The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (12 page)

Kiara smirked at her father and older brother before
following the older woman into the women’s hut—where they couldn’t follow.

~

Boreala sharpened her focus now that the child had been
born. With her mind, she found the place that was bleeding. She took a deep
breath. This was the hardest part. It required a delicacy of touch that so few
men could master. Very carefully, she pushed with her magic at that spot. The
bleeding slowed, then stopped. Boreala pushed for just a moment longer, to be
sure. Then she sat back.

Boreala mixed another concoction. “The bleeding has
stopped,” she told the old woman. “When she wakes, give her this in some water
or broth. It will help to prevent more bleeding. Call me if the bleeding starts
again.”

Boreala stood up and went to the door. She smiled as she
noted that one of the other women, acting as a wet nurse, had the new baby back
inside the hut and receiving his first meal. The little girl Vatar had called
Kiara sat close by, watching with fascination.

~

With a sigh of resignation, Pa settled on his haunches
against the outer wall of the hut to wait for more news. Vatar settled next to
him. After a moment’s hesitation, Cestus sat cross-legged facing them.

“So you know about Veleus?” Pa asked quietly after a few
moments of silence.

Vatar drew in a breath. He hadn’t meant to broach this
subject right now. “Yes.”

“How?” Pa asked.

“Uncle Lanark told me what he knew after the manhood rites.
He said someone from the Temple had been asking questions. Some time later I
was . . . taken to the Palace to meet Veleus.”

Pa sighed again. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way.”

Vatar squirmed a little, settling his shoulders against the
sod wall behind him. “I was very angry for a while—first with you and Mother,
then with Veleus. I still don’t understand. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Pa fidgeted. “I always meant to . . . when you were old
enough. But, the longer I delayed, the easier it was to put it off. Just one
more day, one more year. When you keep a secret long enough, it gets a life of
its own. It becomes harder and harder to tell the truth.”

Vatar reached out to touch Pa’s shoulder. “It took me a long
time to realize that it doesn’t matter. You chose to be my father and you will
always be my father, too.”

Pa smiled at that. “You were my son from the moment I first
held you. Just like I held Fenar a moment ago. In sixteen years, I never
thought of you as anything else and I never will.”

Vatar pulled his hand back to rest on his knee. “Then why
did you leave me in Caere . . . without even knowing my danger?”

Pa shrugged. “Ah, well. Your mother was convinced if we told
you then, it would only make you curious. And that could have put you at
greater risk.”

Vatar chuckled. “It probably would have, at that.”

After a long moment, Pa said, “I owe Veleus an honor-debt
for stealing you from him. The next time I come to Caere, I must try to pay it,
if I can.”

Cestus spoke up for the first time. “I can safely say that
you did almost exactly what Father would have wanted. He would thank you for
it.”

Pa shook his head. “Only the man to whom it is owed can name
the price of an honor-debt.” After a moment he turned to look sharply at
Cestus. “Father?”

“Cestus is my half-brother, Pa,” Vatar said.

Cestus nodded. “And Boreala is your half-sister, too.” He
smiled briefly. “You . . . ah . . . you have quite a large family, most of whom
you haven’t met yet.”

~

Boreala stumbled on the step up, but Cestus caught her
before she could fall. Vatar and the man who was, presumably, his stepfather,
jumped to their feet. She turned to smile reassuringly at them. “We were in
time. So long as the bleeding does not start again, she will recover.”

The older man collapsed with relief against the outer wall
of the hut.

Vatar closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. He smiled
at Boreala. “I don’t know how to thank you. Or Veleus.”

“Thanks aren’t necessary. It’s what I do.” Boreala sagged.
“Is there some quiet place where I can rest?”

Vatar took her arm. “Of course. Our hut is empty. You can
use that for as long as you need. Pa and Cestus and I can all use the bachelor
hut, if we need to.”

~

Boreala gratefully entered the quiet of the hut. Before she
could rest, there was one more thing she needed to do. She sat cross-legged on
the floor—there was no furniture in any of these huts, just grass mats—and
composed herself. It would be hard to reach across such a great distance, but
Father would be expecting some word from her.

“Father.”

“Yes, I’m here.”
The speed of the reply suggested
that Veleus had been waiting anxiously for some contact.

