The Law of Isolation (32 page)

Josiah’s heart raced and his stomach threatened to rebel, but he couldn’t look away. Horror and terror twisted Mathir’s face as Nina’s blood splattered across his palm. He screamed, a hoarse cry wrenched from his gut. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he sagged in his bonds. The Mother’s power eased him to the ground and faded away.

Sar nudged into Josiah’s side. He put his arms around the donkey’s neck, clinging to him as if he were drowning.

Master Hanion knelt by Mathir and put his hand on Mavke’s head. Gold light played briefly around Mathir. He looked up at Master Dabiel and nodded.

Master Dabiel stood and addressed the watching guildmasters. Most of them were staring with opened mouths and expressions of shocked horror. “Mathir is unharmed. He’ll wake in three days’ time. A broken bond is a trauma, but he’ll suffer no lasting damage. When he recovers, Master Hanion and I will help him find him a place with another guild. The money he received in bribes has been recovered from his room; it will be returned to those to whom it belongs. As no other damages resulted from his actions, I judge no further punishment need be applied, or restitution required. Does anyone disagree with that verdict?”

She looked around expectantly, but no one objected. Her eyes settled on Rolie. The girl gave a little shake of her head, and Dabiel nodded. “Very well. In the Mother’s name, I declare this matter closed. You are dismissed. Hanion, Elkan, please take him to his room.”

Master Hanion gathered Mathir in his arms and grunted as he lifted him. At first he brushed Elkan aside, but after a few staggering steps he didn’t object when Elkan put his hand on Tobi’s head and sent gold light to envelop the unconscious boy and take some of his weight. Together they made their way to the door. The guildmasters who were clumped by the exit, talking in low voices and jostling to leave, drew back to let them pass.

Master Dabiel crouched and let Nina crawl into her cupped hands. The squirrel moved stiffly, as if she were as ancient as Buttons. Dabiel stroked her tiny head with a gentle fingertip. “Josiah?” she said.

At her voice, Josiah shook himself out of his numb stupor. He unwrapped his arms from around Sar’s neck. “Yes, Guildmaster?”

“Would you and Sar mind taking Nina to the unbonded familiars’ quarters? I expect she’ll want to rest and let Jenion pamper her for a while. I believe there are a couple others who’ve shown up recently to keep her company.”

The squirrel’s grief was so palpable and overwhelming that Josiah dreaded being near her, but he couldn’t deny the Guildmaster’s request. “Sure.” He tried not to drag his feet as he went over. “Um… what will happen to her?”

Dabiel settled the light bundle of fluff into his hands, giving her a few more strokes. “She’ll bond with another wizard eventually. Next Springtide, probably, unless one of the older familiars passes between now and then.” She said this unselfconsciously, although Josiah knew her Buttons was among the oldest of the guild’s familiars, having already lived far past the average pig’s lifespan.

Dabiel left off petting Nina and put an arm around Josiah’s shoulder. “Mathir will be all right. This isn’t the first time a wizard’s bond has been broken, and it won’t it be the last. His actions had no real malice behind them, just selfishness and greed and immaturity. Hanion and I will counsel him. I’m confident we’ll be able to help him to a new place, his lesson learned.”

Josiah nodded and tentatively stroked Nina, who leaned gratefully into his touch. He struggled to find the right words. “Master Dabiel… I just want you to know… I really didn’t know. What Mathir had done. I would have told him to stop, to give the money back. I thought he was doing it for the same reason I was, so those people would be all right. I never would have cooperated with him, otherwise.”

“I know, Josiah.” She sighed. “Maybe I was wrong, after all, not to let one wizard stay behind. It seemed such a clear decision at the time. But numbers don’t always tell the whole story. It damages something in us to leave needs unfilled. That’s just how the Mother made us. All people, but especially the ones she chooses to be wizards.”

“But the harvest… You were right, people would have starved next spring.” Josiah ducked his head. “That’s going to happen now, isn’t it? Because Elkan and Master Hanion had to bring us back. I heard them saying that they were afraid the blight would spread to Korisan and beyond, and that was when they thought all four of us would be there working. Now it’s bound to.”

“We don’t know that yet. Although I agree it’s likely. I’ll send you and Elkan and Hanion back to continue doing what you can.”

