Beyond the Prophecy (17 page)

All right. I’ll try. How do you do it?
Thekila asked.

Even I’ve only done it twice. Both times, I just pictured
the person and their Transformations just sort of dissolved.

Thekila grinned.
Heh, then my trying to send you my image
of Zoria would probably have done it anyway. All right, here goes.

As Thekila concentrated, Vatar saw the image of the girl
with reddish blonde hair in her mind. Suddenly the others gasped. Vatar only
smiled, knowing it had worked. Zoria was herself again.

“Oh!” Zoria said, raising her hand to stare at it in wonder.
Then she touched her face, her hair. “How can I ever thank you? And after what
we did to you! I’m so sorry!”

“How did you do that?” Teran asked in a hushed voice.

Thekila smiled as she came to hug Vatar. “I told you he had
some rare Powers.”

The leader of the Council approached. “That was impressive.
Clearly, Teran is right. There are forms of magic that we do not understand.
I’m glad Teran will be going with you to study this. If your High Council would
like to send a return emissary to the Valley, we would welcome him.” He ducked
his head toward Thekila. “Or her.”

Vatar nodded. “I’ll relay your invitation to the High
Council. Have you reconsidered sending help against the Exiles?”

The Council leader shook his head. “We cannot.”

Vatar’s eyes narrowed in exasperation. “You disregard your
own Tenets in this. The Second Tenet is ‘Take responsibility for your actions.
The use of Power always has consequences.’ Well, there’s more than one kind of
power. You—the Valson Council—exercised one when you chose to exile Loran and
his friends and their families. That action had consequences. Yet you refuse to
take responsibility for it.”

“You misunderstand,” the Council leader said. “We can’t. The
Valson have no organized fighting force that we
can
send with you. We
simply haven’t needed one for too long.”

“You might want to reconsider that,” Vatar said. “If the Exiles
defeat us, what’s to stop them from turning east and attacking the Valley? A
fighting force might prove very useful, then.”

The Council leader seemed taken aback by this idea. “The
best we can do right now is to say that anyone who wishes to volunteer to go
with you may, with our goodwill.”

Vatar looked around the filling dining hall. “Volunteers!
How likely do you think that is?”

Quetza shook her head. “Not very. But we have to try,
anyway.”

“You don’t really think these Exiles will turn back and
attack the Valley, do you?” Teran asked.

 “I really don’t know.” Vatar looked across the room,
eyes unfocused. “But it felt true when I said it.”

Both Thekila and Quetza looked up sharply at that. Vatar
grimaced. They understood that statement from him usually indicated a
Fore
Seeing.

Vatar shook himself, trying to dismiss the feeling. “Anyway,
if the Valson can’t even bestir themselves to help their own distant . . .
cousins, I guess . . . maybe they don’t deserve any better.”

“Distant cousins? Why would you say that?” Teran asked.

Vatar shrugged. “It’s something my father said. Something to
do with one of those prophecies you don’t believe in. According to Fasallon
history, they split off from a larger group somewhere to the east—of
Caere—before they settled there. He thinks the Valson are that other group
because, among other things, our Talents and your Powers are so similar in most
things.”

Teran blinked. “Huh. That would explain why you were able to
learn most of what we teach here. That’s . . . a very intriguing idea. I think
I’ll go to the library and see what I can find from our earliest histories
before we go.” He stood up and left the table with an abstracted look on his
face.

Thekila smiled as she watched him go. “See, what did I tell
you? Very good at research.”

~

Two evenings later, Vatar looked around the dining hall in
disgust. “I think we might as well start making plans to head back, don’t you?”

“We still have three days before we have to leave, don’t
we?” Thekila asked.

“Why stay? You wanted to visit Teran and Terania. They’re
coming with us. And, frankly, I don’t think we’re going to find any volunteers
if we take three more months, let alone three more days. Do you?”

Thekila sighed. “Probably not.”

Vatar looked down and swirled the unfermented juice in his
cup. Quetza reached over and tapped his arm. When he glanced up, she pointed
discreetly to the other side of the table. Vatar blinked to find Zoria standing
there, flanked by two young men. One had the same reddish blond hair as Zoria.
After a moment, Vatar recognized him as her younger brother, Zoridan. The other
had darker, auburn hair and a more athletic build. Where Zoria and Zoridan
seemed ill at ease, that one smiled broadly like all the world was one huge joke
that only he understood.

Zoria looked down and shuffled her feet.

“What can I do for you?” Vatar asked.

She licked her lips. “I . . . Zoridan has explained to me
what has been happening while I was . . . not myself. I want to help you. To .
. . volunteer.”

Vatar’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why? They were your
friends.”

