Beyond the Prophecy (15 page)

Thekila winced. “Maybe you’re right. But we could just go
more slowly—”

Vatar shook his head. “I want to get back and find out what
the shaman has decided as soon as possible. I don’t
think
the shaman will
say anything about what he saw—immediately, anyway. Though it probably won’t
help push him in our favor when it comes to deciding about Arcas’s road. But,
if Avaza hears anything about this . . .”

Theklan curled even tighter on himself. And it just got
worse. He might not have only ruined his entire future. What if he’d also
endangered Vatar and the twins with his outburst? And destroyed any chance of
the road Caere and Tysoe needed so much? How would he live with that?

Gerusa folded her hands and tried to school her face to
impassivity as the delegation from Tysoe finished their plea for assistance in
fighting some barbarian tribe that was apparently attacking their outposts in
lands that had very recently belonged to that tribe. What was lacking was any
good reason to do what the Tysoeans requested. What did these idiots expect?
That Kausalya would send members of the Guard out of the goodness of their
hearts? Why?

Whether these barbarians and whoever was leading them really
wanted to retake the Land between the Rivers or move on to the Dardani lands—or
even Kausalya itself—as the emissary projected, mattered little. The Dardani
were Vatar’s people, weren’t they? Well then, the savages were welcome to cause
as much trouble in that direction as they pleased. Gerusa might almost be
tempted to help them, except that it wouldn’t serve her larger objectives. As
far as attacking Kausalya, doubly protected by its walls and the natural moat
created by the river, they were welcome to
try.

The Tysoean finally finished his plea.

Gerusa took a moment before answering, allowing them to
think she was actually considering their request. “You, of course, have our
sympathy for your problems. However, if you feel that you cannot hold these new
lands you’ve . . . annexed, perhaps the most logical thing for you to do would
be to retreat to your original borders. I assume you feel competent to defend
those. In any case, I’m afraid it’s no concern of ours.”

“But . . . but,” the emissary spluttered. “If they get past
us, they may march on Kausalya next.”

Gerusa pursed her lips and shook her head judiciously.
“That’s not how I read the situation. You took advantage of the absence of
these—what did you call them? Themyri?—to extend your territory. Now they’ve
returned and quite reasonably—from their point of view—want their homes back. I
suggest the best solution is to give it to them. After all, what do you gain
from these lands that’s worth the cost?”

“It’s very fertile farmland. The food production—”

“Is of no interest to Kausalya. We already produce as much
food as we need. More. In fact, if the issue is that you need more food than
you can produce in your original territory, I’m sure that our merchants would
be happy to work out a trade for some of our surplus.”

“But—”

One of the emissary’s companions grabbed his arm and shook
his head. So there was at least one person in the delegation with enough sense
to recognize a lost cause. The emissary subsided, shoulders slumping.

When the Tysoeans had left the Council chamber, one of the
other councilors spoke up, somewhat tentatively. “Was that wise? The Tysoean
trade is not insignificant.”

“It is in the greater scheme of things. Their goods only
pass through Kausalya. Very little of it is of use to us—especially the crops
of these new lands they’re trying to defend. No. The Tysoean trade is of far
more value to Caere than to us. There’s no advantage to us in facilitating that
trade.”

“But . . . we might have extracted significant trade
concessions in return for our aid.”

Gerusa waved this off. “Tysoe is a side issue. We need to
keep our focus on Caere. Once we’ve broken Caere’s hold on power, Tysoe will
have no choice but to turn to us. On
our
terms.”

“Do you think we’ll actually be able to break Caere’s hold?”
another asked.

“We’ve already all but cut off their grain supply. Add to
that a failed Festival. They haven’t enough Talent between them to pull that
off again. The High Council has already been forced to delay it. As soon as
they either concede that they can’t put on the Festival this year or else try
and fail, Caere will be ready to fall into our hands like a ripe plum. That’s
why I’ve been preparing that fleet sitting at the docks.”

“Will it be enough?”

“When Caere is weak enough—very soon now—we will simply sail
into the harbor and displace the High Council. We will become the rulers not
only of Caere, but of an empire, supplanting Caere as the center of trade,
wealth, and power.”
And when that happens, my errant older son will learn
the cost of defiance.

