The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (29 page)

Teran lingered in the dining hall after most everyone else
had left, nursing a cup of wine. He needed to think. He didn’t like the way
he’d found Thekila with that newcomer Vatar at all. Much too close for his
taste. In fact, Thekila had shown altogether too much concern for the stranger
from the very beginning.

Terania sat down next to him. “I know what troubles you,
Brother.”

Teran grimaced. He should have known better than to think he
could keep anything from his twin. “I’ve never made any secret of my feelings.
I don’t like the way Thekila acts around this Vatar.”

Terania leaned closer. “I’ll tell you a secret. Years ago, a
mystery man bespoke Thekila, just for a brief flash. It’s been happening off
and on ever since. She’s never been able to get him to maintain the contact for
long enough to ask or answer any questions beyond his name and she’s never been
able to make contact herself. Over the years, she’s built up an image of her
secret lover, entirely out of her own imagination.”

Teran set his cup down too hard and sloshed wine on the
table. “Now it seems her fantasy lover is real after all,” he said through
gritted teeth.

Terania nodded. “Yes. Fortunately.”

Teran turned on her. “I’d have thought that you, at least—”

Terania laughed softly and laid her hand on his arm.
“Dearest brother, for all your wisdom, there are still some things you don’t
understand about women. This, apparently, is one of them. So let me instruct
you.

“Fantasy lovers are always perfect. They always take enough
time. They never say or do the wrong thing. They’re always there when you want
them and conveniently absent when you don’t. Real men, flesh and blood men,
make mistakes. They say things that make us cry. They do things that drive us
crazy.

“Teran, even you will never be perfect. You never had a
chance against a fantasy. A flesh and blood rival is something else altogether.
The good news is he will never be perfect either.”

Teran’s face cleared. He smiled down at his sister. “That
does put things in a different light. Thank you.” He raised his cup and drained
the last of the wine.

He still had a lot to think about, only now it would be
laying plans. How to keep Thekila and Vatar separated as much as possible. How
to be as close to perfect for her as he could until she turned to him instead.
He smiled. He had an advantage there. He’d known Thekila for years. He knew
what things made her happy and what made her angry. Those last were not always
the things you might expect.

Terania was right. He’d never be perfect. And he might not
be able to pretend to be for a lifetime, no matter how hard he tried. But he
was confident he could come a lot closer to Thekila’s perfect than Vatar could.

Orleus was up before dawn, preparing to go after the
raiders. Not that any of them had slept more than an hour or two the night
before, keeping watch in case the raiders came back.

Danar came out, standing stiffly not to reopen the deep gash
in his back. “I can send someone with you.”

“No,” Orleus said. “I’ll travel faster alone.”

“But there are three of them.”

Orleus smiled. He hadn’t been made Captain of the Tysoean
Guard because of who his father was, but because of his skills in a fight.
“I’ll be careful.”

“At least take Cestus with you,” Danar said.

Orleus shook his head. “No, with your injury, you need
Cestus here in case they come back. I’ve got Seeker and Arrow. That’s all I
need.”

“Then take this,” Danar said, offering a bronze medallion with
the image of a charging lion on it. “This will prove you come from me. I think
I recognized one of them as Wolf Clan. If they’ve returned to their own clan,
you may need it.”

Orleus took the medallion and put it into his belt pouch.
“I’ll be back in three days—one way or the other.”

Danar nodded.

Orleus held out a scrap of fabric that Seeker had ripped
from the sleeve of one of the kidnappers. “Find, Seeker. Find.”

Seeker took off along the edge of the Forest, Orleus and
Arrow hot on his heels. Seeker led Orleus on the trail all day. They passed
several camps, almost indistinguishable from Danar’s. Late in the afternoon,
Seeker led Orleus straight into another camp and stopped outside one of the
huts, baying.

An old man, accompanied by two younger men, came out of
another hut in response to the noise. “Who are you?” he asked.

“My name is Orleus. I come from Danar’s camp.” He took the
medallion Danar had given him out of his pouch and showed it.

“I am Pakel, chief of this band,” the old man said, inspecting
the medallion. “And these are my sons. What does Danar need from us?”

“Yesterday afternoon, three men attacked Danar’s camp. They
attempted to carry off two of the children. Danar was injured in their defense.
I wounded one man in the shoulder. Arrow bit one in the thigh and Seeker bit
the third on the arm.” He indicated his dogs. “One also was bitten on the hand
by another child, Danar’s daughter Kiara. The men escaped while we tended to
Danar and the frightened children. I tracked them here.”

Pakel paled. “Which children were threatened?”

