Beyond the Prophecy (18 page)

Thekila paused outside the tent she would be sharing with Vatar,
listening to his pipes. Vatar sat inside, playing the lullaby he often used to
help him watch over his children with a distance viewing. Far Sight, as he
called it. Somehow, the pipes had a sadder sound tonight. They were half-way
across the Forest. In another few days, they’d reach the plains—and go their
separate ways for almost the first time in their marriage. For the very first
time, Vatar would not come back when he’d told Zavar and Savara he would.

The lullaby had worked on Jadar, too. He slept soundly along
the opposite wall of the tent. Thekila let their bond lead her into watching
the twins along with Vatar. They slept curled next to Fenar in Danar’s and
Lucina’s hut, Kiara sitting close beside them fumbling with setting up a small
beading loom. Thekila sat down near Vatar and hummed along before taking up the
lyrics.

When Vatar lowered his pipes, Thekila placed a hand on his
arm. “I’ll explain to them why you’ll be gone a little longer. They’ll
understand. And it will be just a little longer, won’t it?”

Vatar’s lips twitched up, but the smile didn’t last. “A
month or two, I expect. Surveying for a wagon route is bound to take longer
than riding the distance. Still, I’m sure Arcas means for the surveyors to get
back to Caere well before the winter sets in. It won’t be that long.” Vatar
leaned down to kiss her, then pull her into another hug. “It’ll only feel that
way.”

Thekila edged closer and nestled into his arms. “We’ve never
been apart for so long before. Just that few days when you took Theklan back
out to your family.”

Vatar pulled her into his lap and rested his cheek on top of
her head. “I wish we didn’t have to be now. But I don’t see a better solution.”
He gave her a brief squeeze. “It won’t be for long.” He leaned back to look her
in the eye. “But we won’t really be separated. Will we? Distance won’t make any
difference to our bond?”

It was a question. Thekila smiled. “No, that’s true.” She
placed her hand over his heart, just over the small tattoo of a lion’s paw
print—his Clan Mark. “We’ll never be farther apart than this.”

He pulled her in again. “I’m glad of that at least. I still
don’t like it. Once Arcas leaves with the survey group, you and Elaria will be
alone at the farm with no men.”

“That’s not true. You said yourself that Teran and Terania
should stay in our guest house.”

Vatar snorted. “Sorry. Teran strikes me as more the kind to
try to talk an opponent to death by boredom.”

Thekila giggled. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong about
that. But don’t underestimate him if that didn’t work. His avatar is a Forest
tiger, which he enhances with a masking shape change to appear full-sized.
Sometimes, he even makes the fangs sparkle a little.” Which was totally
unnecessary. A forest tiger was quite sufficiently intimidating without enhancements.
“Terania’s is a mountain cat.”

Vatar let out his breath. “Well, that alone would likely
scare most intruders off.”

“Hey, I’m not exactly helpless, either. Quite apart from my
Powers, I was trained by Orleus, too, as you reminded me not that long ago. I
can use a bow or a staff. If necessary, even a knife.” When she felt his
shoulders stiffen, she added. “Besides, what makes you think we’re going to
need any of this?”

“Well, nothing really. I just like to feel prepared for it
if it comes.” Vatar paused. “I really should have made you a spear of your own
when I made Theklan’s. Lighter than mine. I will make it when I get back home.”

“I don’t know how to use a spear. Arrows would probably be
more use.”

Vatar shrugged. “I’ll make you some more arrows too, then.
And I can show you the things Orleus taught me about using a spear. In the
meantime, you can treat it like a staff with a very sharp end.”

“We’re all going to be just fine, Vatar.” Thekila snuggled
in closer. “And you’ll be back with us soon.”

“Not soon enough.” Vatar raised his pipes to his lips again
and played the Dardani love song he’d used to woo her.

Thekila smiled and sang along. After all, they only had a
few more nights before they’d have to go their separate ways for a while.

~

Arcas was waiting for them when they reached the edge of the
forest. While the newcomers stood blinking in shock at the view of apparently
endless grasslands stretching to the horizon, Thekila and Vatar went aside with
him.

“What did Trev have to say about Theklan’s problem?” Thekila
asked.

