Beyond the Prophecy Read online

Father raised his hand. “Hear me out. There’s already some . . . restlessness in the city. First there were the disruptions of Cestus’s reforms—even though we’ve tried to keep most of that from affecting the city. But that’s nothing to what’s coming. Kausalya has raised prices on their grains. Within the last seven-day they’ve also set limits on their exports.”

  “Why would they do that?” Vatar asked. “And can’t the High Council do something about it? I thought the other cities were subordinate to Caere.”

  Father shrugged. “Well, I can only speculate as to the reason. Kausalya cut off nearly all contact with us through Far Speech within a seven-day of when Gerusa would have arrived there. I’m afraid she’s not only found shelter, but a new power base in Kausalya. The timing of the trade problems. . . Well, I see Gerusa’s spiteful hand in it, striking back in any way she can.”

  Vatar narrowed his eyes. “You think Gerusa’s now in power in Kausalya?”

  “The High Council is divided on that issue,” Father said. “As for me, yes, I do. She’s always been driven by the need for power. I can’t see Gerusa settling for anything less.”

  “And she would cut off trade—which hurts Kausalya just as much as it hurts us—merely for spite?” Arcas asked.

  Father drew in a deep breath. “Possibly. She can be spiteful. But I don’t think so. Gerusa’s downfall—particularly when it comes to you, Vatar—was her tendency to leap on any perceived opportunity. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have deeper-laid plans. She didn’t gain the power she had on the High Council without careful—and long-term—maneuvering. Direct action, like she tried against you, was never her strength. But when it comes to Council politics, she’s a very formidable opponent. It may be she’s retreated to what she knows she’s good at. And the only way to win at that kind of chess game is to have a goal firmly in mind. Regrettably, she knows Caere’s weaknesses as well as any of us.”

  Vatar studied the contents of his mug. Maybe they could have avoided this if they’d just turned around and brought their prisoners straight back to Caere after the ambush Gerusa orchestrated. It would have been more humane. And he suspected one of the survivors must have warned her by Far Speech. How else could Gerusa have known her plan had failed? And that had given her time to evade arrest here. If they hadn’t left the ambushers alone on the plains, could they have prevented that? Would Gerusa still be here, under arrest?

  Had he been too stubborn about continuing on to Zeda? True, the trade he and Arcas held with the Dardani every year supported both their families through the winter. The annual trip to Zeda was also usually Vatar’s only chance to visit with the Dardani half of his family. And the only time when his children got to experience the freedom of the Dardani way of life. He wanted that for them, but this year the cost might have been too high—especially for the short time they’d stayed.

  “You think her goal is to weaken Caere?” Vatar asked.

  Father shook his head. “No, I think that’s just her first move. Kausalya’s too small to satisfy her for long. If I had to guess Gerusa’s real goal—and I only stayed ahead of her on the Council as often as I did by guessing that well—I’d say she wants to regain power here. And rub all our noses in it. Mine—and yours—most of all. She does like her successes leavened with revenge.”

  Vatar suppressed a shudder. He could think of few things that would be worse than Gerusa in power anywhere. But Gerusa ruling Caere would be disastrous. And not just for him and his family. “Well, then, we have to find a way to stop her. She can’t have consolidated her power in Kausalya, yet. Not the way she had here. Is there a way to force her out? Or get the Kausalyans to do it?”

  Father paused to pour more cider into his mug. “Unfortunately, she’s put us on the defensive right at the start. We can’t move against her—or Kausalya—right now. We grow next to none of our own grain here. We need the Kausalyan imports or this winter there may be no grain to be had. And without grain, there’ll be no bread.”

  Arcas rubbed his chin. “I thought they were growing a surplus of grain in Tysoe this year.”

  Father grimaced. “They are. But we can’t get it here. It has to go down the river and through Kausalya. And Kausalya has placed either embargoes or ruinous tariffs on most of the goods shipped from Tysoe.”

