“Exactly. As I understand it, the Mother never planned to make people, or to love us. She made the world for the joy of creation, nothing more. She threw all her passion into it. She wanted mountains, and if earthquakes were the result of the forces needed to build them, what did that matter? She wanted rivers, and oceans, and gentle breezes, and the wild glory of storms. She wanted life to fill every nook and cranny of the world, so she made life that could grow and change and adapt to any conditions. And so we came along, an unexpected and delightful result of her wanton, exuberant burst of creativity. She loved us, instantly and completely. And so she was trapped. She could no longer wipe away what she’d done and start afresh, for we were dependent on the world she’d created. Even though much of it could harm us, could cause pain and sorrow to us. And thus to her, who had never felt pain or sorrow before.”
Josiah listened, spellbound. Her words made a sort of sense, though he still wasn’t sure he fully understood.
“She gave us what she could to help us. She put her power into the world. At first she worked it into the natural scheme of things, passed from parent to child. But that failed, as the First History records. So now she touches the world here and there, and implants her power in it.” Dabiel touched the sculpture once again, setting it trembling. “But each time she does, the world trembles, and forces are set out of balance that must redistribute themselves until they reach equilibrium.
“Oh.” Josiah cocked his head. “So she can’t make too many Mother-touched animals?”
“That’s right. It would do more harm than good. It’s a delicate matter, finding the right point, neither too much nor too little—”
Josiah. Sar’s call broke into his mind. Elkan is starting to stir. Tell Master Dabiel.
We’re coming, Josiah thought back. “Sar says Elkan is waking up.”
“Let us be there for him when he does.” She led the way out of her office, back to Elkan’s room.
Elkan’s head was turning from side to side and his hands were twitching, but he hadn’t opened his eyes. Dabiel sat by his side and took his hand in hers. Josiah hovered, moving back and forth from his chair to Elkan’s bed, unable to stay still.
Finally Elkan’s lashes fluttered, and his eyes cracked open. He put a hand up and raked it through his hair, his eyes searching the room. First he saw Dabiel. He blinked and continued seeking. When he spotted Josiah the tension went out of his body. Then his gaze fell on Sar and an expression of mingled pain and relief ran across his face. He closed his eyes and swallowed.
“You’re safe,” he whispered hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “All those people… Did they make it?”
“They’re fine, Elkan.” Josiah forced words through the tightness in his throat. “Sar bonded with me after he broke your bond. He dammed up the water, and everyone got out. I had enough energy. That’s why he did it. So you didn’t have to—you know.”
“Oh.” Elkan rubbed his eyes. He looked back and forth from Sar to Josiah. “Oh. That’s… a relief.” He bit his lip and looked at Dabiel, pleading. “I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong. I thought Sar must have judged I’d broken the Law, somehow. But it permits us to sacrifice ourselves when enough lives are at stake.”
“It does,” she assured him, only a slight tremble in her voice. “Sar just found a better way. You won’t get away from us that easily, journeyman.”
Sar’s voice echoed in Josiah’s head. Tell him what the Mother said.
“What? Oh, yeah. Sar says—” It felt horribly awkward for him to relay Sar’s words to Elkan, instead of the other way around. “—that I should tell you what the Mother told me. She said you’re dear to her, and she’d be glad to welcome you home, but the world still needs you, a lot. She said you’re one of her best servants.”
Elkan put his hands over his face and turned away. Dabiel’s eyes were streaming; she did nothing to hide it. Josiah turned to Sar and stroked him fiercely.
After a few minutes Elkan struggled to sit up. Josiah and Dabiel fussed with propping pillows to make him comfortable.
“So—” Elkan’s voice broke. He accepted a cup of water from Dabiel, took a sip, and tried again. “So, Josiah, the Mother chose you as a wizard after all. Is it what you’d thought it would be?”
“No,” Josiah answered honestly. He gave a little laugh. “All this time, I thought it was you doing the work, when really it was Sar all along.”
Elkan laughed, then sobered. “Not that it’s easy. As you’ll have found.” He turned to Master Dabiel. “Has a master taken him on as apprentice, yet?”
