War of Magic: Dual Magics, #4

By Meredith Mansfield

In the final book of the Dual Magics series, Vatar will need both kinds of magic to prevent all-out war.

Enemies unite to move against his adopted city, just when that city is torn by unrest. Vatar started the turmoil by revealing secrets that had been kept for six hundred years. Now, he’s forced to accept the responsibility and power he’d rejected in order to bring the population together against this threat.

And the greater challenge is still ahead, when the enemy turns their attack onto the plains. The magic-fearing tribe of his birth have no way to stand against the sorcery that will be unleashed against them. Unless Vatar and his friends defend them.

But that may cost Vatar his first home, his identity, and half his family. Because if he reveals his magic, he may never be able to go home again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meredith Mansfield
• Release date: Jan 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386286011

Book preview

Map

Table of Contents

Map

Chapter 1: Premonition

Chapter 2: Spy

Chapter 3: Warning

Chapter 4: Dissension

Chapter 5: High Council

Chapter 6: Double Council

Chapter 7: Flying Lessons

Chapter 8: Warning Ignored

Chapter 9: Savara

Chapter 10: Flying Solo

Chapter 11: Battle of Caere

Chapter 12: Interrogation

Chapter 13: The Battle Continues

Chapter 14: Truth is the Best Weapon

Chapter 15: Engineered Escape

Chapter 16: Fight Training

Chapter 17: The Plan Succeeds

Chapter 18: News from the North

Chapter 19: New Plan

Chapter 20: Zeda

Chapter 21: Superstition

Chapter 22: Back to the Valley

Chapter 23: Awakening

Chapter 24: Torn

Chapter 25: Captive

Chapter 26: Bad News

Chapter 27: Farewell

Chapter 28: Far Sight

Chapter 29: Flight to Zeda

Chapter 30: Persuasion

Chapter 31: Unexpected Reception

Chapter 32: Rare Talent

Chapter 33: Escape

Chapter 34: Planning to Fight Magic

Chapter 35: The Black Lion

Chapter 36: Practice

Chapter 37: Far Speech

Chapter 38: The Hunt

Chapter 39: Training

Chapter 40: Prisoners

Chapter 41: Revised Plans

Chapter 42: Thrown Together

Chapter 43: Devastation

Chapter 44: Sentinels

Chapter 45: Quenching

Chapter 46: News

Chapter 47: Flying to War

Chapter 48: Battle Plans

Chapter 49: Through the Eyes of Eagles and Lions

Chapter 50:  The Battle Is Joined

Chapter 51: Comrades in Arms

Chapter 52: Reinforcements

Chapter 53: Solutions

Chapter 54: Sacrifices

Chapter 55: Undeserved Reward

Chapter 56: New Bonds

Epilogue

Exerpt from Become

Additional Material

What Happened After

Genealogies

Cast of Characters

Peoples

The Story So Far

About the Author

Chapter 1: Premonition

Vatar stared into the heart of his forge, gauging both the heat of the fire—just right—and the temperature of the piece of steel heating there—not quite ready to be worked on his anvil. He twitched his shoulders against a sudden prickling sensation, the one that always presaged danger.

His heartbeat sped up in reaction. Something bad was about to happen and he had no idea what it might be. Vatar tried to look away from the forge, to look around the yard beyond his workshop and locate the source of danger. It hadn’t been that long ago that his children had been attacked in that very yard. But something about the flames held his eyes. Shapes, moving.

At one time, before he’d known about his inborn magic, he’d seen visions in the fire. Most often of Thekila, the woman who was now his life mate. He knew now that had been Far Sight—that he was actually seeing her across an impossible distance with his magic. At the time he’d thought she was only a daydream.

Now that he had better control of his magic, his Far Sight shouldn’t operate without his intention. Anyway, that itch between his shoulder blades was a weak form of Fore Sight—the least reliable and most useless aspect of his magic. The one Talent he had no control over. Well, not entirely useless. That warning prickle had never been wrong. If it was Fore Sight and if it foretold some danger, as his warning signal indicated, he’d better pay attention.

