Tereka stared. “What kind of magic is this?”
Osip laughed. “No magic at all. The water turns the wheel. The wheel turns the millstones.”
“What? You don’t use horses for that?”
“Of course not. They’re better used on the farms.” Osip pointed downstream. “See there? Those canals?”
She squinted. “You mean those straight lines?” The morning sun’s light glinting on them made them easy to spot.
“Irrigation canals. We’ve redirected the streams to flow near the fields. Saves a lot of time hauling water.”
So ingenious. Tereka had always felt sorry for the village water carriers, who hauled water from the river to the fields. It seemed like a never-ending chore. Why had no one in the villages thought to build canals? A project like that would help build the safe, fair, and prosperous society they constantly yammered about.
“See that little house?” Osip touched her shoulder and pointed. “The yellow one on the edge of the camp?”
Tereka nodded.
“That’s the weaver’s workshop. She uses the stream to power her loom. She’s getting old but can still produce fine cloth.”
After rubbing her hand over her face, Tereka still couldn’t think of anything to say. No wonder the Riskers had time to paint their plates and concoct potions for their hair. They weren’t wearing themselves out dragging water all over the place.
Then a thought struck her. Maybe they were barbaric, at least a little. “After the water does all that work, do you drink it?”
Osip chuckled. “No, my girl. That’s what the wells are for. Four of them in the camp. We use the streams for work, washing clothes, and bathing. One stream goes right past the bathhouse.”
She clenched her jaw. There was no help for it. She’d have to accept that just about everything she’d been told about the Riskers was a lie. And, if she was being honest with herself, she would have preferred to have been raised in the camp. She clenched her fists, wishing Da had brought her here instead of Trofmose. Then she sighed, knowing that had been impossible. As it would be impossible for her to stay.
But maybe things could change in the villages. “How do people come up with these ideas?”
“Different ways.” He ambled along the stream, motioning for Tereka to follow. “Usually, though, someone sees a problem, like work that is dull, difficult, or dangerous. They use their amulet and ask the sky-god for guidance.”
“How does that help?”
“The sky-god usually gives a vision of what could be. Then it’s up to the person to figure out how to make it a reality.” He pointed to the yellow house. “That’s what happened with the weaver. She was slowing down and couldn’t work her loom as many hours. The sky-god gave her a vision of a waterwheel like the miller’s. It didn’t take her long after that to know what to do. Her son dug the canal for the stream and the carpenter built the wheel. And so you see.”
Tereka frowned, wrinkling her forehead. “That doesn’t seem much like magic to me.”
“Magic? What, you mean like in fairy stories?” Osip shook his head. “No, it doesn’t work that way. The amulets channel the power of the sky-god, but only to serve others.” He tipped his head toward the weaver. “Had she wanted to find a way to become wealthy, her amulet wouldn’t have helped her. But one of her sons had been injured by bandits, and the other’s wife was poorly after childbirth. She wanted to find a way to help them while they couldn’t work as much as they used to.”
“It doesn’t seem very… ”
“Dramatic? It isn’t always. But I can tell you that some of the healing Cillia has done has pulled people back from the moment of death. And there have been rescues.”
“Such as?”
“Most recently, a small boy fell into a warboar trap.” He gestured to the forest in the distance. “A trench we dug along the tree line. The bottom is lined with stakes to keep out wild animals and bandits.”
He took a few more paces. “Anyway, when the boy tumbled in, no one was around but his great-grandmother, eighty-one winters old. She rubbed her amulet, called on the sky-god, and jumped into the trap. That old woman put the boy on her back and climbed out.” He chuckled. “She said she hadn’t been that spry since before her first child was born.” His face dropped then, into a touch of sadness. “My Xico was like that. His amulet helped him do things no one should be able to do. Let’s go back, shall we?”
On the return trip, Tereka was glad Osip seemed lost in his thoughts. She had plenty to think on herself. Regret weighed on her chest, regret that she’d not known her Risker relatives and the comforts of their lives. She wished she could stay with them forever.
Then resentment welled up about the rules in the villages that had deliberately kept people poor and toiling needlessly. And she had no way of leaving those rules behind.
When she went back to Trofmose, she’d have to face Juquila, but now she had three amulets. What if the sky-god story was true? If the amulets did give a person power, couldn’t she use them?
She’d been searching for some way to resist Juquila, to force her to treat her fairly. And maybe get in Groa’s good graces. And be friends with Tirk again. The amulets might be just what she needed.
29
The bowstring dug into Tereka’s fingers, threatening to cut them to the bone.
“Pull harder.”
She glared at Tikul. “I’m pulling.”
“You can do better.”
Six days had passed since she arrived in Zafrad. Tikul had insisted on giving her archery lessons every day. When he first took her to the practice range and had her show what she could do, he laughed. “Tarkio did well teaching you the basics. I’m going to make a real archer of you.”
And he was as good as his word. He drilled her relentlessly, so that she could string her bow in half the time. He taught her how to gauge the breeze and compensate for it, making her shots more accurate from a greater distance. And he showed her the trick of holding three arrows in her hand, nocking them one after another so she could release all three in a row, only needing time to nock the next arrow and pull back on the bowstring. Many times she’d wanted to complain, but something in his mien told her he was as resolute as the granite face of the mountain.