Zoria made a rude noise. “I wouldn’t exactly call them
friends. When I couldn’t . . . change back, Loran would have left me out there
in the Forest. As far as he was concerned, I was no longer of any use. I . . .
I never realized while I was with them how . . . selfish they are. ”

Vatar continued to watch Zoria, unsure if he should trust
her. It was one thing not to want another enemy out there. Quite another to
accept that his enemy had become an ally. More than just his own safety
depended on getting this right. “I see why you wouldn’t want to rejoin them.
Why do you want to help us, Zoria?”

Zoria looked directly into his eyes for the first time. “I .
. . we almost killed you. And then you helped me, anyway. And you wouldn’t let
the Council exile me, either. I . . . I feel that I need to . . . make things
right, somehow.”

Vatar sat back. That was something he recognized. “Like an
honor-debt?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Zoria answered. “I just feel I
need to help, if I can.”

“What do you think you can do for us?” Quetza asked.

Zoria shrugged. “I don’t know. I know them better than you
do. If I come with you, maybe I can help you understand what they’re doing.”

Vatar took a drink from his cup and said nothing. This was
properly Quetza’s decision. She’d be the one taking any volunteers back to
Orleus. And Orleus certainly had more experience sorting out volunteers than
any of them at this table.  

“I think she’s sincere, Quetza,” Thekila said. “She always
was a good student—a good Valson—until she got mixed up with Loran.”

Quetza nodded. “All right, Zoria. You can come with us. One
volunteer is better than none.”

“Three,” Zoridan said. “Balan and I are coming with her.
Loran put her in danger and then just walked away. I’m not going to let that
stand without an answer.”

Quetza nodded and looked over at the other young man. Balan.
“What about you?”

Balan shrugged. “Sounds like an adventure. Anyway. I never
did like Loran and his group.”

Vatar studied Balan for a moment. Something about his reason
didn’t seem right.

Balan always liked Zoria, though he’s a year younger.
Thekila said in his mind.
I suspect the real reason is that he wants to stay
close to her.

Ah.
Well, that was a reason Vatar could understand.

Quetza shook her head, smiling. “You remind me of Orleus.
Very well. We’ll be leaving in a couple of days. There’s one thing you should
know. I doubt we’ll be coming back here soon. There doesn’t seem to be any point.
So you’re likely to be on the other side of the forest for some time.”

Zoria nodded. “I understand. I still want to come.” The
other two nodded also.

~

Vatar was quiet when they returned to the little house,
sitting on the bench where he usually pulled off his boots, just staring out
the window, with his boots still on.

Thekila turned to him. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I know you and Quetza think
Zoria’s sincere. You’re probably right. I’m just . . . a little uneasy about her.”

“A Fore Seeing?”

Vatar narrowed his eyes and stared at the far wall for a
moment. “No. I can’t say it feels true. That doesn’t mean it isn’t, of course.
Fore Sight doesn’t work that way.”

Thekila nodded. “I know. Well, even if we’re wrong about
her, I don’t think she could do very much harm. It’s not like she’ll make a
great fighter.”

Vatar chewed his lip. He wished he felt as confident. But
that depended a great deal on how much Zoria knew when . . . if . . . she
betrayed them. Like where to find the Dardani. Or Vatar and his family. Where
they might easily be ambushed crossing the plains. He’d feel a lot better if
she didn’t know those things. Vatar put his arm around Thekila and drew her
close. “I think we may have to change our plans.”

“In what way?”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I think it might
be a good idea if I went with Quetza to take Zoria and the others directly to
Tysoe while you take Teran and Terania back to Zeda. You’re probably right
about her trustworthiness, but a little caution still wouldn’t hurt. This way,
she and the others won’t know where to find the Dardani, or us, even if they go
over to the Exiles—or are captured.”

“How long do you think it will take you to ride there and
back? Arcas has plans to go with the road surveying party after we get back to
Caere. I don’t think he can delay very much longer.”

Vatar paused, rubbing his chin. “That’s true. You’ll have to
go back with him. I’ll meet up with him in Tysoe and come back with the
surveyors.” He gave her an extra squeeze. “That leaves you with taking care of
the children by yourself. I’m sorry about that. At least the twins can ride
their ponies, but you’ll still need to keep an eye on them.”

“Teran and Terania can help with that.”

Vatar tried unsuccessfully to suppress a chuckle.

“What?”

“Don’t you remember what it was like when you were first
learning to ride? I doubt very much that Teran and Terania will do as well. But
Arcas can recruit help from our clan on the same terms as last year. That will
help some.” His eyes narrowed for a moment. “Maybe you should ask Pa to ride
back with you. He’d keep you all safe for me.”

