The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (18 page)

Vatar sighed as he let himself into the comfortable room in
the Temple he and Cestus used for his evening lessons. He sat down in one of
the padded chairs.

Cestus smiled indulgently. “I’ll keep it short again
tonight, shall I?”

Vatar snorted. “Don’t bother. Make it as long as you like,
in fact. It’ll be more peaceful here.”

“What’s wrong?” Cestus asked.

“Oh, Avaza’s been in a mood. Just because my aunt persuaded
her to put on a Caerean dress. I don’t know why she didn’t just say no, if she
didn’t want to. It’s not like Aunt Castalia could
make
her do anything
she didn’t want to. She doesn’t need me to intercede for her. But she hasn’t
done anything but complain about it since. I’m actually glad to be here
tonight, just for the rest.”

“Well, then,” Cestus said. “Maybe we can have a chess game
or some music after your lesson.”

“What’s chess?” Vatar asked.

Cestus blinked. “A board game.” At Vatar’s blank look, he
shook his head. “It’s too complicated. The only way to explain it is to teach
you. So, in the interests of extending your education, we’re definitely having
a chess game later.”

Vatar shrugged. “Suits me.”

Three lost chess games later, Vatar drained the last of his
goblet of wine and stood up with a sigh. “It’s late. I’d better go.”

Cestus put the board and pieces away. “You made some
interesting moves in that last game. Maybe we’ll get a chance to play again
next time.” He paused. “You know, Father would probably enjoy a game or two
with you, too.

Vatar shrugged. He’d made his peace with the idea that
Veleus was his father on the plains when Boreala saved Mother’s life. “Fine
with me.”

~

Vatar watched as Uncle Lanark looked over his latest
work—another iron ball, similar to the one he’d made for Avaza.

Uncle Lanark smiled and handed it back. “It’s good. Very
good work. Now do it again with finer rods.”

Vatar went into the work full of confidence. If Uncle Lanark
thought the larger piece was good enough, he could certainly do the same again.
Besides, he expected that the finer rods would be easier to bend and therefore
the work would go quickly. He was wrong. Working with the finer rods showed up
any little flaws more clearly. It was almost like starting over. He had to
scrap four attempts before he finally produced an openwork ball that even Uncle
Lanark couldn’t find any fault with.

“Good, good,” Uncle Lanark said, turning the ball around in
his hand. “I’ll talk to the Guild Master tomorrow. When we go, bring that spear
of yours along, too. There are a couple of masters who may be even more
interested in that.”

~

Vatar stood and tried to resist shifting from foot to foot
as the masters passed his little iron ball back and forth and conferred in
whispers.

Old Delvin, the master
bladesmith
gave the ball a cursory glance and passed it on. He looked up at Vatar, bright
eyes sharp. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“A spear . . . a lance . . . I made on the plains,” Vatar
answered.

“Well, let’s see it.”

Vatar advanced, carrying the lance with him. He should have
taken the point off. The full lance, shaft and all, really was ungainly to
carry on foot. He found himself inexplicably reluctant to hand the lance over,
but Master Delvin held out his hand imperiously and Vatar handed the weapon
over.

Master Delvin and another master—Vatar thought he was the
master swordsmith, but he wasn’t sure—bent their heads together over the spear
point.

Master Delvin touched the iron socket and looked up at
Vatar. “What’s this for?”

Vatar paused, not sure he wanted to try to explain what a
forest tiger was to these stern men. “The . . . uh, the beasts we were to hunt
have a very tough hide, almost like armor. I put that on to add weight to the
point and also reinforce the joining of the blade to the shaft, so it wouldn’t
break with the impact. I didn’t have materials for more.”

“Forge welded it, I see,” Master Delvin said. “Very
ingenious. Did it work?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, what are these creatures you were hunting?” the other
master asked skeptically.

How could he explain to people who’d never been on the
plains? They probably hadn’t even seen a lion for comparison. Anything he said
would likely sound too fantastic to be real without some kind of proof. He’d
left the hide with Pa and Mother, because he didn’t think he’d need it in
Caere. Maybe he should have brought it, after all, but he’d had no way to know
that the master smiths would be studying his spear point this closely. All he
had was the fang, tucked inside his tunic. He’d gotten used to its weight and
Avaza seemed to like seeing it there. Well, that’d have to do.

He loosened the lacings of his tunic and pulled the fang out
to lie on top of his tunic. “Forest tigers—a pair of them. This is a fang from
one of them.”

The skeptical master sat back in his chair then leaned
forward to get a better look, as if assuring himself that the fang was real.
“Merciful Sea Gods! Glad those things don’t come this far west.” He looked up,
meeting Vatar’s eyes. “You killed
two
of them?”

