The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) (21 page)

A murmur of horror went through the room when Elkan, his voice for once faltering, told how Kabos had raged and brutally beaten Sathea after Ilana’s birth. Sathea ducked her head even further, her grip on the baby tightening until Ilana squalled in protest. The crowd reacted again when Elkan related how, on Yarin’s third birthday, Kabos had declared the boy old enough to bear full responsibility for his behavior. After that, Yarin was disciplined with the same ruthlessness as his mother and elder sister.

Elkan’s testimony drew to a close with a description of the beating he and Josiah had interrupted. Josiah noted thankfully that Elkan glossed over Josiah’s role in provoking and discovering the punishment. He said only that Kabos had suspected Nirel of inappropriate intimacy with Josiah, and didn’t detail why the wizard’s party had returned to the farm.

Elkan finished speaking and fell silent. There was a long moment of hush.

Meira stood, shifting Ravid to her shoulder. “I concur with Wizard Elkan’s testimony. I watched it all happen just as he described.” She sat down again.

Admon nodded and shuffled his papers. “Do the guild representatives of the victims or the accused have anything to add? Any questions for Wizard Elkan?”

Next to Josiah, Jonina rose. “As representative of the Knitters’ Guild, to which Master Sathea belongs and Nirel and Ilana are kin, I’ve spoken with them and examined them. Master Sathea was reluctant to confide in me, but eventually consented to share her experiences, which match what Wizard Elkan has described. She showed me the physical evidence on her body of the accused’s assaults. Nirel wouldn’t speak to me, but I did see the scarring Wizard Elkan has testified to.”

A murmur of outrage ran through the room as she seated herself. Josiah wiped sweat from his forehead.

Admon wrote in his notes and looked at Nadav. The Farmers’ Guild representative rose, spreading his hands. “I’ve spoken with Master Kabos. He doesn’t deny the wizard’s account. He simply asserts that his actions were his right and responsibility as husband and father. Apparently such beliefs persist among the more isolated mountain folk, despite having been outlawed for centuries.”

Admon regarded Kabos as Nadav sat. “Is this true? You may speak in your own defense, if you wish.”

Kabos remained seated, not lifting his eyes. His voice was cold and bitter. “Why should I? I don’t expect any of you to understand our ways. My father taught me that well enough. By my own carelessness our private business was exposed to outsiders, and I’ll suffer the consequences of that mistake. My folk gave up any hope of acceptance or tolerance long ago and sought only to be left alone. But we know the results of exposure. I won’t waste my breath trying to defend myself to you. Do what you will.”

Nirel jumped to her feet. “You can’t just give in to them like that, Father! Tell them. You’ve only done what you’re supposed to.” She rounded on Master Admon. “You don’t expect him to ignore it when one of us does something bad, do you? He’s never punished me unless I deserved it. How else are we supposed to learn?” Her voice faltered. “Please, just leave my father alone and let us go home.”

Josiah shot up from his chair, unable to listen any longer. “So he can beat you again?” His voice was high and cracking in his outrage. “Why are you defending him? Don’t you want them to stop him from hurting you?”

She took a few steps toward him, her fists clenched, stopping only when one of the watchers stepped between them. “My father loves me, and I love him. Everything was fine until you came, you hateful, sneaking, lying traitor!”

She rushed at Josiah. The watcher grabbed her and held her until she quit fighting and subsided into angry tears. He escorted her back to her seat, where she aimed a glare of such anger at Josiah that he sank back into his chair, feeling as if she’d struck him.

Jonina rose, patting Josiah on the knee, and addressed the court. “Her father has made her believe his crimes against her are justified. What better evidence that she should be protected from him? By his actions he has forfeited his blood rights to his children. As Nirel and Ilana’s kinguild, the Knitters’ Guild recommends that they be formally removed from his care. The guild will assume responsibility for his share of their guardianship. Furthermore, as Sathea’s guild, the Knitters’ Guild recommends that the marriage bond between her and Kabos be severed. Master Sathea concurs with our judgment in these matters.” She looked pointedly at Sathea, who after a long moment gave a barely perceptible nod, never raising her eyes. Jonina sat with sigh.

Nadav rose and spoke. “As Yarin’s kinguild, the Farmers’ Guild concurs in this recommendation, and will assume responsibility for Yarin’s guardianship. Master Kabos is not willing to concur, however.” He looked questioningly at Kabos, who returned his gaze with a stony stare. Nadav turned to Admon with a shrug and wry quirk of an eyebrow, and seated himself.

