Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) (45 page)

BOOK: Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3)
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He bowed his head. “I cannot deny my beliefs, your majesty. But I no longer seek to persuade you or anyone else of their truth. If you continue to imprison me because I maintain the familiars are demons and the wizards their slaves, I won’t resist.”

She turned to the crowd with a regal expression. “This is Ramunna, not Marvanna. We don’t punish a man for his private beliefs. But neither do we allow him to hold a position of authority, where his heresy can corrupt others.” She beckoned, and Keeper Emirre emerged again. He had washed and changed, and once again presented a perfect picture of the Lady’s authority. “Keeper Emirre, I order you to strip him of his status as Keeper.”

He inclined his head to her, then turned to Yoran. His voice was cold. “Yoran Lirolla, you have broken your vows as a Keeper. You have betrayed the Mother by teaching false doctrine in her name. She rejects your service and withdraws her blessing.” He turned to the crowd. “Let all know that this man is no longer a Keeper.”

The crowd buzzed again, louder this time. The ones who followed the Purifiers were furious and afraid. Those who followed the orthodox Temple were surprised and excited. The Matriarch let the reaction run for a moment before she raised her hand and the people quieted. “Kneel and swear your loyalty to me.”

Yoran did so, his voice grave and free of irony. The crowd hushed as he rose and the Matriarch gestured for his shackles to be removed. “As long as you and any who share your beliefs remain quiet and seek neither to convert others nor to stir up trouble against me or the wizards, you may walk free. But at the slightest hint you or any of your followers are violating this prohibition, you’ll all be back in the dungeon, this time with no hope of release. Do you understand?”

“I do, your majesty.”

“Then you may go.” She waved him away, and he went meekly through the curtain with the guards.

Nirel nodded to herself in satisfaction. The Matriarch thought she was undercutting Yoran’s power. She was probably right that if she’d continued to hold him prisoner, or especially if she’d executed him, he would have become a martyr and a rallying point for his followers. By releasing him but removing his official position she’d avoided that. But now he was free to continue his work against her, and he was skilled at secrecy and subtle plots. If all went well at the meeting that had been arranged between him and Elder Davon later today, this would be a major stroke of fortune for the Faithful.

The Matriarch addressed the crowd for a few more minutes, lauding the glory of Ramunna, her own generosity, and the wisdom of those who’d repented their treason and renewed their loyalty to their homeland. After a final blessing she dismissed them and withdrew.

Elkan nodded decisively. “Hopefully that’s the end of our problems with the Purifiers. Let’s get back to work, everyone.” He fondled Tobi’s ears. “We’re in the square again today, but the Matriarch is preparing a building for us, a warehouse near the edge of the commercial sector that was seized because the owner failed to pay his taxes. She expects it will be ready by the end of the week.” He squinted at the sky. “Pray the Mother continues to grant us fair weather until then.” He turned and made his way through the dispersing crowds toward the Beggars’ Quarter.

Josiah fell in beside him, eagerly discussing the research he’d be doing that morning with Gevan and Nalini. Vigorre joined them as they’d planned, asking questions whenever the conversation threatened to lag. Nirel took Kevessa’s arm and fell back a little, drawing her Ramunnan friend with her.

Kevessa scowled. “What?” Her eyes flicked down toward Nina in her arms before meeting Nirel’s again.

Nirel kept her voice pleasantly casual. “Did you get a chance to read that book Vigorre and I gave you? What did you think of the story?”

Kevessa looked puzzled for a moment, then understanding dawned in her eyes. She shook her head. “I’m afraid I didn’t care for it. In fact, I thought it was awful.”

Nirel shrugged. “Friends don’t always share the same tastes.”

Kevessa forced a laugh, her hands nervously stroking Nina. “I won’t let Master Elkan know that you and Vigorre have such bad taste. At least not until after we have a chance to discuss it, and I can point out how badly written it is.”

Nirel concealed her relief. “We’ll have to do that soon. Who knows, maybe you can persuade us to see your point.”

Kevessa shrugged. “I doubt it, but I’d love to try.”

