For several minutes nothing happened. Then, deep within the light, Josiah saw Ilana’s mouth open. The cleft portion of her mouth shrank back into her face, the gap opening wider and deeper. It stabilized, and nothing appeared to be happening.
Kabos sat on a stool on the far side of the hearth. He’d watched the interaction between Elkan and his wife and daughter with dark eyes and expressionless face. Now he pulled a whetstone from a pocket, chose an axe from the assortment of farm and kitchen tools beside his chair, and began to sharpen the blade. The rhythmic rasp of stone on metal rang through the room.
Josiah bent to his writing, entering a complete description of Ilana’s condition prior to the healing. When he finished, he set the book down. Nothing had changed, so he rose and walked around.
On the far side of the room Nirel was trying to entertain Yarin by stacking a set of wooden blocks for him to knock down, but he was fretful, attending to the game for only a few moments at a time before looking toward his mother and whimpering.
Josiah flopped on the cold floor next to them. Yarin stared at him distrustfully and scooted closer to his sister. Josiah ignored him, picked up one of the blocks and balanced it on top of his head. Still not looking at Yarin, Josiah picked up another block and set it atop the first with exaggerated care. Swaying back and forth with mock caution, he picked up another and placed on the other two. Yarin watched with wide eyes. He gasped as the blocks almost toppled and smiled shyly as Josiah steadied them again. Josiah grinned conspiratorially at him and plopped another block onto the stack on his head. As they all tumbled into his lap, Yarin laughed out loud.
Josiah played blocks with Yarin for several more minutes. Eventually he got the boy occupied with stacking them into a tower and scooted over next to Nirel.
“You’re good with him,” she observed.
“I’ve got a little brother and two little sisters. I’ve had lots of practice.”
She glanced toward the fire. “Is Ilana going to be all right?”
“I think so. Elkan said he could heal her, and he wouldn’t say that if it weren’t true. He’s going to be worn out, though. Sar, too.” Josiah could already see sweat darkening the donkey’s flanks.
“It’s a good thing you came. Mother was about to make up her mind to take Ilana and go to Tathorlith to wait for the wizard to come through. But Father would never have let her. And she would have either had to take Yarin and me with her, or leave us here with him. So she hadn’t quite decided.”
Josiah bent close to her and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Nirel, what’s wrong? Is it your father? You almost act like you’re afraid of him.”
She darted nervous eyes in her father’s direction, but scowled at Josiah. Her voice was hushed but passionate. “There’s nothing wrong. And I’m not afraid of him.”
“Then why are you so jumpy around him? And your mother…”
Nirel turned away. “Mother doesn’t understand him. She thinks he hates her, but he doesn’t. It’s just that he got so angry when Ilana was born. He couldn’t help yelling. He told her it was her fault Ilana was born that way. That it must be punishment for something horrible she’d done. That she’d brought shame on him and our house. She’s lucky he didn’t throw them both out, even though it was winter and there was snow on the ground and everything. She begged him not to. I think he thought Ilana would die anyway.”
Josiah stared at her, mouth open. “Nirel, that’s—”
She bristled at him. “He works hard to take care of us. Where would we be without him?” She watched Yarin for a moment. “Mother just needs to learn to be more respectful so he won’t have to punish her.”
“Punish her?” Inadvertently, Josiah’s voice rose. Nirel motioned frantically for him to shush. They both looked around, but apparently no one had heard. All the adults remained absorbed in their tasks. Josiah turned back to her, a terrible suspicion seizing him. He had heard of such things, but… His voice sank to a whisper. “Does he hit her?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Does he hit you?”
“Only when I deserve it.” Defensively she turned away from him. “Look, everything’s fine. Once Ilana is healed, he’ll be much happier and things will calm down. Don’t worry about us.”
There was a clatter as Kabos put down a scythe he’d finished sharpening and picked up a large kitchen knife. Nirel and Josiah froze until once again the rasp of the whetstone settled into a steady rhythm.
Josiah grabbed Nirel’s hand. “Listen, Nirel, you’ve got to tell Elkan about this. He’ll be able to help you.”
