller city. Well, that would be amended in time.

  A High Councilor from Caere should have been treated with more respect from the beginning. Especially one, like her, who should have been the leader of the High Council. Would have been, but for Veleus’s maneuvering against her. Well, that would be taken care of in due time, too.

  Actually, though it had seemed like disaster at first, this removal to Kausalya might actually work to her benefit in the long run. Already, she had the basis of a plan. Admittedly, this plan would take longer to carry out, but the prize would be worth it. Never mind heading the High Council. Gerusa intended to supplant them all and rule as sole representative of the Sea Gods. No. Not representative. She’d rule absolutely as a goddess in her own right.

  And, with that power, she’d reverse the foolish policies of the current High Council. Allowing the guilds too much power could only lead to trouble. Someone had to take the reins and steer the Fasallon away from disaster and destruction.

  First, she needed to consolidate her position here. Then, she could begin her campaign against Caere. She smiled at the thought. She didn’t actually need to do anything for the first part of her plan to play out without her raising a finger. Without her—and her Talent for Transformations—the Festival in Caere was bound to fail. There’d be uncertainty and unrest following that. The Caereans would begin to lose confidence in the High Council. That would be only the beginning of her revenge for their supreme bad judgment in rejecting her.

  Follow that up with shortages. Caere actually grew—or fished for—only a portion of its food. Much came from the other coastal cities along with other commodities the Caereans had become accustomed to. And most of that came either from Kausalya’s rich farm land or through Kausalya from Tysoe. Just a little tightening of the exports—perhaps a tariff on goods shipped through Kausalya from Tysoe—and there would be shortages in Caere this winter. And still more loss of faith in the High Council.

  Fortunately, she’d be able to coordinate with her daughter, Selene, with Far Speech. She’d know exactly how much things were disrupted—and be able to judge whether and when to squeeze even tighter.

  Of course, she still needed a strategy for how to exploit the situation when things were at their worst in Caere. That was going to take a little time to formulate. First, she had to determine what allies and assets she had to work with in this little backwater city.

  Chapter 4: Concessions

  They’d been back in Caere for just a few days when Vatar looked up from his forge at the barking of the dogs. He smiled when he recognized his father on the other side of the gate. He set the blade he’d started aside and banked the fire. By the time he left his forge, Father was already sitting on the bench under the apple tree with Savara
on his lap and Zavar standing on the bench beside him, both babbling happily about their trip out to Zeda.

  “And Papa got ponies, just for us. Next year, we’ll be able to ride out to Zeda all by ourselves,” Zavar proclaimed proudly.

  Vatar ruffled his son’s hair. “We’ll see about that. But I’ll certainly start teaching you to ride on your own this winter.” He looked up at the older man. “Welcome, Father. I didn’t expect you to come out here so soon.”

  Father smiled and put the twins back down. “Well, I can’t let my own grandchildren forget me, now can I?” When the twins had run off to play with the dogs, he added, “Besides, I need to talk to you.”

  Vatar stifled a sigh. He expected this would be a renewed attempt to persuade him to participate in the Festival. “Come inside. I’m sure we can find some cider to make talking easier.”

  “Good idea.”

  Inside, Thekila and Arcas’s wife, Elaria, had already set out a pitcher of cider and a platter of nut bread and fruit. Father gestured for them all to sit at the big table in the front room. Only Elaria, still a little overawed by the Fasallon in her midst, shook her head and retreated to the kitchen. Theklan tentatively took a seat near the middle of the table, as if uncertain whether he was welcome in the grown-ups’ discussion and looked mildly surprised when no one told him to go outside and keep an eye on the twins.

  Vatar moved from his usual place to sit by the window where he could watch the twins from inside. Though he didn’t think there was a chance that Copper, the female herd dog now retired from other duties, would let them get into any kind of trouble. Not without loudly sounding the alarm, anyway.

  Father cleared his throat. “I have to ask you to reconsider assisting with this year’s Festival, Vatar.”

  Vatar let out his breath. “Father, I just don’t feel right about that—”