Beyond the Prophecy (8 page)

Vatar’s head snapped up at the same instant as Thekila’s.
That was clearly a call of desperation from Theklan, but though he could hear
Thekila’s immediate response through their bond, there was no answer. What
could have happened to the boy at the Temple school? Vatar couldn’t help a
memory of the Temple Guards breaking through the gate and kidnapping the twins
last winter when they’d had only Theklan to defend them. Not that the boy
hadn’t done his best—and more than anyone had a right to expect. That had all
been Gerusa’s work. It didn’t seem likely that she could be behind this,
too—but not impossible if she still had confederates in the city. He dropped
what he’d been working on and headed for the gate. Thekila was ahead of him.

Vatar reached out to stop her. “I’ll go.”

She shook her head. “We can both go.”

Vatar didn’t release his grasp on her arm. “No. If there’s
trouble, we can’t leave Jadar and the twins undefended.”

Thekila blinked at that and glanced back toward the house.
“You’d be better at defending them than I would.”

He shook his head. “Not true. You’ve had almost exactly the
same training from Orleus as I have. And your Powers would be more use than
mine.” His eyes narrowed for a moment. “Wait here.”

Vatar disappeared into the house and returned almost
immediately carrying his spear, currently outfitted with the long shaft of a
horseman’s lance. “Use this, if you need to.”

Thekila looked at the spear and then up at Vatar. “That’s
far too long and heavy for me.”

Vatar pressed it into her hand. “Then use your Powers to
help you.”

Thekila let out a breath, pushing the spear back to him.
“Just two days ago I explained to you that it’s hard to balance things that
aren’t approximately round. That’s about the farthest thing from round I can
think of.”

Vatar placed one finger just below a place that was wrapped
with a scarlet cord that hung down in a long tassel. The spear balanced on his
finger, swaying only slightly. He flipped the tassel with his other hand. “This
is not a decoration. It’s often useful to know the balance point of a spear.
That’s why I marked it.”

Thekila lifted the spear from his finger using her Power.
“That’s good to know.”

Vatar plucked the spear out of the air and placed it in her
hand. “Keep hold of this until I get back. I’ll go and find out what’s happened
to Theklan. I wish Arcas was here, but one of us has to go and it has to be me.
It’s not right, but I’m more likely to get answers in some quarters than you
are. And you’ll know whatever I find out as soon as I do, I promise.”

Thekila grasped the spear and nodded. “Go.”

Vatar mounted his horse without taking the time to saddle it
and started down the hill at a trot. He had just reached the bend where he
habitually averted his gaze from the view of the ocean when he felt the tickle
of Far Speech. He slowed his horse to answer his half-sister.
“Boreala?”

“They just brought Theklan into the Healers’ Hall. I
thought you’d want to know.”

Vatar’s stomach clenched with worry for the boy.
“What’s
wrong with him? Is he injured?”

“I’m not sure, yet. He’s definitely unconscious. I’ll let
you know as soon as I do.”

“I’m on my way.”
Vatar let the contact with Boreala
go so she could concentrate on Theklan.
You heard?
he
asked Thekila.

Yes. I guess we don’t have to worry about an attack here,
at least. But I don’t know what could have happened to Theklan. He was all
right, if a little quiet, this morning.

Vatar shook his head, even though she couldn’t see it.
Keep
my spear handy anyway. At least until we know what happened.

Boreala met Vatar at the entrance to the Healers’ Hall. At
the firm set of her lips—thinned to a straight line—Vatar’s throat closed with
worry.

Boreala took one look at his face and made an obvious effort
to ease her expression. “Come on back. He’s awake.” Her lips twitched down.
“Though I imagine he wishes he weren’t.”

Vatar let his breath out explosively in relief. “What
happened?”

Boreala shook her head. “We’ll talk about it there. In
private.”

Vatar paused as he entered the room Boreala indicated. The
light in the room was much dimmer than was usual in the well-lit Healers’ Hall.
Theklan lay still on the high examination bench, one arm thrown up to cover his
eyes. “All right there, lad?”