Vatar reined his horse to a stop. This place was as near as
he could remember to the spot where he’d first entered the Forest four years
ago at the beginning of his Ordeal. He glanced up at the western sky, though he
knew what he’d find. The sun was already lowering. “We’ll make camp here.
Quetza should join us tomorrow morning. Then we’ll go on.”

Arcas dismounted and started to unload the tents from the
packhorse. “Quetza’s riding up by herself.”

Vatar looked toward the southern sky and shared a brief
glance with Thekila. “Not exactly.”

“Orleus is coming with her, then?” Arcas asked. “I’d have
thought the fighting around Tysoe would keep him there.”

“No, she’ll be coming alone. Just not riding. You remember when
she brought Savara back to the farm when she was injured?”

Arcas briefly closed his eyes. “Oh.”

Vatar and Arcas set up their camp with practiced ease. Vatar
glanced at Theklan, who’d started gathering rocks to build a fire pit. The boy
had barely said a word since they’d started out day before yesterday. “Arcas, I
wonder if you’d do me a favor.”

“If I can, of course.”

“When you go back, take the long way. Go visit your friends
among the Modgud.”

“What for?”

“I’d like you to talk to Trev. Explain to him what happened
with Theklan. Maybe he can have a word with the new shaman over the winter.
Maybe he could explain . . . well, explain some of the same things he’s helped
us realize over the last couple of years.”

Arcas looked toward Theklan, too. “I’ll do what I can.” He
pounded in a tent stake. “So, what’s the plan here? How long do you think
you’ll be gone?”

Vatar let out his breath, fingers tapping on his leg as he
calculated. “From here, it’ll probably take us the best part of a seven-day to
get to the Valley. Figure at least a few days to arrange a meeting with the
Valson Council. Thekila will want some time to visit with her friends after so
long anyway. So, say a seven-day for that. And then another seven-day to get
back here. Three seven-days all told. Can you come back here—or send someone we
can trust—at about that time?”

“I’ll be here.” Arcas looked over to where the horses were
grazing. “How many do you think you’ll be bringing back with you?”

Vatar shook his head. “Thekila isn’t hopeful that the Valson
will send anyone to help Orleus. On the other hand, the chance that they’ll
send at least an envoy to Caere is pretty good. We’ll have no way of getting
word to you, so . . . just bring as many horses as you and Pa think reasonable.
That’s the best we can do for now.”

“Good luck,” Arcas said.

Vatar nodded. “We may need it.”

~

The next morning, Vatar and Thekila watched a pale blur in
the southern sky growing larger and brighter. They already had their packs
slung on their shoulders, ready for the journey ahead. The blur gradually grew
bigger and whiter until it resolved into a smallish dragon-like creature, a
wyvern. Vatar suppressed a shudder.
It’s just Quetza, not a real dragon,
he said inside his mind, reassuring Taleus. The reaction wasn’t his ancestor’s
fault. After all, Taleus had been killed by a sea dragon.

In a short time, the white wyvern swooped low and landed at
a safe distance from the horses, and then melted into a tall, athletic woman
with short-cropped reddish blonde hair. Quetza jogged forward to join them.

“I’m never going to get used to that,” Arcas muttered as
Quetza and Thekila exchanged hugs.

Vatar chuckled. “Apparently, neither is Taleus.”

Quetza looked over Thekila’s shoulder. “I thought you’d be
bringing the twins along.”

Vatar shot a quick glance at Theklan. “Not this time. A pair
of five-year-olds would slow us down too much.”

“I’m surprised Orleus can spare you for this,” Thekila said.

“I’ve seen both Nertan and Wartan. And Loran and Platan,
too. Loran took a shot at me, but I was flying too high, well out of his
range.” Quetza grimaced. “I think that’s partly why Orleus wanted to send me
away for a while. Worried they’d get better at it if they got too much
practice.”

Vatar could understand Orleus’s impulse to safeguard the woman
he loved. He’d only just had time enough to begin to realize that it wasn’t
always possible—or necessary. “Ah. I wondered why Orleus would send you. I
thought your unique abilities made you too valuable to him.”