“Vatar’s. Zavar and Savara.”

“And Danar?”

“A slash across his back. Lucina seems not too worried.”

Pakel shook his head. “Bring out the three ‘hunters’ who
returned this morning,” he said to his sons. “And bring Maktaz, too.”

When the three young men were brought out, it was clear that
they carried exactly the injuries Orleus had described.

“You three have disgraced the entire Wolf Clan. I am ashamed
that any member of my Clan could stoop so low as to threaten a child. Why?”
Pakel demanded.

“They are offspring of an Evil Spirit. They must be purged
for the good of the tribe,” one of the men answered.

“I see.” Pakel turned to Maktaz. “So, this is all your
doing.” He spat at Maktaz feet. “You have even less honor than I thought. Tie
them all.”

The old man turned to Orleus. “No decision about the fate of
these three can be made until the whole Clan gathers in the spring. Maktaz’s
judgment must await the gathering of the entire tribe at Zeda. That is our law.

“However, they should not remain here, close to their
families. So, I will send Maktaz to Bion’s band of the Horse Clan. Lucina is an
adopted member of the Horse Clan and Bion’s life-mate is Danar’s sister. I
doubt Maktaz will find many sympathetic listeners among Vatar’s cousins. But I
will advise Bion to keep him separated, even so.

“I would send these three,” he looked with disgust at the
three young men “back with you to Danar. But perhaps it would be safer not to
put them so close to the children. I will send them instead to Larad’s band of
the Eagle Clan. Larad’s son Ariad is a good friend to Vatar. And the twins’
mother is now Ariad’s year-mate, so I think they’ll find little pity there.

“Will this satisfy Danar?”

Orleus nodded. “It sounds like a wise decision to me.
Danar’s chief concern now is the safety of the children and his band.”

In spite of his private misgivings, Vatar smiled when a
young boy of about Kiara’s age came to the infirmary the next morning to find him.
The boy’s hair was as red as flame, he had a scattering of freckles across his
nose, and his eyes were green. Clearly, Thekila’s brother. “You must be
Theklan.”

“Yes, I am. How’d you know?”

“You look very much like your sister—except taller.” It was true,
at ten Theklan was already taller than Thekila.

Theklan smiled and stretched for another finger span. “She
said I should bring you to class with me.”

“Let’s go then,” Vatar said.

Their progress was slow because Vatar had not yet mastered
the crutch. As they made their way down the paths, Theklan watched Vatar
surreptitiously. “You’re a little old to start training, aren’t you?”

Vatar pushed down his own fears and smiled to show he wasn’t
offended. “I haven’t had an opportunity before.”

Theklan cocked his head to one side. “Why not?”

Vatar shrugged. “Lots of reasons. For one thing, when I was
your age, I was learning to ride and hunt and tend the herds. I’ve been
studying lots of other things since then.”

Vatar paused at an open spot to look around and get his
bearings. This was the first time he’d been out of the infirmary. From here, he
had a wide view.

The Valley was a large, high, mountain valley, rimmed on
three sides by the snow-covered mountains. A large lake almost filled this end
of the basin. The Academy, it turned out, was situated on the western shores of
the lake. Vatar could just make out a city on the far shore before he turned
his eyes away from the water. The area closer by was studded with small groves
of fruit trees. Even this late in the year, the grassy lawns were still fresh
and green. In fact, the weather seemed unexpectedly mild. It was no colder here
than winter in Caere—and not nearly as damp.

Vatar repositioned his crutch in preparation for moving on.
“Where are we going?”

Theklan pointed to a low building some distance away. “Our
classroom’s on the far side of campus. We always meet in the same classroom.
But the teacher changes every day. Sometimes twice a day, depending on what
they’re teaching.”

Vatar looked around the sprawling grounds of the Academy. He
was going to have to learn to use his crutch just to get back and forth to
class. “What will the lesson be today?”

Theklan shrugged. “We never know until the teacher turns up.
Sometimes it’s Quetza or Thekila. They’re fun. Sometimes it’s Terania. She
teaches meditation and focus. That’s really boring. But not as boring as when
Teran shows up. But at least they usually only teach half a day each.”

“What does Teran teach?”

“Teran mostly teaches the Tenets. Of course, they all teach
some regular stuff, too. You know, reading, arithmetic, history. Stuff like
that. We only actually work with our Powers for an hour or two in the morning
and another hour or two in the afternoon.”

“I already know how to read and compute. I know some history
and geography, too.” Vatar paused. “But not the history or geography of the
Valley. That might be interesting.”