Theklan groaned.

“He will be,” Boreala said. “But no thanks to Montibeus or
to that idiot he put in charge.”

Vatar turned to her. “Montibeus? In charge of what? What
exactly happened?”

“Apparently, Montibeus decided to capitalize on the work you
three did to clear the shipping channel. He strong-armed Theklan into doing a
demonstration—moving rocks around for the crowd in Temple Square. And the
priest he sent out to manage things didn’t think the boy needed a break. ‘Gods
don’t take breaks’ I believe were his exact words. I’ve sent
him
off
with a piece or three of my mind.”

“How’s Theklan?”

Boreala let out her breath. “He didn’t come as close to
burning himself out as you must have. But closer than
there’s
any possible excuse for. He needs rest and quiet for a few days. And
no use
of Talent
.” Her face softened a little. “I imagine his head feels like
it’s
splitting open.”

Vatar nodded. “I know exactly how his head feels. And I
wouldn’t wish it on even Gerusa.” He laid a hand gently on Theklan’s shoulder.
“All right. Rest here for a bit. I’m going to have a few words with Montibeus.
Then I’ll be back to take you home to the farm.”

“I don’t think he should—or can—walk that far, Vatar,”
Boreala said.

“He won’t have to. I rode down the hill. And I can carry him
as far as the gate if necessary. He’ll rest more comfortably at home than he
will here. And after nursing me through it, Thekila knows what to do for him.”

Boreala nodded. “That’s true. And I can come up to check on
him, occasionally.”

Vatar marched through the warren of corridors to Montibeus’s
office. He knew where to go from his own unwelcome and unhelpful
lessons
with Montibeus. Meant to draw him in closer to the Fasallon, they’d had the
opposite effect. He didn’t stop to knock or for the clerk to announce him, but
barged straight up to Montibeus’s paper-covered desk. “Just what do you think
you were doing, using Theklan like that without even so much as consulting
Thekila or me? We could have told you he’d done too much work with his Powers
to be doing anything more today—or this seven-day.”

Montibeus looked away. “I’m sorry for that. I certainly
never meant to do the boy harm. Or to have him pass out so dramatically in the
square. That didn’t help anything.”

“I don’t care whether it helped or hurt you maintain your
lightning-blasted Lie,” Vatar roared. “You will not use Theklan that way again.
You won’t get the chance. His studies at the Temple school are over. He’ll
learn at home from now on.”

Montibeus bolted out of his chair. “You can’t do that.”

“I just did.”

Montibeus drew in several deep breaths. Vatar recognized the
calming exercise as one he often used himself.

“The boy owes some recompense for the trouble he caused
during the Festival. This seemed like a harmless enough way for him to make up
for that.” Montibeus lowered his voice to mask the threat. “Other punishments
could be much harsher.”

Vatar stepped forward until he was standing over the shorter
High Priest. His jaw clenched. “Anything Theklan owed was more than paid when
he
voluntarily
worked for
three days
to clear the shipping
channel. And I’ve warned you once before about threatening me or my family.
We’re done. Don’t look for any more help from any of us—with anything.”

Vatar turned on his heel and stalked out before Montibeus
could reply.

Returning to the Healers’, he scooped Theklan up with
exaggerated care not to jostle the boy too much and carried him out across the
Temple Square.

Theklan struggled weakly. “I can walk on my own.”

“Nonsense. When I almost burned out my Talent, it was a full
day before I could stand—and that was with Orleus’s help. Besides, you’d have
to open your eyes and I know just how much the light would hurt. So just be
quiet. I’ll have you back at the farm soon.”

Outside the Temple Gate, he lifted Theklan up onto his horse.
The boy swayed so much that Vatar mounted behind him and set the horse to walk
slowly up the hill.

“It would have been better if I’d stayed with the Dardani,”
Theklan moaned.

“It might have at that,” Vatar agreed.

~

Vatar paced across the bedroom he shared with Thekila.
Theklan dozed in his darkened room down the hall. “I know you’re worried about
his training, but I think we made a mistake in forcing Theklan to come back
here. The High Council is just desperate enough to try something else to coerce
his cooperation.”