“Good.” Josiah scratched Nina’s head. She warmed his hands, fragile yet vibrantly alive. He had to ask, even though he dreaded the answer. “What will happen to the ones who followed us? Will they have to do without the Mother’s power now, after all?” He knew that was the inevitable verdict. Master Dabiel could hardly allow Josiah to keep up the activities that had very nearly gotten him thrown out of the Wizards’ Guild along with Mathir. “I can’t bear to think that, even after everything, Azien still won’t—”

“No. Buttons and I are staying in Elathir. I will personally see to the care of those who need it, including Azien. And Rolie. I believe we’ll be able to muster enough energy to manage that.” She slapped Buttons playfully on the rump; he didn’t even blink. “We were more of a burden to our group than a help. They’ll do better without us slowing them down. A week of passing out in the middle of wheat fields an hour before anyone else was enough to convince me to acknowledge the limitations of my age, not to mention Buttons’s. You don’t know how grateful I was when the message arrived calling us back.”

Josiah wasn’t sure if she was serious, or just putting the best face on things to help him feel better. But he was immensely relieved to know that Azien would continue to receive the treatments he needed to survive. “So you think it will be all right? We’ll be able to save enough wheat so that people won’t starve?”

“I hope so.” The Guildmaster’s expression was grave. She reached to fondle Nina’s tiny perked ears. “I truly hope so. We’ll do the best we can. Beyond that, we’ll have to trust the Mother to provide.”

Sixteen

“G
evan!” Displeasure tainted the Matriarch’s voice. “Pay attention. I said, do you have any questions?”

Gevan dragged his eyes away from the heavy velvet draperies framing a window in the outer wall of the audience chamber. Surely no one could be hiding concealed in their voluminous folds. But even so, he kept imagining he saw them sway with motions that couldn’t be explained by the brisk sea breeze that freshened the hot room. He focused on the Matriarch’s face. “No, your majesty. You’ve made yourself very clear.”

“Good. Is there anything I can provide to make your voyage more comfortable? Or have taken care of for you while you’re gone?”

They were alone in the room, save for a pair of silent guards by the door. Gevan longed to pour out the story of Yoran’s threats and beg the Matriarch to take Kevessa under her protection. But he didn’t dare. They’d been equally alone yesterday when the Matriarch had first given him this assignment, yet somehow Yoran had learned of it. He’d boasted that his men had free access to the palace. Whichever guard the Matriarch ordered to protect Kevessa might be the very one ready to harm her at Yoran’s command. Gevan had to assume that the Purifier’s agents were listening to every word they spoke. “Perhaps you could provide me with garments suitable for my role as your ambassador. I’m afraid I have nothing grand enough to make the proper impression.”

“Gladly. I’ll have my tailor outfit you with whatever you desire. Comfortable traveling clothes, as well, for your time aboard the ship. Guard, when we’re finished, escort Professor Gevan to my tailor.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The guard bowed.

The Matriarch rose and presented her hand to Gevan. He raised it to his lips and kissed the dry, papery skin as custom dictated. She smiled at him, regal and confident, with eagerness in her eyes that had nothing to do with him. “I look forward to your return, Gevan, and to the success of your mission. Go with the grace of the Mother. May she hold you always in the palm of her hands.”

He swallowed at the echo of Yoran’s words. “Thank you, your majesty.”

She swept from the room. He allowed the guard to lead him to the tailor’s quarters. All the time the woman was measuring him and trying various garments on him, he pondered his options.

No matter how he wracked his brain for alternatives, he kept reaching the same conclusion. Nowhere in Ramunna was safe for Kevessa. He would have to take her with him.

The thought had occurred to him the night before, while he tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. At first he’d recoiled in horror from the idea. He couldn’t place his daughter aboard a ship, among rough sailors, venturing into an unknown sea guided only by charts provided by mysterious strangers, bound for a land of mythical magic. But the more he tried to come up with some other plan, the more it became obvious he had no choice. He could trust no one but himself to keep Kevessa safe.

There remained only the practical details. The Purifiers were observing his every move. If he attempted to smuggle Kevessa aboard the ship, they’d stop him. He doubted his sister or her husband would help him. He’d never convince them Kevessa was truly in danger. They hadn’t seen the threat in Yoran’s eyes or felt the cold blade of a knife pressing against their throats. But there was no way he could ask Kevessa to make her way through the dark night of the city alone. She might be willing to, he reflected, thinking of what he’d learned of his daughter in the past few days. But she’d be in as much danger from common footpads as from Yoran’s lackeys.