“I thought you’d want to be given the opportunity. Springtide and your mastery ceremony are only a few days away. That is, if you’ve decided what you’re going to do. You hadn’t yet, last time we spoke. And you haven’t had much chance for contemplation since.”
“No.” For the first time Elkan gave Sar a long look. “I’m free now, aren’t I?” He turned back to Dabiel. “If I want to leave the Wizards’ Guild, there’s nothing holding me to it any more.”
“No.” She regarded him gravely. “You’re free to decide your path. If you’ve found you can no longer serve as a wizard, the Mother will release you. You could take up another craft, return to your family, go to Shalinthan and marry that miner you told me about. Whatever you choose.”
Elkan closed his eyes, pain written on his face. When he finally opened his them, he focused his gaze on his hands twisting together in his lap. “When I realized the only way to save those people was for Sar to burn me out… It’s not that I wanted to die, but it seemed so…perfect, like the answer to all my questions, the solution to all my problems. No more choices, no more pain, no more uncertainty, only the Mother’s glory. It was as if all my life I’d been asking where, and when, and how, and she finally answered. Right here, right now, like this.”
For a moment his eyes looked beyond the room, and an echo of the wonder Josiah had felt when he stood before the Mother lit his face. Then it vanished, leaving only anguish. “But now that’s gone, and I’m back to having to decide. Having to choose, when there is no choice that can give me everything I want.”
He turned to Dabiel. “I want to remain in the Wizards’ Guild. I want to take up my mastery and serve the Mother as I’ve always believed I would do. But it’s hard. Much harder than I ever thought it could be. It costs so much. I never knew that before, not really. Not before I had to face it alone.”
“That’s why we require journeymen to make a circuit before they become masters. So you can have that experience.”
Elkan nodded. His face grew hard. “And I want—a part of me wants—to just say smash it all, and leave. The Farmers’ Guild would accept me. Meira said her father would take me as a journeyman. I always enjoyed working in the fields, growing up; I never really considered any other craft. My mother would be overjoyed. My father could let go of his anger.” He took a deep breath. “I love Meira, master. I could ask nothing better than to marry her. We could be happy together if I wasn’t a wizard.”
He glared at Dabiel, defiant. But if he expected her to be upset by his words, he was disappointed. She nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s what you should do, then. Maybe that’s the right choice for you.”
“But it’s not!” Elkan flung aside the covers and rose. He strode to the window and looked out over the city. “I wish it could be, but it’s not. How could I buy my own happiness at the cost of deserting the people who need me? Every time I saw someone sick, or injured, or in need of anything the Mother’s power could provide, I’d know I’d betrayed her trust. It would eat at me, thinking of the people who suffered for want of what I could give. It would destroy whatever joy we found, poison the love we shared. I can’t go through that. I can’t put Meira through it.”
“Other wizards would step up to take your place.” Master Dabiel came to stand beside him. “The burden isn’t yours alone to bear. The Mother would call those she needed to carry on her work.”
He tu
rned to her. “But she called me. I stood before her and promised to serve her. I can’t abandon her now, can I? Wouldn’t that violate everything I’ve ever claimed to believe?”
Dabiel’s voice was gentle. “What do you think, Elkan?”
“I don’t know! Please, master, tell me what I should do. I trust you; I know you see far more clearly than I can. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“I can’t do that, journeyman. The choice is yours alone. Even when the Mother’s gift of free will is more a burden than a blessing, we each must bear it for ourselves.”
He looked at her ruefully. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
“Have I ever?”
He gave a brief dry laugh. “No.” The humor faded from his face, and he turned to stare out the window again. For a long time he was silent.
Josiah put his arms around Sar’s neck. I wish there were something I could do to help him.
The donkey leaned into him. Me, too. But we can only wait.
Finally Elkan turned back to face them. His expression was calm, and resolved, and a little sad. “All right. I’ve made my decision.”
Dabiel nodded. “What will you do?”