“Or ours,” Thekila said.

Vatar waved this off. “Not much they can do to us as things
currently stand. The High Council still needs the cooperation of the guilds. I’m
protected as a member of the Smiths’ Guild and you have their protection as my
wife.”

“Doesn’t Theklan have the same protection?”

Vatar shook his head. “Not really. Not since he turned
thirteen last winter. If I’d taken him as my apprentice, he’d have the guild’s
protection. But I don’t think that’s what he wants.”

Thekila frowned. “No. He hasn’t shown much interest in your
work.” She put her head in her hands. “What else can we do? It’s too late to
take him back to the plains.”

Vatar turned to face her. “Not necessarily.”

“But . . . it’s autumn. You’ve never crossed the plains this
late.”

“Not quite true. The clans move from Zeda to their autumn
villages this late. And from there to the winter camps after the first snows.
Now, I wouldn’t attempt to take the twins across the plains at this time of
year with less than Pa’s whole band to help watch out for them. There are
always plenty of eyes to see the little ones stay out of trouble on those
moves. But Theklan’s nearly grown. Two riders could make it safely. Without
pack horses or a herd to manage, it’d take only a seven-day there and back
again. Maybe less, weather permitting.”

“Theklan’s not well enough to ride like that,” Thekila said.

“No, he’s not. But he will be. The young heal fast. When
Boreala says he’s fit . . .”

Thekila’s lips thinned. “He’ll fall even further behind in
his lessons.”

Vatar touched her arm. “I think he’s had quite enough
practice with distant manipulation, don’t you? Maybe this would be a good
chance to force him to practice as hard with his Far Speech. He can do that
safely enough, even among the Dardani.” His lips twitched up slightly. “There’s
nothing for them to see with Far Speech. Just a young boy daydreaming. Or so it
will seem to them. Nothing remarkable.”

Thekila frowned and looked out the window beyond Vatar’s
right shoulder with an unseeing stare. “Maybe. But only if he agrees to go back
to the Valley and finish his education properly next summer. No one at the
Academy would ever let him injure himself like this. And the teachers there do
a better job of nurturing Powers from what I’ve seen.”

Vatar stopped to consider. It was a long trip from here to
the Valley where Thekila and Theklan came from. Days longer than the trip to
Zeda, crossing the Great Forest and the mountain range beyond. But he’d always
expected that Thekila would want to go back to visit. Next summer would be as
good a time as any for that. And he couldn’t argue with her assessment of the
difference between the Valson Academy and the Temple school here in Caere,
either. He nodded. “That’d probably be best.”

~

Vatar expected Theklan to be happy when they broke the news
to him.

Theklan winced as he sat up in his bed, but his voice was
firm. “Not next summer! I’ll miss my manhood test.”

Vatar remembered saying almost the exact same words when
Mother had proposed taking him to Caere for the first time—even though his
broken arm would have kept him out of the test anyway. It was an important
event for a boy. And one Theklan had already earned. “Your birthday’s in the
winter, during First Wolf. You’ll be half-way between fourteen to fifteen next
summer
. It’s not usual, but Pa can ask the Eagle Clan chiefs
to put you forward for the manhood test at midsummer. And then you can go
straight from there to the Valley.”

Theklan subsided. “All right, then.”

“And you’ll contact us with Far Speech every seven-day,”
Thekila added. “Once you’re enough better to use your Talent safely again.”

“I don’t know if I can reach that far,” Theklan said.

Thekila put her hands on her hips. “Well, you’d better try.
Hard. Or I just might ride out there and bring you back myself.”

Vatar hid his smile. It was an empty threat, but not
necessarily less effective for that.

It was a seven-day before Boreala cleared Theklan for the
kind of riding Vatar had in mind. They set out early the next day, despite a
cold drizzle. The twins were still asleep in their room, like most of the other
residents of the farm. Only Thekila and Arcas had gotten up to see the two off.
Vatar had said goodbye to his children the night before, promising to watch
over them every night with Far Sight.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Thekila asked as she watched them
saddle their horses. “From what you’ve described, it could be snowing on the
plains.”