She jerked her hand away. “We don’t need any help,” she hissed. “Now shut up about it.” Her voice changed to a cheerful tone. “Wow, Yarin, what a big tower you’ve built. Can I put this block on top of that one?”
Josiah fumed, but she shut him out completely, only speaking in bright pleasantries. Eventually Josiah gave up trying to get her to talk. He wandered back to his chair next to Elkan, picked up the logbook from the seat, and flopped down. He studied the child in Elkan’s lap. Nothing obvious had changed.
Elkan’s breathing was slow and deep, just a touch of raggedness showing how hard he was working. Sar’s head bent close to the baby in Elkan’s lap, nostrils flaring with each breath, long-lashed lids half veiling liquid brown eyes. Man and donkey leaned into each other for support.
Josiah squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard wooden chair. He spent a few minutes glaring covertly at Kabos. The farmer was still working with his whetstone, though it seemed to Josiah every blade must be honed to razor sharpness by now. He badly wanted to tell Elkan what he’d learned from Nirel, but he couldn’t interrupt. Eventually he tired of sending impotent angry thoughts at the farmer, and looked back at the baby. Still no change. He slumped in his chair, propped his elbows on his knees, and cradled his head in his hands.
An indrawn breath from Sathea roused him. Ilana’s face was changing. Slowly the fissure in her palate began to fuse. Over the next half hour or so her gums came together. Her upper lip lengthened and merged and her nose reshaped itself. At last only a faint pale line was visible where the defect had been.
The healing light faded. Ilana’s eyes opened. She moved her mouth uncertainly, her brow furrowing. Her eyes screwed shut and her face contorted in a wail.
Laughing and crying, Sathea scooped her up and clung to her, burying her face in Ilana’s shoulder. Eventually she raised it, red and blotchy, wet with tears. “I don’t know what to say…”
Elkan waved away her thanks with a weak motion, grinning through his exhaustion. “There’s no need.” He turned. “Josiah, can you see to Sar, please…”
The wizard leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. Josiah jumped up and followed Sar to the door, opening it for him and following him out into the night. The donkey made straight for the shed, heavy hooves stumbling with weariness. He went to the trough, drank deeply, and stood with his head hanging. Josiah picked up his brush from where Nirel had dropped it. He spent a long time thoroughly brushing the donkey, who sighed and leaned into his firm strokes.
When he went back in, Sathea was nursing Ilana by the fire. She kept stealing glances down, as if to reassure herself that her daughter’s transformed face was still there.
Kabos stood in the shadows on the far side of the room, staring at his wife and child, his face unreadable. After Ilana finished nursing and released her mother’s breast with a satisfied sigh, Sathea rose and brought the baby over to her husband.
“Look, Kabos. She’s healed. Everything is going to be all right now. The wizard healed her.” She held Ilana out toward her father.
Kabos looked at the child but didn’t take her. He reached out and with one thick finger traced the girl’s newly whole upper lip. He nodded curtly. “Our thanks, wizard.”
Elkan rose shakily and nodded acknowledgement. “My joy is in the service.”
Kabos regarded him a moment more, then turned on his heel
and pushed though the door into the back bedroom.
There was a moment of awkward silence. Sathea broke it. “Nirel, there are blankets and extra pillows in the chest over there. Move these chairs out of the way and make up some beds for our guests.”
Everyone pitched in. Elkan sank gratefully onto his pallet and fell asleep immediately. Sathea took Ilana to the bedroom; Nirel shepherded Yarin in her wake. Meira and Ravid settled on a pallet across the room. Josiah wrapped himself in one of the thick, scratchy goat hair blankets, laid his head on a pillow, and tried to sleep.
But thoughts of the evening’s events and worries about what he should do kept him awake. Several times he looked at the sleeping Elkan. He knew the wizard badly needed his rest, but he desperately wanted to tell him what he’d learned. Finally, as the wizard stirred and rolled over, Josiah whispered “Elkan!”
Elkan snorted but didn’t answer. Josiah whispered louder, “Elkan! Wake up!” He poked him.
Elkan opened bleary eyes and peered at him. “What?” he demanded.
“Shh. Don’t wake up Meira and Ravid. I have to talk to you.”
