The Law of Isolation (57 page)

Never again would it wipe away pain, or bridge turbulent waters with a path to safety, or reshape deformity into wholeness.

And Josiah would perish along with all the rest.

Nirel did her best to keep her conflicted emotions hidden from Elder Davon, but even if they’d been written across her face as plain as the black letters of the Ordinance on the white scroll, he wouldn’t have seen them. He was lost in rapt silence, gazing into the distance. Elder Semanel, though, looked closely at her. He must have been satisfied by what he saw, for he gave her a rueful smile and quirked an eyebrow at her, inviting her to share his indulgent amusement at their leader’s excesses. She managed to smile back.

After a while Elder Davon rose and left the curtained chamber. The rest of them followed. Nirel was exhausted. All she wanted was to get home and collapse into bed. Surely it was late enough she would fall asleep quickly. Not lay awake thinking about everything that had happened, and that might happen when the
Verinna
returned.

Elder Davon put his hands on her shoulders in the sign of the Lord’s blessing. “Remember my instructions.”

“Yes, sir.” Nirel bowed her head.

He turned and repeated the gesture with Kabos. “I know it’s difficult for you to watch your daughter behaving in ways that would normally violate the Ordinances. Remember that she remains obedient to the commands of the Lord of Justice. Everything she does is to fulfill his higher purpose. I’m confident she won’t disappoint him.”

For an instant Kabos met the Elder’s eyes. Nirel caught her breath at the anger burning in his glance. But Davon gazed back steadily. Kabos bent his head. “As you say, Elder.”

Davon nodded and ushered them out of the shrine into the night.

Long weary trudging brought them to the village and their cottage. The moment her bedroom door closed behind her Nirel stripped off the heavy layers of her gown and fumbled to unlace her stays. She let them fall in an untidy heap on the floor. Morning would be soon enough to sort them out and hang them up. She’d need the gown again if more balls lay in her future. Right now she didn’t know if she hoped for that, or dreaded it.

She crawled into bed and reached to snuff the lamp. The door opened.

“Father?” Nirel stared at him. Kabos never intruded on her after she’d withdrew for the night.

He regarded her for a long time without speaking. Nirel stared back, unable to interpret what his silence meant.

Abruptly he spoke. “Elder Davon is deceived. He believes you obedient to his commands. But I know you do exactly what you want, regardless of what the Ordinances say. You and he can pretend that the Lord of Justice wishes you to play the whore. But I know the truth. You defame the Lord’s name to say he condones such wickedness.”

“Father, I—” Tears blurred Nirel’s eyes and made his face waver in the lamplight.

He ignored her protest, plowing over her words. “I should discipline you with the rod for what you did tonight. But I can’t, for Elder Davon commanded me to allow it, and his word is to me as the word of the Lord of Justice. But when you betray him, and the Faithful, as you’ve betrayed me time and time again, he’ll realize that he has committed a terrible sin. The blame will be on him, and on you.
Not on me.
I renounce any complicity in your blasphemy.”

“Father…” Nirel whispered again, but he withdrew and pushed the door shut. It thudded into place with a sound as final and unyielding as the door of the prison in Elathir.

Twenty-Four

“J
osiah, wake up.

Sar’s voice in his mind jerked him from sleep as effectively as if the words had been shouted in his ear. Josiah sat up so fast he nearly knocked heads with Elkan, who was leaning over him, hands on his shoulders. “What—”

“Shh.” His master stooped to pick up the tunic Josiah had discarded on the floor and tossed it to him. “Get dressed. Throw some clothes in your pack, and whatever else you’ll need. You’re coming with me.”

Josiah squinted in the faint moonlight to make sure his tunic was right side out before pulling it over his head. His brain was still foggy enough that it took him a moment to register what Elkan had said. When the meaning of his master’s words and the clandestine night waking finally hit him, he froze. “We’re going to Ramunna?”

“Be quiet! Yes, we are. Now get ready. Gevan and Kevessa are waiting for us on the ship. If we don’t sail before sunrise, I’m afraid Guildmaster Hanion will try and stop us.”

“Yes, sir!” Josiah kept his voice to an enthusiastic whisper. He scrambled out of bed and began haphazardly pulling garments out of his wardrobe.

