Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) (2 page)

“Amazing. Do you mind if I ask how?”

She shrugged, trying not to show her pleasure at his appreciation. Dear Mother, it felt good to have her achievement recognized for a change. “My family have been apothecaries for generations. This substance has been known for years, but no one ever thought to use it this way. Early in my career I started searching for ways to make surgery more practical. Poppy and mandrake only go so far. I tried a great many substances before settling on sweet oil of vitriol as the most effective.”

She bent over the wound, studying it quickly before fresh blood obscured her view. Thank the Mother, the bowels seemed to be intact. Every time she’d tried to mend a perforated intestine, the patient had succumbed to infection. This time, however, the repair should be straightforward, and Tereid would have an excellent chance of recovery.

He was deeply asleep now. Nalini threaded a needle with gut and set to work closing the layer of muscle. At Ozor’s questioning glance, she explained. “I’ve found that full function is more likely to return if I sew the muscles closed as well as the skin. I don’t think your friend would like it if his strength were impaired.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t. What’s that you’re using?”

Nalini suppressed a smile. How open minded was Ozor? “It’s a thread I make from sheep intestines. Since I won’t be able to take these stitches out once the skin is closed, I can’t use silk. This can stay inside without a problem.”

“Fascinating.” There was no doubting the sincerity of Ozor’s admiration, but there was an oddly speculative tone to his voice. “It’s almost as good as the Mother’s power.”

Nalini snorted. “It’s a lot slower and cruder than what they say the ancient wizards could do, but it gets the job done. If only the Magistrates recognized that.”

“You said there’s a law against it? Why?”

She kept her eyes fixed on her work as she finished the inner stitching, switched to silk thread, and started sewing the long external seam. “When I was first experimenting with sweet vitriol, I made some errors. One girl died. Several other patients woke in the middle of surgery. I’ve never been very good at diplomacy, and I offended a few officials with blunt words. It ended up with me banished from the capital and any use of sleeping drugs for surgery outlawed.”

“I see.” Ozor was quiet for a moment. “And yet you continue to use them.”

Nalini scowled at her work. “I won’t abandon a useful technique because ignorant bureaucrats made a stupid law.”

Ozor’s silence was longer this time. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “Would you like to travel to a country where your techniques aren’t forbidden? Where you could practice your skills openly? Where you could be acclaimed for the importance of your discovery and rewarded with wealth in proportion to the good you do?”

If she didn’t laugh she might cry. “I’d like nothing better. But since the Purifiers took over, Marvanna has even more restrictive laws than Giroda. And passage to Ramunna would cost more than I could save in twenty lifetimes.” She blinked hard so she could see what she was doing and kept talking to distract herself from despair. “Do you know that in Giroda healers aren’t allowed to charge for our services? We’re employed by the Magistrates. They require us to care for anyone in need. In my grandparents’ day the salary was generous, enough to support a family and live a life of status. But since then it’s dwindled. The requirements to qualify as a healer keep being weakened, so now anyone who can’t earn a living doing honest work decides the Mother’s called them to stir up useless potions, or lay on hands and pray, or sit at the bedside of the dying. The Magistrates keep cutting back the amount to be able to afford to pay them all. Meanwhile, those of us who’ve trained our whole lives in complex skills can hardly afford to feed ourselves.”

She jerked her head to indicate the little room, which was bare except for what she needed to tend her patients. “I’ve got this and the room I sleep in, and the rent takes most of my salary. I ought to quit healing and start making perfume or soap or something else that’s not regulated, but I guess it’s in my blood.”

She glanced up to find Ozor regarding her with a peculiar expression. “What?” She focused again on the needle in her hand. “I’m sorry if I’m boring you.”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “In fact, this is the most interesting information I’ve heard in weeks.”

At her baffled look, he went on. “I’m a trader. I earn my living by finding goods no one wants, buying them cheaply, and taking them where people want them desperately and are willing to pay accordingly. It seems to me your gifts aren’t appreciated here. But I’m sailing for Ramunna in a few days. I suspect they’d be in great demand there.”

