Beyond the Prophecy (22 page)

Thekila lifted Savara from the saddle of her pony. Zavar scorned
her assistance and slid out of his saddle on his own, nearly stumbling when his
feet hit the ground.

The little girl sagged against Thekila. “Tired.”

Thekila stroked her hair. “I know. But we’re home now.”

Elaria disengaged from her welcome home hug with Arcas.
“I’ll take care of them. You get your visitors settled.” She also took little
Jadar, blessedly asleep, from Thekila’s arms.

“Oh,
thank
you.” To Thekila’s eye, Teran and Terania
didn’t look in much better shape than the children. “This way. We’ll get you
settled in the guest house, where you can get cleaned up and rest before the
evening meal.”

She led the way to the tidy little guest house, which had
stood empty since Lancera and her children had joined Cestus in the Temple
compound. “Choose any rooms. You’ll have the place to yourselves.”

“What about the Dardani who accompanied us?” Terania asked.
“Won’t they be staying here, too?”

“The Dardani will only be here for a day—two at the most.
And they’ll likely choose to stay in the Dardani hut Vatar and Arcas built last
year in the corner of the courtyard. It’s more what they’re used to.” She
pointed in that direction. “See, Danar’s helping to put the roof up, now.”

Terania went down the short hall and opened the first door.
“Oh, this is more like it. This feels almost like home.”

Thekila smiled. “I know.”

“What about you . . . and Vatar? We aren’t putting you out,
are we?” Teran asked.

“No. We live across in the main house with Arcas and
Elaria.”

Terania squinted across at the building opposite. “Doesn’t
it get crowded?”

Thekila laughed. “The main house is bigger than it looks
from here. Only the front part is shared. A kitchen and main room, like this,
but bigger.” She gestured around the smaller main room of the guest house where
they were standing. “We eat our meals together there—you will, too—and
sometimes gather there on rainy days or in the evenings. Just like in the
Valley. But there are two wings that go back from the main part—you can only
see part of ours from here, because of the trees. Separate bedrooms for
Theklan, the twins, and Jadar, as well as a private bedroom for Vatar and me.
The two wings are separated by a courtyard garden. More fruit trees. It’s
really at least as private as our little houses back at the Academy—with room for
the children, too.”

With that, Thekila excused herself to go see to the tired
children and help Elaria prepare a simple evening meal. Finding that the twins
and Jadar were already asleep, she went down to the room she normally shared
with Vatar to change out of her dusty, travel-worn tunic and trousers.

Brushing the plains dust out of her hair, she took a moment
to contact Vatar’s father.
“Veleus?”

 
“Thekila?”

“Yes. I wanted to let you know that we brought back a
couple of emissaries from the Valson. Two old friends of mine, Teran and his
twin sister Terania.”

Veleus’s mental voice sounded immediately interested.
“I’ll
be up to welcome them to Caere tomorrow. And make arrangements for them to meet
the High Council.”

Thekila pursed her lips.
“Better wait until the day after
tomorrow. They weren’t used to the kind of riding necessary to cross the
plains. I suspect they’ll need a day or so to recover.”

“As you say. Why didn’t Vatar let me know this? I haven’t
heard from him in a while.”

Odd that Vatar hadn’t had Far Speech with his father. Then
again, he hadn’t contacted her last night, either, as he usually did. Probably
he’d just been kept busy. Or tired. The part of their journey between the Gna
and Maat Rivers was the most dangerous. She
knew
he was all right,
though.
“He went with Quetza to help bring the three volunteers we were able
to recruit to Tysoe. I imagine that took up most of his energies. They wouldn’t
have been any more used to riding than Teran and Terania and they had farther
to go. I know they had a skirmish with a mixed group of Exiles and Themyri
yesterday.”

“How serious?”
Veleus asked.

“No injuries to anyone in Vatar’s party. He said he’d
wounded one of the Exiles and they’d captured another. He was concerned about
that, because he knew they couldn’t hold their prisoner. I don’t know what they
finally decided to do about that.”

