Silence. The voice appeared to have said all it was going to and Vatar was no wiser, and a lot less comfortable than he had been. This just kept getting scarier and scarier. A cold lump formed in Vatar’s gut. He was going to have to talk to Trev again. He might have no choice but to submit to the exorcism after all. He wasn’t sure which frightened him more, the voice or the idea of an exorcism. He was going to have to decide, though. One way or the other. Soon. What else could he do?
~
Vatar moved his horseman and looked across at Cestus. “You know, my so-called lessons with Montibeus are nowhere near as informative as yours were. He mostly keeps trying to persuade me to stay and help with your Festival next summer.”
Cestus smiled wryly as he studied the board. “You could garner some goodwill with the High Council that way, but I don’t think he fully appreciates what he’s asking of you.”
Vatar nodded agreement. “In fact, I’m thinking of leaving early this year.” There were things he could talk to Cestus about that he would never consider mentioning to Montibeus. Some things he really wanted to talk to someone about. Still, the questions stuck in his throat. Maybe if he had more information to start with he could phrase his questions more intelligently.
“I miss our lessons. Why don’t you bring me a scroll to read and we can discuss it over our next game. History perhaps. Something about Tabeus.”
Cestus moved one of his towers to guard his commander. “Getting interested in family history, Vatar?”
Vatar moved a walker. “Something like that. I’m curious about what kind of man he was. I’d like to read whatever you can find about him.”
Cestus shrugged. “I happen to have a couple of scrolls over in the guest house, now. I’ll bring one over tomorrow.”
Vatar breathed out. “Thank you.” The idea that he might be Tabeus reborn was about the only one he could pursue until he could get back to the Dardani and talk to Trev. It’d be some comfort, perhaps, to find a lot of similarities to his distant ancestor. Something that he could cling to if that voice turned up again.
Chapter 25: Reconciliation
Cestus stopped dead as he approached his old home. Lancera had always stayed away when he came in the mornings to visit their children. Until now. Jana and Arus were nowhere in sight—inside the house, presumably. Instead, Lancera stood in the middle of the small yard, waiting for him. And obviously no longer pregnant.
He blew out his breath and squared his shoulders. Whatever she wanted now, he clearly wasn’t going to see his children until he’d talked to her. “Lancera?”
Lancera shifted her feet and cleared her throat. “I . . . I need to talk to you. You said that you still love me. Did you mean it?”
Cestus sighed. “Yes. But I can’t live with you and raise another man’s child. I’ve tried to find it in my heart, but I just can’t.”
Lancera took several hurried steps toward him. “You don’t have to. I . . .” She paused and swallowed hard, looking away. “The child died at birth. There is no child to raise.”
“I’m sorry, Lancera. I didn’t know.” Cestus had to hold himself back. Even now, part of him wanted to reach out to comfort her, hold her while she cried. Her pain was going to overwhelm his common sense. He turned away. He’d come back to see Jana and Arus later.
Lancera gasped in almost physical pain. She rushed forward and put a hand on his arm to stop him. “I’ve lost the child, Cestus. I don’t want to lose you, too.” Lancera blinked, trying vainly to stop her tears. “I’ve been punished for my mistake. Can’t you forgive me?”
Cestus fought to hold himself still. Part of his brain screamed at him to leave before he weakened. Forgive? Yes, he could forgive. But how could he ever trust her again? And, without that trust, what would their relationship be worth? It couldn’t possibly ever be the same again. Wouldn’t it be better, in the long run, to just find a way to end it and move forward—separately?
“Please, Cestus!” Lancera wailed.
Almost by themselves, Cestus’s hands lifted to draw her in. He hugged her, rocking slightly as he used to do with Jana when she was a baby and colicky. As he hugged Lancera and let her cry on his shoulder, his resistance melted. His last shred of good sense. He’d known he shouldn’t stay, but now he couldn’t bring himself to leave Lancera alone with her grief. This was probably doomed. It might be a huge mistake, but there was nothing else he could do right now. He let out a long sigh. “We can at least try. I can’t pretend it will be easy, but we can try.”
