The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) (10 page)

“Finally he could bear it no longer. He and the others who labored with him gathered in an abandoned barn, far on the outskirts of the capital city. They fasted and prayed, pleading with the Mother for the return of her power.

“After three days, the Mother answered their call and appeared before them. They knelt in awe and reverence. She spoke to Gurion. ‘Greatly do I desire to grant your request, and return my power to the world. I always intended it to be used in the service of those in need. But how can I trust that you would use it for good, and not evil? When you bore my power, you betrayed me.’

“Gurion bowed his head in silence, for he knew her words to be true, and he was ashamed. She sighed, and turned as if to depart.

“At that moment a rat scurried across the floor in front of her. She paused and knelt, and the rat came into her hand with perfect trust. She turned back to Gurion, and asked him, ‘Would you be willing, in order to gain what you seek, to humble yourself beneath this rat? Would you be willing to bind yourself to him, and access my power only through him? I have not given animals free will. If ever you should seek to misuse my power again, I would cause this rat to break his bond with you, and you would again be powerless.’

“Gurion looked at the rat and was shamed and disgusted. But he remembered those who needed his help, and remembered that the rat, too, was the work of the Mother’s creation. He held out his hands, and said, ‘Mother, if that is what you wish, I am willing.’

“The Mother nodded. She laid her finger on the rat’s forehead, and it left her mark there for all to see. She put the rat into Gurion’s hands and bonded them. Then she vanished.

“Gurion found that when he touched the rat, he had access once again to the Mother’s power. He went among the people, healing and helping. Over time, other Mother-touched animals came to them, and bonded with those who had joined Gurion in his vigil. Together they used the Mother’s power as she intended, to heal and to help and to show truth.

“Soon their activities drew the attention of the rulers. They were enraged that these few had regained the powers they had lost. They sought to capture Gurion and his followers, but they escaped and fled to a small city at the edge of the empire, on the shores of the sea. Many of the people rallied to them. The rulers of the land brought war against them, but they defended themselves. With the aid of the Mother’s power they fought forces much larger than their own. After a terrible battle, they won for themselves a time of peace. But it could not last.

“The rat, who had become Gurion’s dear friend and companion, was killed in the final battle. Mourning his loss, Gurion wandered down to the seashore and walked alone far along the beach. There he found a dolphin stranded on the sand, dying. He struggled to push the creature back into the water, laboring without rest until the dolphin once more could swim freely. Only then did he notice the Mother’s mark on its tail.

“Gurion bound himself to the dolphin, and it spoke to him in the Mother’s voice, telling him of a land beyond the sea, where Gurion and his followers could flee and begin new lives, safe from the persecution of their enemies.

“Gurion returned to the city and called on the sailors and shipwrights. They readied every ship in the port for a long voyage, and built new ships, as many as they could. The enemy forces gathered their strength. Just as they were preparing to attack, Gurion loaded his followers aboard the ships, with their families and possessions and tools, and set off into the unknown. The rulers of the empire raged at their escape. As Gurion’s people fled, the empire’s fleet pursued them. But a great cataclysm destroyed the city and the enemy ships, leaving Gurion’s ships untouched.

“For many long weeks the dolphin led them far beyond sight of any land, into waters where no sailor had ever before ventured. Gurion would stand in the bow of the lead ship, looking out toward the horizon, while the dolphin leaped in the crest of the waves. The weather stayed calm, and the wind fair, filling the sails and driving the ships onward.

“As their supplies of food and water were running out, land appeared on the horizon. They sailed along the coast until they reached a good harbor at the mouth of a river. They found the land to be rich, abundant in all manner of plants and animals, with plenty of fertile land for farming and metal deposits in the mountains for mining. Gurion declared it their new home. They built Elathir where the river meets the sea. Folk spread throughout the land, seeking whatever places were best for the crafts they knew.

“Gurion labored with the others, building all they would need. He was limited in what he could do, for he could only use the Mother’s power while touching the dolphin. He did not complain, but served in the ways that he could. He helped construct the great Elathir docks. He led the fleet to fish in the deep waters, and their catch fed the people during the time it took to establish farms. He traveled far to the north and south and erected the boundary stones that even now mark the limits of where the folk of Tevenar may venture, lest by straying farther we risk discovery by the enemies we left behind.