  Arcas glanced out the window, past Vatar’s shoulder. “Sounds like it’s time to start thinking about another way to transport goods to and from Tysoe, then. Over the winter, I talked with Orleus a little about the possibility of a road.”

  Vatar grinned. “That’d put a spike in Gerusa’s plans.”

  “Is that even possible?” Father asked.

  Arcas shrugged. “Orleus has ridden across country to or from Tysoe at least three times that I know of. And by at least two routes.”

  “The first time I came to Caere, we came straight from the Gna River, beyond Tysoe,” Vatar said. “Of course, that was with pack horses, not wagons.”

  Arcas frowned. “True. It would take some time to build a road suitable for wagons. And there’s a limit to how much even a train of pack horses can carry over that distance.”

  “You’d need to get the Dardani to agree to allow it, too,” Vatar said. “It would have to pass through Dardani lands.”

  Arcas nodded. “So it would. Well, unless the road stuck close to the coast. That’s a possibility, too.” He made a frustrated sound. “I’d need a good map to even begin to guess at a course.”

  “I’ll have one sent up tomorrow,” Father said. “This is certainly an option the High Council will want to pursue. And we’d appreciate any help you can give.”

  Arcas nodded then he smiled slyly. “For this winter, though . . . well, I’d be surprised if some of my colleagues in the Merchants’ Guild haven’t already started to find ways around Kausalya. There’s more than one channel through that river delta.” He paused. “And some of the shortfall can probably be made up through increased trade with Chrysaor and Tesserae to the north. Merchants will already be working on that, too. Those cities are not as well established as Kausalya and I doubt they have as much surplus to sell. Still, some is better than none. And they could always plant a larger crop next year.”

  “You two have presented some very good ideas,” Father said. “I dare to hope that you’ll come up with more, given the chance. Unfortunately, that’s still only a small part of the whole problem. While you’ve been on the plains, there have been many small earthquakes here in Caere. The people are on edge. Rumors are starting that the Sea Gods have abandoned Caere. Right now, they need faith that their Sea Gods will protect them. The Festival will help with that.”

  “But you aren’t their Sea Gods,” Vatar objected. He’d never reconciled himself to the idea of the Lie—that his Fasallon ancestors had used their magic to pretend to be the Caereans’ Sea Gods and so become rulers of that city and eventually all the others along the coast.

  “No, we aren’t,” Father agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that their Sea Gods aren’t real. You’ve given ample proof that your Spirits of the Lion and Eagle are. Why not the Sea Gods, too?”

  Vatar shifted uneasily. “For all I know, they are. But—”

  Just then, the sturdy farmhouse shook, doors and windows rattling as the earth shifted underneath it. Vatar braced his hands on the table, eyes going wide in surprise.

  “Tremors just like that,” Father said.

  Thekila watched the lamp above the table swing like a pendulum. “Are earthquakes common here in Caere? I don’t remember any last year.”

  Father sighed. “There haven’t been any in a long time—so long hardly anyone actually remembers them. There are, of course, records in the archives. From what we can tell from those records, there seem to be long periods without any, punctuated by shorter periods of frequent small tremors. Unfortunately, the average length of those more active periods is still several months.”

  Vatar reached up to stop the lamp’s swinging.

  “The people need their faith. With Gerusa gone, we’ll never pull off the Festival—unless you help,” Father said. “You need not lie—directly, anyway. You won’t be one of those portraying the Sea Gods. That’s always left to the members of the Council, except for the Healer acting as Calpe.”

  At the mention of Calpe, Vatar raised his head. “Calpe was so opposed to the Lie that she blocked her own children’s magic and hid them among the Caereans. I agree with her. The Fasallon should never have started the Lie in the first place.”

  Father shrugged. “Perhaps not. I’ve read the old records from that time, Vatar. You have no idea how desperate the Fasallon were. They’d been vagabonds for nearly a hundred years by then, never finding a place to settle. Fighting battles along the way. So few of them were left by the time they arrived here they probably could not have won a fight against the Caereans, even with their magic. And here they’d found a place so much like the home they’d been forced to leave. Only the oldest among them could remember that home, but it would have broken their hearts to be forced to leave.”