Nalini’s heart leapt. She’d long dreamed of going somewhere her skills would be valued as they were worth. But she squelched her hope beneath a hard layer of skepticism. She was much too old to be taken in by a man’s enticing but empty words. “So what do you propose? You advance me the price of passage, and I work the rest of my life to pay you off?” Even that bargain might be worth it, if it let her practice openly for people who appreciated her.

She doubted his shock was entirely genuine. “Of course not! We’ll be business partners. I’ll supply transportation and capital to set you up in a new location, and you’ll provide your healing skills. We’ll split any profits equally. The people of Ramunna will be eager to make us both rich.”

He really was dreaming if he thought her skills were that valuable to anyone. “What makes you think so?”

“Something I know that you don’t.” He leaned as far toward her as he could without taking the sponge from Teried’s face. “The Matriarch of Ramunna has discovered that the legend of the ancient wizards who fled across the sea is true. She’s sent a ship to bring one of them back. The Mother’s power is soon going to become very real to the people of Ramunna. All those who’ve suffered without hope will suddenly realize a cure is possible. They’ll clamor for healing. But one wizard, even laboring day and night, won’t be able to help them all. Many will be turned away disappointed. They’ll shower money on any who can offer them equally effective healing.”

Nalini shook off the hypnotic power of his voice. “Oh, come on. You can’t expect me to believe that.” She wondered what his game was. She didn’t have enough money to be worth conning. “The power of the ancient wizards is nothing but a myth.”

“Oh, no. It’s real.” He sat back and watched her.

She got to the end of the laceration and knotted the last stitch. “Here, give me the sponge. We can let him wake now.” She took the sponge and deposited it in the pail with the other. “Why in the Mother’s name should I believe you?”

“Because I come from Tevenar, the land the ancient wizards founded. I’ve seen them using the Mother’s power all my life. I’ve been healed myself more than once. I’m the one who told the Matriarch where to find them.” He must have read the disbelief on her face, because he nodded down at his friend. “Ask Tereid when he wakes up. He’s from Tevenar, too.”

Nalini busied herself sponging Tereid clean. “I don’t know what sort of scam you’re pulling, but you may as well know I don’t have any savings for you to steal.”

“It’s no scam. I swear in the Mother’s name, everything I’ve told you is true. If you want, I’ll draw up a contract. I give you free passage to Ramunna. If we get there and you find I’ve been lying, you can walk away and set up your own practice, free of Giroda’s laws. You owe me nothing until a wizard arrives and you’re convinced their power is real. Once that happens, I help find you clients and we split the proceeds fifty-fifty.”

Nalini’s heart quickened. What did she have to lose? At the very least she’d be able to make a fresh start in Ramunna. This time she’d be careful not to screw up and get her discovery banned. She’d be able to use her techniques openly and earn the money and acclaim she longed for.

And if by some miracle he wasn’t lying, and the Mother’s power really did still exist and would be in Ramunna soon, her future could be truly spectacular. Because he was right about how people would react. She knew enough of human nature to be sure of that. There would be fortune enough for both of them, and more.

Still… “I don’t know. How long can I have to think about it?” It was a huge step, leaving her homeland. She hadn’t had contact with her family since she’d been exiled from the capital, but even so she hated the thought of a continent separating them. She spoke the language well enough to get by, but Ramunna had different customs, different laws, different traditions. Learning them would be difficult, intimidating, scary.

Exciting.

“Our ship sails in three days.” Ozor put a wheedling tone in his voice. “I hope you’ll be aboard.”

Nalini gathered the bloody rags. She’d bandage Teried’s wound when he woke up and could sit. Carefully noncommittal, she said, “I’ll consider your offer.”

“Good.” Ozor watched her for few minutes. She could almost see the ideas bubbling in his head like one of her potions over a flame.

As Tereid stirred, Ozor leaned across his friend. “Tell me, Nalini. Do you know of any other healers who chafe under Giroda’s laws? Creative people like yourself who’ve developed effective healing techniques? I think there may be opportunity here for more than just the two of us.”