Nirel wanted to continue the conversation, turning it to harmless matters to deflect any suspicion Nina might have, but her nose was threatening to run again, her eyes were dry and itchy, and a headache was starting to nag the base of her skull. She let Kevessa join the others but stayed back, keeping her head down. She was definitely coming down with something. She had to get away from the wizards before they noticed. Maybe Nalini would have something to suppress her symptoms. Luckily Nirel and Vigorre had already come up with an excuse to absent themselves this afternoon so they could attend the secret meeting between Yoran Lirolla and Elder Davon. She just had to make it through a few hours undetected.

She only managed because all three wizards stayed busy with a big influx of patients. Kevessa avoided looking at her, and Nirel stayed as far as possible from Elkan and Josiah. By the break for the midday meal her head was splitting and she was shivering. She wanted nothing more than to climb into a warm bed and pull the covers over her head. She plastered a fake smile on her face and clung to Vigorre as he made their farewells.

“We should be done clearing this new field by nightfall. I’m not sure why Nirel’s father decided it has to be done now, but he’s insistent. Of course I want to make a good impression on him.” Vigorre smiled conspiratorially at Elkan.

“I understand.” Elkan looked at the long lines of waiting people and sighed. “Josiah will be back soon, and Thanna’s volunteered to help out here as well as with the research. We’ll manage.”

Vigorre was turning to leave when Elkan said, “Oh, by the way, how are you feeling?”

Nirel froze. Vigorre turned back with convincing casualness. “Fine. Why?”

“Josiah and I started showing early symptoms of measles this morning. I suspect we caught it our first day here, or maybe the next, when we saw so many children with it. Both of you were here that day, so let one of us know if you develop a cold or fever. It’s an easy fix for the Mother’s power, but it can get pretty miserable if you wait.”

Vigorre shrugged. “I had it as a child. I remember how awful the itching was.”

“That’s what Kevessa said, too. You should be immune.” Elkan focused on Nirel. “But you grew up in Tevenar, so you’ve never been exposed to it before. The same with the rest of Ozor’s band. It can be particularly severe in adults. Keep an eye out and send anyone here who needs us.”

She nodded, hoping desperately her nose wouldn’t choose that moment to drip. “I’ll do that.”

He frowned briefly, sending her heart racing, but then smiled, nodded, and turned back to his meal.

Smash it! She’d seen enough cases of measles in the last week to know what to expect. Soon her skin would break out in an awful spotty rash, impossible to hide. She shouldn’t be in any real danger, but the symptoms would last at least a week. She didn’t dare come back until the last traces were gone. She’d never persuade the wizards not to use the Lady’s power on her without giving the real reason.

Vigorre hustled her to the waiting carriage. Inside she sank onto the seat and closed her eyes, breathing through her open mouth. He put his arm around her as the carriage lurched into motion. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffed hard and grinned wanly at him. “Guess.”

“Measles? Why didn’t you—oh.” He pulled away a little.

“I’ll be fine. I just can’t go back until it’s over.

He pressed close again, and she let him draw her against his side. It felt good to rest in the warm comforting circle of his arms. She laid her cheek on his chest, closing her aching eyes.

His hand settled on her forehead, and his voice rumbled in her ear. “Dear Mother, Nirel, you’re burning up.”

She shook her head against him. “I’m freezing.” A shudder ran through her in confirmation of her words.

Vigorre moved her off him with gentle hands and went to rummage under the seat on the other side. He came back with a soft woolen blanket he spread over her. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” She snuggled into it, glad when he took his place beside her and added his warmth to the blanket’s.

“I need to take you home. You’re in no shape to go to the meeting.”

She hated to admit it, but he was right. “I guess I’m not really needed. Elder Davon will handle things just fine. And you can tell them anything they need to know about the wizards.” She thought longingly of her own bed, of quiet darkness and sleep, of her father’s brusque but tender care.

She jerked upright, struck by a horrible thought. A sudden fit of coughing wracked her.

Vigorre held her until it finally passed. “Blast it, Nirel, please let me take you back to Master Elkan.”

She shook her head. “I can’t go home. Elkan said people from Tevenar won’t be immune to it, and it’s worse for adults. For most of them it won’t matter, they can go to the wizards. But what if Father catches it from me?”