Admon shuffled his papers some more. He turned to Jonina. “What arrangements have the guilds made for the care of the children and the dispensation of the property?”

This time Jonina didn’t rise. “Master Sathea tells me she hasn’t practiced her craft for trade for many years, only to fulfill her own family’s needs. Nevertheless, I’ve examined her work and consulted the guild’s records. Her skills are well within guild standards, her dues are current, and her masterwork was submitted and approved according to guild regulations at the end of her journeyman years, earning her mastery. I’ll locate a master willing to work with her to establish her trade here in Tathorlith, or somewhere else if she prefers. The Knitters’ and Farmers’ Guilds will grant her monthly stipends as our portion of the children’s guardianship until they each apprentice and the responsibility for them transfers to their own craft guilds.”

Nadav spoke up. “The farm was held by Sathea’s father and mother, both master farmers. Kabos married Sathea when they were both journeymen, and Sathea’s father took him on. Upon Kabos gaining mastery, the three worked the farm in partnership for several years. When Sathea’s parents retired, they submitted their request to the Farmers’ Guild that the farm pass to Kabos. The guild approved this arrangement, and confirmed it following each of Sathea’s parents’ deaths. Master Kabos has worked the farm successfully since then, and always stayed current in his guild dues. The Farmers’ Guild recommends that he continue to hold the farm. But in light of his crimes, we would support a sentence of demotion to journeyman status for up to three years, and would provide a master to supervise him during that time. If any of the children apprentice to the Farmers’ Guild, the guild would consider them to hold first claim when it comes time to decide who will hold the farm after Kabos.”

Admon nodded. “That seems suitable.” He looked around. “Are all here in consensus that Master Kabos is guilty of the crimes he’s accused of?”

Nirel spoke into the silence. “I do not agree.”

“Heard and noted. Are there any others who object?”

The room was silent.

“The judgment of the Tathorlith Town Council is that the accused is found guilty. In addition to the three-year reduction in rank, I recommend that Kabos pay a fine, which will be divided between the Knitters’ and Farmers’ Guilds to defray the cost of caring for the children, and that he be confined in the jail here in Tathorlith for a term of two weeks. The marriage bond of Sathea and Kabos is hereby severed. His blood rights to his children are terminated. The Knitters’ and Farmers’ Guilds will assume responsibility for them as Masters Jonina and Nadav have described.’ He turned to Elkan. “Does the Mother concur?”

Elkan’s hand caressed Sar’s back. He nodded, weary. “The Mother sets her seal on this judgment.”

“So be it. This hearing is concluded, and we are dismissed.” Master Admon squared his stack of papers with a decisive motion.

The crowd of spectators surged to their feet, voices rising in a babble. The participants at the front of the room were slower to disperse. Josiah was eager to get out of the room, which had grown just as hot as he had feared, but Elkan leaned against Sar, his eyes closed, and Josiah knew he shouldn’t disturb him.

Watchers surrounded Kabos. He rose, face as cold and closed as ever. He didn’t look at Sathea, though she gazed at him, a lost, hurt expression on her face, nor at Nirel, whose eyes burned as she tried to catch his attention. He walked unresisting between the watchers as they led him away.

Loud cries drew Josiah’s attention to the other side of the room, where Yovela carried in the sobbing Yarin. She’d kept him occupied in an adjoining room during the hearing. As soon as she set him down he ran to Sathea, wailing. Sathea passed Ilana over to Nirel and gathered Yarin close. She buried her face in his hair, murmuring reassurances in a voice that trembled on the edge of breaking.

Josiah twisted his hands in his lap. He tried to convince himself that the day’s events were for the best. Nirel and Sathea—and Yarin, too, he hadn’t even known about him—would be free from Kabos’s abuse. They’d be able to start a new life. It would be a hard adjustment, but in the long run they’d be better off.

But as the family rose and made their way past, he couldn’t bring himself to face Sathea’s grief, Nirel’s anger, or the little ones’ uncomprehending unhappiness. He bowed his head until they were gone.

Elkan’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Come.”

Josiah trailed behind him out of the courtroom. They made their way through the streets, away from the crowds that slowly dispersed from around the Mother’s Hall.

They crossed one of the bridges over the river. Sar’s hooves thudded on the wooden boards. Josiah wondered whether after the midday meal he would be needed to help Elkan with more work, or if he might be able to sneak down to the river for a swim.