~
When he got back to the farm late that afternoon Cestus drew in a deep breath scented with apples and horses. He took a moment to look around the courtyard that now extended between the two houses. This place—and the family he had here—had been a godsend for him when he needed it. He’d be sorry to go.
Seeing Vatar closing down his forge for the day and talking to Arcas, he strode forward. Might as well talk to them sooner than later. “Vatar, Arcas. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, letting me stay here. But it’s time I move back home, to Lancera and our children.”
“Back to Lancera?” Vatar asked incredulously.
Cestus nodded. “She . . . The baby died. I don’t know if we can work it out, but . . . she needs me right now. I think we have to try.”
Arcas clapped him on the shoulder. “I hope things work out for you and Lancera.”
Vatar nodded. “Yes. Whatever makes you happy, Cestus.” Vatar’s eyes narrowed in thought. “But do you have to go back there?”
“Where else?”
Vatar’s gesture took in the farm. “Here. Why not bring Lancera and your children here? A new, clean start away from whatever influences might make things more difficult for both of you.”
Cestus shook his head. “I appreciate that, Vatar, but we couldn’t impose that way.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Vatar said. “Listen. Orleus will be going back to Tysoe soon. And Arcas and I will be heading out for Zeda not long after. Thekila, Theklan, and Quetza will be going with us, leaving Elaria alone here with little Caslar. I’m sure she’d be glad of the company. And I bet Arcas would be glad to know there was someone here looking after them.”
“I surely would,” Arcas said.
Cestus paused, looking around the familiar courtyard. A fresh start, indeed. And maybe enough work to keep Lancera from getting bored again. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. And the privacy to continue his researches into that prophecy and what part he might have in it. “I’d like that. I’ll talk to Lancera about it.”
Chapter 26: Brothers
Orleus sighed as he finished his evening lesson with Quetza. Against all expectation, he’d actually learned quite a lot. He’d be able to use Far Speech to talk to her even across the distance from Tysoe without strain, but that wouldn’t be the same as sitting next to her. He’d put it off almost as long as he could. The time when he’d have to return to his duty as Captain of the Tysoean guard and bring his new recruits back with him was not far off.
“What are you thinking?” Quetza asked.
“That I’ll have to go back to Tysoe soon. I find that I’ll miss these evenings with you much more than I ever would have thought.”
Quetza smiled. “At least we’ll still be able to talk.”
Orleus shook his head. “It won’t be the same. I wish I could show you Tysoe. I think you’d like it there.”
“Isn’t Tysoe very much like Caere?”
“It’s nothing at all like Caere. That’s why I love it there. There’s a real forest surrounding Tysoe—our main export to Kausalya and Caere is timber and wood products, after all. Though it’s nothing like as huge and dense as the Forest between the Dardani and your Valley. And Tysoe’s not all that far from the Kragehul Mountains. Really good hunting up close to those mountains. Good fishing in Narycea Lake, too. Tysoe’s right on the shore of the lake.”
Quetza’s eyes took on a faraway look. “Sounds wonderful.”
Orleus swa
llowed. “Why don’t you come with me? Just for a little while. A visit to some real trees and a glimpse of mountains would do you good. And I could get you back to Zeda to rejoin Vatar and Thekila.”
“I don’t know . . .”
Orleus reached out to brush her hand with his. “Surely after all this time you’re not afraid to be alone with me.”
Quetza snorted. “Of course not. But I can’t abandon Thekila, yet. Not while there’s still some question about what’s happening to Vatar. That incident with the archery . . .”
“It’ll only be for a short time. Less than a month.”
Quetza didn’t answer immediately, but her eyes betrayed how tempted she was.
“The hunting’s excellent this time of year.” Orleus held his breath. Would that enticement be enough to change her mind? Apparently so.
Quetza smiled. “Now it’s you who knows me too well.”