“My reconnaissance is a help, no doubt. But, so far we’ve
been able to hold off the Themyri pretty well. They still think of horses as
food. One mounted man is worth two—if not three or four—Themyri on foot.”

Vatar nodded. That was pretty much the Dardani experience of
fighting the Themyri, too. “Well, I guess we’d better get started.” Vatar
turned back to Arcas. “Fair skies.”

“Fair skies, Vatar. I’ll see you back here in three
seven-days. And I’ll let you know what Trev has to say.”

Vatar drew a deep breath and nodded. Quetza took the lead,
striding confidently into the one place the Dardani feared most—the Great
Forest. Vatar paused briefly before following her. He tried to convince himself
that this part of the forest wasn’t all that different from the place where the
Lion Clan had their autumn and spring village. Only that instead of being
widely scattered, the oak trees stood much closer together. Farther in, he
knew, they’d be too close to comfortably ride a horse between them.

It was trees blocking out all view of the sky that still
gave him an uneasy feeling. He took a last look upward. He wouldn’t be seeing
an open sky again for a few days. Not until they reached the far side, where
the ground sloped upward to the mountains and the trees changed to pines. And
even then, half the sky would be blocked by the looming mountains. But there
was no other way to get to the Valley. So, he gestured Thekila to go next,
carrying little Jadar in a sling, and followed.

Theklan brought up the rear, clutching his spear in one hand.
“I wonder if we’ll see a forest tiger.”

“You’d better hope not,” Vatar said.

~

With Quetza to find the easiest route, they made better time
crossing the forest than Vatar had predicted. Still most of the first seven-day
was already gone by the time they climbed the Pass that was the only way across
the mountains that separated the Great Forest from the Valley beyond.

Vatar watched a pair of large birds circling above one of
the peaks. He narrowed his eyes, but couldn’t make out much detail other than a
black color with a white neck fringe. “Those aren’t avatars, are they? Who else
has learned how to fly?”

Thekila followed his gaze. “They’re big, all right. But not
big enough to be anyone’s avatar. Not without help from the Spirit of the
Condor, anyway—if there is such a thing.”

“Condor?” Vatar asked.

“Kind of a very large vulture. With a wingspan almost double
the span of your arms from fingertip to fingertip. But they still weigh less
than one of the herding dogs—so, not big enough to be an avatar. There must be
some poor dead or dying animal up there, the way they’re circling.”

“Huh!” Vatar said. “Never heard of a vulture
that
big.”

From the top of the Pass, they had a sweeping view of the
north end of the Valley, inviting green lawns dotted with copses of fruit
trees. Vatar could just make out the larger buildings of the Academy clustered
on this side of the Lake. He averted his eyes from that with a shiver. They’d
have to cross all that water to get to the Valson Council. Well, he’d done it
before, and survived. He could again. If he had to.

The road from the Pass into the Valley was broad and easy
compared to the paths they’d been walking through the forest and the mountains.
They reached the Academy as the day was fading.

Thekila drew Vatar to a stop beside her. “I know you don’t
like him, but . . .”

Vatar raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

She licked her lips. A sure sign she was about to say
something she didn’t think Vatar would agree with. “Teran knows more about what
goes on in the Council that anyone else I know. He might be able to help us
find a way to persuade them.”

Vatar nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.” He didn’t like
Teran. That didn’t mean he discounted the other man’s abilities. Thekila should
know that.

“I bet he’d be interested in the interaction of the two
kinds of magic,” Thekila said. “Maybe interested enough to help us with the
Council.”

Vatar hunched a little. This was what Thekila had thought he
wouldn’t like. She was right. He didn’t relish the idea of discussing the
peculiarities of his magic with Teran.

“I know I’d like to hear his opinions about it,” Quetza
said.

Vatar let out his breath. Were they in this together? Or was
this just Quetza’s natural tendency to want to puzzle out all the facts about
anything that caught her attention? “All right, I guess.”

Thekila shot him a look from under her lashes. “He’s always
researching the history of our Powers. He’d probably be interested in what
Taleus could tell him about that, too.”