Vatar leaned a little closer, trying to make some sense of the faint images. Ships. Many ships all heading toward the mouth of a bay. Vatar sucked in a deep breath. He knew that landscape, though he hadn’t seen it from that angle. Those promontories guarded the bay on which Caere rested, unless there was another place almost identical. What did that mean? The itch between his shoulder blades only intensified, portending danger. A naval attack on Caere? From where? And why? Caere was the center of a loose and mutually-beneficial alliance of all the coastal cities—well, except for Kausalya, which had recently broken away from that coalition. But, so far, that had only resulted in trade disruptions, not warfare. Not even a minor clash at sea that he’d heard of.

Then the images shifted and Vatar’s breath caught, edging toward panic. The ships became horses. Hundreds of horses charging across the plains. The riders carried bows and spears at the ready. The Dardani going to war? Against what enemy? The obvious answer to that was the thing he’d most feared. Would the Exiles and their Themyri minions finally slip past the southern defenses? How many battles lay ahead? And how far in the future? How long did they have to prepare? Years? Days? His danger sense usually indicated imminent threat, but it was nearly winter. The last merchant ship of the season had returned to harbor more than a seven-day ago. Even the fishermen wouldn’t brave the waters beyond the bay again until the weather calmed once more late next spring. And snow would soon cover the plains, if it didn’t already. Hardly conditions for a mass battle on horseback. That thought wasn’t as much comfort as it should have been.

He shook his head to clear it as the flames returned to being merely flames and cursed his Fore Sight. Once again, his ‘gift’ had given him insufficient information to be of any use. Other than to give him nightmares. No idea when this might happen. Some of the things his ancestress, Abella, had prophesied had taken six hundred years to come to pass. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d be anywhere near that lucky with this Fore Telling.

Vatar breathed in and out slowly, using the calming exercises he’d learned to gain control of his magic. It was more difficult to bring his emotions under control than it had been for some time. Maybe, partly, because he didn’t understand. A naval attack on Caere could only come from Kausalya, the only unfriendly city on the coast. But he didn’t see any relation between that and the Dardani, who lived three days journey from the sea and had no dealings at all with Kausalya. And, if he couldn’t make sense of his own premonition, how was he supposed to warn anyone?

His fists clenched in frustration and he had to start the breathing exercise over. It wasn’t as if he could force his Fore Sight to supply the missing information. Maybe more would be revealed before whatever these images foretold happened. Maybe not.

He blinked and wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his trousers. Vatar glanced at the red-hot steel, now ready to be worked. But, maybe, instead of a knife, as he’d intended, he’d make a spearhead. And try to harness that wild Talent that sometimes allowed him to sing power into the blades he forged. Protection for the user. Just in case.

Chapter 2: Spy

Zoria leaned on the makeshift rail and watched the couple of dozen or so horses the Exiles possessed grazing placidly. Even just those few days she’d spent crossing the plains with Vatar last summer meant she knew more about horses than anyone else in the Exiles’ camp. And so she’d been asked to oversee their care. Fortunately—for her credibility as well as for the horses’ well-being—she was able to bespeak Orleus to ask what she should be doing. And how to do it. Covertly, of course. The Exiles must not know that she was in magical communication with their enemies. That would destroy the whole point of her being here in the first place.

She enjoyed working with the horses. They were so . . . peaceful. It helped her forget her frustration for a little while, at least. She wasn’t one of the Exiles. Not really. Her own sentence of banishment had been rescinded at Vatar’s request. And she was here to help him and his friends. The only reason she’d volunteered for this was to get information on the Exiles’ plans. And, so far, she’d failed dismally. For all she’d been able to find out, she might as well have stayed safely in Tysoe with her brother and at least tried to learn to fight. Although, from what little fighting she’d seen, she didn’t think she’d be very good at it.

Something big was being planned. That much she was certain of. If Loran were here, she could probably get him to tell her. He liked to brag. She shivered despite the late autumn sun. Just as well he wasn’t here, really. They expected her to marry Loran when he returned. And she couldn’t let on that the very idea made her skin crawl. She looked toward the snow-capped mountains in the North. Maybe, with a bit of luck, Loran would be stuck on the far side of those mountains when the snows crept lower down the slopes. Then she would have until the passes cleared again to figure out how to escape that marriage.

Still, whatever the plans were, Loran would be in the midst of it. His father must know. But there was no point trying to get information out of Nertan. The man was as closed-mouthed as a Lake clam.

