Chapter 37: Far Speech
After leaving her horse with the nearest herd, Kiara strolled back toward her family’s hut, trying not to attract attention. She didn’t want anyone—except maybe Mother or Pa—to ask where she was going or why. Once she was safely inside the privacy of the hut, she sat down on the grass mats and closed her eyes, imagining Vatar in her head. Not difficult, since she’d seen him just that morning. When she had the image firm, she thought his name and tried to reach out with her magic, the way Thekila had taught her. Nothing.
She tried harder, but that only made her head ache. Another thing that didn’t make sense. She’d been able to use Far Sight to see Theklan all the way in Tysoe. Vatar and Thekila couldn’t be anywhere near that far away. And Vatar was her brother. She ought to be able to reach him, if she’d only had more training. She tried again with the same results. In desperation, she tried visualizing Thekila and calling her name. Still nothing.
Kiara pounded her fists on the grass mats. She had a sinking feeling that this information was important. And there was only one other person here who could contact Vatar the way she should be able to. She’d talk to Pa later to alert him to her suspicions and to ask him to help her with Daron. Right now, she had to talk to Theklan, though it made her skin crawl to have to do it. With a muttered curse, she stood up and went back outside.
Theklan was the last person Kiara wanted to talk to—especially alone. She dragged her feet as she neared the Eagle Clan huts. If she hadn’t needed to be sure of what she’d seen and, more importantly, to let Vatar know, not even a pride of lions could have dragged her to face Theklan again so soon.
The way Theklan’s face brightened the moment he saw her coming almost made Kiara relent. She jerked her chin up, unwilling to let him see that he could still affect her.
“Kiara! I—”
She held up her hand, not ready to hear any more excuses or explanations yet. Trying to make her voice quellingly icy, she said, “I need to talk to you, Theklan. It’s important.”
His expression darkened.
Kiara gestured away from the village. “Will you walk with me?”
He nodded. They walked in silence until they were some distance from the huts. His hand twitched towards hers once, but she raised her hand to push a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Theklan didn’t try again.
Except for the hummocks of the sod huts behind them and the distant green line of the Forest to the east, the plains seemed to stretch to the ends of the world.
Theklan broke the silence first. “So, Kiara, I thought you’d gone out with the herdsmen today.”
She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice. “Daron sent me back. He never wanted me out there in the first place, and now he’s got an excuse. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
Theklan arched an eyebrow. “I don’t have much pull with Daron. Your father or brother would be more help there.”
Kiara shook her head, eyes still on the horizon. “That’s not what I need help with. Something strange happened today. I need to talk to someone who knows about magic.” She left and Vatar and Thekila aren’t here for me to ask instead of you unsaid, but she thought he understood it anyway.
Theklan sat down cross-legged on the ground. “What happened?”
Kiara sat facing him and described the abortive attack by the lion. “I couldn’t sense him at all, Theklan. There’s nothing wrong with my connection to the Spirit of the Lion. Not that Daron gave me a chance to explain that. I can tell that there are lions over there right now, hunting.” She pointed back toward the east. “But I couldn’t feel that one when he crouched right in front of me. And he just seemed . . . wrong.”
Theklan looked troubled. “In what way?”
“His movement was wrong, clumsy. Not like a limp. More like . . . like puppies when they first start exploring. Uncoordinated. Not sure how everything is supposed to work together, you know? But he wasn’t funny or cute like a puppy at all. And . . . I’m not sure, but I think I felt the same kind of wrongness as I did about your Transformation.”
Theklan frowned. “Did he seem smaller than an average lion?”
Kiara leaned forward. If he’d guessed that, she must be on the right track. “Yes. Scrawny and runty.”
“Was his color unusual?”
She nodded. “All black.”
Theklan had become more solemn and thoughtful with every answer she gave. It had to mean something, but he didn’t tell her what. His eyes became distant for a moment, unfocused.
“What do you think it means?” she asked.
Theklan didn’t answer, looking to the sky, following the flight of an eagle high up.