Thekila chewed her lip for a moment. “It seems like a
sensible precaution to take them directly to Orleus. I hope it’s not necessary,
but . . . don’t be gone too long.”

~

The following morning, they all gathered on the same lawn
where Zoria had grazed as an antelope. Thekila turned in a circle, looking for
any sign of Theklan.

“All set?” Vatar asked, looking over the traveling packs of
Zoria, Zoridan, and Balan. This could be a long trip.

Theklan ran up. “You weren’t going to leave without even
saying goodbye, were you?”

“Of course not.” Thekila hugged him. “I’d have sent someone
to go find you if you hadn’t turned up soon. Study hard.”

“I will. You’ll keep in touch, too, right? Let me know
what’s going on?”

“Of course we will,” Vatar said, clapping the boy on the
shoulder.

Theklan looked down, scuffing one toe in the dew-damp grass.
“And . . . say hello to Kiara for me.”

Thekila smiled. “I will. I’ll tell her you miss her.”

Theklan watched the others leave, feeling very alone. Yes,
he still had some friends here at the Academy, but his experiences over the
last three years had been very different from theirs. They still talked mostly
about playing abas—which was tame to the point of boring next to jarai. They
still felt and acted like children. Theklan had been recognized as a man by his
clan—however briefly—before he left.

His life was out there, now. He didn’t really belong here,
anymore. But . . . what if he couldn’t go back? What if the shaman wouldn’t let
him? Theklan couldn’t imagine a life in the Valley now. Not after he’d seen
what was beyond its borders. Not a life without Kiara. His face scrunched. Not a
life in Caere, either.

On top of the distance from his friends, just about every
teacher he knew from before—Thekila, Quetza, Teran, and Terania—had just left.
He really was all alone here.

“Well, Theklan.”

He turned. It was a stern-looking man. Definitely too old to
be a student. Therefore one of the teachers. Theklan had seen him in the dining
hall, but hadn’t spoken to him.

“I’m Sharlin,” the man said.

Theklan ducked his head slightly, barely remembering the
proper way to address a teacher here. “Fair day, Sharlin.”

Sharlin smiled slightly. “Fair day, Theklan. I’ve been sent
to bring you to the masters. Since you’ve been away from the Academy for so
long—and
your
training had barely begun before you
left—we’ve decided that we need to test your abilities before we can determine
what class you belong with. Follow me.”

Perfect. It isn’t bad enough already. Now, it sounds like
they’re thinking of putting me in a class with real children. Probably
eleven-year-olds, like I haven’t learned anything the whole time I’ve been
gone. Is it too late to catch up to Vatar and Thekila?

Having no good choice, Theklan followed Sharlin to an unused
classroom. Two other teachers were already there, sitting behind a table.
Another man and an older woman sitting in the middle seat. Theklan had to
suppress a shudder because they instantly reminded him of going before the High
Council in Caere.

Sharlin took his place at the table, leaving Theklan
standing in front of them.
Yes. Just like the High Council.
He
remembered Vatar confronting that Council and stood up a little straighter.

The teacher in the middle smiled at him. “No need to be
nervous. This is really for your benefit. You will learn best if we are able to
place you in the class most nearly matching your current abilities.”

Theklan nodded, but didn’t relax.

“Very well, let’s begin with the simplest skill. Can you
bespeak me?”

Theklan’s lip twitched up. He’d just spent the winter
regularly practicing Far Speech across a distance none of these teachers could
even imagine and they wanted to know if he could bespeak someone in the same
room?

“By the way my name is—”

Theklan waved his hand dismissively.
“I don’t need your
name across this paltry distance.”

The teacher blinked. “What was that?”

Theklan’s brow furrowed. “What was what?”

“That . . . that bird . . .”

Enlightened, Theklan shrugged. “Oh, the Spirit of the
Eagle.” He put a hand over the new manhood tattoo on his right shoulder. It had
mostly stopped itching in the last few days. “I was adopted by the Eagle Clan
of the Dardani. They have a different kind of . . . well, they don’t call it
magic, but it is.”

Sharlin leaned forward across the table. “What does this
magic do?”

Theklan looked from face to face. Probably no help for it.
“Any member of the clan can sense eagles and get a general feeling for what
they’re doing—which is mostly hunting or resting. The Spirit magic seems to
combine with our Powers in a couple of ways. That eagle you saw and . . .” He
paused to swallow. “And I can look through the eyes of an eagle with something
like a distance viewing, if I try.”

“That’s all?” Sharlin asked.

“All I’ve been able to do,” Vatar answered, truthfully. Not
all he hoped to be able to do, someday, but he didn’t think he wanted to spend
all day here discussing Vatar’s and Thekila’s avatars. If they’d wanted to know
about that, they should have asked while Vatar and Thekila were here.

