Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) (53 page)

Kevessa clenched her fists. “I wanted to speak with Nirel again before I came to you, but she left. So I put it off. But last night I made Father take me around in the carriage, and I had Nina open some windows. I saw Nirel with Vigorre at the ball, where she told him exactly what she’d told me. When we traced her back, we saw her go to the Dualist Quarter. She went to the same shrine where we traced Tharan and spoke with Elder Davon. He’s the one who told her to lie about what happened when she was captured. She’s been a Dualist agent all along.”

Elkan blinked. His fingers clenched on Tobi’s head, loosening only when she lashed her tail and whined in protest. “What?”

Vigorre hurried to explain. “I only found out last week. She said her father was one of the last Dua—I mean, Faithful, that’s what they call themselves—in Tevenar. That he’d never told her about her heritage until they got here.”

“That—explains certain things.” Elkan’s eyes went distant for a moment, then focused again on Vigorre. “Go on.”

As Vigorre described how Kevessa had come to him and shown him the incriminating evidence, Josiah thought over all his interactions with Nirel, new understanding blossoming everywhere. Of course Kabos was a Dualist. His obsession with obedience and discipline and punishment, his reaction to his deformed daughter’s birth, his hostility to the wizards—it all fit. Nirel’s frantic concern for the Dualist woman after the fire, her knowledge of their beliefs, her defense of their right to reject healing… why, she’d known all along who Davon was, when he sought treatment for Mila from Nalini. And what he’d overheard her saying to Ozor—a familiar really was the last thing she wanted.

Vigorre spread his hands. “So we agreed to come to you and tell you everything. I expect you’ll want to show my father, and Keeper Yoran, and the Matriarch, and anyone else who still believes the Purifiers.”

“If necessary. Although I don’t see that it will do much good now. Your father has already forsworn Purifier beliefs. Yoran is no longer a Keeper. And knowing the Matriarch, if she learns of this she’ll use it as an excuse to treat the Faithful even more cruelly. I want no part of that.” Elkan ran a hand through his hair. “What might be useful is to show large segments of the population of Ramunna. Although that would probably provoke violence against the Faithful while doing little to diminish support for the Purifiers.”

He was silent for a long time, staring into the distance. Finally his eyes refocused and he regarded the young Keeper. “I suppose, Vigorre, the most important question left is you. What do you believe, and where does your loyalty lie?”

Elkan stood up and moved toward Vigorre. Tobi flowed to her feet and paced beside him. “Do you still fear demons?” He stopped, but Tobi continued until she stood immediately in front of Vigorre, gazing up at him. “Or do you accept that our powers are granted by the Mother?”

Vigorre shrank back, looking from Elkan to Tobi. “By the Mother, of course. Everything Nirel told me was a lie.”

Tobi reared up and braced her heavy paws on Vigorre’s shoulders. He flinched, terror plain on his face.

Elkan’s voice was relentless. “But you love Nirel, so doubt still lingers. Why should you believe what you see through a window? It could be false, after all.”

“No,” Vigorre said, his voice cracking.

“Think about it. If Nirel told you the truth, right now you’re alone in a room full of demons and their slaves.” Elkan gestured at Sar, who laid his ears back and switched his tail, and Shadow, who lifted his head from Borlen’s shoulder, his hood spreading. Nina sprang to Kevessa’s knee. “Maybe at any moment their eyes will begin to glow red. Maybe you’re about to suffer the same fate as the unfortunate Malon.”

Vigorre stared transfixed into Tobi’s face, hovering inches from his own. He was deathly pale, and no words emerged from his weakly moving lips.

For a moment Josiah almost shared his fear. What was Elkan doing?

Elkan studied Vigorre for a long moment, then sighed and shook his head. Tobi dropped to the ground and came to his side; the other familiars relaxed. Elkan put his hand on Tobi’s head and addressed Vigorre. “You have nothing to fear from us. Although if the Mother couldn’t convince you of the truth, I doubt you’ll take my word for it.”

He gestured to the door. “Go home. If you still want to serve the Mother with us, come to the Hall in the morning. If she’s willing to give you a second chance, so am I.”

“Yes, sir,” Vigorre whispered. He yanked the door open and stumbled through.