Vatar sniffed the wind. “This weather is coastal. You can
smell the sea in it. We’ll ride out of this soon enough. I don’t know what
it’ll be like on the plains, but if it’s anything like usual, the snows won’t
start for a month or so. We shouldn’t run into anything worse than a
thunderstorm.”

Thekila shuddered. “Those can be bad enough.”

Vatar smiled. “You forget, I’ve been riding through
thunderstorms since I was little older than Zavar and Savara.”

“Well, don’t forget these.” Thekila held out the oiled canvas
capes, of the type worn by sailors, she’d bought for Vatar and Theklan.

Vatar shrugged and put his on. Dardani didn’t wear such over
garments. Other than wearing woolen garments during the coldest part of winter,
they mostly just accepted the weather as it came. Still, if it made her feel
better about him and Theklan riding across the plains at this season, he didn’t
see why not. Throwing the cloak over his shoulders, he gave Thekila a
more-than-promissory kiss before mounting.

Arcas slapped his leg. “I’ll stay close to the farm while
you’re gone. I’ll see that everyone is safe.”

Vatar nodded his thanks. “I know you will.” Then started his
horse forward, but turned at the gate to wave a final goodbye.

Thekila waved back.

Arcas raised his hand and called, “Fair skies.”

Vatar proved to be right. The rain lessened and then petered
out altogether by the time they passed the last farms and rode out onto the
plains beyond. Out here, the sun shone, all the clouds blown away by a stiff
wind.

Signaling to Theklan to slow to a walk so the horses could
rest, Vatar twitched the cape closed. He had to admit, it had done an admirable
job of keeping off the worst of the rain and even helped to cut the cold wind.
Maybe Arcas should bring a few to trade next summer. He looked out at the
browning tall grass bending in the wind. The golden heads were fat and heavy.
“Huh. That’s the answer right there.”

Theklan glanced at him. “What?”

Vatar half-smiled. “You remember my father mentioning
trading difficulties with Kausalya. It seems likely that Gerusa is trying to
use Kausalya’s grain as a way to disrupt Caere in some scheme to regain power.”

Theklan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. I mean . . . I
understand about Gerusa and the trade problems, but not . . .
What’s
the
answer? To what?”

Vatar swept his arm in a half circle, indicating the tall
grass. “This. Most of that out there is wild wheat. It’s what the Dardani
harvest to make our flat bread. We don’t come this far to harvest it, of
course. There’s no reason why the Caereans can’t. It’s probably not as rich and
fine as the wheat they grow in Kausalya, but it will make bread. And that will
reduce Caere’s dependence on Kausalya—and Gerusa.”

Theklan looked around. “If you can ever get the Caereans to
come this far from the coast, I guess.”

“That’s a problem for the High Council. Keep watch for a
moment.” Vatar reined his horse to a stop and concentrated on his father.
“Father?”

“Vatar! I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Just waiting to
hear that Theklan had recovered from . . . from that unfortunate incident.
Actually, I’ve been asked to set up a meeting with you. Montibeus wants—”

Vatar grimaced.
“Too late for that, Father. Theklan and I
are already out on the plains. And I really don’t care what Montibeus wants.”

“On the plains! At this time of year?”

Vatar shrugged.
“It’s not that late in the season yet.”

“But . . . why?”
Father’s voice was puzzled.

 Vatar clenched his jaw. “
I’m taking Theklan back
out to stay with Pa and Mother over the winter. Where Montibeus and the High
Council can’t reach him.”

“That’s . . . that’s a rather extreme reaction, isn’t
it?”

“It took a seven-day for the boy to recover from what
they did to him. I’m not giving them a second chance. Thekila and I are
protected by the Smiths’ Guild. Theklan will be protected by distance. He never
wanted to come back to Caere this year anyway. I’m done, Father. I won’t be a
tool for them to try to maintain either the Lie or their own power again.”
Vatar drew a deep breath. He’d surprised himself a little at how angry he still
was over this.
“In any case, that’s not why I bespoke you.”