“When will Vatar be coming back?”

“Arcas will be leading that group from the Merchants’
Guild to survey for a road between here and Tysoe soon. Vatar planned to return
with them this autumn.”

“Then he won’t be here for the Festival?”

Thekila’s brows knit in confusion. It was already late
summer.
“Isn’t the Festival over by now?”

“Montibeus delayed it until after Vatar’s projected
return. He won’t be happy.”

Thekila snorted.
“I don’t believe either Vatar or I care
what Montibeus thinks—about anything. Vatar didn’t like helping with the
Festival last year. I know he didn’t intend to do it again. I think any chance
you—or anyone else—had of persuading him to it died when Montibeus tried to use
Theklan the way he did.”

“Hmm. I . . . understand Vatar’s objections. But this
places the Fasallon in an awkward position.”

Thekila drew in a breath.
“Veleus, I don’t think you
should mention the Festival—or especially the Lie—to Teran and Terania. You
might want to warn the High Council, too. That is, if you want their embassy to
start off on the right foot.”

“I’m not sure it will be possible to keep it a secret
from them.”

“No. I’ve already explained it to them, while we were
riding. As well as I could, anyway. They were both shocked by Gerusa’s
behavior. And they might be persuaded to be of some help there. But they were
almost equally shocked by the Lie. Teran was particularly outraged by the
deception. If you don’t want to start with an argument, you might not want to
mention that at first. Let them get a feel for how things are in Caere, first.”

“All right. I won’t mention it when I meet with them day
after tomorrow.”

“Until then.”
Thekila let the connection go and went
to help with the much simpler task of preparing a meal.

~

Thekila wasn’t surprised when the dogs started barking two
mornings later just after their Dardani escort, led by Danar, had ridden out to
return to Zeda. “That’ll be Veleus, Vatar’s father. High Councilor Veleus, that
is.”

Terania’s brows knit. “I thought that . . . what was his
name? Danar? I thought he was Vatar’s father.”

Thekila shook her head. “Danar is Vatar’s
step
father.
I’ll go meet Veleus.” She looked around the table. The breakfast dishes for the
adults had been cleared some time ago, but the twins were apparently teaching
Caslar their tricks for playing with their toasted nut bread while pretending
to eat. She looked over at Elaria apologetically. “Um. Maybe we should plan to
meet over in the guest house.”

Elaria nodded gratefully. “I’ll bring some cider and fruit
over . . .” She paused, taking in the broad smear of honey across Savara’s
face. “In a little while.”

Thekila nodded and turned to Teran and Terania. “Maybe you
two should come with me, then.”

They met Veleus at the gate. Introductions made, they
trooped over to the guest house and the empty table in its common room.

Veleus sat down at the far end of the table. “I’m glad you
came. Ever since Vatar brought Thekila back with him, many of us have wanted to
learn more about—and forge closer ties to—those we believe to be our distant
relatives.”

Teran leaned forward. “I’m very interested in that
possibility, too. I did some research in our library at the Academy, but I
couldn’t find much to support the idea. What makes you think we’re any more
closely related than either of us are to the Dardani? That would seem to be
more logical, since they occupy the territory between us. Yet I found almost
nothing in common with them.”

Veleus sat back. “Some things seemed obvious to me from the
time I first heard of your people from Vatar. We have so many things in common.
Our magic, of course, which none of the other peoples I know of share. That’s
similar enough that you were able to train Vatar. Also, ours are the only two
people I know of who keep written records—and Vatar was able to read yours with
little difficulty. We even share a game. Vatar said that you have a game very
similar to our chess. I don’t recall what name he said you gave it.”

“
Sheggi
,” Thekila supplied.

Veleus nodded. “In addition to that, our most ancient
records tell of our journey across mountains, forests and plains to reach this
place. We’d journeyed a long time—generations—and much of what happened in that
time came down to us only in legend. One such legend has it that we traveled
initially as part of a much larger group, but some conflict arose—the various
versions of the legend disagree on the cause of the discord. And we split off
from our brothers, turning west while they continued south.”