“Do you have to ask? I will serve the Mother. Of course.” He smiled bleakly at her. “Is it really a free choice, if you can’t make any other?”
“I believe it is. As long as only your own heart compels you.” She raised an eyebrow and grinned wryly at him. “Others might disagree. It’s a controversial point. You could do some research, maybe organize a debate on the subject.”
Elkan snorted, his smile growing wider and more genuine. He turned to Josiah. “I’d be honored to take you as my apprentice, if you’ll have me.”
Josiah couldn’t imagine anything in the world he wanted more. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Dabiel beamed. “It’s all settled, then. I’ll put both of you on the list for the Springtide ceremonies. Your mastery, Elkan, and the apprenticing for the two of you, and we can confirm your bonding, Josiah. Who knows, maybe the Mother will have sent us another Mother-touched animal by then and we can see to your next bonding as well, Elkan. If not, you’ll be first in line when one comes along.”
The moment Josiah dreaded had come. He couldn’t put it off any longer. But he found, strangely, that he didn’t mind as much as he’d though he would.
He pulled his knife from its sheath on his belt. The pain would last only a moment, and Elkan and Dabiel would keep him safe. It wasn’t right that Sar should stay bonded to him, not when he and Elkan so clearly belonged together. If the Mother still wanted him, there’d be another familiar for him eventually. Maybe at Springtide a year from now, when he’d be the right age.
Should he say anything? No, they’d only try to dissuade him. He braced himself. With a quick motion, he drew his knife across the ball of his thumb and flung the bright droplets of blood into Sar’s face.
The pain he expected didn’t come. He stood there, feeling foolish, blood oozing from his thumb. The cut hurt. Sar and Elkan and Dabiel all looked at him, their expressions changing from surprise to comprehension.
“That’s not how it works,” Dabiel said, at the same time Elkan said, “You can’t break your bond, Josiah. Only Sar can.”
Sar’s voice echoed in his mind. Do you wish to renounce your service?
Confused, Josiah tried to answer them all at once. “No. I mean, I don’t think it’s fair I should be bonded and Elkan not. He could do so much more with it than I could. At least at first.”
Dabiel gestured Elkan to silence and addressed Josiah. “Breaking a bond isn’t something to be done lightly. If you’ve decided you’re not willing to serve after all, Sar will accommodate you. But if you intend to stay a part of the Wizards’ Guild, your bond remains as the Mother made it.”
“Believe me, it’s not something you want to go through if you have any other choice,” Elkan told him earnestly. He shuddered. “It’s a terrible, terrible feeling. I hope you never have to experience it.”
Josiah looked at Sar. “Are you sure? Because I am willing to serve, if the Mother really does want me. For good, not just because that’s how things turned out.”
“She does,” Dabiel and Elkan said at the same time, and Sar’s voice sounded in his head, the only one, Josiah knew, that really counted. She does.
Sar touched his muzzle to Josiah’s hand. Golden light glowed, and Josiah felt a slight sense of effort and a brief burst of sound and taste and scent. The pain in his hand vanished, and the cut grew into a neat, straight scar.
A commotion of voices came faintly from downstairs. Dabiel shook her head and went to the door. “I should go see what that is. Are you feeling well enough to come down to the dining hall, Elkan?”
“Yes. I’m starving. Just let me clean up a bit first.” He moved to take a fresh tunic from the wardrobe, but stopped in surprise.
Tobi rose from her contented sprawl by the fire. She strolled to Elkan’s side and looked at him, her tongue lolled out in the way Josiah always thought looked like she was laughing. She twined about his legs and butted her head under his hand.
He scratched at her ears, looking from Tobi to Dabiel. “Do you think… But you’re supposed to bond with Kalti. I can wait. I wouldn’t want her to miss out on bonding at Springtide.”
Dabiel cocked her head and studied the mountain cat. “Hmm. I wonder…” She shook her head. “Come along, Elkan. You look fine. You can freshen up after we get some food in you.”
Elkan assented and followed, though Josiah noticed him rub at the stubble on his cheeks.