Elkan stared after him for a long moment before turning back to survey the rest of them. His hand rose toward his hair, but he jerked it down. “Kevessa, I’m sure you know how disappointed I am. You should have come to me immediately. Nina has judged you for that already and found your service still acceptable. But I’ll expect you to work even harder in the coming days to make amends for your lapse. And if anything like this should happen in the future, you know what to do. I doubt the Mother would regard a second offense so leniently.”

Kevessa nodded, staring down at Nina.

Elkan grimaced at Josiah and Borlen. “Nirel’s not coming back, and Vigorre may not. That leaves Thanna our only assistant. Hopefully we can recruit more, but for now we’ll have to cope. Josiah, I still want you to work with Gevan and Nalini, but you might have to limit your time with them to an hour or two instead of all morning.”

“That’s all right,” Josiah hurried to assure him. “It’s going to be mostly just Nalini making more insulin for a while. Although Gevan’s got plans to test some of her potions on the creatures under the enlarging glass and see which ones kill them—” At Elkan’s look he broke off. “An hour should be plenty for anything they need the Mother’s power for.”

“Good.” Elkan gestured to Kevessa. “Come with me. I need you to show me exactly when and where to look. Then I’m going to find Keeper Emirre and show him what Nirel did. He seems the most likely to believe the truth. Hopefully I can talk him out of taking any action against the Faithful in reprisal. Josiah, please actually rest for a change. I want you to help me with the Matriarch again tonight.”

It should have been Kevessa’s turn, but Josiah knew better than to argue. “Yes, sir.”

“Just pray the child is a girl so we can finish our work here and go home.” This time Elkan didn’t stop the hand that raked over his head and down the length of his hair.

“I will!” Josiah said fervently. Then he flushed and shot Kevessa and Borlen an apologetic look. “Although of course we won’t leave until you’re ready to keep the Wizards’ Guild going here on your own.”

Elkan sounded as tired as Josiah had ever heard him, even when he’d been drained to the point of collapse. “If that’s what the Mother wants.”

At Josiah’s incredulous look, Elkan shook his head. “I still believe it is. But the people here have free will, too. If enough of them reject us…”

He looked at Tharanirre and grimaced. Then he beckoned again to Kevessa and led her from the room.

Thirty-Two

V
igorre didn’t slow down until he reached the gate of the palace. He managed to compose himself enough that the guards who let him out didn’t act as if they noticed anything wrong.

Outside, he leaned against the stone wall of the palace and breathed hard. He tried to shake the memory of heavy paws on his shoulders, yellow eyes boring into his, sharp teeth gleaming, hot breath on his face. For a few terrified moments he’d been certain he was about to die.

It had been a bluff. He couldn’t blame Elkan for wanting to make him suffer. The wizard might be willing to forgive him, but he was only human. And he didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know how dangerous the forces he was playing with really were.

The demons had chosen not to kill him. They had no compelling reason to, and doing so would complicate matters for them. They’d have to make their human captives forget, and his disappearance would raise questions that might draw attention to them, even expose them. Better to let him go, secure in the belief that he’d come over to their side.

He reviewed everything he’d told Elkan. He thought he’d done a good job sticking as close to the truth as possible without revealing his Purifier oath. It wouldn’t take much looking through windows to uncover that, but it had sounded like Elkan hadn’t planned any methodical search.

As long as he didn’t, Vigorre would be able to keep working with them and keep watching for a chance to set them at odds with the Matriarch. Keeper Yoran had given him three months. Surely in that time he’d be able to find something.

His breathing and racing heart slowed. He was about to set out for home when he was startled by pounding footsteps and looked up to see a gangly young man about his own age running across the courtyard. He was dressed in the Tevenaran style and looked as if he’d run a long way and was near the end of his strength.

In response to the guards’ hail, he gasped, “Please, I need to talk to the wizards. My name is Gan, I’m one of Ozor’s friends. We have the Matriarch’s favor.”

The guards began questioning him, clearly skeptical of his story. Gan’s voice grew higher and more desperate. “Please, we’re all sick, some of us are dying—”

Vigorre strode over. “I’ll vouch for him.” He turned to Gan. “I’m a friend of Nirel’s. You know her?”

Gan gaped at him for a moment, bloodshot eyes wide, and Vigorre remembered he was still wearing his ornate service robes. Then Gan’s mouth snapped shut and his face grew hostile. “You must be that rich fellow who’s been chasing after her.” He turned and almost doubled over as a fit of coughing struck him.