Something of Josiah’s urgency must have reached Elkan, for though he frowned, he rolled onto his side, propped himself on his elbow, and regarded Josiah with irritation. “What is it that’s so important it can’t wait until morning?”
Josiah bit his lip at Elkan’s displeasure, but plowed on. “There’s something bad going on in this family.”
Elkan sighed. “Give me some credit for having eyes, Josiah. That much is obvious.”
“You noticed?” Josiah was encouraged.
“As soon as Nirel opened the door.”
“Then you’ll do something about it?” The tension left Josiah’s body.
“What do you think I should do? No one has made any request of me besides healing Ilana. Wizards aren’t allowed to just jump in whenever they think there might be a problem. If Sathea asks for my help, I’ll certainly grant it, but until then I must respect their privacy.”
Josiah sat up in outrage. “But Nirel told me her father hits her! And her mother!”
“Shush!” They both glanced over at Meira and Ravid, but they remained still. Elkan turned back to Josiah, a troubled frown furrowing his brow. “Is Nirel willing to ask me for help?”
“No.” Josiah flopped back down on his blanket, staring at the ceiling. “She doesn’t see anything wrong with it.”
Elkan rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. “Without a complaint, or an eyewitness… The Law is strict about this sort of thing, Josiah. Wizards aren’t allowed to pry into people’s private lives uninvited, or to go looking for crimes on the basis of hearsay and rumor. I can make sure both Sathea and Nirel have the opportunity to speak to me in in the morning when Kabos can’t hear. I can ask them if there’s anything else they’d like my help with. But if they won’t confide in me, unless I see Kabos commit an act of violence against them, or physical evidence that he has, or some other eyewitness reports it to me, I’m forbidden to interfere.”
Josiah gaped at him. When he could speak again, he blurted, “But that’s wrong! You know it’s happened. All you’d have to do is open a window and look and you’d see.”
“That’s just what I can’t do.” Elkan pushed himself up to a seated position and returned Josiah’s glare. “It would be a grave misuse of the Mother’s power. What kind of world would it be, if wizards could look anywhere and any time they wished? If we were constantly nosing about for any hint of suspicion, eager to catch every tiny transgression and punish it? The Law is there for a reason, Josiah. It was laid down by Gurion Thricebound himself, and he had personal experience with the evils that result from abusing the Mother’s power.”
“But it’s not just suspicion this time. You know.”
“I don’t know anything, Josiah, and neither do you. For all I know, you’ve concocted this story to create mischief. Or maybe Nirel is angry with her father for some petty reason and lied to you to get him in trouble. Or maybe the two of you are madly in love and are conspiring together. I don’t know. And so I can do nothing. I can act in response to a direct appeal, an eyewitness report, or my own observations. And that’s all.”
They locked gazes. Josiah glared with all the fury of his righteous indignation, but Elkan stared back with conviction, and Josiah’s eyes were the first to fall. He threw himself down and rolled away from Elkan, burying his face in his pillow. “I don’t care. It’s not right.”
He heard Elkan lay down and pull his blanket around him. “Go to sleep, Josiah. There’s nothing you can do. And even if I wanted to act in defiance of the Mother’s Law—which I don’t—I couldn’t. We’ll see what the morning brings. All this arguing may be for nothing if one of them is willing to come forward. Good-night.”
Josiah remained stubbornly silent. Eventually Elkan sighed, and Josiah heard him roll over. After that there was silence except for the crackle of the fire, the rush of wind outside, and the sound of steady breathing.
Josiah lay awake a long time, thinking. Elkan was wrong. There were things he could do, if it came down to it. Ideas and schemes flitted through his head. One thing was certain. He wouldn’t simply walk away and allow this wrong to continue unchallenged. One way or another, he had to try to stop it.
Ten
In the morning Josiah watched Elkan carefully. True to his word, Elkan contrived to go out to check on the donkeys just as Nirel left to milk the goats. They were both gone a long time, and Josiah’s hopes soared. But when Elkan returned before Nirel, and Josiah managed to catch his eye, the wizard gave a tiny shake of his head.