The teacher in the middle spoke again. “Very interesting.
But the question right now concerns your ability to bespeak others. How great
is your range?”

Theklan shrugged. “Well, I’ve regularly bespoken my sister
and Vatar across a distance of four or five days’ ride. That’s probably half
again as many days on foot—if it was possible to cross the plains on foot.”

“Impressive,” Sharlin said. “Of course, it would be more
impressive if we could verify it.”

Theklan bristled at his tone. Among the Dardani, it was a
grave insult to insinuate that one’s word was not to be trusted. “Thekila isn’t
that far away yet. They can’t have made it to the top of the Pass. You could
always ask her.” He let his eyes
unfocus
for a moment
as he used Far Sight—a distance viewing. He’d have to remember to use Valley
terminology here. “No. They’re just starting the final slope.”

Sharlin’s eyes narrowed at Theklan’s tone but after a moment
he blinked. He bit out the word, “Verified.”

The teacher in the middle made a mark on the paper in front
of her. “Very well, both bespeaking and distance viewings appear to be at a
fairly high standard. What about distant manipulation?” She pointed to a fist
sized cloth bag filled with something, probably large seeds or beans.

That’s what Theklan remembered being used in his classes
three years ago, anyway. Still irritated, he jerked the bag off the table with
his Power. It flew much faster than he’d intended, hit the ceiling and fell
back to the floor. He felt his face flush. “Oops. Sorry. The last time I did
this, I was moving rocks, not bean bags.” He closed his eyes briefly to master
his annoyance, then used less Power to lift the bag again and send it spinning
around the room in a complex pattern.

The middle teacher smiled.

Even Sharlin nodded his head in acknowledgment. “I’m
curious. What did you mean about using rocks for this exercise? That seems
unnecessarily dangerous.”

Theklan held out his hand and let the bean bag drop into it.
He decided not to mention—just yet—his experience moving rocks as a display for
the Fasallon or his outburst back at Zeda. There was a much better illustration
of what he could do. “It wasn’t an exercise. It was real, useful work. There’d
been an earthquake, which caused a landslide that blocked the entrance to the
bay in Caere. Vatar, Thekila, and I used our Powers to move the rocks and clear
the channel.”

This led to a barrage of questions about what they’d done
and how they’d done it. By the time the teachers were satisfied, Theklan’s
throat was parched.

The teacher in the middle looked down at her paper. “That
appears to leave only shape changes.”

Theklan swallowed, not only to ease his throat. Shape
changes were the one area of magic where he didn’t have much experience.

“Can you do a masking shape change for us?”

Theklan swallowed again. “I’ll try.”

He knew the basics. He was supposed to draw the image
clearly in his mind and then pull it over himself, like pulling on a tunic.
He’d never chosen an avatar, but the choice seemed obvious. He was an Eagle,
after all.

The image came easily, as nearly everything to do with the
Spirit of the Eagle did. But that wasn’t the hard part. A normal-sized eagle,
even with its wings spread, couldn’t mask much more than his head and
shoulders. Maybe a different position. Turned on end, like an eagle banking
into a turn, the image just looked—odd. But not as unlikely as trying to make
the bird big enough to cover his entire frame. That had been hard for Thekila
to pull off before she joined the Spirit of the Eagle, and Theklan was almost
three hands-breadths taller than his sister. Frustrated, he let the image go.

Sharlin smiled. “Well, it seems there is something you still
have to learn.”

The teacher on the other end nodded. “However, his
proficiency in other skills is quite advanced for his age. This makes it
difficult to place him.” He turned to Sharlin. “Unless you take him on, of
course.”

Sharlin nodded. “He does seem tailor-made for my class.” He
turned to Theklan. “I take a very few special students. Those who are ahead of
their peers in one or more skills and can keep up with advanced instruction. It
appears you’ll be joining us.” He smiled a little. “My students often graduate
a year early. In good weather, we meet on the South Lawn at the second bell.”
His smile turned into more of a smirk. “I’d suggest you consider trying a
different avatar. That bird doesn’t appear to suit you.”

Theklan bit his lip to keep himself from making an
inappropriate reply. He
needed
that chance to graduate early. But . . .
change his avatar? The problem was that the eagle suited him too well. So well
that it was hard to even imagine another avatar. But Sharlin had a point. Even
Theklan had known that the masking shape change really wasn’t working. Horse?
Lion? No. Any other totem Spirit would feel like a betrayal of the Spirit of
the Eagle. If he was going to try something else, it would have to be an animal
that wasn’t one of the totems. He refused to even consider cattle or goats.
What else did he know well enough to use?