I wonder if the man even talks to his own children. Hmm. Lorania had been Zoria’s friend since they started the Academy together. Otherwise, Lorania’s twin brother would probably never have noticed quiet, shy Zoria. She hadn’t spoken much to Lorania since they arrived on this side of the mountains. Her friend had been busy with other things, including her own marriage. Decency demanded that Zoria not insert herself into that, no matter how lonely she was. But maybe it had been long enough, now. She counted up the days in her head. Yes, over a month. That should be long enough. And Lorania, thank the Maker, was more like her brother than their father. If she knew something, she liked to talk about it.

Zoria’s eyes narrowed. It was customary to bring a small gift when visiting the new couple for the first time. But, especially in this rustic encampment, it didn’t have to be anything much. From her short rides—exercising the horses—she knew of a little dell where some late summer flowers still bloomed. She smiled. She could harvest two apples—or three—with one shake of the limb. Exercise one of the horses and pick some flowers as a gift. And the ride would help her mood, too.

She picked up a rope halter from the fence post and walked out into the pasture to catch the quiet grey mare she liked best.

~

To her surprise, Zoria found her friend alone in the little house which was reminiscent of the teachers’ residences back at the Academy.

Lorania drew her inside with a hug. I’m so glad to see you.

Well . . . you know . . .

Lorania laughed. Oh, I know. Everyone left us alone at first. Well, except Father. He called Platan back into their planning session more than a seven-day ago. And here I sit, by myself.

Ah. The very plans I need to know about. I wonder if Platan talks to her, even if her father doesn’t. Zoria gave her friend another hug. I’m sorry. If I’d known that was the way it was, I’d have come sooner. After a pause, she added, I’ve been lonely, too. It was even the truth.

Of course you have. Tell me. What have you been doing with yourself? Lorania gestured for Zoria to take a seat.

Zoria shrugged as she sat. I work with the horses, mostly.

Lorania wrinkled her nose. Couldn’t the Themyri do that?

Zoria shook her head. No! In fact, we have to keep the Themyri away from the horses. They think of them as food.

But . . . why you?

No one else seems to know much about how to care for them. I had at least a little instruction when I followed Vatar and Quetza across the plains. I don’t mind. It gives me something to do and the horses are generally very peaceful.

I don’t know how you could stand to follow Vatar anywhere, Lorania said with considerable vitriol.

There wasn’t any other way I could think of to find my way to the Exiles, Zoria lied. Coming to the Exiles as a spy had been an afterthought. She’d followed Vatar because she owed him for rescuing her—even after the harm she and her erstwhile friends had done to him.

Lorania shrugged. Well . . . I guess that’s true.

Zoria judged it was time to take control of the conversation and try to guide it to the subjects she was most interested in. She ducked her head and tried to simulate distress. She concentrated on her worry at not being able to get the information her friends—her real friends—needed, rather than on her relief that Loran hadn’t returned when originally expected. And now I’m here and Loran is out there someplace and no one will tell me where or what he’s doing. Or when he’ll be back.

Lorania made a face. Father always has been very close-mouthed—even when it doesn’t make any sense. She cocked her head to one side, regarding Zoria. That’s not very fair, though, is it? I mean, who has a better right to know than you? She glanced toward the door. But you have to promise not to let on that I told you.

All right, Zoria said. That was a promise she could keep. She only needed to pass on the information—not how she’d gotten it. I promise.

Lorania leaned forward. Well, you know Loran was supposed to be back before the snows, because he was only supposed to do a little scouting and try to find a way around those outposts that kept our forces from moving north last year.

Zoria forced herself not to interrupt Lorania with questions. She needed to get as much information as possible while she had the chance. She nodded expectantly.

Lorania went on. So, Loran was to go west and see if there wasn’t some way around, like I said. He had to sneak past what they call a town. Not much more civilized than those outposts, according to him. She looked around the bare walls of her house. Of course, it’s no better here. But this is only temporary.

Go on.

He’d gotten past the town and some outlying farms and camps. Apparently, it’s really spread out. And he’d started to follow a river, thinking that might lead him somewhere useful, when he was captured by some men in a uniform he didn’t recognize. The ones who defend those outposts wear brown and green. These were in blue and grey. And they took him to a proper city. Not like ours, in the Valley, of course. But almost as large and well organized.