A little later Elkan offered to hold Ilana while Sathea bent over the fire to stir the porridge. Sathea accepted gratefully. Elkan hovered close by her elbow while she worked. Josiah could hear the low murmur of their voices, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.
At length, Elkan’s voice dropped even lower. Sathea started and drew away from him. She shook her head, gave the porridge a rough stir that slopped some into the fire, and nearly snatched Ilana out of Elkan’s arms. Elkan came over to Josiah as Sathea busied herself about her tasks.
“Neither of them will say a word.” Elkan’s quiet voice was both discouraged and resolute. “I know it’s hard to accept, Josiah, but believe me, I’ve done my best. I’ll have a word with the town council when we reach Tathorlith. When we meet Hadara and Kalti, I’ll be sure they stop in here on their way around the circuit and check how things are going. If there really is a problem, sooner or later evidence will be found and it can be dealt with.”
Josiah nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Elkan had done his best. Now it was up to him.
He watched carefully for his chance, pretending to concentrate on arranging his belongings in his pack long after the task was completed. Nirel was busy with her morning chores. When a sleepy Yarin emerged from the bedroom, she dressed him and settled him at the table with a bowl of porridge and a cup of goat’s milk. She poured the rest of the milk into pans and set them on the window ledge for the cream to rise. She took the water pails from their place by the cistern and pushed through the door.
Josiah turned to Elkan, carefully casual. “I’ll start getting the donkeys harnessed and loaded up.”
Elkan nodded absently. Josiah slipped out the door. Instead of heading for the shed, he followed the path to the well.
Nirel cranked the bucket up out of the well, leaning her full strength into the task, oblivious to his approach. Kabos was over by the wood pile, splitting wood. He swept the axe high above his head and swung it down with a grunt. The log fell in two neat pieces.
Josiah quailed as he watched Kabos’ muscular arms heft the heavy axe and slam it down. What he was about to do might well unleash that brooding power against him. But he looked at Nirel, pouring water from the well bucket into a pail, and pictured those brawny arms raised against her small defenseless form. Only he was able to help her, and he’d never have a better chance. He dr
ew a deep breath, swallowed, and stepped forward.
Nirel, busy lowering the well bucket, didn’t notice Josiah come up behind her. She jumped when he put his hand on the stone of the well close beside her and leaned casually against it.
“Josiah!” she hissed at him. “What are you doing here? You know Father told me to stay away from you.”
“I know. Here, let me help.” He took the handle of the crank from her hands and turned it.
“He’ll see you.” Nirel glanced over her shoulder. Kabos paused in his work, staring at them from under his dark brows.
“Yes.” Josiah gave a last heave and the bucket rose into reach. He grabbed it and set it on the rim of the well. “Nirel, please understand I’m doing this to help you.” He faced her and raised his voice so Kabos would hear. “I just wanted to say thank you for last night.”
“Last night? What—”
He overrode her protests. “It took a lot of courage to sneak out like that. You must have been terrified your father would catch you.” Josiah studiously feigned ignorance of Kabos’ approach, fixing his eyes on Nirel and refusing to raise them, though he imagined he could feel her father’s malice radiating. “It means a lot to me that you risked so much for my sake.”
Nirel still didn’t dare raise her voice above an agonized whisper. “Why are you lying, Josiah? You know very well I did no such thing. Are you trying to get me into trouble?”
Josiah couldn’t bring himself to meet her betrayed glare. He fixed his eyes on her nose and played his part with all the conviction he could muster. “I’m going to miss you. But I’ll come back as soon as I can to take you away.”
Kabos was nearly upon them, looming up behind Nirel’s shoulder, all the rage Josiah could have wished blazing in his eyes.
Nirel’s voice rose to a shriek. “Shut up, Josiah—”
To silence her, and to put the final touch on his provocation of Kabos, Josiah put his arms around her, bent his head, and kissed her on the mouth.
For a startled moment she was still. Then she pushed him away. Josiah fell back. A heavy hand descended on his shoulder, and he allowed himself a glow of triumph. Kabos would unleash his anger against the two of them, and Josiah would be able to go to Elkan as both eyewitness and victim.
The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) Page 14