“Hmm.” Teran stared unseeing out the window opposite his
seat. “Perhaps. Our legends say that we originally came to the Valley from the
north, through a pass that has since been lost or blocked.”

Veleus glanced toward Thekila. “I’ll take you to our library
and archives. We have some very old chronicles of our early days here in Caere
and a short time before that. Maybe they will help answer some of your
questions. I can assure you free access to our records. Maybe after you meet
with the High Council. I’ve arranged that for day after tomorrow, if that suits
you.”

Teran nodded. “Yes. The sooner we get the formalities
settled, the better. I’d like to see your library.”

Thekila smiled. “That will give me an opportunity to show
you a little of Caere, too.”

Vatar sat with his back to a pine tree, watching Zoridan and
Balan spar with staves and calling occasional suggestions. Since he was staying
in Tysoe until Arcas arrived, Orleus had asked Vatar to help with the training
of the young Valson when he wasn’t working with the Tysoean smiths. Balan was a
natural, needing little instruction. Zoridan was . . . less so.

Vatar held up a hand when he felt the tingle of Far Speech.
“Take a break.” Then, silently,
“Father?”

“Yes.”

“Is anything wrong?”
Vatar asked, immediately
thinking of Thekila.

“Well, we had expected you back in time for the Festival this
year. Montibeus delayed the Festival with that in mind.”

Vatar huffed impatiently.
“Father, how many times do I
have to say it? I will never take part in the Festival again. It was a mistake
to do it last time. If I hadn’t . . . maybe Montibeus wouldn’t have felt
entitled to abuse Theklan that way.”

Father’s shock came clearly through their link.
“Montibeus
didn’t—”

Vatar cut him off.
“Father, you’ve never pushed yourself
near to burn out, have you? I have. I can promise you that Montibeus
blackmailing Theklan into something the boy knew he shouldn’t do was exactly
that. I’m sorry. But we’re through helping the High Council maintain the Lie.”

“Montibeus has raised the possibility of delaying the
Festival again until you return.”

Vatar gritted his teeth. Did none of them, not even his
father, understand? How much more clearly could he put it?
“Tell him not to
bother. And, you can also tell him, that if he ever attempts to compel
compliance from me or my family again, I will wait until the whole parade is in
the middle of the largest marketplace and strip every Transformation. And you
know I can do it, too.”

Father was really shocked by that.
“You wouldn’t.”

Vatar clenched his teeth
. “Only if I’m forced to it. I
recommend against using force.”

“Son, the Festival will fail without you. There simply
aren’t enough of us to maintain all the Transformations.”

Vatar blew out a breath and tried for calm.
“Then I
suggest scaling down to something you can sustain. Do you really need to
represent all twelve of the supposed Sea Gods? I only managed two of the
Transformations last year, besides my own. Most Caereans probably wouldn’t even
notice if you reduced the number by that much. In fact, it’s possible you could
get by with half as many. It’s past time the High Council started to prepare
for the end of the Lie anyway. You know it can’t go on forever. Even the
prophecies said that it would come to an end, one way or the other. The High
Council should be preparing themselves and Caere for a different way.”

“The Council feel that the time isn’t right. Any
disruption could be an opening for Gerusa to use against us.”

Vatar paused. It was true that they couldn’t afford to leave
any openings for Gerusa to exploit, but this didn’t have to be that disruptive.
Anyway, he was too far away to return for the Festival now, even if he wanted
to. Even magic didn’t allow him to be in two places at once. The High Council
focusing too much of its attention on one facet of the problem and refusing to
do what was necessary was at least as big a threat as the failure of the
Festival.
“Father, you and I both know the Council will
never
think
the time is right. They’ll seize on any excuse and drag their feet right to the
edge of disaster. And that potentially plays into Gerusa’s hands even more.”
His eyes narrowed briefly at another thought. The Lie hadn’t been the only
thing the High Council was procrastinating about.
“Is the Council still
dawdling about Cestus’s reforms, too?”