Zoria felt something loosen in her chest that had been wound tight ever since that last encounter with Loran, months ago. She tried to sound disappointed, rather than relieved. So, he’s a prisoner?

Lorania shook her head. No. It turns out that the woman who rules that city—she has a funny name, Jersa, or something like that—she hates Vatar very nearly as much as we do. And she knows all about other cities, including the place where she says we’re likely to find Vatar. Loran is helping our father and Wartan hammer out an alliance with her. They’ll be leaving soon—before the passes close completely—to meet with her in person. Most of the men, both ours and the Themyri, will go with them.

Zoria digested this for a moment. Though they’d turned south immediately after leaving the Forest, Vatar had said something about a city on the coast, but farther north. Presumably that was the one this Jersa meant. But . . . it still didn’t make sense. All the battles last summer, just to get to Vatar. Granted, he’d killed Wartan’s son—in self-defense—and that had precipitated the outbursts that had resulted in the Exile of Nertan’s and Wartan’s entire families and their supporters, but . . . surely all that effort would be better expended building a new place of their own, here. So . . . all of this has been to get Vatar?

Lorania shook her head. No, of course not. No one has told you anything, have they? The main goal has always been to get back to the Valley and remove those fools that call themselves our Council, the same ones who had the gall to exile us, and set up a proper government. One that truly values our magic and what it means. Aren’t the pitiful Themyri proof enough? We were meant to rule the lesser races. To teach them and improve them. But to do that, we first need to get back to the rest of our people. And remove the blinders that have kept them subservient to the Tenets for too long.

Zoria blinked. The ragged, primitive Themyri certainly seemed to her to need someone to show them how civilized people lived. Teach them skills, like making something besides flint-tipped weapons. That would have been in accord with the Tenets the Valson lived by, to use their Powers properly. But . . . she wasn’t exactly sure that was what was happening now. More like they were being used as slaves. Of course, Nertan, Wartan, and all who followed them had been exiled precisely because they repudiated the Tenets. She needed to understand the scope of this plan. Among other things, how long was it likely to take for the Exiles to turn back toward the Valley to subjugate the Valson as they had the Themyri?

There are other ‘lesser’ races, like the Themyri?

Lorania shrugged. Well . . . not precisely. From what Loran’s been able to gather, the Themyri are the most primitive group. Along the coast, there’s a mix of people who, like the Themyri, have no Powers at all, but they’re nearly as advanced as we are otherwise. And they’re already ruled by those, like Jersa, who have magic similar to ours. That’s why Father and Wartan are willing to make an alliance instead of just trying to take over ourselves. But, once we leave the coast and turn back toward the Forest, there’ll be other people there—a little more advanced than the Themyri, but totally without Powers. In fact, Loran has heard rumors that they have some kind of religious taboo against magic of any kind. And, according to Jersa, that’s where Vatar grew up, although he’s half-blood of the ruling class, on his father’s side. That’s why he didn’t know anything about magic before he reached the Valley.

Then . . . why worry about Vatar at all? Isn’t he irrelevant to the greater plan? Zoria asked to give herself time to think.

Vatar is really just a side issue, Father says. But Wartan has always insisted on dealing with him—and anyone who helps him—before we return to the Valley. Pay him back for killing Keran. I can’t really say I disagree with him.

No, of course not, Zoria said. Lorania wouldn’t disagree with that. She’d been in love with Keran, after all. Platan, always a follower to the more aggressive Loran and Keran, must seem like a poor substitute to her.

Lorania grinned ferociously. Besides. If we can subjugate Vatar’s people the way we have the Themyri, that will give us a much larger army when we return home. And our victory will be even sweeter for coming on the backs of everything Vatar cared about.

Zoria fought against a shiver. She couldn’t give herself away by such a reaction, but everything Lorania said turned her stomach. While she didn’t particularly like the Themyri, she didn’t much care for the way most of the Exiles treated them, either. And she didn’t think they’d treat any other non-magical people any better. It gave her chills to think of their brutal philosophy displacing the generations of peace the Valson had enjoyed under the Tenets.