She wasn’t sure what would satisfy Tikul today. She pressed her lips together, held her breath, and pulled back on the string. She let the arrow fly.
It hit the center of the target with a thwock.
Tikul nodded. “You’re getting there.”
Tereka stood a little straighter, smiling. She’d actually pleased him. She tipped her head to the side. “Why are you so insistent on making me an archer, as you say?”
“Your father was the best. I want to see if you take after him.”
“Do I?”
“You have talent. Now you just need to learn to tap into the power the amulets give you.”
Her eyes flew open. “How do I do that?”
“Touch the amulet and think of the sky-god. Ask for help. Then release the arrow.”
The amulets hung on a chain around her neck. She grasped them, wondering how to ask someone who doesn’t exist for help. “Sky-god, help me.” She dropped the amulets, nocked an arrow, then loosed it.
The arrow hit the target about a foot from center. She frowned. “It doesn’t work.”
“It takes practice,” Tikul said. “And belief. I’m not sure you have that.” He pointed. “Fetch your arrows and try again.”
While yanking her arrows from the target, she considered. If there really was power in the amulets, there had to be a way to use it. Maybe Tikul would tell her more. When she returned to him, he nodded for her to shoot again. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it. As she pulled back the string, she was distracted by Tikul’s fidgeting. He started to say something, then stopped. He rubbed his hand over his head and shifted his weight from side to side. Then he muttered to himself.
Tereka found it hard to concentrate. S
he eased the pressure on the string and lowered her bow. “Are you asking the sky-god for help on my behalf?”
He jerked his head toward her. “Tereka, listen. I need to tell you something.”
She met his gaze, eyes wide. “I’m listening, Uncle.”
Tikul took a deep breath. “My parents don’t want me to tell you. But I think you need to know.” He let out a sigh. “When my parents told you they opposed Xico’s marriage to your mother, they only told you part of the reason.”
“That she was a villager?”
“Yes. That in itself was reason enough. Villagers have a whole different way of looking at the world, and it would have been hard for her to adjust to our way of life. On top of that, in the eyes of the villagers, at best she would have been an outcast, never allowed to see her mother or friends again.” He paused. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “At worst, well, the worst did happen. They considered her a traitor and hunted her down. My parents didn’t want any of that for her.”
“Did it have to be that way?” Tereka pulled her eyebrows together. “I mean, couldn’t my father have gone to live in the village?”
Tikul shook his head. “You’ve seen how we live. Even if the village would have allowed it, do you think he could have given this up for village life, to submit to the Prime Konamei’s rule?”
“You’re right. But what was the other reason?”
“Did anyone ever tell you why contact between villagers and Riskers is forbidden, except for the few traders with special licenses?”
She snorted. “Last week I would have said it was to protect us from barbarian savages. Today, I think it’s so we believe the Prime Konamei is doing all he can to give us a good life. If more people saw how you live, I don’t think they’d be so willing to put up with the hardships.”
“That’s right, but there’s more to it.” Tikul picked up an arrow and ran it through his fingers.
“What else could there be?”
“Centuries ago, there was a prophecy.”
“A prophecy?” Tereka laughed. “What, a fairy story?”
“No, a prophecy. I’m not sure why, but a lot of people believed it and the Prime Konamei took it seriously. Over the years, others claimed to have seen the same vision, and have added to the prophecy.”
Tereka shook her head, smirking. “I can’t believe anyone would listen to crackpots.”
“Those who saw the vision were respected citizens. One was even an advisor to the Prime Konamei of the day. The prophecy first surfaced about a hundred years after the first people came to Tlefas. The country was still unstable, and the treaty between the villagers and the Riskers hadn’t been in place long. The Prime Konamei couldn’t afford to take chances.”
“So what did he do?”
“He prohibited any contact between the Riskers and the villagers, other than limited trade. And created stiff penalties for breaking the rules. Like being taken.”
“What was in the prophecy that scared him so much?”
Tikul looked down at his hands, then straight at Tereka. “That one day a village girl would marry a Risker. Her child would be the Desired One, conceived just as the fields ripen for harvest in a year that began with a double eclipse. The child would never know its father, but would bring a new order to the land.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“My parents were afraid that if Xico married your mother, he would be the father mentioned in the prophecy.”
“The one the child would never know?”
“Yes. They took that to mean that Xico would die before you were born, or soon after. Can you see why they didn’t want the marriage to take place?”
Tereka clenched her eyes tightly shut. “Surely, there were other mixed marriages?”
“None that we ever heard of. Maybe others tried. Probably the villager involved was taken before things went too far.”
“But that prophecy is vague. Why would anyone think it meant my parents?”
“Because of the other prophecies that were added to it. The father would be a green-eyed man who would pass his skill as an archer to the Desired One.”
She pursed her lips. Yes, she had been born in a year that began with a double eclipse. Counting backward from her birthdate, she would have been conceived in late summer. She eyed Tikul. Xico had possessed green eyes and was a talented archer. “That’s the reason for these archery lessons?” Her face grew hot. “To test me?”