Arcas half-shrugged. “He’ll do what he can to ease Baraz’s
mind on the subject.” He looked at Vatar. “I told the Modgud elders about the
Exiles while I was there. I thought they needed to know. If the Exiles should
decide to bypass Tysoe by going through the Forest, it’s the Modgud they’re
most likely to encounter.”

Vatar nodded. “Good idea. They should be forewarned, too.
Though . . . I don’t know what the Modgud could—or would—do about it.”

“Not fight, almost certainly,” Arcas said. “Still, it won’t
hurt for them to know. The Modgud have better woodcraft than anyone I know
except maybe Quetza. They might be able to avoid trouble.” He paused. “But,
what I meant to tell you about that was what else Trev said.”

“And what was that?” Thekila asked.

“Trev said to remind you that he’d told you before that the
Spirits stand nearer to you than the rest of the tribe. And that there was a
reason for that. This might be that purpose. You should remember to look inside
yourself for the Spirits’ counsel. And, if you think it’s necessary, you should
feel justified in using that argument to Baraz.”

Vatar nodded slowly.

Thekila let out a long breath. It had been a long time since
Trev had made that comment. She’d nearly forgotten it. On the whole, it was not
encouraging advice.

~

Four days later, Thekila led Teran and Terania to the hut
she usually shared with Vatar. It should only have taken three days, but Teran
and Terania were having a great deal of trouble adjusting to riding. And to the
plains in general, come to that. She wondered if Vatar and Quetza were having
as much trouble with Zoria, Zoridan, and Balan. He hadn’t mentioned it in their
nightly conversations through their bond, but he might not have considered it
noteworthy.

Thekila held the flap of cowhide aside, revealing the door
to the sod hut, and gestured for her guests to follow her. “This is our
hut—mine and Vatar’s. Careful. There’s a step down from the door.”

Thekila busied herself opening the vents in the leather roof
covering and lighting a couple of lamps while Teran and Terania stood blinking,
their eyes adjusting to the cool darkness of the interior.

“You live like this?” Terania asked, her face and voice
reflecting horror.

Thekila brushed that aside. They just hadn’t had time to
understand the good parts of the Dardani way of life. And they were probably
wondering what they’d gotten themselves into. “Not really. Only for a month or
two out of the year.” She felt moved to defend her adopted people. “And these
huts really are amazingly efficient dwellings for the plains. The sod insulates
them, so they stay cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Our house in
Caere is much more what you’re used to. In fact, it’s bigger and more comfortable
than the teachers’ houses back in the Valley. You’ll have our guest house to
yourselves—at Vatar’s invitation.” She gestured to one side of the hut. “You
two can spread out your bedrolls over there. Get some rest.” She gave them a
sympathetic smile. “I know exactly how hard riding like that for the first time
is. I’m going out for a moment. While I’m out, I’ll ask Lucina—Vatar’s
mother—for some of her salve for sore muscles.”

Thekila paused before she pulled the hide door covering
aside again. “Remember what I told you about the Dardani and magic. We’ll only
be here a few days. While we are, don’t do anything . . . obvious.”

“It’s going to be hard to learn much about this new form of
magic if we can’t even talk about it,” Teran grumbled.

“Well, there’ll be plenty of time for you and Vatar to talk
about it over the winter.” Thekila drew a deep breath, mastering her
frustration. “Meanwhile, I’ll ask if Danar and Lucina will talk with you about
it. They both already know about Vatar’s Powers.”

“Are they the best experts on the subject?” Teran asked.

Thekila shrugged. “They’re both chiefs. But, no. The shaman
would be the
best
expert.”

“Then when can I talk to him?” Teran asked.

Thekila grimaced. If only Trev were still the shaman, there
wouldn’t be a problem. Now, the last thing they needed was anything to stir up
Baraz’s memory of Theklan’s slip up. Or raise still more questions. Best,
actually, for her to stay away from the shaman so he wasn’t reminded of Theklan
for a while. Now was definitely not a good time for Teran to go interrogate the
man about Spirit magic. “Not . . . this trip. There are complications I’ll tell
you about later. But I’m sure Danar can answer most of your questions.” Another
thought struck her. “There’s no time this year, but maybe next summer we can
arrange for you to talk to Trev. He’d be the best of all.”

“Better than the shaman?” Teran asked.

“Much.”

“Why?”