  “But, after Tabeus killed the sea dragon, they could have stayed here without the Lie,” Vatar said. “That was the agreement with the Caereans of that time, I thought.”

  “Maybe,” Father allowed. “The native Caereans still wouldn’t have been happy to have them here. It wasn’t a risk Celeus was prepared to take. I won’t say he was right. I will say I can understand his choice, given the circumstances.” Father waved his hand in the direction of the city. “And it’s not as if our ancestors didn’t repay the Caereans many times over. This was a mere fishing village back then. It was the Fasallon and the things we taught the Caereans that turned it into the city it is today.” He looked at Vatar. “There wouldn’t be a Smiths’ Guild if Tabeus hadn’t t
aught your ancestors to work iron and steel.” He turned to Arcas. “Or a Merchants’ Guild if the Fasallon hadn’t founded and fostered other cities and towns along the coast.”

  Vatar looked away for a moment. “All right. Maybe the Lie was understandable, if not justified—then. But that was six hundred years ago. Isn’t it time—past time—to end it? Didn’t Abella foretell the end of the Lie?”

  Father nodded. “A month ago, I might have agreed with you. Now is not the time to overturn everything the people believe about their government and their Sea Gods. That would only play directly into Gerusa’s hands.”

  “What happens if there is no Festival this year?” Thekila asked.

  Arcas and Father both winced.

  “There’s never been a year without a Festival since Tabeus slew the sea dragon,” Father said. “In truth, I don’t know that anyone can answer that question. Other than the obvious. The Festival is when the guilds pay the tribute that keeps the city running for the year—including paying for the Healers and the Temple Guard.”

  “If the people are already uneasy about the earth tremors,” Arcas said slowly, “even delaying the Festival will only feed rumors that will increase their anxiety. Add shortages later and . . . things could get ugly.”

  “And without the tribute, we might not be able to keep sufficient Temple Guards on duty to manage the situation.” Father shook his head. “Or Healers to care for the sick and injured. If we had time to prepare . . . to put out some story that might mollify the people or even train up some more assistants to help manage the Transformations . . . that would be one thing. Gerusa’s abrupt departure only a few seven-days before the Festival left us with few options.” He looked across at Vatar. “When times are hard, people need their faith most of all, to give them hope. Is it honorable to deny them that?”

  Vatar squirmed. Honor was everything to a Dardani—and he would always be a Dardani first, at heart. But, put that way, it looked like neither course was entirely honorable. So, which was right? “I . . . need to think about it.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Father said. “Have you considered that the failure of the Festival could be just what Gerusa wants. It’d be handing her a victory right at the start.”

  Vatar closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He still didn’t like it, but it looked like refusing would only make matters worse. Besides, he might have prevented this by turning around after the ambush, which made it at least partly his responsibility. He didn’t have much choice. “All right. I’ll do it.” He held up a finger. “Just this once.”

  Father smiled. “I knew you could be counted on to do the right thing.” He tapped his lips with his finger. “You know, Vatar, we could use ideas like yours on the Council.”

  “I’m willing to pass on anything we come up with,” Vatar said.

  Father paused to take a drink of cider before continuing. “I appreciate that. But it might be even better if you could communicate those ideas directly to the Council. Yourself.”

  Vatar shuddered at the thought of going across the strait to the Palace of the Fasallon. He still didn’t like the idea of all that water. Especially the waves. “No, thank you. I’ll be perfectly happy never to visit the Council again.”

  “Not visit. Sit on it,” Father said.

  Vatar shook his head violently. “That’s not even a bad joke. I’m of Tabeus’s and Taleus’s lineages. Tabeus’s seat is already occupied—by you. And Taleus never had a seat, since he died before the Council was formed.”

  Father leaned forward. “Yes. But Taleus’s wife, Calpe, did. And because she was believed to have died childless, her seat has been vacant for almost six hundred years. You have a claim to that seat.”