“What then?”
Father asked.

“Are the tariffs and trade restrictions Gerusa placed on
Kausalyan wheat and Tysoean exports still a problem?”

“Yes?”
Father’s confusion as he tried to adjust to
this change in topic was almost palpable.

“Well, there’s plenty of wild wheat ripening right out
here on the plains, just beyond the last farms. All it needs is someone to come
out and harvest it before the winter storms set in.”

Father’s mental tone brightened.
“Gerusa wouldn’t
anticipate that. Thank you.”

Vatar shrugged, even though Father wouldn’t be able to see
it.
“I’ll still do what I can to help Caere and the Caereans. It’s my home,
too, now. I just don’t want anything—anything—more to do with the Lie.”

There was a slight pause before Father’s response.
“Then,
since you’re going out to the Dardani anyway, would you be willing to talk to
them about the possibility of a road between Caere and Tysoe, as your cousin
suggested?”

Vatar chewed his lip for a moment, considering the problem.
“The
clans will already have split up for the year. No decision is possible until
they meet again next summer. But I’ll talk to Pa about it. He can start
discussing it with the other chiefs—if he agrees.”

“That’s all I can ask. And I’ll see about getting someone
out to harvest that wild wheat.”
Father paused.
“Safe journey, Vatar. Do
let me know when you get back safe.”

“I will, Father
.”

Vatar shook his head to clear it and clucked his horse into
a trot.

~

They arrived at Zeda near midday of the third day, half a
day earlier than the usual travel time. Vatar struggled not to laugh as Theklan
looked around at the deserted village. Even the huts, stripped of their hide
roofs, which would never stand the weight of winter snow, were only empty
shells.

“Where is everyone?” Theklan asked.

“The clans have already dispersed for the year. You know the
clans only stay at Zeda for the summer. You helped me take down and store our
roof before we left for Caere.” Vatar swung out of the saddle.

Vatar watched the boy stumble as he dismounted with some
concern. Theklan had begun showing the strain of their hard ride. And,
remembering himself at that age, Vatar judged that Theklan showing his
weariness meant that he was a lot nearer exhaustion than he let on. So, should
they stay here and rest? Or push on to a place where the boy could rest in
greater comfort and safety? It wasn’t that much farther to the place where the
Lion Clan had its autumn village. Maybe he should let Theklan decide.

“We’ll stop here to eat and let the horses rest. The Lion
Clan autumn village is about a days’ ride from here. But that’s with women and
children and the herds all to move. We can make better time than that. Would
you rather camp here and ride over there tomorrow? Or push on today? We won’t
arrive until late if we go on today.”

Theklan took another look around and shuddered. “I’ve got no
problem with going on. This just feels . . . weird.”

Vatar smiled. Truth to tell, he’d be as glad to move on
himself. “You’ll like the autumn village. Oak-studded hills not too different
from the country around the Academy. The winter camp will be a different
matter. But still likely better than Caere—for you.”

They sat within the roofless walls of Vatar’s and Thekila’s
hut to be out of the wind, which still whistled through the unnatural quiet of
the abandoned village.

Vatar glanced out the open doorway as he chewed a bite of
cold meat roll and forced himself to swallow. In the year or so before a boy
took his manhood test, his father would normally have several talks with him,
explaining things that a young man needed to understand. But Theklan’s father
had died before the boy had even been born. Though he wasn’t
that
much
older, Vatar supposed he was a close to filling that role as anyone. But he
wouldn’t be around to have those talks with Theklan until shortly before the
boy’s manhood test. He could leave it to Pa, but that felt like cheating.

Vatar cleared his throat. “If you’re going to take the manhood
test next summer, there are a few things you should know.” He paused to take a
drink of water. “I guess it’s my responsibility . . . well, really, it’s
Ariad’s, since he stood for you when you were adopted into the Eagle Clan. But
you’re going to be with the Lion Clan until next summer, so . . . And then
you’ll be away at the Academy, without a male relative to . . . explain things
to you. So I guess it falls to me . . .”