“It’s as well that I came myself. Another might not have
been able to save her.”

“She will live?”

“As long as she doesn’t start bleeding again, she will
recover fully.”

“And the child?”

“A boy. Small, but strong.”

“Like you,”
Veleus answered with a smile.
“Thank
you.”

Boreala smiled tiredly.
“You know how I love a challenge,
Father.”

“Get some rest.”

Riding back across the plains at a more leisurely pace,
Boreala was eager for a chance to get out of the heat and into the shelter of
one of those ingenious sod huts. They’d left the intermittent shade of the
oak-studded hills behind them hours ago and the sun was fierce.

From what Vatar and Lucina had told her they were coming to
the gathering place of the Dardani clans at the biggest waterhole on the
plains. A place the Dardani called “Zeda”. It had been a month, but she’d
refused to leave her patient—Lucina—until she was sure both she and baby Fenar
would be fine. In truth, she’d known that by the second day, but she was
enjoying the freedom afforded to a woman among the Dardani. So different from
the stifling atmosphere among the Fasallon. She’d go back soon. Danar had
mentioned gathering a herd of horses and cattle to drive to Caere soon after
all the clans had gathered at Zeda. That would be soon enough.

As they crested one of the many rolling hills, Lucina
pointed ahead. Boreala stood in her stirrups for her first glimpse of Zeda. No
wonder they called this the biggest waterhole on the plains. To her, it looked
more like a small to medium-sized lake. Although, from the cattails and
scattering of lily pads, it wasn’t very deep, even near the center. On the near
shore was the largest conglomeration of Dardani huts she’d yet seen. Boreala
squinted. Actually, it almost looked like six separate villages—all about the
size of the Lion Clan’s spring village—grouped loosely around a central open
space. A scattering of trees stood at wide intervals around the village and its
outskirts.

Beside her, Lucina looked ahead, too. She was much stronger
than she had been, but the long ride was clearly taxing her endurance.
“Something’s wrong.”

Boreala turned to her. “What? How can you tell?”

Lucina shook her head. “I don’t know what. We won’t find out
until we arrive. Then, I’ll wager, Danar will be off to consult with the other
chiefs and find out.” She looked ahead to where her husband and Vatar rode at
the head of the column, both of them turning their heads to scan the scene. “He
sees the same things I do.”

“What?”

Lucina gestured to the herds grazing placidly on the
outskirts of the village. “The herds are much too close in. Usually they’re set
to graze farther away, so they don’t foul the water for the village.”

Boreala nodded. That made perfect sense to her.

“And there are too many herdsmen,” Lucina added. “At least
twice as many as are needed to keep the herds in place, especially when they
have fresh grass and water.” She squinted. “They’re heavily armed, too. Spears
mostly. Very few bows. We’re much too far north for an attack by the Themyri. I
wonder what else it could be.”

As they reached the edge of the village, Boreala didn’t need
Lucina’s help to notice the tense atmosphere. Yes, something was definitely
wrong.

Danar and Vatar wheeled their horses and rode back to them.
“You go on and start getting the hut ready. Vatar will help you. I’m going to
go find the chiefs and find out what’s going on.”

The Lion Clan, which had ridden together as an organized
column from the spring village, began to break up, separate family groups going
off to find their own huts. Boreala, Lucina, Kiara, and Cestus followed Vatar
toward a hut that Boreala couldn’t have distinguished from any other.

Vatar dismounted and reached up to take his baby brother
from Lucina. He handed the baby off to Kiara and then helped his mother
dismount. He led her over to the shade of a nearby tree. “You sit here and take
care of Fenar. Boreala can look after both of you. Cestus and I will take care
of getting the hut ready for the summer.”

Kiara handed the baby back to her mother. “I can help, too.”

Vatar smiled. “Of course you can.” He pointed a finger at
her. “You take care of mats and lamps. Cestus and I will take care of the
roof.” He reached over and tugged on Kiara’s long pony tail. “You couldn’t
reach that anyway.”

Boreala smiled as she watched them go to work. It was hard
to tell with young men Vatar’s age. Some of them were good with younger
children and even infants. Others weren’t. Vatar was. Unlike some of her
brothers, Boreala could see Vatar being a good father someday. Like Cestus. At
least she’d get to be an indulgent aunt.