“Theklan?”
Abruptly, Theklan’s eyes regained their focus. “Sorry.”
“What do you think it means?”
“It’s someone using a shape change, obviously. Valson, beyond question. Almost certainly an Exile.”
“How do you know?”
Theklan shrugged. “A shape change—what Vatar would call a Transformation—can usually only be the same size as the person transforming themselves. Which would naturally be much smaller than a real lion. Also, just making a shape change doesn’t give you the knowledge of how to use the alternate form. Walking on four legs instead of two is supposed to be nearly as confusing at first as trying to fly. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. Only a Valson or a Fasallon could perform that kind of magic. But the Fasallon mostly just Transform into the likeness of other people, rather than animals. And it’s a Valson custom to make the avatar either white or black—or sometimes white and black—to distinguish it from a natural animal. So hunters won’t make an unfortunate mistake.
“The only Valson that I know of anywhere on the plains, other than Thekila and me—well, and Quetza, Balan, Zoria, Teran, and,” he paused to cast a wary look at Kiara and swallowed, “Sharila, down in Tysoe—are the Exiles.”
Kiara’s stomach clenched. “I suspected it. But Pa said they wouldn’t get here until much later.”
Theklan shook his head. “Surely Orleus would have warned us if the whole Exile camp had moved. His scouts are keeping an eye on it. So are Dardani scouts, like Ramel, for that matter. This was likely a scout of theirs. Maybe trying to test the reaction to using the likenesses of the totem Spirits against us.” He smiled at her. “In which case, you’ve seriously disappointed them in the reaction they might have expected.” His expression grew serious again. “What I don’t know is how many of those scouts there might be.”
“What do we do?” Kiara asked.
“I’ve already alerted Thekila and Vatar. I guessed you hadn’t or you wouldn’t have come to me in the first place. One of them will double check with Orleus or Quetza about activity among the Exiles. After that, well, maybe Vatar or Thekila will have a better idea than I do.”
Kiara looked away, obscurely disappointed. She wanted more of a part in this than just passing this news on to Theklan—for him to pass on to her own brother. She ought to be able to do that herself.
“Will Vatar come back then?”
Theklan shook his head. “He didn’t say. He’s already out there on the plains. He might decide to go looking for your lion, instead.”
She sighed and looked into the distance.
“Kiara?” he asked, brushing her hand in the way he used to.
She had to fight to keep from turning her hand over, letting their fingers entwine. Unfair that he should still have that effect on her. He was the one who broke faith, who kissed another girl. She shouldn’t still feel this way in his presence.
Kiara shook her head and stood up. Better to break this off now, before the temptation was too great. “I’ll wait for Vatar.” She turned and walked away.
Chapter 38: The Hunt
As soon as the short Far Speech conference with Theklan was ended, Thekila turned to breaking down their camp while Vatar started saddling their horses.
“Are we going back?” Thekila asked.
>
Vatar shook his head. “No. Or . . . not immediately. I’d like to circle around and try to see this black lion for ourselves. We may be able to tell more than Kiara could.” After a pause, he added, “And it might give us a better idea exactly what we’ll be facing when . . .”
Thekila nodded shortly. “Good plan.”
They hadn’t ridden far, stirrup to stirrup, when Thekila passed her reins to Vatar. “Theklan said Kiara couldn’t sense the black lion.” She pointed skyward, where an eagle soared in lazy circles. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t find him by magic. You keep an eye out at ground level. I’ll get a bird’s eye view. Things should go faster that way.”
Vatar nodded. “I should have thought of that.”
Thekila closed her eyes, because having that dizzying view overlaid on her own, much nearer the ground, was likely to make her fall off her horse. Then she reached out with her Far Sight to the eagle, looking through its distance-adapted eyes. At first, she saw nothing but grass, turning from still green nearer the scattered waterholes to a green-gold farther out as the summer waned.