She swallowed hard and decided to try to get as much information as she could while Lorania was in a mood to talk. How does this alliance help us then? Other than maybe finding Vatar? I mean, a city on the coast doesn’t get us any closer to a return to the Valley, does it?

Lorania grinned. Well, that depends. This Jersa apparently has ships at her command. And it seems that what she really wants is to take over a bigger city up the coast. Which, with her ships and our Themyri forces added to hers, should be easy. Especially since she knows all about that city and its defenses. Then, according to her, going pretty much due east will take us straight to Vatar’s people—and then on to the Forest and eventually the Valley. And we might have some men from those two cities to help us, too. At the very least, we’ll have supplies and arms. She says the best blacksmiths in this part of the world are to be found in that bigger city.

Zoria stared unseeing at the wall in front of her. She’d never imagined the Exiles could intend to subjugate the whole world, but it sure seemed like that was their plan.

Lorania laid a hand on her arm. Don’t worry, though. As soon as the alliance has been worked out, Loran will be able to sail down the coast, around those mountains, snow or no snow, and come back to you. You won’t have to wait for the spring thaw to open the mountain passes.

Zoria gulped and managed to nod at this intended reassurance—which was anything but. She’d have to wait until much later that evening, when nearly everyone was asleep, to pass on this information. That was the only way to be sure that she wouldn’t be interrupted. And that no one who could detect her magic would notice she was using it to contact her brother on the other side of the mountains. They needed to know—all of them—as soon as possible.

Chapter 3: Warning

Vatar pulled his five-year-old son, Zavar, down out of the apple tree before sitting on the bench to answer the tickle of Far Speech. No sense letting the boy break another bone by allowing him to climb unattended. But he felt as if this couldn’t wait. Vatar’d only been contacted directly by Quetza once before. And that had been with news about the Exiles. Quetza?

Yes. Can you gather everyone together? Zoria had some disturbing news for us last night. It’d be easier if you could relay it, so that everyone knows.

Vatar sucked in a breath. Everyone? He took a quick mental inventory of everyone living at the farm right now. Thekila, obviously. And Arcas, Vatar’s cousin and business partner. They were both still in the house. It was early enough that the Valson envoys, Teran and Terania, probably hadn’t left for the Temple school and the archives yet. I think so. It might take me a few minutes.

Good. When you’ve got everyone together, contact me. I’ll be waiting. And with that, Quetza cut the connection.

He opened his bond to Thekila. Can you keep Arcas there for a little while? Quetza has some news for us.

Yes.

Vatar stood up. That’s all the climbing for this morning.

Aw. Just a little longer? Zavar wheedled.

Vatar smiled down at his son, but shook his head. Sorry. There’s something I need to do.

Caslar didn’t even get a turn, Zavar argued.

Vatar turned to see Arcas’s son, not quite two years younger than the twins, watching them solemnly. Caslar is too young for climbing yet—and don’t you encourage him. Or there’ll be no riding lessons, either.

Zavar’s eyes grew wide and he placed his hands behind his back. So far, that threat had proved the best way to guarantee the boy’s good behavior. Remembering himself at roughly that age, Vatar had to wonder how much longer that would last. And what he’d use when that no longer worked.

Savara came to stand beside her twin. That gave Vatar an idea.

He looked at the little girl. I meant to check on the chickens this morning. Make sure that the net I put up around the fence is holding and the chickens can’t get into the neighbor’s fields again. Do you think you two and Caslar could take care of that for me? You’ll have to count all the chickens, even the babies. And the baby goats, too.

Savara danced with glee. Oh, let me, Papa. Let me.

You, and Zavar, and Caslar. He smiled at her. It’s your job to keep the boys out of trouble for a little while. All right?

Savara tilted her chin up and looked at her twin. All right.

Vatar grinned as he left them to it. Gentle Savara was starting to remind him of his little sister. And there wasn’t a more persistent person in existence than Kiara. There couldn’t be. He strode over to the guest house and knocked briskly on the door before entering the main room.

Terania stepped out of a door down the hall that led to the back part of the house. Vatar? What is it?

Quetza asked us all to gather. She has some news for us.

Terania nodded. We’ll be right over.