When they finally reached the large classroom where
Theklan’s class met, Vatar grimaced to see Teran sitting at the head of the
class. Just his luck to start off with Teran. Or was it luck? Teran had known
he’d be starting class today, even knew he’d be coming to Theklan’s class.

“Let’s start off by reviewing the Tenets,” Teran said. He
put up a large scroll with writing meant to be seen from the back of the room.

Vatar read it.

First Tenet: Show respect for
all life. It is all the work of the Maker.

Second Tenet: Take
responsibility for your actions. The use of Power always has consequences.

Third Tenet: Never use Powers to
harm another. Powers were not given to us to destroy the Maker’s work.

Fourth Tenet: Respect the
privacy of others. Powers must never be used to pry into what is not your
business.

Fifth Tenet: The Tenets define
the Valson. You cannot reject the Tenets and remain Valson.

Interesting.
Vatar could find no reason to quarrel
with these as principals. They weren’t very different than his Dardani values.
But he could think of at least four—no five—Valson that hadn’t considered themselves
bound by these rules. As laws, they distinctly lacked teeth. Teran didn’t seem
to appreciate it when he pointed that out, though.

~

That afternoon, Terania led the class in meditation and
other methods of achieving the focus needed to access Powers. That was all
right.

The next day, Quetza came to teach the art of moving objects
with the mind, which the Valson called distant manipulation. Father’d never
mentioned anything like this Talent. The ten-year-olds had great fun with it.
Vatar flinched away from flying feathers and soft balls of wadded up cotton. He
could feel his pulse pounding. They weren’t rocks, but they reminded him of
that slope coming to life around him, the stones attacking him as if they had
lives of their own.

Quetza took him aside, to a smaller classroom, but no amount
of concentration helped Vatar move so much as a feather.

Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t know if you simply
don’t have this Power or if the memory of what Loran and his friends did is
stopping you. Either way, you’re getting nowhere with this right now. Stay
here. You might as well practice your focus exercises, instead.”

Meditation didn’t come easy. When he closed his eyes, Vatar
couldn’t clear images of flying objects from his mind. There hadn’t seemed to
be any harm in seeing that his children were safe, but this was different. This
really
was
magic. He started opening and closing his injured hand in the
exercises the healer had given him. Not only magic, but demonstrably magic that
could be used to hurt others. Magic that could easily be as evil as his Dardani
upbringing insisted.

He paused in his hand exercises to wipe his sweaty palms. He
wasn’t sure he wanted any part of this after all. The laughter of the children,
playing with their magic in the next room reached him. The innocence of that
loosened the knot in his gut a little. Could this magic also be used for good
things?

He stared at the far wall as a new idea crossed his mind. If
. . . if he had this ability and had been trained to use it . . . could he have
somehow saved Torkaz? Could he have deflected the rock that hit his friend?
Maybe even lifted him out of the river before the flood hit? Was there really
something more he could have done to save him?

~

Vatar stared at the walls of his infirmary room, not sure
what to do with himself. Getting out had been the best medicine for him, but
the Academy only held classes six days out of seven and this was the seventh
day. No classes and nothing else to do.

He’d run his concerns about magic round and round in circles
until his head spun. He’d had the old nightmare of a crashing wave of water
again for the first time in a long time. He needed something to distract him.
Maybe Thekila would come by and have one of those long talks about everything
and nothing with him again. He’d barely seen her since he started classes. He
liked Theklan well enough, but it just wasn’t the same.

He paced across to the door and looked out. She was coming
along the hallway. Vatar smiled and stepped back to let her in.

Thekila stopped in the doorway. “I can’t stay long. I wanted
to let you know that, now that you’re up and about, you’ll be given one of the
houses in the teachers’ quarters while you’re here. You’re obviously too old to
be put in the dormitory with the other students. It’ll be more comfortable than
the infirmary. Theklan will come by later to take you to your new quarters and
show you around. I’m sure I’ll see you later, in the dining hall.” She turned
to leave.

Vatar held out a hand. “Can’t you stay a little longer? I
miss our talks.”

Thekila shook her head. “I do, too. I’m sorry, Vatar. Not
today. I promised Teran that I’d help him with a project of his. We’ll probably
be working all day, if I know Teran.”

Vatar’s stomach knotted with jealousy. His breath caught.
What if Thekila and Teran were . . . together? What if she was already paired
with another man? No, she would have told him, wouldn’t she? But he hadn’t told
her about Avaza until he had no choice. And Thekila had changed the subject
when he had told her how special she was to him.