One side of Vatar’s mouth quirked up. “Not alone. There were
twenty of us all together.”

Master Delvin tapped the spear head. “All armed like this?”

Vatar shook his head. “No, sir. Only three of us were
mounted with lances. The rest had either javelins or shorter thrusting spears.”

“And you made them all?”

“Yes, sir. But I spent the most time on the lances.”

“Well, what do you think?” the Guild Master asked, trying to
pass the iron ball back to Master Delvin.

Master Delvin waved it away impatiently. “That’s a bauble. A
toy.” He tapped the head of the lance. “This, though . . . this is very good
work. Especially for someone with no specialized training.” He squinted at
Vatar. “I’d like to have him work with me for . . . oh, say a month. If his
work comes up to this standard, I’ll not only vote to make him a master in our
craft, I’ll invite him to undertake special training in blade craft.”

The other master who’d been studying the spear nodded. “Yes.
And after you finish with Master Delvin, you can come work with me and learn to
make swords. If this is a sample of your work, I think you have the gift for
it.”

Vatar grinned, his chest expanding with pride. To be asked
to work with
both
the master blade smith and the master swordsmith was
almost better than being told he was close to being a master himself.

~

Vatar sang as he worked. Of all the kinds of work he’d done
since apprenticing to the Smiths’ Guild, this was the best. He’d learned so
much already from just the handful of knife blades he’d made under Master
Delvin’s mentorship.

It was not the same fierce song he’d sung when making the
spears, of course. There was nothing of anger or fear in this song. It was just
what felt right to him for the blades he was currently making. The blades felt
right, too, but . . . when he touched the spear point he felt a different, more
dangerous resonance from it. He shrugged. Maybe it was just memories of the
fear, anger, and determination of the tiger hunt.

It didn’t seem like it could have been a month already when
Master Delvin examined the blades Vatar had made. The blade smith didn’t seem
to notice any difference in the feel of the newer blades—or at least no
difference he didn’t approve of.

The older smith smiled and nodded. “Yes, yes. Very good. I
could wish most of the journeymen I’ve taught over the years learned half so
well.”

Vatar grinned.

The older man pinned Vatar with his sharp eyes. “I hope
you’ll continue to learn from me after your master’s ceremony. You really have
a talent for blade craft.”

“Gladly, Master Delvin.”

“Good, good. Shame to waste a talent like yours.”

~

Vatar looked across the room to where Avaza, Uncle Lanark,
and Aunt Castalia stood. He almost wished this ceremony could have been
postponed so that Pa, Mother, and Kiara could have been here to see it.

He was distracted by a stir at the door. Odd. He’d thought
everyone who was coming was already here. The crowd of masters and journeymen
parted the way the herdsmen and their dogs cut a path through a herd of cattle
or horses. And then Vatar saw the three newcomers and understood. Cestus,
Boreala, and Father stood in a space cleared by at least an arm’s length on all
sides and the murmur ran around the room. Fasallon—including a Master Healer and
a member of the High Council—had come to Vatar’s master’s ceremony. Vatar
smiled. Only a handful there understood that they were his father and
half-siblings.

Then his attention was claimed by the guild master,
officially entering his name in the register of master smiths. It was common
for the guild master to do this, even though Vatar could have signed his own
name, since very few of even the master smiths could read and write. Next to
his name was a space for Vatar to enter the symbol that would become his
master’s mark. Vatar took the writing implement, dipped it in the ink, and
deftly drew the few lines of the Lion Clan’s symbol—the charging lion as
depicted in the usual manhood tattoo. He couldn’t think of a more appropriate
symbol for the first Dardani smith.

The other masters were nearest and they crowded around first
to pump his hand and congratulate him.

“Don’t forget, now,” old Delvin said with a wink. “Even
master smiths learn from each other. Don’t neglect to come and work with me.”

Vatar grinned. “I won’t.”

“And with me,” the master swordsmith said.

“I will.”

Then the journeymen, Fowin complaining good-naturedly that
Vatar missed several months of his training and
still
finished first.
Finally only his family remained.

Vatar put his arm around Avaza, who seemed happy for once.
“I’m glad you came, Father.”

Father grinned and shook his head. “I wouldn’t have missed
it, son. I haven’t had nearly enough time to spend with you.”

Vatar shook the rain off before stepping into the Temple
room. He was glad to see that someone had built a fire in the fireplace to take
the chill off the evening.

“How are things at home?” Cestus asked. “Better? Avaza
seemed pleased at your master’s ceremony anyway.”