Two

H
igh on the dais at the front of the temple, First Keeper Emirre Rothen put his hands on his son’s shoulders and turned him to face the assembled worshippers. His voice was rough with emotion. “I present to you Keeper Vigorre Rothen. As his first official act, Keeper Vigorre will lead us in the litany of devotion to the Mother.”

Nirel swallowed and clenched her fists. All through the long ceremony she’d dreaded this moment. It was one thing to sit silently and listen to the blasphemous worship of the Lady of Mercy by Vigorre and his fellow Keepers. It was another thing to speak the forbidden words herself.

But Elder Davon’s orders were clear and ruthless. She must break any Ordinance necessary to pursue a closer relationship with Vigorre. Even the first and most sacred, which commanded the Faithful to worship only the Lord of Justice and shun his weak and rebellious sister. That’s why she’d accepted Vigorre’s invitation to attend his ordination, when otherwise setting foot inside a temple of the Mother would have earned her severe penance. That’s why she hadn’t backed out, even when his detailed account of what would happen and what her participation would require included a description of this moment. She’d carefully memorized the parts of the litany the congregation was expected to recite. But until now she’d never actually said them out loud.

Vigorre’s stepmother, Lady Nathenarre, smiled at Nirel and reached to squeeze her hand. She’d promised to prompt Nirel if she forgot any of the words. Vigorre and his family had accepted her isolated upbringing and the differing traditions in Tevenar as the explanation for why she was unfamiliar with the normal routine of Ramunna’s temple. But if she wanted them to continue to accept Vigorre’s interest in her and embrace her as a potential addition to the family, she had to demonstrate that she was doing her best to learn.

Nirel smiled back, careful not to show the strain she felt. She fixed her eyes on Vigorre, splendid in his rich new robe of office, as he gazed over the congregation with a solemn, exalted expression. She knew how much this moment meant to him. His devotion to the Mother was profound and genuine, and this was the culmination of all his years of preparation to enter her service.

His warm voice intoned the ceremonial words. “I praise you, Mother of all, for your gift of creation.”

Nirel took a deep breath and forced out the response. “I worship you, Mother of all, and praise your holy name. I honor you, Mother of all…”

She wouldn’t pray to the Lord of Justice for forgiveness. She was acting in obedience to his will, as expressed by Elder Davon. But it sickened her to speak the words of adulation for the false deity whose followers had caused her people so much misery.

Finally the long litany was over. The Keepers brought the service to its conclusion. They ceremonially descended from the dais and paced down the long aisle to the exit. The last notes of the recessional hymn died away.

Lady Nathenarre grabbed Nirel’s hand, beaming. “Come. We can stand with Vigorre while he receives everyone’s congratulations.”

Nirel followed her out the grand front doors of the Temple. Behind them trailed the rest of Vigorre’s many older half-siblings and their families, and his younger half-siblings with their governess. Vigorre waited on the broad porch within the towering marble columns, his father next to him. As the worshippers streamed from the doors many of them stopped to offer their congratulations and make the sign of the Mother’s blessing over him.

His eyes lit up when he spotted Nirel. “You came!”

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” She caught her breath as he enfolded her in a brief, fierce hug. If only they were in private, so she could wrap her arms around him and press her body close.

But he released her as quickly as he’d embraced her, only a slight breathlessness betraying that the contact had affected him as much as Nirel. “I can hardly believe it. I’m finally a Keeper. Sometimes it seemed as if this day would never come. I’m so glad you’re here to share it with me.”

The elderly First Keeper followed his son’s lead in giving Nirel a brief hug before pulling his young wife to his side. He beamed at Nirel. “We all praise the Mother for bringing you to Ramunna and giving us the chance to know you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Nirel smiled at him, then averted her eyes. It still astonished her how open Vigorre’s family seemed to his interest in her and how seriously they took it. She wouldn’t even be fifteen until after Springtide. In Tevenar she wouldn’t be allowed to marry for at least five years, when she became a journeyman. But here in Ramunna it was common for women to marry at sixteen or seventeen. Vigorre’s father and stepmother seemed perfectly happy that he was courting a young foreigner who would be considered far beneath him socially if not for the Matriarch’s sponsorship.