Boreala couldn’t see what the others were doing inside the
hut, except that some sort of covering over the top seemed to jostle and bounce
from time to time.

“They’re raising the leather roof covering on supporting
poles,” Lucina said. “Then they’ll look for any chinks in the sod walls.
Generally, the walls stand pretty well through the winter, but the hide roofs
would never stand the load of snow, so we take those down and store them along
with the mats.”

Another tall blond man hurried toward the hut. Were no
Dardani short and dark? Apparently not. He shouted for Danar.

Vatar came through the door at the man’s cry. “Pa’s not
here. What can I do for you, Larad?”

“Is your mother here? We need her urgently,” the man Vatar
had called Larad said.

Lucina stood up. “I’m here, Larad. What’s your need?”

Boreala scrambled to her feet, too.

Larad turned and took several steps towards them. “It’s my
daughter. She was attacked two days ago. You’re the best healer among the
Dardani. Please come.”

Lucina handed baby Fenar off to Kiara, who’d also come out
of the hut behind Vatar. “Take care of your little brother until I get back.”

“I’ll come too,” Boreala said.

Larad looked at her with some suspicion.

Lucina put her hand on Boreala’s arm. “This is Master Healer
Boreala from Caere.”

Larad ducked his head. “If you can help, we’d be grateful.”

Vatar stepped forward. “Who attacked Miriada?”

Larad looked at him in confusion for a moment before shaking
his head. “Of course. You just arrived. You wouldn’t have heard yet. It was one
of the tigers.”

Vatar took a step back. “Tigers? Here?”

Larad nodded. “Mostly, they’ve been attacking the herds. But
they’ve attacked a few people who were caught too far away from the huts. One
of them mauled Miriada down by the waterhole yesterday.”

Lucina pushed forward. “If it’s been a whole day since she
was attacked, we should get to her as soon as possible. Just let me get my
healer’s bag.”

Vatar ducked inside the hut and came out with both Lucina’s
and Boreala’s bags.

Larad nodded and led the way.

When Lucina and Boreala entered Larad’s hut, they found a
girl a little younger than Vatar, lying on her stomach. There were wide-spaced
tearing wounds down the length of her back. One claw had caught the side of her
face, barely missing her eye. The ear lobe on that side was partly torn off.

“Lords of Creation! What did he say did this?” Boreala
asked.

“Tiger,” Lucina answered as she inspected the wounds. “A
very large, striped cat. They’re forest-dwellers usually. And normally
solitary. I’ve never known them to hunt in pairs. Or to come this far out onto
the plains.”

Looking up at the mother, she asked, “You gave her a
sleeping draught?”

The mother nodded miserably. “It was all I could do for her.
I was afraid to use too much pauver juice.”

Lucina nodded. “You did right. She has survived the initial
shock. The danger now is infection. We must clean the wounds thoroughly. It
will be easier if she sleeps through that.”

“I have something that will help prevent infection,” Boreala
said.

“Pink Root?”

Boreala nodded once. “Yes.”

“Good. I’ve never been able to get any from Caere.”

Lucina and Boreala worked together to clean and dress the
wounds. Boreala carefully reattached the ear lobe. When they finished, Lucina
handed a jar of nearly pure pauver juice to Miriada’s mother. “Before she
wakes, put this on the wounds. Use it all. I’ll bring more tomorrow.”

The woman chewed her lower lip. “Will she be . . . ?”

Lucina nodded. “Scarred? Yes. I’m afraid she will.”

“I may be able to keep the scars from stiffening, at least,”
Boreala said.

As they started back to Lucina’s and Danar’s hut, Boreala
asked, “What was that? The salve you used on her wounds?”

“Pauver juice. It’s a numbing agent made from a fruit that
grows in the forest,” Lucina answered. “We trade for it with a tribe to the
east, the Modgud. Very useful, but it can be over used.”

“What happens then?” Boreala asked.

“The feeling never returns. That’s why we generally use only
a small amount in a salve. Miriada’s wounds need more, in spite of the risk.”

“Still . . . We have nothing as effective in Caere,” Boreala
said.