“Why—oh. Because he’s Dualis—all right, Faithful—too. Are you sure there’s no way to get around the rules? Some special dispensation? Elder Davon said something about penance—”

She groaned. “You still don’t understand. The highest Ordinance of all forbids us to allow the Lady’s power to enter our bodies. Nothing takes precedence, not even Elder Davon’s authority.”

“Surely if that’s all that can stop someone from dying—”

“Not even then. We’d be cast out from the Faithful. The Lord of Justice would exile us from his presence for all eternity.”

She could read the depth of his disgust in the tension of his body. “That’s horrible.”

“No, it’s not.” Nirel pulled away. She was far too tired to argue theology. She’d never persuade Vigorre anyway. He might think he believed her tale of demons, but in his heart he still thought of the Lady’s golden light as holy and good. He’d never come to see it as she and the other Faithful did, the very essence of evil. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to let Father catch measles from me, so he’ll never have to make that choice.”

Panic twisted her stomach. Where would she go, with both the palace and the village closed to her? Maybe Kevessa would take her in. She’d seemed sympathetic to her exiled Faithful servant, back when she was first telling Nirel about the sect. Would she keep Nirel’s identity a secret from the other wizards? Nina wouldn’t agree to heal Nirel if she adamantly refused.

Vigorre took her hand. “I’ll take you to my home. We’ve all had it. Even the twins, last summer.”

Nirel’s heart leaped, but she hesitated. “What about the baby?”

“It’s not due for three months. You’ll be better in a week or two.”

“Won’t your family ask questions?”

“Just because the Matriarch made Father publicly renounce his belief in the demons doesn’t mean he’s really changed his mind. Remember, he knows what happened to you in Tevenar. He’ll accept that as reason enough why you don’t want to let them touch you.”

The offer of a safe refuge with Vigorre while she suffered through her illness was far too tempting to resist. “I guess that would be all right.” She yawned, then was hit by another bout of coughing. When it passed, she sagged against Vigorre. “Maybe you could ask Nalini if she has any medicine that will help.”

“I’ll bring her to check on you.” Vigorre leaned out the window to shout the change of destination to the coachman.

By the time the carriage pulled to a halt outside the soaring columns of the huge Rothen mansion, Nirel was too miserable to either appreciate or be intimidated by the splendor of Vigorre’s home. She managed to make polite responses to Lady Nathenarre as Vigorre’s stepmother exclaimed over her condition and whisked her off to a luxurious guest room. The big canopied bed was delightfully soft, and the many layers of covers were warm enough to finally subdue her shivering.

Vigorre squeezed her hand hard before Nathenarre escorted him from the room. She didn’t have a chance to ask him to apologize to Elder Davon for her absence. But surely the Elder would understand and forgive her. The Lord of Justice had decreed she must endure this trial. She would accept his righteous judgement meekly and meet the challenge with all the courage she could muster.

Twenty-Eight

T
he house of the secretly Dualist merchant where Elder Davon had arranged the meeting was modest, one of a long row of nearly identical residences lining a quiet street in the upper reaches of Ramunna. Vigorre knocked as Davon’s message had indicated. A silent servant admitted him and directed him down a narrow flight of stairs to a basement room.

He paused with his hand on the door as Keeper Yoran’s voice, raised in anger, reached him. “This had better be good, Davon. My plan would have gone off without a hitch if you hadn’t interfered. The demons and their slaves would be dead.”

Davon’s voice was calm. “And in less than nine months the Matriarch would give birth to a child who would end your hopes of Malka inheriting the throne.”

“If the Mother didn’t deal with that threat, we would have. Do you think Verrinna’s barrenness is entirely natural?

Disgust tinged Davon’s voice. “Nevertheless, what I offer will bring your pawn to the throne of Ramunna, and you to the power you crave, far more swiftly and surely. And the Dualists you despise will no longer trouble you.”

Interest quickened Yoran’s reply. “So Vigorre said, which is the only reason I listened to him. Tell me about this plan of yours. I’ll decide for myself whether it has merit.”

Vigorre judged it a good moment to go in. Both Yoran and Davon turned to look at him, along with the handful of supporters each had brought. Vigorre swallowed, nodded formally to the Keeper—Vigorre still considered him a Keeper, no matter what his father had been forced to do by the Matriarch—and took the seat left empty for him at Yoran’s side. Yoran looked pointedly away.

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