The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) by Meredith Mansfield Page B

cousin." He held his
breath. He really didn't want to be ordered back into the Temple precincts
where anyone who knew him must also know about Lancera. There were bound to be
whispers and pitying looks. He didn't think he was ready to deal with that yet.
    Montibeus narrowed his eyes for a moment and then nodded to
himself. "It's unusual, but . . . given the circumstances. I'll cover for
you—for now."
    Cestus let out his breath. "Thank you, sir."
    "Have you thought what you're going to do longer term?
You can't stay out there indefinitely, you know."
    Cestus rubbed his forehead, hiding his face. "Not yet.
I suppose I'll have to think about divorce, but—"
    "I wouldn't."
    Cestus looked up. "What? Why not?"
    "Well, you have the children to consider. And divorce
has to go through the High Council." Montibeus paused. "Has Lancera
named the man?"
    Cestus gripped the arms of his chair. "Some Healer.
Andreus was the name she gave."
    Montibeus sighed. "A Healer. Ah."
    Cestus's stomach was filled with ice—sharp little icicles
like the ones that clung to bare tree branches and overhangs during winter on
the plains—as realization struck him. A Healer was bound to be more Talented
than Cestus. The High Council was likely to see it as a more suitable match for
Lancera—and possibly as a better environment for their children. Better a
Talented stepfather than an unTalented father, as far as some of the High
Councilors were concerned. He'd be sure of his father's support, and probably
Montibeus's, but Gerusa and her party would have plenty of ammunition to make
his life difficult. More difficult. Whatever else happened, he couldn't allow
Lancera to take his children away, too. They were all he had left. "I see
your point, sir." He drew another deep breath. "Well, I'll have to
consider carefully."
    "Do that." Montibeus fiddled with his pen. "I
don't suppose anyone would expect you to make a decision at least until after
the child is born."
     
     

Chapter 5: The Shaman
     
    The little waterhole was more crowded with three tents set
up in the small open space. Quetza and Orleus had stayed while Vatar’s headache
gradually receded over the next two days. When he hadn’t winced at a sudden
noise or movement for one whole day, Quetza gave him permission to try his Far
Sight again. He surprised himself with how important this had become to him,
but he hadn’t been able to check in on Zavar and Savara since the night before
the bear attack. How quickly he’d come to rely on his magic for some things.
Considering how unreliable it’d been lately, maybe that wasn’t a good thing.
    His misgivings eased, though, as soon as he started to play
his mother’s lullaby on his pipes and allowed himself to slip into the calm,
focused state that facilitated his magic. After much practice, the melody
guided him smoothly to his children. Zavar rolled over and smiled in his sleep.
He felt better for knowing they were safe and well. Not that he’d expected
anything to happen to them with his parents watching over them. Still, it was a
relief to see it for himself.
    He lowered the pipes.
    Quetza sat across from him, watching him intently. “How do
you feel? Has the headache come back?”
    Vatar shook his head. “No. I’m all right.” He bit his lip. He’d
tried to take Thekila’s advice about not worrying over questions he couldn’t
answer yet. But, there was one more resource within his reach, now. “What about
Far Speech?”
    Quetza’s eyes narrowed. “Everyone on these plains that could
hear you is right here. Who did you plan to bespeak?”
    “I was thinking about my father—my real father—in Caere. He
may have some answers for what’s been happening,” Vatar said.
    Quetza shook her head. “I’m confused. I thought Danar was
your father.”
    “Danar’s my stepfather, Mother’s life mate. He raised me.
But my real father—mine and Orleus’s, and Cestus’s, too—is High Councilor
Veleus in Caere. He’s Fasallon. That’s