Elkan located Josiah’s pack where he’d shoved it under his bed and helped him fill it. In a few minutes it was bulging. He’d accumulated an awful lot of stuff since he’d been here. He’d have to leave most of it behind. It didn’t matter, though. The prospect of traveling across the sea was so exciting he wouldn’t have cared if he’d had to go naked.

He slung the pack onto his shoulders and shot a glance at Elkan as he trailed his master and Tobi out of the room. Sar followed him, setting his hooves down with far more care than usual so they made only muffled clicks. “I didn’t think… I never expected you’d let me… I mean, I guessed you weren’t going to let Master Hanion stop you, but…Thanks, master.”

Elkan snorted. “I need another wizard’s help tonight. Kevessa and Nina are new to each other and I didn’t want to risk them making a mistake.” He was quiet as they made their way down the corridor and into the vast darkness of the main Hall. When he resumed, it was with a tone of rueful affection. “Besides, I couldn’t leave you to Hanion’s mercies and let him take out his anger at me on you. In many guilds it’s usual for a master to have several apprentices, so I guess I can cope with two. There’s nothing in the Law that limits wizards to one, just tradition. We’re going to be breaking plenty of those soon; what’s one more?”

Josiah heaved a sigh. “I guess I could have dealt with Master Hanion. But I’m glad I don’t have to!” He swallowed. “I wouldn’t have minded Master Dabiel, though. She really said she’d be my master?”

“Yes, and she’d have been much harder on you than I ever am. She believed the best way to keep an apprentice out of trouble is to make sure they’re either too busy or too tired to make any mischief. I should keep that in mind.”

Elkan must be happier than he’d been since the Ramunnans first appeared, to be teasing him that way. Josiah followed his master out the main front door of the hall and across the plaza.

Instead of heading left across the square toward the docks as he expected, Elkan bore right toward the road that led to the market. Josiah trotted to catch up as Elkan lengthened his stride. “Where are we going?”

“We’ve got a couple of errands to run. Captain Yosiv isn’t prepared to feed a donkey and a mountain cat all the way across the ocean. We can fish for Tobi, but Sar’s got to have hay. The stable that supplies the guild is this way.”

“Oh.” Josiah reached to stroke Sar, vaguely ashamed that he’d been too excited to think about his familiar’s welfare.

The stable was a complex of sprawling buildings clustered around a central courtyard. It was dark except for flickering lamplight in the window of one small shed. Elkan knocked on its door.

A grunt and rustle came from within. After a moment the door creaked open and a bleary-eyed man peered out. “Wha’d’ya want?”

“I’m sorry for waking you so late, Master Zonon, but something’s come up. Would it be possible to get a wagonload of hay, enough to feed a donkey for two months, delivered to the dock? Tonight, before sunrise?”

The man blinked, his confused sleepiness swiftly giving way to comprehension. “To the foreigners’ ship?” He eyed Sar, then shifted his gaze back to Elkan. “So a wizard’s going with them after all?”

“Yes.” Elkan didn’t elaborate. “Can you manage? Charge it to the Wizards’ Guild.”

The man gave a little humph. His eyes travelled with avid curiosity to Josiah, then to Sar and Tobi, before returning to Elkan. “Mighty odd, needing it on such short notice.”

“Now that the decision’s been made, it serves Tevenar best to sail as quickly as possible. We’ll receive the promised payment that much sooner.”

“Mmm-hmm.” The herder raised his eyebrows. When no further explanation was forthcoming, he grunted. “It won’t hurt the apprentices to lose a little sleep. We’ll have your shipment at the dock in an hour. There’ll be an extra charge for the inconvenience.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Elkan nodded pleasantly and gestured for Josiah to precede him across the courtyard to the street. Josiah heard the herder calling for his apprentices to wake.

“He’s suspicious,” he whispered to Elkan as soon as they were out of earshot.

“As long as he does as he promised. Once we’re away, it won’t matter.” Elkan turned his attention to the dark street in front of him. Josiah took the hint and kept quiet.

Before long he realized they still weren’t going to the docks. At the intersection where they should have turned right, Elkan instead headed left, toward the bridge that spanned the Tarath. “Where are we going now?”

Elkan gestured for him to keep his voice down. “To the prison.” His voice was hushed and grim. “We’re taking Tharan with us.”

“What? Why?” But even as he asked Josiah guessed the answer.

