Beyond the Prophecy, page 5
part #3 of Dual Magics Series
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.”
Chapter 6: Damage Control
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.”
Chapter 7: Wave
Vatar blinked and set aside the blade he’d been working on. The prickling sensation between his shoulder blades usually foretold danger, but he couldn’t see any reason for it here, at the farm. The twins were playing noisily in the courtyard. Nothing to worry about there. Thekila and Theklan were in the house, working on Theklan’s lessons. And it was Jadar’s naptime. There shouldn’t be anything to be concerned about there, either. What could it be?
As if in answer to that question, a brief vision of a towering wave splashed across his vision. Vatar shuddered. He hated waves of any kind, but especially big waves like this one. Even with the bay only about two miles away, though, it’d take a monster wave to reach them up here, on the hill above the coast. That thought was some comfort.
He stumbled and spread his feet wide for balance as the earth shook under him. The tremors had all but ceased since just before the Festival more than a seven-day ago, but this was the strongest yet. As soon as the ground stopped trying to throw him off his feet, Vatar dashed into the courtyard and swept up the twins. He sprinted for the house and almost collided with Thekila and Theklan coming out. Thekila carried little Jadar, loudly proclaiming his displeasure at having his nap interrupted. Arcas, Elaria, and Caslar stood irresolutely behind Thekila.
Thekila shook her head at Vatar. “It’s safer outside until we’re sure the shaking is over. Sometimes more quakes follow after a big one like that.”
Vatar struggled against the desire to run as fast as his heart was beating. Every instinct screamed to get his family into shelter. Safe. Something crashed inside. He swallowed hard and nodded. Right. Away from things that could fall on them. Under the tree? Maybe not. Not out in the pasture where the horses were running wildly around the fence line. His eye settled on the Dardani hut in one corner of the yard, left over from last spring’s exorcism. Its leather roof had been removed for storage, but the sod walls still stood securely. “The hut?” His voice sounded like a bullfrog’s croak.
Thekila looked that way and nodded, easing her clutch on Jadar. “Yes.”
Vatar didn’t set the twins down until he’d stepped into the shady interior. Even then he kept hold of their hands. He swallowed again. “That was the strongest yet.”
Thekila let out a shaky breath. “It was.” She looked up at Vatar. “You had a . . . premonition about it, didn’t you?”
Vatar twitched his shoulders as if he still felt that prickly sensation. “Not exactly. I had that old feeling of danger. But then I . . . saw a wave. Not an earthquake.”
“Earthquakes can cause waves,” Thekila said. “But sometimes the wave doesn’t come immediately. There may have been—or maybe will be—a wave following this. You should warn your father. There may yet be something he can do to at least get people out of the way.”
“You’re right.” Vatar drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Again. And once more before the calming exercise gave him the ability to focus enough to reach out with his mind. “Father!”
“Vatar. What is it? Are all of you safe?”
“Yes, Father. We’re all right. But—”
“Then I need to go. We’re evacuating the Palace—”
“That’s just it, Father. Right before the earthquake I . . . saw a wave. A giant, towering wave.” Vatar shuddered again just at the memory.
“A Fore Seeing?”
“I . . . think so. I had my danger sense just before that.”
“Lords of creation! They’re evacuating the children to the western end of the island. I have to go!”
~
Vatar paced around the farm, inside and out, setting minor things to rights. A couple of earthenware plates had broken in the shaking, but nothing worse than that. That wasn’t the cause of his restlessness.
What was happening in the city? Had his warning to Father been in time? He felt he should be down there helping, but what, after all, could he do? If it was a problem in iron or steel, he’d know what to do. Or a runaway horse. Even a cattle stampede. He might be of some use if it were a problem of magic—though likely Thekila would be better at that. But water and waves were not anything he dealt with well. Still . . . There were bound to be things that could be done on dry land. Tasks that needed strength, or even just another pair of hands.
He turned to Thekila. “I’m going down to see if I can help.”
“Of course you are,” she answered, handing Jadar off to Elaria. “I’m coming with you.”
“Where are we going?” Theklan asked.
“The Fasallon are evacuating Palace Island in case there’s some kind of wave following that last earthquake. We’re going down to see if we can help,” Vatar said.
Theklan looked around the courtyard where he’d been picking up apples that had fallen from the big apple tree. “I’ll come, too.”
Vatar and Theklan saddled three horses and they rode down the hill. When they reached the Temple Gate and Vatar saw the number of people milling about in Temple Square, seeking reassurance that couldn’t come from the Fasallon, he signaled for them to stay on their horses. It was more usual to dismount and leave the horses in the paddock outside the gate, but he judged that trying to force their way through that crowd on foot would slow them down too much. And he didn’t like the idea of Thekila being jostled, either. He led them past the usual Temple entrance to a less-used gate that let into the Temple gardens near the boat dock.
There was a lot of activity by the Temple pier. A half dozen boats were out in the strait, either bringing a load of women and children across from the island or, apparently, going back for another load. On shore, people were sorting themselves out and either heading off into the interior of the Temple grounds or being led into the labyrinth of the Temple structure. But all seemed to be proceeding in an orderly fashion. There was no sign, either here or on the visible portion of the island, of the kind of damage a massive wave would have caused.
“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe that wasn’t Fore Sight after all,” Vatar said.
“Or maybe what you saw simply hasn’t happened yet.” Thekila pointed to an open area a little back from the pier. “There’s Boreala over there. Let’s see if she needs our help.”
Boreala greeted them with a harried smile. “Of course we can use more help. Besides the children, the first to be evacuated over here were those injured during the quake. It’s my job to sort out the most urgent cases.” She gestured to one side, where three men and two women lay on stretchers waiting to be carried into the Healers’ Hall.
All but one women were groaning in pain. Their moans a counterpoint to the wailing of children uprooted from their homes and not yet reunited with their parents.
Thekila winced. “Theklan and I can help try to keep the little ones occupied and calm.”
Boreala smiled. “That would be a help.”
“I can help carry a stretcher, at least,” Vatar said.
“I was just about to ask,” Boreala said. “Start with that one over there.” She indicated the silent woman. “She’s in the worst shape.”
Vatar stepped up to the front of the stretcher. At a nod from Boreala, a Healer’s apprentice took the back handles and they set off toward the Healers’ Hall on the far side of the Temple.
Vatar was almost back to where Boreala was working when the prickling sensation between his shoulder blades came back, stronger than before. He’d only ever had a double warning once before. He’d ignored it, then, not understanding about Fore Sight, and his best friend had died. That wasn’t going to happen again. He took off running toward the pier, trying to determine who was in charge there. He spotted a man who seemed to be directing the flow of people debarking from the boats and, occasionally, changing the rowers to give them a break.
Vatar went up to him. “You have to get more boats out there.”
“Those are all the boats we have,” the man replied.
Vatar looked across the strait at the crowd of people still on the stairs that led down from the main entrance to the dock. Still waiting their turn. “Then send someone to get help from the fishermen or the merchants.”
The man took a step back, eyes going wide. “I can’t do that. What would the Caereans think of the Fasallon having to evacuate Palace Island?”
Vatar shook his head. “You really think they haven’t noticed that already. They’re not blind. We need their help or you’ll never get everyone off in time.”
The man looked out at the unusually placid waves of the strait. “I don’t see the urgency. Frankly, I think this whole thing is a waste of time. I’d like to get my hands on whoever suggested this was necessary in the first place.”