By the time Vatar had finished, they were both glad to get
back on their horses and keep riding—silently.

~

Vatar led the way into the Lion Clan’s autumn village after
sunset. The horses plodded in their weariness. Worse, Theklan swayed in his
saddle. The hurried trip across the plains on top of the near burn out had
taken their toll. Normally, Vatar would have dismounted on the outskirts of the
village, cared for the tired horses, and then walked in. Now, though, he
preferred to get Theklan to a place where he could rest as soon as possible. He
could take the horses back out to join the herd later.

The Lion Clan still gathered around the various fire
circles, finishing their evening meal. Several curious faces turned to watch
their progress toward the center of the village. Pa stood up to survey the
newcomers and started visibly on recognizing Vatar and Theklan. He strode
forward rapidly. “Vatar! What brings you out here at this time of year?” He
looked behind the two weary riders. “Are you alone?”

Vatar dismounted and moved to help Theklan out of his
saddle. “Just the two of us, Pa.” Vatar continued, answering the question Pa
hadn’t—quite—asked. “Thekila and the children are all safe in Caere.”

Pa moved to Theklan’s other side. “Is he sick? Or injured?”

“Neither. It’s . . . more complicated than that. But it’s
nothing that requires Mother’s healing. I’ll tell you all about it . . .” Vatar
paused to look around the village, where nearly all eyes were turned toward
them. “. . .
later
. First, Theklan needs a little
food, if he can keep awake to eat it, and then rest.”

Pa looked from the sagging boy to Vatar and nodded once.
“You go see to him. And yourself. I’ll take care of your horses. We can talk
when I come back.”

Mother, who’d stood near enough to overhear this
conversation, stepped forward to help Theklan to a seat by the fire. Vatar’s
younger half-sister Kiara closed in on the boy’s other side. Theklan was well
taken care of. Vatar sank to a seat nearby, only then realizing his own
exhaustion. His stomach rumbled, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to move far
enough to dish up a plate of whatever the evening meal had been.

Mother sat down beside him and pushed a plate into his
hands. “Eat.”

“I thought you were taking care of Theklan.”

Mother chuckled softly. “Kiara seems to have that in hand.”

Vatar looked up to see Kiara prodding Theklan to eat. It
reminded him for a moment of Thekila feeding little Jadar. He smiled.

Mother put a piece of flatbread into his hand. “Eat. Then
sleep. Both of you. You can tell us what brought you out here in the morning.
I’m sure the story—whatever it is—will be more coherent then.”

One side of Vatar’s mouth turned up briefly. “Probably.”

~

Vatar woke lying along one side of his parents’ sod hut. He
lay there a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of the sod and the grass mats,
listening to Theklan’s breathing off to his left. Obviously the boy was still
asleep. Equally obviously, they were alone in the hut. He’d slept late. His
brow creased. He really shouldn’t have been
that
tired after riding hard
for just a few days. True, it had been a strain to watch out for the
increasingly exhausted Theklan, but not enough to account for this. He hadn’t
even played his lullaby and looked in on the twins last night.

Belatedly, he wondered if the weariness wasn’t his at all.
Thekila!
Is everything all right there?

Yes.
The reply was sleepy, but not delayed, as if
he’d woken her.

Thekila didn’t normally sleep this late, either. Was she
ill?
Are you sure? You don’t sound like your usual self.

I’m just tired. Yesterday was . . . quite a day.

Vatar’s heart skipped a beat.
What happened?

It’s all right now, Vatar. Or I’d have told you sooner.
Little Jadar is teething, so I haven’t been getting much sleep.
She sighed.
It’s harder to sleep with you gone, anyway. Then yesterday, while Jadar and
I were taking a nap, Zavar decided to climb the apple tree.

Vatar’s mind flashed immediately to his first attempts to
climb a tree. Right here, in the autumn village, come to think. The oak trees
offered better foot- and handholds than the fruit trees around the Zeda
waterhole. He’d been a little older than Zavar was now, but not much.
How
many bones did he break?