The thought of Thekila and Teran created a cold, hard knot
in the pit of his stomach. The laws of the Dardani were clear. If they were
already committed to each other, Vatar had to step aside. But if she was
committed to Teran, then . . . then he might just have to climb out over that
pass, snow or no snow. He didn’t think he could stand being here all winter and
watching her with Teran. He had to find out. Theklan would know.

When Theklan arrived, Vatar searched for a delicate way to
ask. Nothing came to him. Finally, he just came out with it as they walked
slowly to his new quarters, carrying his meager belongings.

“Theklan, is Thekila . . . paired with any one?”

“You mean like life partners?” Theklan asked.

“Something like that.” Vatar held his breath.

Theklan shook his head. “
Naw
.
There were a couple of boys who were interested back when she was a student,
but they never lasted long. I don’t think she’s been interested in anybody
since. At least, if she has, she hasn’t told me.”

Vatar let his breath out. “Not Teran?”

Theklan laughed merrily. “Teran! He’s like our older
brother.”

Vatar breathed out. “Is he your brother?”

Theklan shrugged. “Well, no. Not really. He and Terania have
always just acted like it, ever since our mother died. It was their family that
took us in.”

One of Vatar’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not sure Teran sees
himself as Thekila’s brother.”

“Of course he does. How else would he see himself?”

Vatar let that pass. Trying to explain his instincts to a
ten-year-old wasn’t worth it. The knot in his stomach began to relax. If she
wasn’t committed to anyone else, then he had a chance. But first he had to get
her attention—and not as a convalescent.

Theklan showed him to his new quarters—a small two-room
house set among similar, widely spaced little houses. It didn’t take long to
get him moved in. Vatar turned to Theklan. “What do you do here on
seventh-day?”

Theklan’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm. “Most of the boys go
down to the lawns and play abas. That’s where I’m going now.”

“What’s abas?”

“It’s a game. There are two teams of seven. The object is to
run with the ball through another team’s territory, all the way to the other
side. It’s a lot of fun.”

Vatar smiled. “We have something similar where I come from,
only we play it on horseback and there are three teams. It’s called jarai. But
I’m not exactly up to running, with or without a ball. What else do people do?”

“Well, you could always come watch. Some of the teachers do.”

“Yes. But there must be other things to do, too. For
example, what does Thekila do when she’s not teaching?”

Theklan squinted up at Vatar. “Why are you asking so many
questions about Thekila?”

Vatar shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I don’t have that
many friends, here, yet. Who else should I ask about?”

Theklan grunted. “Well, Thekila studies a lot.”

Vatar blinked. “Surely not all the time.”

“No, sometimes she goes out with Quetza and a few others for
long walks up in the woods. Thekila doesn’t like hunting the way Quetza does,
but she says it’s beautiful up on the mountain slopes.”

Long walks on the mountain were also out for the time being.
“Anything else?”

Theklan shrugged. “Sometimes she and Teran and Terania get
together to play music. Terania plays the flute. Teran plays the harp. Thekila
can play both, a little, but usually, she sings. And sometimes she and Teran
play sheggi. That’s not as much fun as abas.
Sheggi’s
played on a board and a game can take hours if the players are good.”

Vatar thought a moment. He could play a little and sing,
too, but he didn’t know what the Valson style of music was like. He’d never
mastered the complicated Caerean style, despite Cestus’s lessons. Among the
Dardani, music was mostly singing, sometimes with the accompaniment of a drum
or reed pipes. When not singing along with the steel, his voice—a light
baritone—was good enough. That was a thought for another day, maybe after his
ribs had healed a little more. “Can you teach me this ‘sheggi’?”

Theklan frowned. “Sure. But I’m not very good. Quetza’s
better. Maybe she’ll teach you. Why don’t you ask her? She’s probably in the
dining hall. She’s on duty today.”

Vatar’s brow furrowed. “On duty?”

Theklan grimaced. “Somebody has to be in charge, in case the
students get into trouble. It’s Quetza today. But she hates being stuck here
all day. She’ll probably welcome something to do.”

Vatar nodded. That’d be something safe to learn and think
about. “That’s a good idea. And when my ankle is better, maybe I’ll come down
to the lawns to watch you play abas.”

“That’d be great!”

Quetza was happy to teach Vatar the game and he was pleased
to discover that it was very similar to chess. Since the differences in the two
games were small, he picked up the strategy quickly. They were locked in a
serious game when Thekila and Teran came into the dining hall for the evening
meal.

Thekila’s eyebrows rose. “You play sheggi?”

Vatar smiled. “Quetza’s just been teaching me. It’s very
similar to chess. I often play chess with my father in Caere. Father always
beats me, though.”