“Just trying to find out if you are, or if you are not.”
She let out a huff. “Do your parents think I am the Desired One?”
“I don’t think they’re sure. When Tarkio sent word you were a girl, we all thought you weren’t. But seeing that amulet of power… ”
“What?” This was getting crazier by the minute. Trinkets and myths, that’s all this was.
“One of the later prophecies said the Desired One would wield the three amulets of power. Amulets like the larger one Tarkio kept for you.”
“But as you just said, I only have the one.”
“True, but one of the properties of the Three is that they find the person they want to use them when that person needs them the most.”
“I’ve never used mine.”
“That you know of. You should ask Tarkio how he managed to smuggle you all the way to Trofmose. That couldn’t have been easy, keeping an infant hidden for weeks on the road. It seems to me that the amulet has been protecting you all these years.”
Not from Groa. Or Juquila. Or her thugs. She narrowed her eyes. “It didn’t save me from everything.”
“Of course not. But it kept you alive.”
“Why would anyone put stock in a prophecy, anyway?”
“Because it came from the sky-god.”
“The sky-god? Well, that settles it. I can’t be the Desired One, because I don’t believe in the sky-god.”
Tikul grinned. “You might not believe in him, but he believes in you.” His smile faded. “My parents didn’t want to tell you this, but I thought you needed to know. It’s the same argument we had when your parents were courting. My parents were adamant that Xico and Iskra be told nothing about the prophecy.”
Tereka looked at him, frowning. “Why did my grandparents know, and my parents didn’t?”
“Your mother had never heard of it because knowledge of the prophecy was kept from the villagers, except those in positions of power. That way they’d be sure to suppress any possibility of a mixed marriage.”
“And my father?”
“Because Riskers are only told of it after they’re married to another Risker. The thinking is that some young men might see it as a challenge, and go in pursuit of a village girl.”
“But once my parents met, why wasn’t my father told?”
“My brother was convinced he could do anything. He had a gift, it’s true, of being able to do just about anything well. He had a sense that he was special, unique. My parents, especially my father, thought that knowledge of the prophecy would play on that sense and make it impossible to reason with him.” Tikul sighed. “I’m sorry. My parents, and Tarkio, who was your father’s closest friend, were convinced they were doing the right thing by keeping the prophecy a secret.”
“Da knew?” Tereka felt angry heat creep up her face. “He knew and didn’t say anything?”
“He was trying to protect Xico and Iskra the best he knew how, Tereka.” Tikul rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Tarkio was a bit steadier than my brother, more logical and cautious. He thought Xico was impulsive and too confident in his own abilities. I don’t know. I tried to get them to tell Xico the whole story, but I was only one against the three of them.”
Tikul held out his hand to Tereka. “This is why I’m telling you now. What I’ve given you, though, is dangerous information.”
“And what am I supposed to do with it? I don’t want to rule Tlefas.”
“No one knows precisely what the prophecy means.” He looked at her sadly. “There�
��s another part that says the Desired One will also defend Tlefas from an evil that comes from the east.”
“What, so now I’m supposed to fight off an invasion? From who? No one survived the Endless War.” She snorted. “Even if they did, no one would come here, not to this mess.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’m not the one to fix Tlefas. Not me.”
“That’s something we’ll have to see.”
She glared at him. He needed to drop his ideas about her being the Desired One. “The prophecy can’t possibly be about me. I’m not worthy of some special destiny.”
“If the sky-god calls you, then he thinks you’re worthy. Whether you think so or not.”
She frowned, scuffing a tuft of grass with her toe. “And what if it’s not about me?”
He shrugged. “I would wait until I had the three amulets of power, and then decide.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “In the meantime, I hope you understand your life is forfeit if anyone finds out whose daughter you really are. Tarkio and his family could be in danger as well.”
“All because of some mythical prophecy?” She scowled.
“It doesn’t matter if you believe it. The rulers of Tlefas, from the Prime Konamei on down, do. And they won’t hesitate to stamp out any whisper of it.” He put a hand under her chin and tipped her face to look into his. “Please. For your own safety, you need to keep it to yourself and continue to be Tarkio’s daughter.”
“I don’t know if I can do that. He’s lied to me all these years.”
“To keep you alive.” Tikul raised his voice and pounded his fist into his hand. “Don’t you understand? Why do you think Kaberco inexorably hunted your parents down? And killed them? The Desired One is supposed to bring a new order to the land. Obviously, the Prime Konamei and his agents would have to make sure the Desired One didn’t live.” He grimaced. “Aren’t you wondering why you never heard of this before? It’s because the Prime Konamei declared the prophecy to be nothing more than a myth, a dangerous myth. The penalty for even mentioning it is to be taken. If they knew of your parentage, they’d kill you.” He took Tereka’s hand in both of his. “Don’t bring more pain to my parents. Yours died for you. Don’t let that be in vain. And don’t throw away Tarkio’s years of sacrifice.”
Flicker of the Flame: A YA Epic Fantasy Page 16