Vatar fought to suppress a scowl. He’d been wrong. This was
what Thekila had been leading up to, hoping that agreeing to the earlier
proposals would ease him into agreeing with this, too.

He knew she thought of Teran and Terania as family and that
she was eager to see them again. But he also knew Teran had been his rival for
Thekila and he very much doubted the other man had been as accepting of
Thekila’s choice as he’d tried to pretend. Teran would be sure to interpret a
voice no one else could hear as madness. Exposing vulnerability—even an
imaginary one—to Teran felt approximately as safe as allowing the old shaman,
Maktaz, to perform an exorcism.

Thekila took his hand. “Vatar?”

Vatar managed a weak smile. “I know you trust him. And I’m
not about to start another argument about someone you think of as family. But .
. . if we tell him I hear the voice of one of my dead ancestors—six-hundred
years dead—that no one else can hear—”

“I hear Taleus, too, sometimes,” Thekila said.

Vatar shook his head. “You know Teran will think I’m losing
my mind. Sky above and earth below, Taleus made
me
think I was losing my
mind. Teran will never believe he’s real.”

Thekila squeezed his hand. “We
know
he’s real.”

Vatar exhaled. “We
saw
him, sort of, during the
exorcism. All Teran will see is me repeating what I claim Taleus tells me. For
now at least . . . let’s stick to the interaction of the two kinds of magic. We
can demonstrate that. There’s no need to tell him about Taleus.”

“What about some of your other unusual Powers?”

“We have all the answers we need about my shield. I don’t
see that there’s anything Teran could add to that. And—I’m not saying I don’t
trust Teran, exactly—but, in some ways, the fewer people who know about my
shield the better. Spreading the word around unnecessarily lessens the chance
of surprise.”

Thekila opened her mouth to argue.

Vatar held up a hand to stop her. “I’m not saying Teran
isn’t trustworthy, but he would discuss it with others. And, just as Gerusa
likely still has informants in Caere, we don’t know that no one here is in Far
Speech communication with the Exiles. They have to have had friends and family
that stayed behind.”

“I agree,” Quetza said. At Thekila’s raised eyebrows she
added, “What? I’ve seen enough skirmishes over the last few months. Sometimes
even a small thing that your opponent doesn’t know can turn the tide. The
shield is something Vatar’s only likely to use if you’re attacked. Better to
keep the advantage of surprise. It’s not like Teran is going to tell you
something about it that Taleus doesn’t already know.”

Thekila shrugged acceptance.

The final slope down to the Academy was broad and almost
treeless. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that they were spotted as they came
down. And attracted considerable attention. Visitors to the Valley were so rare
it had only happened once before, when Vatar first came here.

The first to reach them were some of Theklan’s friends from
his first year at the Academy—three years ago now. Theklan shot a beseeching
look at Vatar and Thekila.

Vatar nodded. The boy’s friends were likely the best thing
for him. Maybe
they
could raise his spirits. “Go ahead. You’ll be able
to find us in the dining hall, later.”

Word spread, of course. Teran and Terania met them before
they got to the dining hall. They greeted Quetza and especially Thekila with
joy. Their welcoming hugs hampered by baby Jadar. Vatar was just as glad of
that. His jealousy had been the cause of his first quarrel with Thekila, so he
drew a deep breath and tried not to resent Teran now, reminding himself that
Thekila thought of the other man as a big brother.

“Who’s this?” Terania asked, placing a gentle hand behind
Jadar’s head.

“Our son, Jadar. We left Vatar’s older children with his
family for a few seven-days.”

Teran scowled, quickly converted to a more neutral
expression. “What brings you back to us?”

Thekila smiled. “Many things. Possibly we should find a
quiet place to talk.”

“Good idea,” Terania said. “You must be tired after your
journey. And with a baby, too.”

When they were seated in a quiet corner of the dining hall,
which was nearly deserted at this hour anyway, Teran asked again, “So, what did
bring you back?”

Thekila smiled at him. “Seeing the two of you again would
have been reason enough. And bringing Theklan back to finish his education
properly. But we do have serious business here, as well.”

Terania arched an eyebrow. “What kind of business?”

Quetza grimaced. “The Exiles.”

Teran’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What exiles?”