“After the construction of the docks was finished and the people were established in their new home. Gurion was often idle. He longed to be of more use to his people. One day the dolphin told him, ‘The Mother is pleased with your service, but your work is not yet done. Your binding to me no longer serves her purpose. Therefore, at her command, I break our bond.’

“Great pain swept through Gurion, and he fell unconscious on the sand. His followers found him and bore him to the newly constructed Mother’s Hall. After three days he woke, weak but unharmed.

“The next day a brightly colored bird fluttered in through the window and landed on Gurion’s bed, the Mother’s mark clear on her breast. Gurion bound himself to her, and together they labored for many long years in the Mother’s service. Thus he became known as Gurion Thricebound, first Guildmaster and founder of the Wizards’ Guild. He established the Council of Guildmasters, which to this day governs Tevenar, and served for many years as its head.

“In his old age the Mother spoke to him, and he wrote down the Law, which governs all that wizards do, and the first of the Histories, which recounts the story I’ve just told you. He died and was buried beside the sea. His last familiar, the bird, outlived him. After his death it bonded with a new apprentice and continued the Mother’s work into the next generation.”

Elkan fell silent. Josiah sighed. All thoughts of bears and bandits were gone from his mind, replaced by the words and images of the story. He slipped easily into sleep.

Six

T
he mountains were amazing. Josiah had spent the last three days ogling the breathtaking views revealed by every new turn of the path. But they were also exhausting. His legs felt like lumps of wet clay and his lungs labored for air. He was sure they’d climbed several miles since they’d reached the foothills. They’d descended nearly as far into the valleys between ridges, having to regain the elevation they’d lost over and over. This last climb had been the steepest and hardest. Josiah was almost too tired to appreciate the sweeping panorama that spread out before them.

Elkan pointed to a bright streak of silver running along the bottom of the next valley. “That’s the Kirez. Darilla lies on its banks. We should get there before nightfall.”

Josiah perked up. A bed to sleep in after four nights camping sounded wonderful. And they’d be going downhill all afternoon.

They reached the river late in the day and turned upstream. The path here was wide, with logs laid to form steps in the steepest places. Elkan pulled his wizard’s cloak from his pack and put it on.

A flock of large white geese browsing in a grassy area between trail and river set up a racket of honks as they approached. The girl tending them jumped to her feet.

“Hello,” Elkan greeted her. “My name is Elkan Farmerkin Wizard. This is my familiar Sar, and my assistant Josiah. Will you run ahead and tell the village elders we’re coming?”

“Yes, sir,” the girl gasped. “Welcome!” She raced off, shouting, “The wizard’s here! The wizard’s here!”

When Elkan and Josiah reached the cluster of buildings nestled in a bend of the river, a crowd was waiting for them. Welcoming voices called out from every side. A grey-haired woman stepped forward to meet them. “Welcome to Darilla,” she said. “I’m Master Galia Weaverkin Weaver, the village elder. We’re very happy to see you. Many here need your services.”

“Does anyone need help right now?” Elkan put his hand on Sar’s back. “We can get started tonight if necessary.”

Galia waved away his offer. “Nothing’s so urgent it can’t wait until morning. Come, I offer you the hospitality of my home.”

Elkan and Josiah expressed their gratitude, and Galia whisked them off. She brought warm, clean clothes for them and took their own travel-stained garments away to be washed. After they unloaded Sar and brushed him, they emerged to find an impromptu feast organized in their honor. The small Mother’s Hall in the center of town was open, with a fire in the large fireplace at the back and tables set up in rows. People streamed in from around the village, bearing steaming bowls and platters with them.

No sooner had Josiah helped himself to a heaping plate of food than he was surrounded by a cluster of older children and apprentices. A girl a year or two older than him gestured toward a table. She had long chestnut curls hanging loose down her back and greenish-brown eyes. “Come sit with us. I’m Ledah Carverkin Basketmaker. What’s your name?”