A rippling movement out of sync with the waving motion caused by the wind resolved into a running herd of wild horses, strange when seen from above. Other wild herds moved across the plains, too. The eagle, naturally, looked for still smaller prey, but Thekila was content with the larger animals. In her immediate vision, no sign of any lions, black or otherwise. However, there was a group of something gathered under the trees of a small waterhole. Three of them, whatever they were.
Thekila influenced the eagle to drift in that direction. Only the one laying on the ground made it possible for her to recognize the odd figures as human. Standing, humans presented a very unfamiliar perspective to the eagle’s eyes—well, unfamiliar to Thekila, anyway. But not, by their dark hair, Dardani. Not likely Exiles either. Themyri?
She blinked to clear her vision and pointed in the direction of the waterhole. “There’re three people over there. Not Dardani and probably not Exiles, either. Their hair’s too dark.”
Vatar’s lips thinned as he handed her reins back to her. “Let’s go check, then.”
They approached the waterhole warily, in case there were more men hiding or these were prepared to fight. They were still some distance away when Vatar’s lip curled. “Themyri,” he said. “Likely guides for whoever is using that black lion as an avatar.” After a moment he added, “And any other Exiles that might be out here.” He pulled his spear—fitted out now as a horseman’s lance—out from its place under his saddle.
“We’re going to attack them?” Thekila snugged Taleara a little closer in her sling.
“I am. We can’t leave Themyri raiders unmolested this close to the herds. They’ll start getting ideas.”
Thekila kicked her horse ahead of Vatar’s and turned the mare to block him. “Three against one—even when the one is mounted and the three are not—isn’t nearly as good odds as two against three. You’re not going without me.” She fumbled with the straps that held her own, lighter spear. “I have a spear, too, as you should know. You made it for me, after all.”
“Taleara—”
“We’re bound, Vatar. If . . . anything happens to you . . . I won’t survive either. Taleara wouldn’t last an hour out here without us. Protecting you is protecting her.”
Vatar looked for a moment as if he was trying to marshal an argument against that. He opened his mouth.
Thekila arched one eyebrow.
Vatar shut his mouth and nodded. “They should run when they see us. Hopefully. We shouldn’t have to fight.”
Vatar lowered his lance and squeezed in his heels to bring his horse up to a trot. Thekila followed. As they neared, he pressed his horse into a canter. Though muffled by the grasses, the sound of their hoof beats alerted the Themyri. After a horrified glance at Vatar and Thekila thundering towards them, all three Themyri turned and ran out onto the plains.
Which, actually, only made them easier to chase, since the riders didn’t have to guide their horses around trees or splash through the mud-bottomed waterhole. Thekila matched her horse’s pace to Vatar’s which, surprisingly, wasn’t quite fast enough to catch the running men. They pursued the Themyri for about a quarter of a mile, before Vatar pulled his horse back to a slow walk, patting his shoulder.
“We’re not going after them?” Thekila asked.
Vatar shook his head. “If they’ll run—which smaller groups usually will—we just chase them far enough to make the point. It’ll be a while before those Themyri come back to bother us.” He frowned. “Well, usually . . .”
Thekila arched one eyebrow. “And that’s the real reason? It doesn’t have anything to do with protecting Taleara and me.”
Vatar squirmed a little in his saddle so she knew she was right about that. After a moment he said, “There’s really not much point. I doubt very much that the Themyri could tell us more than we already know or guess about the Exiles’ plans. Their scout—the one who’s using the shape of a black lion—might not even know that.”
“So, what do we do now?”
Vatar swung out of the saddle. “Right now? We walk the horses back to that waterhole to let them cool off. Let them get a drink. And then go back to looking for that black lion or whoever else may be out there.” He grinned. “If there are Exiles scouting the Dardani, we’ve just chased their guides off. Which is going to make their lives much harder in the short term.” He raised his arms to help Thekila down.
~
When the horses had been cooled down, watered, and rested, they set out again to look for the black lion. Thekila passed her reins back to Vatar and borrowed the eyes of a series of eagles as they rode in a wide circle around the outer perimeter of the summer grazing area of the Dardani’s herds. By late afternoon she still hadn’t found anything.