“If we don’t, Hanion will execute him tomorrow. We still don’t know who sent him, or why. Gevan is convinced it was the Purifiers, and he’s probably right, but I want to know for sure.”

“Oh.” Josiah didn’t see how they could hope to wring the truth from the assassin, when no one had been successful so far, but he knew better than to try and stop Elkan when he’d decided on a course. Besides, this must be what Elkan needed him for. If his master had been content to let Tharan meet his well-deserved end, Josiah would probably still be asleep in his bed.

Another thought occurred to him as they started across the long bridge, the dark water lapping beneath them. “Now that we’re going to Ramunna, won’t you be able to track him with a window? It won’t have been even half a year since the
Verinna
left. You’ll be able to see who gave him his orders, one of the Purifiers or someone else. It’s not like they would’ve known they needed to be sneaky.”

Elkan was quiet for a long moment before he answered. “That’s true.”

“So what does it matter if he’s executed?”

This time his master’s silence stretched even longer. Sar’s hooves clopped hollowly on the boards of the bridge. Josiah had almost decided Elkan wasn’t going to answer when he finally spoke. “I don’t expect you to understand.” Elkan reached for Tobi, who butted her head against his hand. He fondled her ears. “You’ve never had to use—to allow the Mother’s power to be used through you—to kill. I hope you never do.”

Josiah swallowed and nodded.

Elkan kept his gaze focused ahead of them. “Just because we
can
do something with her power, doesn’t mean we should. We can choose another way, if we’re willing to accept the consequences. I couldn’t in Jianolan; there was nothing else that would have kept those girls safe.” His fingers dug into the fur at the nape of Tobi’s neck.

Josiah remembered how Elkan’s hand had remained steady, gold light pouring from it, while the molester’s heart slowed to a stop. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of any words. And his master still didn’t know he’d spied on the execution he’d been forbidden to watch.

Elkan’s voice was stronger when he resumed. “This time, though, there’s an alternative. Ever since Tevenar’s founding, exile has been considered an appropriate penalty for murder. Gevan tells me we’ll pass many habitable islands on our way through the archipelago. We can drop him off on one. He can live out his life alone, with no opportunity to harm anyone.”

Josiah thought about that. At first it seemed far too kind a fate for the one he’d watched plunge his blade into Buttons’ heart, who’d slashed Master Dabiel’s belly so her guts spilled out. Should he be rewarded for that with a life of leisure in a tropical paradise, where he could pick fruit off the trees and lounge in the sun all day?

But as they left the bridge and made their way through the dark streets, Josiah imagined the years passing with no voice but Tharan’s ever speaking. He pictured him cowering in some rude shelter while storms raged. He envisioned Tharan growing old and feeble, with no one to care for him if he became ill, or to bury him when at last he died. When he looked at it that way, it seemed a far crueler punishment than a quick and painless death.

There were practical considerations as well. “But the court sentenced him to death. You agreed to it. You’re going to be in trouble when they find out.”

“That’s the consequence I’ll have to live with.” Elkan’s voice was determined, but there was an undertone of trepidation Josiah had never heard there before.

He didn’t know what sort of punishment might be meted out to someone who interfered with a court’s decision. “Are you sure it’s that important? It’s not you who’d have to—”

“We need to be quiet now, Josiah. We don’t want anyone to hear us.” Elkan gestured to the closely spaced storefronts on either side. Their proprietors would be asleep with their families in the apartments above.

Josiah scowled. He hadn’t been talking loud enough to disturb anyone. But he took the hint and shut up.

After Prison Point had washed away, the watchers had appropriated a warehouse next to their guild headquarters to use until a replacement could be constructed. As they approached, Elkan slipped to the side of the road and edged through the shadows. Tobi flowed like a ripple of moonlight at his feet. Josiah did his best to imitate Elkan’s stealth, though he felt glaringly obvious. Sar’s hoofbeats couldn’t be completely silenced, no matter how delicately the donkey placed his feet.

They slowed to a creep as they came to an intersection. Elkan pointed across the road. Even now in the dead of night a group of watchers kept vigil by the door. Josiah counted five of them. They weren’t taking any chances that Master Dabiel’s murderer might escape, or that an outraged citizen might attempt to take the Mother’s justice into their own hands.