Vatar shrugged. “A little. At least she’s not still
complaining about that lightning-blasted dress. But she’s still moody.
Something’s bothering her, but she won’t tell me what. So there’s not much I
can do to help her.”

Cestus shrugged. “Women get that way sometimes. Lancera
certainly does. So, I guess this means there’ll be time for another chess game
or two tonight.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Good. I’ll let Father know. He wants a chance to play
against you, too.”

Later in the evening, Vatar placed his hand on his horseman.
Perhaps it was his Dardani upbringing that made him favor this piece, but he
had a tendency to lead with it.

Father put his hand out to block the move. “Don’t make that
move, Vatar.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m enjoying our talk. I don’t want to finish the
game, yet. And that move will end it. You’ll expose your commander.”

Vatar looked at the board. Father was right. He moved one of
his towers, instead, shielding his commander.

Father nodded approval. “I’m going to miss these evenings
with you when you go back to the plains.”

“Maybe not,” Vatar said, studying the board.

Father huffed. “It’s not up to you to say what I’ll miss.”

Vatar chuckled as he made his move. “That’s not what I
meant. I’ve been offered an opportunity to come back next year and work with
the blade master. And the master swordsmith, too. I want to talk to Pa about
it, but that’d be very valuable experience for the Dardani. About half the work
is on one kind of blade or another—arrowheads, knives, or spearheads. No
swords, though. After making the spears for the tiger hunt, I’d really like to
learn more of that aspect of the craft.”
Of course, Avaza probably won’t
like the idea.
Vatar clenched his jaw. Avaza didn’t seem to like much of
anything in Caere. Well, she was free to choose not to return with him. That
might be better all around.

Father sat back and raised his wine goblet. “Well, then.
Here’s to learning to make blades.”

In the corner, Cestus started up a new melody on the harp.
Vatar started to hum along with the unfamiliar tune.

Cestus paused at the end of that tune. “After hearing you at
work at your forge, I’d never have guessed you could sing, Vatar. You actually
have quite a pleasant voice. Do you play any instruments?”

Vatar studied the board and moved one of his walkers. “I’ve
played reed pipes from time to time. Not for a while, though.”

Cestus placed his hands along the strings to stop their
vibration. “Like a flute? I might have to find one so we can play together some
time. Harp and flute sound good together.”

Vatar cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know how much
reed pipes are like the flutes I’ve seen here.”

Cestus smiled. “Well, if that doesn’t work out, I can always
just write out the lyrics so you can sing along.”

~

After five games of chess with his father, Vatar walked home
through the quiet and mostly empty streets of Caere. It gave him a chance to
reflect on some of the things that had happened recently. No. Once he thought
about it, he was sure Avaza would not like the idea of coming back to Caere for
another year. Well, that was the wisdom of the Dardani custom of year mates
over the way things were done here in the city. When they got back to Zeda,
they could just part ways and no one the worse for it. Avaza wouldn’t have any
trouble finding another year mate who’d suit her better. The cold, hard truth
was that they just didn’t want the same things. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Just
one of those things the system of year mates was designed to let them find out
about each other.

The thought cheered him. Just a few more months. He’d do his
best, work harder to make her as happy as possible in that time. He owed her
that. Anyway, things were just better generally for him, too, when Avaza was
happy. Then they could part as friends this summer.

Arriving home late, he took one look at Avaza’s face and
sighed heavily.
What now?
Well, he’d just resolved to try to make her
happier. Maybe if he paid her a compliment or made her laugh. It was impossible
to miss the way her tunic hugged her curves—more now even than it had when they
arrived.

He forced a smile. “Caere agrees with you in one way, at
least. You’ve put on a little weight in all the right places. I thought your
curves were alluring before, but now . . .” He trailed off. Wrong thing to say,
obviously. Avaza looked like she was going to cry.

She crossed her arms. “Where were you all evening?”

“You know I have lessons with Cestus every Seconday
evening,” Vatar said.

Avaza tossed her head. “They never used to last this long.”

Vatar shrugged. “Well, Father has been coming by after our
lessons are over. We play chess. It never bothered you before.” He tried to hug
her, but she slapped his hands away.

“That’s your answer for everything. And look where that’s
led.”

Vatar took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“I’m pregnant,” she answered.

All the breath went out of Vatar’s body. “Oh.” Because she
seemed to expect him to say something more, he added, “That’s wonderful.” He
was pretty sure he didn’t sound convincing. He certainly didn’t convince
himself.

It was hard to sound convincing when his world had just been
turned upside down. This room had never felt small and suffocating before.
Suddenly, it felt like a trap. Trapped. He clenched his jaw to keep from saying
the words that flowed through his mind.
The whole idea of being year mates
is to prevent exactly this. Babies aren’t supposed to happen until
both
partners are ready.
Ready was the last thing he felt just then.