Thekila released the most recent eagle and shook her head to clear it. “Nothing. What do we do now?”
“Now . . .” Vatar paused, glancing up at the lowering sun. “We go back to that waterhole where we found the Themyri. It’s as good a campsite as any other nearby. There weren’t any predators there, at least. Besides . . .” He grinned. “If there are Exiles wandering around out here and the Themyri were their guides, they’ll likely head back there, too. No harm in letting them come to us for a change.”
Thekila stretched and rubbed at the back of her neck. “Sounds good to me.”
Vatar had just finished laying out their fire—on the opposite side of the waterhole from where the Themyri had camped—when he turned his head at a rustling in the tall grass. Thekila froze, watching him for a clue. Vatar’s eyes unfocused as he used Far Sight to see what wasn’t visible to his eyes. “Black lion coming toward us,” he said. He gestured with his hand. “Best get down so we don’t spook him before we’re ready.”
“Can you tell if it’s natural or an avatar?” She asked.
“Avatar.”
Thekila squatted down. “What are you planning? Try to strip his shape change?”
Vatar’s eyes narrowed. “No. If that’s going to work, it’s probably better if we save that. Let it come as a surprise to them in the middle of the battle. And capturing him would only confirm that I’m here—the one they most want to catch. Besides, we couldn’t hold him for long.”
“What else can you do?”
“Now might be a really good chance to find out how my lion stacks up against his.”
“Didn’t you already prove that—against a real lion?” Thekila asked.
“Yes—and no. Physically, my lion is bigger and I almost certainly have more practice in the form. But he’s not just a lion. He’s a human in the form of a lion, with a human’s mind and without the lion’s instincts. It could be a very different fight.” Vatar’s grin flashed. “And maybe this will make him—and any others—a lot more worried about trying to scout us using their avatars.”
He leaned forward so his hands were flat against the ground, which would make his Tran
sformation easier, closing his eyes in concentration. He grunted once before his form wavered to be replaced by a full-sized lion.
It wasn’t—quite—his usual avatar, which was white with a black mane and tail tuft—and therefore obviously a shape change to any Valson. This lion was tawny with a darker brown mane and tail tip. Much more natural.
Vatar stood up from the crouch his original position had resulted in and shook his mane. Then he trotted forward and roared.
The rustling in the grass stopped abruptly. Vatar charged forward and pounced on the black lion.
Thekila held her breath as he disappeared from view in the tall grass.
The grass exploded with two lions—one large and tawny, the other less than half the size and coal black— growled and twisted, trying to get a grip on each other. The black lion was indeed clumsy. Vatar wasn’t. His massive paw connected in a stunning blow, sending the black lion tumbling several body lengths across the trampled grass. Snarling, Vatar advanced on his opponent. The black lion scrambled to its feet and ran off to the south, despite a definite limp on its right front leg.
Vatar shook his mane again and returned to himself. “Looks like you were right about fighting them in avatar form.”
“There’ll be more of them at once, when it comes to it,” Thekila pointed out.
“True.”
“What now?”
“Well, I don’t think that one will be back any time soon.” Vatar grinned. “And, with luck, he won’t even realize it wasn’t a real lion that drove him off. Tomorrow, we’ll continue our circuit around the southern waterholes. There might still be other Exile scouts out there—and they might not all have lion avatars—bears and wolves are just as likely.”
Chapter 39: Training
Kiara endured another day of weeding the vegetable patch and watching over her little brother and Vatar’s children before she went looking for Theklan. Vatar and Thekila hadn’t returned yet after hearing news of the black lion. Vatar had contacted her with Far Speech the night before. Even answering Far Speech was practice, it seemed, and might eventually improve her ability. But he and Thekila weren’t coming back soon. They were continuing their circuit of the waterholes around Zeda, seeking any other Exiles who might be using avatars to scout the Dardani. And using the time away to continue to practice some obscure high-level magic she didn’t understand. All of which left her little choice.
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