~

When they were all together in the main house, sitting around the table with a platter of fruit and a pitcher of cider, Vatar turned to his wife. Quetza was, after all, Thekila’s oldest friend. Thekila, do you want to contact Quetza?

Thekila gave a quick shake of her head. If she contacted you first, it’s probably important that you get the information directly.

One of the limitations of Far Speech was that it was only possible to speak mind-to-mind with one person at a time. Vatar nodded and reached out. Quetza?

Yes. We got news from Zoria late last night. It’s important.

Vatar repeated her words for the others in the room. He got up from the table and paced across the main room as he continued to relay the message, unable to sit still. His fists clenched and unclenched. It all sounded too much like that vision he’d had. And if the first part was about to happen, what about the second? And, more to the point, what could he do about it? What was the purpose of Fore Sight that didn’t give any useful information—like how to prevent all this from happening?

Vatar rubbed his brow as Quetza finished recounting Zoria’s news. ‘Jersa’ must be a corruption of Gerusa. He repeated his comment out loud for the others through clenched teeth. Gerusa had caused plenty of trouble already, both before she was ousted from the High Council here in Caere and after. He had no doubt her goal was to return and put herself at the head of the High Council—if not displace the council entirely. He also knew she’d do her utmost to avenge herself against him for all the times he and Thekila had thwarted her schemes.

I agree, Quetza replied.

Vatar continued pacing as he repeated a few questions from Arcas and Teran by Far Speech and then relayed Quetza’s answers.

That’s as much as we know right now, Quetza said.

I take it Orleus has informed the High Council of this. Vatar was confident that his half-brother would have been relaying the same information to Father and the High Council, which was why it had been Quetza who’d contacted Vatar, but it didn’t hurt to make sure. If not, he’d have to alert Father immediately.

Of course, Quetza answered, ending the link.

Arcas spun his half-empty mug of cider on the table in front of him. Well, we have some time to prepare, at least. Not even Gerusa could get those ships out of Kausalya’s harbor until after the winter storms are well past.

Vatar ceased his pacing and spun to face his cousin. Are you sure of that? Gerusa can be ruthless. She wouldn’t hesitate to commandeer those ships.

Yes. But she’d still need someone to sail them. And she’d never get the crews to go out willingly before then. Too many ships have been lost in the winter storms. Arcas smiled wryly. And if she found a way to force them to leave the harbor, they’d just anchor in the first cove they came to. The Dardani superstitions about magic are nothing to the sailors’ tales about storm season.

Vatar blew out a breath. Well, that’s something, though I’m not sure what we can do about this threat in just a few months.

Catapults. The thought was accompanied by a thin whistling sound that indicated its source—Taleus, the six-hundred-year-old ancestor whose spirit had accidentally attached itself to Vatar years ago. It was also supplemented by an image of a large device capable of throwing boulders a respectable distance. Catapults on the headlands guarding the bay could take out the enemy ships, Taleus continued.

Vatar looked around the group. Taleus has an idea for something that might help us defend the mouth of the bay. He looked at Arcas. Is there another good cove or bay in the area? Somewhere our ships could anchor outside a possible blockade.

Arcas started to shake his head. No . . . Well, I don’t think so. But I’m one of the few merchants whose trade doesn’t depend on the sea. I’ll check with my guild. I need to warn them about this anyway.

Yes, the Merchants’ Guild would be one of the first affected by a naval attack on the city, but it was a concern for all of them. Supplies of charcoal and iron for the Smiths’ Guild, for example. Not to mention foods not grown in Caere. Of course. I need to warn my guild master, too. It was a relief to have something to do. Anything. And at least a few ideas that might be of use. Vatar sighed. And I’d be surprised if Father didn’t ‘invite’ me to speak with the High Council, as well.

We need to warn the Valson Council, too, Teran said. I know it’s a long way, but how long do you think it would take—?

Vatar held up a hand to interrupt the other man. I’d love to be able to warn Pa and the Dardani, too. They’ll be much closer to the first onslaught. But it’s almost winter. Even I wouldn’t attempt to ride across the plains at this time of year. It’s a four or five-day ride in good weather to where the Dardani would be this time of year. And then there’d be all of the Great Forest to cross—and the mountains beyond.

Teran opened his mouth to argue.