“Well, Baraz is still young. This is only his first year as
a shaman. Trev’s a more experienced shaman. And he has a more . . . balanced
view of the magic. Baraz would probably jump immediately to the Dardani beliefs
about sorcery I warned you about. Trev won’t.” Thekila took one look at the
excitement on Teran’s face and added, “But there’s no time this year.”
Ruthlessly, she added, “It’d require several more days of riding across the
plains.”
That should quell his enthusiasm.

Thekila walked the short distance to Danar’s and Lucina’s
hut. She called out to let them know she was there, but got no answer. That was
odd. She pushed the hide covering aside and stepped down into the hut. Neither
Danar nor Lucina were there. The twins and Fenar, just a year older, were
variously curled up or sprawled on the bedrolls to one side, sound asleep.
Across from them, Kiara sat with her back propped against the wall of the hut
and her eyes screwed tight shut. If it weren’t for the impression of painful
concentration, Thekila would have thought she was asleep, too.

“Kiara?” Thekila said softly, not to wake the children.

Kiara sighed and opened her eyes. “They’re taking a nap. I
expect they’ll wake up soon, though.”

“I can see that. What are you doing? Is something wrong?”

Kiara let out a frustrated huff. “I was trying . . . I thought
maybe if I tried hard enough I’d be able to talk to Theklan, the way you do
with Vatar.”

Thekila sat cross-legged in front of Kiara. Vatar had
mentioned his sister’s questions about her own possible, but unreachable,
Talents. “It’s different between Vatar and me. It’s not even Far Speech
anymore, because we’re bound.”

Kiara bit her lip. “But you could talk to Theklan if you
wanted, couldn’t you?”

Thekila nodded. “In fact, we’ve arranged to talk to him
about once every seven-day, just like when he was here. He told me to say hello
to you for him. He misses you.”

“I want to be able to talk to him myself. I
should
be
able to. It’s not fair.”

Thekila paused, wondering how she’d feel right now if she
were truly cut off from Vatar. Not happy. “Maybe not. And I don’t think Far
Speech would be too much of a danger, even here. Theklan did say he’d try to
find out from his teachers if there’s a way to . . . unblock your Talent. Even
then, you’d need some training to span that distance with Far Speech. In the Academy,
we usually start students out bespeaking someone in the same room. Someone they
can see.”

Kiara sat up, eyes suddenly full of hope. “How?”

“Well, first you picture the person very clearly in your
mind. Even if you’re looking right at them, you still have to form a mental
image. Then you think their name as if you’re calling out to them. If they . .
. hear you—it’s a sort of tickling sensation—they respond and then the
connection is made. It’s hard for beginners to maintain it very long. Very hard
to contact people who are far away, at first.”

“You’re here. Can I try it with you?”

“All right.”

Kiara looked at Thekila and her eyes narrowed in
concentration. She bit her lip hard.

Thekila shook her head. “I’m sorry, Kiara. I didn’t feel
anything.”

Kiara sank back, shoulders slumping. “
I
did. I think.
It was like something started but then it . . . hit a kind of wall.”

Thekila cocked her head to one side. “Whatever was done to
block your ancestors’ Talents and their descendants’, maybe that’s what it’s
like.
I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do about that.”

Kiara’s fists clenched. “Well, I’m going to find some way to
tear down that wall. There has to be a way.”

On the other side of the hut, Savara stirred and woke up.
She blinked at Thekila and then bounced up to run over and give her a hug.
Zavar, whose chest had been part of Savara’s springboard, gave an “oof” and
woke up, too.

Thekila smiled over at him around Savara’s shoulder. “Hello,
there. I’ve come to take you back to our hut. There are a couple of old friends
of mine I’d like you to meet.” She stood up and took both children by the hand.
Before leaving, she turned back to Kiara. “Let Danar and Lucina know I’m back
and I’ve brought a couple of guests. Who could really use some of your mother’s
muscle
salve.
We’ll see you all at the evening meal,
if not before.”

Kiara nodded and Thekila led the twins back home.

Terania looked over as Thekila brought the twins into the
hut. “And who are these?”

“Vatar’s children . . . from an earlier relationship. They
were staying with his family—his mother and stepfather—while we were gone. This
is Zavar and the little girl is Savara. Children, these are very old friends of
mine, Teran and Terania.”