“Then you’ll come?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”
~
Now that he had no more reason to delay, Orleus went down to the docks the next day to arrange passage for himself and Quetza, as well as his nearly two dozen recruits. He passed up the ship that would be leaving first after discovering that Andreus would be on it. He’d heard from Boreala that the Healers’ Hall had discovered that Lancera wasn’t the only patient the Healer had seduced. They’d decided to punish Andreus by sending him to Tysoe, specifically to work in the new settlements in the Land between the Rivers, where there would be almost no women. He had to appreciate the irony of the punishment, but he had no desire to travel the distance to Tysoe with the man who’d caused so much trouble for Cestus.
The next ship actually suited better. He could get nearly private cabins for both himself and Quetza and there was still room for all of his recruits. Quetza would never have traveled by sea before, so it was important to make this part of the journey as comfortable for her as possible. He finished his negotiations with the ship’s master and started back up the wharf toward town.
“Orleus? Is that you?”
Orleus blinked. Now who would know him in this part of Caere? He turned. Everyone was rushing about their own business except a young Fasallon man, perhaps five or six years younger than himself. Not one of the men he’d passed up in recruiting. He’d remember that. This one was a little old for a recruit, anyway. Orleus looked closer. This young man looked strikingly like . . . himself. “Who are you? Do I know you?”
The man’s shoulders sagged. “Don’t you r-recognize me? I’m M-Miceus. Your b-brother.”
Orleus stifled a gasp. “Miceus?” He strode forward rapidly, a broad smile spreading across his face. “How could I recognize you? I haven’t seen you in more than twenty years! The last time I saw you, you were only this high, still clinging to Mother’s skirts.” He held his hand at about hip height.
Miceus returned the smile. “That’d be about r-right. Where have you b-been hiding?”
Orleus didn’t remember the stammer. He decided not to mention it. Catching up with his long-lost brother was more important. “I live in Tysoe for the most part. I’m just here on business. Recruiting. And I’ve been having some blades and points made by the best smith I know. One of our brothers, as a matter of fact. He’s just finished my new sword.”
“Have you b-been here all winter? And you n-never came to v-visit?” Miceus asked.
Orleus shrugged. “I didn’t know where to find you. At least when you weren’t in the shadow of our mother.”
Miceus took a step back, his smile fading. “What k-kind of lies did F-Father t-tell you about her?”
Orleus paused with his hands out. Looking at him now, it was too easy to forget how young Miceus had been at the time. How much did he remember? How much had he even understood of that last break between their parents? And, knowing Mother, how many lies had he swallowed down whole in the meantime? Diplomacy had never been Orleus’s strong suit, but he’d better find a way to handle this delicately. “Father has never told me a lie. And he’s never said anything against Mother in my presence. He didn’t have to. I was old enough to remember what happened between them. And with Boreala.”
“How c-can you defend him? He sent you away. He sent you to T-Tysoe all alone.”
Orleus shook his head. “He sent me away to protect me from Mother. She’d already almost destroyed Boreala. Father wasn’t about to let her have a chance to do the same to me. And I was never really alone. Father had friends there who took care of me. And Father spoke to me every night with Far Speech. He brought me back most summers to spend at least a month with him. It was Mother who abandoned me when she realized I was beyond her control.”
“F-Father t-took you away from her. You and B-Boreala.”
Orleus drew in a deep breath. “Miceus, there’s nothing wrong with Mother’s Talent that I know of. She could have used Far Speech to keep in contact with me—or Boreala—as easily as Father did. She didn’t even have to know where I was. She never made the effort. Not once. Father always did. He never missed a day during that first year I was in Tysoe. And rarely after that until I was grown and had started to take on my responsibilities in the Tysoean Guard. Even then, he’s always contacted me with Far Speech at least once a seven-day. Didn’t Father ever try to speak to you when you got old enough for Far Speech?”
“He d-did,” Miceus said slowly. “But M-Mother said not t-to answer him.”