He stiffened his shoulders. Ready or not, it had happened
and he’d carry out his duty—whatever it cost him. He knew his
responsibilities—even if he hadn’t expected them quite this soon. At the same
time, Vatar saw his chance to study with the blade master and the sword master
evaporate even as he looked at Avaza’s face. She certainly wouldn’t want to
come back here next year. Part of him acknowledged that she was trapped, too.
Just . . . maybe right now wasn’t the best time to try to talk about it—or
argue about it—as she so clearly wanted to do.

He fumbled for the handle of the door behind him. He needed
a drink. Or maybe several. “Excuse me. I . . . I just remembered something I
need to take care of. Uh . . . It may take awhile. Don’t wait up.”

~

A seven-day later, Vatar was glad to go to his lesson with
Cestus. It was his one really good excuse for making himself scarce in the
evenings. At least tonight he wouldn’t have to confine himself to one-word
answers in order to prevent—or, at best, delay—the inevitable squabble with
Avaza. As often as she started a quarrel, he was starting to think it was the
one thing she enjoyed anymore.

“You look even more unhappy than usual,” Cestus observed. “I
take it Avaza’s mood hasn’t improved.”

Vatar slumped down into one of the chairs. “Worse. She’s pregnant.”

“Oh. Well that does tend to happen in marriages, you know.”

Vatar slammed his fist on the table. “It’s not
supposed
to happen between year mates. Not until the couple has been together for two
winters and declared themselves life mates. I
know
Boreala explained
about urulu weed. Avaza couldn’t manage even
that
much on her own. Now .
. .”

Cestus poured wine into a cup and pushed it across to Vatar.
“Don’t worry, Vatar. Pregnant women do get moody sometimes. Lancera and I had
some difficulties when she was pregnant the first time. But since Jana was born
our relationship has only gotten stronger and better.” He paused. “In some
ways, I envy you.”

Vatar snorted. Nothing about this situation seemed enviable
to him.

“No, Vatar, I’m serious. I’ve seen how the Dardani live.
You’ll always know that your children will have the freedom to be and do
whatever they choose. Not like among the Fasallon, where
everything
depends on how much Talent you have. If it weren’t for Father—and my success
with you—I probably wouldn’t even be allowed to teach the youngest children
their letters and numbers.” Cestus shook his head. “I was glad our first child
was a daughter. Jana’ll be all right, with a High Councilor for a grandfather.
It’ll be harder for Arus, when he grows up, if he proves not to have any more
Talent than I do.” He looked back at Vatar and smiled. “At least the second
pregnancy wasn’t so hard on Lancera. Things do get better.”

Vatar couldn’t think of an answer for that, so he just took
another gulp of wine.

Cestus’s eyes narrowed as he watched him. “How will this
change your plans?”

Vatar sighed. “I don’t know yet. I want to continue my work
with the blade master, but I can’t imagine Avaza wanting to come back here.” He
tossed back the last swallow of wine. “On the other hand, I can’t imagine
myself wanting to spend a winter penned up in a small hut with Avaza, either.”

~

Vatar tiptoed into his apprentice quarters, hoping Avaza was
already asleep. Her temper hadn’t improved as the winter—and her pregnancy—advanced.
He drew a deep breath. No such luck.

Avaza screeched at him. “Where are you all the time? You’re
never here. You can’t stand to look at me anymore, can you?”

Vatar held out his hands in a pleading gesture. “It’s not
that. You’re beautiful. At least, you are when you’re not angry. But you’re
angry so much of the time, now. And there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
Or
make you happy. Ever. I
used
to be able to, but not anymore.

Avaza’s frown eased slightly. “You still haven’t answered my
question. Where were you this evening?”

“I was seeing to the preparations for our return to Zeda.
Are you sure you want to leave so soon. It’d be safer to wait for Pa and Arcas
to come for the trading and go back with them.”
And then our baby would
likely be born here, with Boreala to take care of things like she did with
Mother.
He didn’t think it’d be a good idea to say that, though. The number
of things it wasn’t safe to say had grown to a mountain, lately.

Avaza threw up her arms. “No! I can’t wait to get away from
here and back to Zeda!” She placed her hand over her swelling belly. “And I
don’t want my baby born here. It can’t be soon enough to suit me.”

“All right, Avaza. All right. I was just concerned for you.”

Sky above and earth below! It couldn’t come too soon for
him, either. Maybe Avaza wouldn’t be so hard to get along with when she was
back home in more familiar surroundings. Maybe things would go back to normal
after the baby was born. Maybe horses would learn how to fly.