Crossing of the Shadow - A Billenius tale - chapter 4

At least they let me drink half the cup before beginning the big discussion. While not tea, many meetings with the dwarves left me innoculated against the kaf. Too many of their negotiations were held over the brew from ground beans, not enough over the gentler drink tea leaves make.
But that respite ended too soon for me, even given the beverage.
"So, which of our eastern kin managed to convince you to accept training at last?" The Triari asked.
Uncle stirred, having some idea, I am sure, but not all the details. I laid a wager with myself over what other extra duties I'd wind up with by day's end, for omitting such details in my report on the issues in the Grey Mesas five hebdomae ago.
"Galen and Amoria of the Brasidius gens. Orientii, though one of the Sylvani assisted them in what they taught me." I admitted after a few more sips. "Amid the Mesas, something stirred up my donum, the foresight doni more than others, but I wound up seeing only auras for a while again." I grimaced, remembering that last time came from events during a visit from the former Praetor. "No head injury this time. The powers just surged up, on the heels of the foresight dreams. Powerful enough to leave my eyes useless to reality."
"Boy, I warned you it might happen, as did your family." Bentarius handed his cup to the Dux. "This probably will take most of your urn, Mattio. Start another."
"Drink an elf out of his kaf? Still hard on your former subordinates, Bento." My uncle's laugh belied his displeasure.
"Teach you to keep more on hand." Bentarius waved his hand at the rather barren room. Then he sombered up.  "Those Brasidius twins are damned fine teachers. Anything to break even a little training from them must be bad news."
I refused to answer for a few moments, hands cupped around the cup, much as at a campfire amid the Mesas, when the Brasidius siblings offered me what little training in my donum I possess. Memories of those days, disoriented at the lack of real sight, forced to deal with my ability to perceive auras alone, I'd relented, taking just some basics, nothing more, during those many days of confusion. The shields against such, raised with such difficulty, held for a time. But over the last two hebdomae, the erosion they suffered led to my current problems.
"Their teachings worked. The dreams just over came the barricades and controls they taught me." I admitted. Looking up, Bentarius met my gaze with a nod. "The dreams are random in timing. No connecting triggers in life, or so it seems to me."
"Often is the case, Varus." The older man shook his head. "So, shields and grounding. Barricades against dreams. And yet..." He reached to the desk, turning uncle's notes about. ".. storng enough to make you seek dream walking to find the source."
"I'd thought Specula, being a spirit bonded weapon, would be a sufficient focus to keep things in check." The deep olive of my face burned brighter, as the blood rushed there in shame. "Obviously, she made things worse."
"Or the visions proved beyond her ability." The Triari whispered. "Happens, when the Parcae touch we Numeni."
The mention of the goddesses of the Fates, ordainers of the will of all our gods upon us, made me shiver. Twice before, this elf guided me past such touches.
"Guessed it, did you?" His voice rose back to normal.
"Yes sir." I admitted. "Suffering their brooms into my life thrice, I have a good idea which stokes are random, which are theirs, by now."
Uncle sat silent, his brow taking on the aspect of a field being plowed, furrows of worry across his forehead. His duties in the Custorii kept him absent through much of my life, though I am sure his sistes, my mother and aunt, posted him updates and the tales of my troubles.
Bentarrius broke the silence after that admission. "Tell me of these dreams, my vagrant Varus. Somehow, I now believe my journey here involves consulting your doni, not delivering a warning from the visions of others." His eyes narrowed, the thin vertical slits his pupils  creased in the golden eyes just a trace wider as he thought this aloud. His hands gestured to Specula, asking without words to handle her.
Reluctantly, my hands unfastened her sheath from my belt, sending warnings through her hilt to behave, before handing her over. "Very well." I held out my cup to uncle. "Please, avunuclus, this will take a while."
I used the few falling sand grains in the horarium behind him as he poured me a fresh cup of kaf to draw forth the dream and other visions of late.