Orleus felt a twinge of guilt. He’d never attempted Far Speech with either Miceus or Selena. It was a poor excuse that he’d lacked the concentration needed to use his Talents effectively and rarely initiated Far Speech even with his father or Boreala. If Orleus had made an effort, Miceus might have answered him. He might not have been left with only Mother’s twisted side of things. “Let’s not waste our time arguing about our parents. I’ve only heard third-hand reports about you for twenty years. And I doubt you’ve heard even that much about me. Let’s catch up. Not down here. I know a good tavern up in the north end of town, nearer the guildhalls. What brought you down here in the first place?”
“M-Mother asked me t-to see t-to something. She ordered some g-gems specifically from Ch-Chrysaor last summer. What the m-merchant b-brought was not what she asked f-for. She wanted me t-to m-make sure he understood exactly what she wants this t-time.”
“Well, for once Mother’s pickiness is more than just annoying. It gave us an opportunity to meet again, at least. I heard you had married and already have several children.”
“Three,” Miceus answered with pride. “It’s our d-duty as T-Talented F-Fasallon. How many ch-children do you have?”
“None. I’ve resisted the Council’s pressure to marry. In fact, I resist practically everything the Council wants out of habit, unless it has to do with my duty to the Guard. But I may change my mind, soon. The idea of marriage is starting to sound more interesting—if I can marry the right woman.”
~
Orleus looked up as the lengthening shadows crossed their table at the tavern. He’d nursed a single tankard of ale through the afternoon. “I was supposed to meet Vatar at the guildhall about now, if I was still in the city this late. Why don’t you come along?”
“Who’s Vatar?” Miceus asked, slurring the words slightly. He’d drunk more than Orleus and obviously didn’t handle it as well.
Orleus noticed that his stammer had disappeared as he drank, though. He wasn’t sure what that meant. “One of our brothers. I told you about him. He’s a smith.”
“One of Father’s bastards, you mean?”
Orleus set his tankard down hard. “Don’t use that language, Miceus! That’s Mother talking through you. We have quite a few brothers who don’t happen to share the same mothers. But most of them are good men and good friends. So mind how you speak of them to me.”
Miceus almost seemed to shrink, like a whipped cur. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. That’s the only way Mother ever talks about them.”
“Well, you’re a grow
n man, now, Miceus. It’s time to stop parroting Mother’s opinion about everything and have one or two of your own.” Orleus blew out his breath and tried for patience. Maybe if Miceus had ever met any of their half-brothers, he wouldn’t talk like that. “Walk along with me to the guildhall. It’s on the way to the Temple and the boat that’ll take you back to the Palace anyway.”
Vatar was just coming out of the gate of the Smiths’ Guild carrying a long, wrapped bundle when they arrived, so Orleus hailed him.
“Orleus!” Vatar waved the bundle. “Good news. The sword master approved your blade.” He held out the bundle.
Orleus took the sword. “I never doubted it.”
Vatar grinned. “Then why did you hang around to find out? You must have been done down at the wharves hours ago.”
Orleus put his free hand on Miceus’s shoulder. “I was. I met someone and stayed to talk. Vatar, this is my brother, Miceus. Miceus, this is our brother Vatar.”
Vatar nodded to Miceus. “Pleased to meet you.”
Miceus hesitated just a moment. “Pleased to meet you, too.” His brow furrowed. “You look like somebody. But I can’t think who.”
Orleus laughed. “He looks a lot like Father. If you hadn’t let Mother keep you away from Father all these years, you’d have seen that right off. He looked between Vatar and Miceus. “I have an idea. Vatar, would it be all right if Miceus came to the farm for seventh-day dinner?” He wasn’t sure whether he should mention to Miceus that their father would be there too, but Vatar would likely catch the implication. “It’ll be a chance for him to reunite with the other half of his family.”
“Of course.” Vatar shrugged. “Family is always welcome.”
“I don’t know,” Miceus said. “I . . . I’ll think about it.”
“Boreala will likely be there. I know she’d want to see you again,” Orleus said, hoping that would influence Miceus to agree.
“I . . . I don’t know. Maybe.” He turned into the Temple.
After watching him go, Orleus and Vatar continued on their way.
The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) Page 20