Elkan’s voice startled him out of his longing fantasy of cool water. “There’s a group of traders and travelers leaving Tathorlith in a weeks’ time, heading downriver to Korisan.”

Josiah nodded, uninterested. Why had Elkan brought this up?

Elkan stopped and turned to face Josiah. “I’ve spent many hours debating whether I should send you with them.”

Josiah swallowed, cold apprehension running through his arms and legs and settling in the pit of his stomach. “But, but… why?”

Elkan’s lips tightened. “You know why. You disobeyed me. I told you we weren’t allowed to interfere with Kabos and his family, and you ignored me. You did what you wanted, in complete disregard of everything I said.”

Hanging his head, Josiah could only nod. Elkan was right. Shame flooded him. But he fought against it. He’d had very good reasons for what he’d done, and he was determined not to regret it. He forced his voice past the tension in his throat. “I couldn’t just leave them with him.”

Elkan scowled at Josiah. “How can I keep you with me if I can’t trust you?” He ran a hand through his hair. “My own wizardry is at stake. I’m acting as your master, and I’m responsible for what you do. If I can’t control you, if I allow you to break the Mother’s Law while you’re under my supervision, I’ll be held accountable. You’ve been invaluable to me on our journey so far, and I would sorely miss your companionship as well as your help, but I won’t risk being expelled from the Wizards’ Guild for your sake.”

Dumbstruck, Josiah stared at Elkan. Finally, he stammered, “Surely it would never come to that…”

“It could.” For a moment Elkan maintained his stern expression. Then he glanced at Sar, put his hand on the donkey’s neck, and relented a little. “Although not for this misadventure.”

He wound his fingers in Sar’s mane. “In truth, my conduct in this matter was hardly faultless. I, too, chafed at the restrictions the Law put on our actions. I suspected you might try something, and I should have acted to stop you, but part of me wanted you to succeed. I let you force my hand so the violation of the Law would be yours, not mine. It was wrong of me. If I couldn’t accept the wisdom of the Mother’s decrees, then I should at least have had the courage to defy them openly instead of hiding behind your youth and recklessness.”

The wizard stared off into the distance, his hand still clutched tight in Sar’s mane. Hesitantly, Josiah ventured, “Everything came out all right, though, didn’t it? Kabos won’t be able to hurt them any more.”

“There is that.” But Elkan’s mood was not lightened by the thought. He sighed. “I can’t allow anything like this to happen in the future. I must have your promise to obey me implicitly, without exception, from now on, or you’ll be joining the traders on the way to Korisan. Do you understand?”

Josiah gulped. “Yes, sir. I promise.” Miserable under the weight of Elkan’s disapproval, he vowed in his heart to do everything in his power to earn back the wizard’s trust.

Sar snorted and bobbed his head, and Elkan scratched the base of his ears. “Very well. Let’s get back to Admon and Yovela’s. We can help them prepare the meal.” He set off down the quiet street.

Twelve

J
osiah woke with a start in the chill darkness before dawn to a confused clamor of shouting. He sat up. Elkan had risen from the bed they shared in Admon’s guest room and was hastily dressing. “Go back to sleep, Josiah.”

“What’s going on?”

“There’s been an attack on the jail. The watchers think it’s the bandits.”

“What? Why would they do that?”

“Sar and I will try to find out. You wait for us here.” He was gone before Josiah could protest.

There was no way he could sleep, no matter what Elkan said, so he pulled on his clothes and went to the window. He couldn’t see much, only the glow of torches in the distance and an occasional glimpse of shadowy figures running through the streets. But he kept watch long after all commotion had died away. Finally the soft gray light of morning stole over the town.

Admon had left in the night with Elkan. Yovela built up the fire and put on a kettle of porridge for breakfast. Josiah could only pick at his portion until the sound of boots and hooves on the cobbles outside announced the others’ arrival.

After Elkan had settled Sar in the yard with a generous supply of hay, he and Admon gratefully accepted bowls of porridge. Elkan dug in hungrily as Admon filled them in on the night’s events. “There wasn’t much we could do. They were on their way out of town before the alarm was raised. They looted a number of shops, but their main goal seems to have been the jail. The two watchers guarding it were attacked. One’s dead, but Elkan managed to save the other.” He grimaced. “The bandits freed the farmer and took him with them.”