“Josiah Potterkin Fuller,” he said as he took a seat where she indicated.

“Not Wizard?” another girl said.

“What’s a fuller doing traveling with a wizard?” a boy asked.

Josiah’s face warmed and he looked down at his food. “It’s a long story.”

“Leave him alone and let him eat,” Ledah said. “I bet he’s starving after waking all the way through the mountains. Mother said you’ve come from Korisan?”

“That’s right.”

All the others seemed deeply impressed. A boy who must have been almost a journeyman said, “Tell us what it’s like. None of us have ever been anywhere bigger than Tathorlith.”

Between bites Josiah described his hometown. Ledah and the others listened raptly. They were particularly fascinated by his description of the complex machinery of the fulling mill. Encouraged by their interest, he launched into an account of how he had walked through the swinging stocks. His fall and rescue by Elkan and Sar made such a good story he forgot to be embarrassed until he got to the end. “—So Elkan told Master Sef that as long as the new cloth was ready before Springtide it would be all right. And then Master Sef—” He flushed and looked down. “Um, he scolded me, and told me it was too dangerous for me to work at the mill anymore for a while—”

The oldest boy made a scoffing sound. “He sacked you, didn’t he?”

Josiah nodded miserably.

“Sounds like you deserved it.”

Ledah gave the older boy a thwack on the shoulder. “Leave him alone, Dov.” She turned back to Josiah. “Go on. Is that when the wizard took you on?”

“Yeah.” Josiah described how Elkan had intervened to save his career, gradually warming to his tale again. Dov sat back with a dismissive look on his face, but the rest asked eager questions and made enthusiastic comments as he progressed to an account of what he’d seen in the Mother’s Hall and during their journey.

The mood turned darker when he described the abandoned farmhouse. Ledah nodded grimly. “They’ve hit us a few times. Edria’s family lost three of their best cows, and Haya’s uncle got an arrow in the leg when he surprised them raiding their chicken coop. And of course, there’s what happened to—” She broke off, looking across the room. Josiah followed her gaze to see a woman with a baby seated at one of the other tables. “But she doesn’t like people to talk about it.”

“Tell me,” Josiah urged, overcome by curiosity. “Elkan is supposed to be finding out as much as he can about the bandits.”

“She can tell him herself if she wants to.” No matter how much Josiah implored her, Ledah wouldn’t say anything else.

They were interrupted by the sound of instruments tuning up. A woman recruited all the young people to help move the tables and chairs to the edges of the room. As they finished, a man struck up a lively tune on a harp, and a flute and drum joined in.

“Come dance with us,” Ledah urged Josiah. The other apprentices were joining most of the adults in a large circle in the center of the hall. She grabbed his hand and tried to drag him with her.

“I don’t know how.” Josiah resisted her pull.

“It’s easy. I’ll show you.” She grinned at him. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of course not.” Josiah relented and let her lead him into place.

It wasn’t actually that hard. After stumbling through a few repeats of the pattern with the others calling instructions to him, Josiah picked up the steps. Spin to the center of the circle, then back, link arms with his partner and twirl, weave in and out with another couple, spin in and out again, then move around the circle to join a new partner. Soon they were all flushed and panting and grinning. When the music stopped Ledah was far across the room, but one of the other apprentices claimed him as her partner for the next dance.

Every now and then, as he whirled and spun around the room, Josiah caught a glimpse of the woman Ledah refused to tell him about. She didn’t join the dancing, but lingered at the edge of the room. Sometimes she chatted amiably with others who were sitting out, but more often she watched the dancers with an air of quiet melancholy.

She looked to be of late journeyman age. Her wavy dark hair was pulled into a single braid down her back. She carried her baby in a cloth wrapped around her shoulders and tied at her waist, and often ducked her head to murmur to him, change his position, latch him on to nurse or adjust her clothing when he finished. Many of the villagers stopped to coo over the child, stroking his wispy black hair or offering a finger for him to grasp. The woman smiled and allowed them the intimacy, but she never quite relaxed her reserved watchfulness.