  Vatar swept this aside with a gesture like swatting at flies. “I don’t want it. Besides, it’d be impossible to prove my right to Calpe’s seat after all this time.”

  “No it wouldn’t,” Father said. “You and I both heard—witnessed—Taleus declare the truth to you. So did Orleus, Cestus, and Boreala. The sooth teller would know we spoke the truth and the Council would have to accept it. Besides, now that I know where to look, I expect that I could find some supporting evidence. Someone must have known that Calpe was pregnant at the time of Taleus’s death.”

  Vatar shook his head. “Don’t bother. I have no desire to sit on the High Council. I still intend to go out to Zeda every year. Half my family is there, as well as Arcas’s and my business. And Thekila will want to visit the Valley again. That would be impossible if I was on the High Council. No. I don’t want it. Let them go on thinking that Calpe died childless. We know the truth. No one else needs to.”

  ~

  The next day, Cestus appeared at the gate, carrying several rolled up bundles.

  Vatar hurried forward to meet his half-brother. “We haven’t seen much of you since last spring.”

  Cestus shrugged. “Haven’t had the time, mostly. Especially since Lancera and the children moved back down to our house in the Temple grounds.”

  Vatar stole a quick glance at Cestus. Last winter had been very bad for his half-brother after he discovered his wife’s infidelity. “So . . . how are things between you and Lancera?”

  “We’re working on it.” Cestus sighed. “It might have been different . . . if Lancera had been willing to support me when I led the unTalented to stand up against the High Council, if we’d been a team then, I think things would be all right now. But all she could see was the danger, so I had to shut her out of what I was doing. That . . . hasn’t helped. All we can do is try.”

  Vatar nodded. He didn’t want to pry further so he changed the subject. “What brings you up here today?”

  Cestus held out the bundles. “Maps. Father said you and Arcas needed maps to plot the course of a possible road between here and Tysoe. The idea intrigued me, so Father suggested I bring the maps up to you myself.” He stretched his shoulders. “It’s good for me to get out of the Temple occasionally. The walk and just a little time away from all the pressure has helped. Gives me a chance to get a little better perspective on things.”

  “Things aren’t going well with your reforms?” Vatar asked.

  Cestus gave a frustrated huff. “Things aren’t going at all. With the trouble over the Festival, the High Council has no attention to spare for the reforms. Or, at least, that’s the excuse they give.”

  Vatar grimaced. “Father asked me to help with the Festival this year.”

  “I wish you would,” Cestus interrupted. “The High Council doesn’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything else right now. Not just my reforms, either.” He waved the rolled-up maps. “Other things that might have solutions, too. If they could just get beyond that . . .”

  Vatar shrugged. “I told Father I’d do it. Just this time.” He led Cestus into the house, where he and Arcas immediately spread out the maps.

  Arcas traced a line south and a little east to a cove on the north side of Lake Narycea, near where the river spilled out at the western end. “I can’t really tell anything about the terrain—or the availability of water—from the map of course. But this would be the shortest route.”

  “That’d leave you still on the wrong side of the lake, wouldn’t it?” Vatar placed a finger on Tysoe, on the south coast of the lake. Thinking about the large body of water didn’t bother him, apparently, when it was only lines on paper.

  “Hmm,” Arcas answered, not moving is finger from the place on the northern shore. “But there are plenty of boats that ply the lake from Tysoe. If I remember right, there’s already a sort of . . . well, not exactly a settlement . . . somewhere about here, where they transship some of the goods from the larger lake vessels to river craft before sending them on down toward Kausalya. That’s the point a road will have to aim for, either way. Of course, this route crosses Dardani territory. We’d need their approval for it.”

  He drew another line from Caere to the coast about halfway to Kausalya, then down the coast almost to the river, and then east to the same point on the lake. “This way would be much longer. And we’d have to determine just how close to Kausalya it’s practical to go without running into difficulties. I can’t imagine they’d be happy to have us cut them out of the Tysoean trade. But it doesn’t cross any Dardani territory. I suppose that would be the backup, if the Dardani won’t give their permission for the shorter route.”