Thekila sat forward. Even if you could make the journey this late, Teran, the Pass would be closed with snow long before you could get there. Fortunately, that’s not the only avenue available to us. Theklan is already there. We can warn him and he can pass the information on. Much faster that way, too.

Vatar grimaced. For all the good it would do. Theklan had proved himself a man among the Dardani, but the Valson would still see only a fifteen-year-old boy.

Surely you don’t object to warning Theklan, Thekila said.

Of course not. He has a right to know. It’s just . . . how likely do you think it is that anyone in authority in the Valley will really listen to him?

Thekila drew in a breath, tacitly conceding the point. All we can do is try. For now.

Vatar nodded. Not that I think it’ll make any difference, anyway. The Valson aren’t prepared to fight. If we don’t stop the Exiles before they get to the Valley, the Valson don’t have a chance. Still, whether or not the Valson Council listens to him, Theklan needs to be warned.

Teran clasped his hands before him on the table. Depressing assessment. But probably accurate.

Arcas stood up from the table. We have a lot of work to do before sailing season. Best get started.

~

Vatar and Arcas started down the hill to the city to inform their respective guild masters. Teran and Terania accompanied them—Teran to go back to the Archives and his research, Terania to the class she helped coach in the meditation and calming techniques that assisted in the use of magic.

Vatar stopped at the bend in the road which gave a view down over the city below—and the bay beyond. This was where he usually sped up and averted his eyes so he didn’t have to look out at the water. He stared at the wall, which encircled the city proper—at least on the landward side—pierced by only two gates. With that wall and even a small defense force, I think Caere could hold out against an attack from the land. He swept his arm around the surrounding farms. The farmers would have to shelter inside the walls, of course. But there’s room for them and more. He shook his head. But the city is completely open to the bay—and the ocean beyond. He stared for a moment more, studying the headlands on either side of the mouth of the bay. Teran, I want you to do something for me.

The other man stopped and looked at Vatar. If I can.

When you go to the Archives, find whatever you can about catapults, Vatar said.

Catapults? Teran asked.

Vatar shrugged. It’s an idea of Taleus’s. He gave me an image of some kind of large . . . device capable of slinging heavy stones. He thinks catapults on the headlands could protect the harbor. But I don’t know anything about catapults, how they’re made, how to work one, what they can do. If Taleus knows about them, though, there’s a good chance there’s something in the Archives.

Teran nodded. I’ll look for whatever I can find that may help, starting with catapults.

Vatar was silent the rest of the way downhill to the Temple Gate, thinking. Not just about catapults. Even though he knew better, he felt at least partly responsible. Yes, it was clear that Nertan and Wartan had been planning something long before Vatar came along. No, the initial confrontation with Loran and his friends that had ultimately led to their exile was not, in any sense, Vatar’s fault. Still, if he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t killed Keran—even in self-defense—then the Exiles would be much less interested in attacking either Caere or the Dardani.

And if any of this was in any way his fault, then it was his responsibility to do what he could to stop it. And not just by coming up with ideas or consulting Taleus’s ancient knowledge. Not just by fighting—though he’d do that, too. With a cold sense of certainty and truth he’d learned to associate with Fore Sight, he knew he’d have to do some things he didn’t want to do, some things he’d refused to consider.

With a deep, indrawn breath, he strode forward. Whatever it took, to see his city, his people, and his family safe, he’d do it.

They split up just inside the Temple Gate, each going toward their different destinations.

Chapter 4: Dissension

Vatar gained admittance to his guild master soon after reaching the Smiths’ Guild Hall and then recounted what he’d learned that morning. He didn’t raise the issue of catapults. Not yet. He’d like to know more himself before throwing out suggestions. The Fasallon High Council already knows about this, of course, he finished.

The Guild Master snorted dismissively. Much good that will do. This doesn’t sound like something they can lie their way out of. And, obviously, they can’t actually call on the Sea Gods to help us.

Vatar closed his eyes and drew in a deep steadying breath. A little more than a month ago, when he’d revealed the Lie to his Guild Master—that the Fasallon were not, in fact, either the Caereans’ Sea Gods or descended from them, as they’d claimed—he’d known there’d be repercussions. He hadn’t planned on them falling during a crisis. Now, of all times, the guilds and the Fasallon had to