Vigorre’s heart sank. “You said people are dying. Who?”

Gan pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his streaming eyes and nose. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“What about Kabos? Nirel’s father?” Vigorre grabbed Gan’s shoulders and shook him.

Gan yanked away and glared at him, deeply suspicious. “How did you know?”

Vigorre resisted an urge to slap him. “Nirel’s been sick, too. Measles. He probably caught it from her. She’s doing all right, but it’s worse for adults.” He grabbed Gan’s arm and dragged him into the palace, waving away the guard’s protests. “I accept responsibility for him. He needs to talk to the wizards.”

But when they reached Elkan’s room, it was empty. Vigorre pulled Gan to the next door and banged on it. “Josiah! Open up!”

The door jerked open and the young wizard scowled at him. “What is it this time?”

“It’s an emergency.” Vigorre gestured to Gan. “Tell him.”

“Gan?” Josiah greeted the young man with surprised pleasure. “What’s wrong?”

Gan grinned at him weakly. “Sorry for bothering you on Restday. But everyone in the village is sick. Coughing, fever, stuffed heads. And Kabos…” He hesitated. “We don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he started acting oddly, and then he collapsed. That was this morning. He hadn’t woken up when I left.”

Vigorre said urgently, “Elkan said people from Tevenar wouldn’t have any immunity to measles.”

Josiah’s eyes went wide. “That’s right.” He put out his hand and Sar clopped up and thrust his head under it. He raised his other hand and gold light washed over Gan. “Yep, it’s measles all right. You’re lucky you got to us before the itching started. Hold still.” He concentrated, and the light brightened. After a few minutes he dropped his hand and the light vanished. “All better.”

Gan took a deep experimental breath. “That’s amazing. Thank you. I mean… Thank you.”

“My pleasure is in the service,” Josiah said, doing a credible imitation of Elkan. He waved at Gan. “Give me a minute to put my boots on and we’ll come with you.”

Neither of them questioned when Vigorre accompanied them out of the palace and through the city. He had to find out what was happening to Kabos. Nirel deserved to know if he died. If he lingered, she deserved the chance to speak with him.

And if Kabos clung so stubbornly to his Dualist faith that he refused the healing that could save him, she deserved to see exactly what her beliefs could cost.

The village was far quieter than Vigorre was used to seeing it. A few Girodans were clustered outside the huge tent, talking in low voices, but no one else was about.

A small woman broke off from the group and approached them. “You are the wizard?” she asked Josiah.

“That’s right. Tesi, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She looked at him hopefully. “Can you heal the spotted fever? None of us has treatments good for anything but soothing the symptoms.”

“We can.” Josiah patted Sar confidently. “Who’s worst off?”

“Only Kabos now, but more are likely to decline soon, contracting it so old.”

“The wizards eradicated measles in Tevenar centuries ago. We’ll do the same here. Gan, spread the word that we’ll be around to everyone soon. I know it’s Restday, but it would be silly to waste the trip all the way out here when we’d just have to come back tomorrow.” Gan nodded and ran ahead. Josiah strode behind Tesi toward Kabos’s cottage.

Vigorre caught up with him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Josiah frowned at him. “What?”

“Kabos is a Dua—Faithful. He’ll refuse to let you heal him.”

“Smash it, you’re right.” He looked at Sar. “Gan said he was unconscious.” After a moment of silence he sighed in frustration. “I know. I just—no, I understand.” He pushed his unruly mop of curls back from his eyes. “We have to check on him anyway. Maybe he’ll wake up and we can talk him into accepting.”

Vigorre thought that was about as likely as Sar sprouting wings and flying away, but he made no comment.

As they turned onto the village road and headed downhill, Josiah caught his breath and pointed at the dock. “Ozor’s ship is back. Nirel must be here. Maybe she’s with her father.” His expression hardened.

Vigorre’s thoughts raced. “Look, Josiah. Even after everything she’s done, you don’t want to see Nirel thrown in the dungeon, do you? You know that’s what the Matriarch will do if she ever catches her.”

Josiah’s certainty wavered a little. To push him over the edge, Vigorre clamped down on his own emotions and added, “If she didn’t hang her.”