When they arrived in the dining hall, they found a ring of people gathered around the hearth. Dabiel hurried forward, beaming. “Hadara! Welcome home.”
Hadara and Dabiel embraced. “And Kalti. It’s so good to have you back. Who’s this?”
Kalti stroked the tiny lamb nestled in her arms. “I named her Amia, Master Dabiel. We found her yesterday on a farm outside the city.”
Dabiel touched the lamb’s shoulder, where Josiah could see a neat brown oval of darker wool. She cocked her head at Elkan, whose hand rested on Tobi’s head. “I take it she’ll be ready to bond at Springtide?”
Hadara followed her gaze to the mountain cat. “Tobi, you did find them! We worried when she disappeared, Elkan, but we figured she’d track you down.”
Kalti’s arms tightened around Amia. “I know it was all arranged for me to bond with Tobi. But please, Master Dabiel, Amia chose me. I’m sure of it! Let someone else have Tobi. She won’t care.”
Dabiel turned to hide her smile from Kalti. Her eyes twinkled at Josiah. “Who are we to argue, when one touched by the Mother has made her choice?
Josiah grinned. He petted the lamb when Kalti thrust her at him. Elkan moved to take a seat at a table; Josiah followed him.
Elkan was pale and a little shaky, still showing the effects of his ordeal. He sank into the chair and leaned his head on his hand. “Josiah, could you bring me some food, please? I’ve got to eat, but I’m still so tired…”
“Of course.” Josiah hurried off and returned balancing heaping plates of food for both of them. Sar and Tobi were already digging into their own repasts.
Elkan perked up as Josiah set the food before him. “Thank you so much—apprentice.”
Josiah returned Elkan’s smile mischievously. “My joy is in the service—master.” His grin widened. “Although maybe I shouldn’t call you that yet. Since you won’t actually be my master until Springtide.”
Elkan laughed. “I don’t think anyone will mind if we start using the titles a few days early.” He began to eat. After a few bites, he paused and studied Josiah. “As soon as we’re through here, I want you to come back to my room with me. We can go over the first chapter or two of the Law together before bedtime. You can borrow my copy until we can visit a bookseller and get you your own. You’ll have a lot of studying to do to make up for missing two years of your apprenticeship. Then tomorrow, Sar can giv
e you some instruction in healing, and Master Firah will want to get your measurements for your cloak…”
He went on, detailing the many tasks that would fill the days to come. Josiah swallowed. A great deal of hard work awaited him. But he looked at Elkan, and over at Sar, and smiled to himself. At least it wouldn’t be boring.
Thirty-One
Josiah stood with the other new apprentices on the dais that had been erected at one end of the Mother’s Hall. He felt awkward; he was more than two years older and at least a head taller than any of them. He pressed his hand into Sar’s back. The donkey’s presence, too, set him apart from the others. Sar had been willing to wait back at their seat, but Josiah had insisted he wanted him by his side.
He looked out over the packed hall. The chairs were arranged in rows tonight, instead of the usual Restday circle. Many lanterns cast their warm glow over the assembled wizards, familiars, family, and friends gathered to witness the Springtide ceremonies.
The girl next to him bounced on her toes, unable to contain her excitement. She must have learned just a month ago that she’d been chosen by the Mother to be a wizard. Josiah wondered if she had any idea what that really meant. How could she?
All over Tevenar tonight, apprentices were being inducted into their new guilds. The choices they made would shape their lives in ways they couldn’t predict. Josiah had certainly never anticipated, two years ago when he’d been accepted into the Fullers’ Guild, that he’d be standing here now.
Nirel should have been apprenticing tonight, to whatever craft she might have chosen. Instead she was somewhere far away, maybe already beyond the borders of Tevenar, in unknown, forbidden waters. Josiah wondered if he’d ever find out what became of her. Probably not. He sent a brief silent prayer to the Mother for her well being.
He turned his attention to the podium as the first name was called. The boy went up and the line shuffled forward. Master Dabiel, Buttons beside her, presented him to the crowd, and his new master welcomed him and led him off.
The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) Page 43