“Yes. Well, with so much else going on—”
Father’s
voice sounded uncomfortable, now.

“Besides worrying about the Festival, what else are they
doing about the greater problems with Kausalya—and Gerusa?”
Vatar asked.
That, after all, was the greatest danger of the moment.

Father hesitated.
“There’s been some talk, but no concrete
action.”

Vatar nodded to himself. The High Council was still too
mired in the past to even see the present, let alone the future.
“Then maybe
it’s high time they had some incentive to take action—on both fronts. Maybe a
failed Festival wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen.”

“It’s not going to help anything. It can only make
matters worse.”

Vatar could feel the concern in his father’s statement.
“Father,
if you’re that worried about it, go to the guilds. Go to the Smiths’ Guild
Master and tell him I sent you. He already knows I’m half Fasallon and he saw
you at my Master’s Ceremony. Tell him your concerns about how the people will
take it. Ask him to call a guild council. The guilds have the ability to help
you manage the people’s expectations and keep Caere running. If you trust them.
If you keep them informed.”

“The High Council will never agree to it.”

“Father, change is coming to Caere and it won’t come from
the High Council. But they can’t stop it, either. The time is coming soon when
you’ll have to choose whether to allow the Council to steer Caere toward a true
disaster or take steps to guide the path of that change yourself.”
Vatar
inhaled sharply. Just where had those words come from?

“Was that a Fore Seeing?”
Father asked.

Vatar sighed.
“It felt true.”

“
I’ll . . . I’ll take your recommendations to the High
Council. And I’ll think about what you’ve said.”

Father was clearly about to break the connection, but there
was one more thing Vatar needed to say.
“Father . . . look after Thekila for
me until I get home?”

“Of course.”

Vatar sat for a moment, thinking. Little as he liked the
High Council, he didn’t want to see Caere put through more trouble than
necessary. Change
was
coming. That tide couldn’t be held back now. But
it could be managed. Father could help with that, if he would. But Father had
been on the High Council since he was younger than Vatar was now. Maybe it
wasn’t fair to expect him to break with them. But there were others who could
perhaps do what was necessary. He opened his bond to Thekila to his thoughts.
Thekila?

Yes?

He recounted briefly his talk with his father.
If it
seems that Father can’t—or won’t—do what’s needed, you should talk to Cestus
about it.

Cestus? I don’t think I can bespeak him.

Vatar shook his head. That was the crux of the problem.
Neither
can
I
. So don’t try. Boreala should be able to bring
you two together. And you should be seeing Boreala, anyway.

I am. I saw her the day after we got home. And
everything’s just fine, Vatar.
Her reply was slightly acerbic. She didn’t
like him worrying so much about her.

Vatar smiled.
Good. Tell Cestus that if the High Council
stalls he should go to the guilds himself. The Guild Masters need to know if
there’s going to be trouble about the Festival. It might even force the High
Council to begin taking Cestus’s reforms more seriously. If not, it’d give him
another avenue to pursue. I know the guilds would be interested in his idea of
starting a school for Caerean students.

Won’t the High Council retaliate?

Vatar took a moment to think about that.
They may try.
Truthfully, the Council’s power is frayed almost beyond repair. I don’t think
even they realize it yet. It’s really been the guild council doing most of the
governing in Caere for the last year. Honestly, the guilds did most of the
day-to-day governing long before that. The power is shifting. I don’t think the
High Council could stop it now no matter what they did.

Do you think your father will choose the right side in
this?

Vatar sighed.
I don’t know.
I hope so. We all
could surely use his years of experience.
He paused.
Take care of
yourself.

You, too. Arcas has already left with the surveyors. It
won’t be too much longer.

Good.

Vatar blinked and turned back to Balan and Zoridan. He
couldn’t believe he was about to say this, but maybe Taleus would help him out.
“All right. Enough staves. Let’s try some archery.”