When he finished his session with the tailor he made his way to the terrace, where Kevessa had invited him to join her for the midday meal. Only then did he realize that there were a few people in the palace he could be quite certain weren’t Purifier spies.

Kevessa beamed and beckoned him to the empty seat beside her at the long table. “Father, I’m so glad you made it. We delayed as long as we could, but we feared the Matriarch had kept you past the appointed time. You’re in luck; you’ve only missed the first course, and it was smoked fish.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry about that.” Gevan made a face of exaggerated disgust, and Kevessa giggled. On her far side, Nirel smiled, though with a puzzled look in her eyes.

“Father got sick once after eating smoked fish, and he hasn’t been able to stand it since,” Kevessa explained.

Nirel nodded, though something in her manner remained reserved. Gevan studied her. Maybe it would be safe to approach her here, if he could contrive a moment when none of the ladies of the court were nearby.

It was easier than he’d anticipated. As soon as the meal was over, Kevessa and Nirel retreated to seats on the low stone wall that rimmed the terrace. The other women ignored them, making their way to a cluster of chairs in the shade of potted palm trees. Gevan strolled as casually as he could to stand near the two girls. His stomach lurched as he looked down the long, sheer drop to the rocks and surf below. He suppressed the urge to snatch Kevessa back from the treacherous height. Instead, he sat down on the wall beside her.

“Father, Nirel’s worried her father won’t allow her to attend the ball. Maybe you could speak to him, assure him that it will be well chaperoned. He’s very protective of her.”

“As well he should be.” Gevan cleared his throat. “Perhaps I can. But it will have to be this afternoon. Captain Yosiv says the tide will be right to sail just after sunrise tomorrow.”

Kevessa sighed, looking off toward the port. “In that case, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll be too busy preparing for the voyage to spare the time. He’ll come around.”

“Kevessa.” Gevan studied their surroundings. Around them was the open stone terrace, with nowhere a spy could hide closer than the planters full of flowers by the wall of the palace, at least a dozen yards away. The ladies of the court and the women from Tevenar were busy chatting with each other in their shady refuge at the far end of the terrace. He could see their mouths moving but couldn’t hear their voices, except when an occasional burst of laughter rang loud enough to travel the distance between them. He drew a deep breath and kept his voice low. “I’ve got something very important to tell you.”

She sobered instantly, turning her full attention on him. “Yes, Father?”

Nirel coughed. “Maybe I should leave?”

“No. This concerns you, too. I need to ask a favor of you and your people.” Gevan caught Kevessa’s hands in his. “Last night when I got home, a man approached me outside my door.” He poured out the tale of what had happened. Kevessa’s eyes got very round when he described the knife against his throat. He wanted to soften his account, reassure her he’d never really been in danger, but he didn’t dare. She had to understand how serious the threat was. From her face, she did. All her usual light merriment was gone, replaced by grave focus. Nirel listened with equal intentness.

“…to protect you, he said. From those who would harm you if I didn’t do what they wanted. Day and night, at home, in the palace, wherever you went…” Gevan’s voice shook so much he had to stop.

Kevessa nodded, far calmer than he’d thought she’d be. “I understand, Father.”

Nirel drew her brows together, looking from Gevan to Kevessa. “Why is it a problem that they want to protect you?”

Gevan couldn’t answer, but Kevessa put a hand on Nirel’s. “If they can protect me, they can harm me. They’re the ones who want to control what Father does. You won’t let them, will you, Father? I’m not afraid.”

He almost couldn’t speak for the lump in his throat. She was so casually brave. She couldn’t possibly appreciate all the ways they could hurt her. “No. But I won’t leave you at their mercy, either. I’ve got to take you with me.”

She hadn’t expected that. She sat up very straight, and her eyes widened. “On the ship? To Tevenar?”

“Yes. I don’t see I have any other choice.”

“Oh, Father.” Kevessa didn’t say anything more, but the wonder in her voice and the glow in her smile told him all he needed to know. He’d half feared she’d fight him, or protest that she didn’t want to miss the ball, or leave her friends, or venture away from all she’d ever known. He shouldn’t be surprised, though, at the eagerness with which she embraced his plan. His sister had warned him, and she knew Kevessa far better than he did.