Nirel was certain she’d destroyed any chance she had of passing her Trials with that answer. Surely the Elders would consider it willful and impertinent, in direct violation of all Semanel had taught her. But she couldn’t say she would assassinate the Matriarch at the Elder’s command! Even though the question was obviously a hypothetical one, designed to strain the limits of her understanding and confuse her rational understanding with emotion.
The Elder’s eyes narrowed. He tilted his head and considered Nirel. She quailed beneath his gaze but didn’t lower her eyes.
Slowly the Elder’s lips twisted. Nirel didn’t think it was quite a smile, but it wasn’t disapproving. “Clever, Nirel. You’re right, inasmuch as your instruction so far has equipped you to understand. But what you don’t know is that there are other Ordinances which Elders must follow. Ordinances which place the welfare of the Faithful as a whole above even the highest of the common Ordinances. Considering that, suppose that when you went to the other Elders, all agreed that what I asked you to do was necessary for the good of the Faithful and in accord with these higher Ordinances, so that my position of authority as Elder remained unchallenged.”
He paused, looking at her. Nirel’s throat was dry. She knew she should affirm that she would obey. It was the only acceptable answer. But she knew herself, and she knew that in the circumstances he’d described, she wouldn’t. Blind obedience wasn’t in her nature, no matter what the authority. The Trial of her spirit had revealed the truth. She wasn’t worthy to be accepted among the Faithful.
She took a deep breath, searching for the right words to say as much. But before she could open her mouth, the Elder leaned forward a fraction, his voice softening. “Suppose also that, although I have no obligation to explain the reasoning behind my orders, I nevertheless shared sufficient information with you to convince you that what I required was indeed vital to the future of the Faithful. That if you were not to carry out this action, your people would be doomed to destruction, and the Lord of Justice would no longer be honored by any in the world he created. Suppose you truly believed that. Then would you obey?”
Nirel stared at him. Why was he doing this? To agree now, after her silence before, would be to admit that she would act not from obedience, but from her own judgement of right and wrong. It must be a trick, designed to expose the truth.
Very well. She’d already decided she wouldn’t lie. Better for them to reject her now, than for them to trust her and for her to fail them in the end. “Yes, Elder. Then I would obey.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes boring into hers. “I believe you would.”
He climbed to his feet, only a little stiffly, though his face was lined with wrinkles and the hair peeking from under his hood was white. “Rise, Nirel, daughter of Kabos.”
Nirel stood, her legs shaky after kneeling for so long. Around her, the others rose as well. The Elder stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “I, Elder Davon, leader of Ramunna’s Faithful, judge that you have successfully completed the Trials of body, mind and spirit. In the name of the Lord of Justice, I welcome you to the fellowship of the Faithful.”
He dropped his hands and stepped back. One by one the other Elders came forward and repeated his gesture, murmuring words of welcome. Nirel stood dazed, able only to nod in response.
Last of them, Elder Semanel put his hands on her shoulders for a quick moment before pulling her into an embrace. “You were magnificent,” he murmured in her ear. “Seldom have I seen a candidate perform so well. I think I caught one slight error in wording in your recitation of one of the Ordinances. And your analysis of Elder Tenan’s question failed to take into account a few subtleties that I don’t think we ever got to. Other than that, you were flawless. I’m so proud of you, my dear.”
Nirel pulled away, her heart warmed by his praise, but more confused than ever. “But I—Elder Davon’s question…”
He smiled wryly at her. “You told the truth. You didn’t give the easy and false answer, though you feared it might cost you everything. You’d already passed at that point; nothing you might have said would have changed that. Davon always uses the last question to push a successful candidate to the limit at their weakest point, so he can know what he has to work with. And you showed him you will be valuable indeed in our work.” A shadow flickered across his features. “He’ll use you, child. We’ve held many discussions about what you and your father can do for us. I told them you’d prove fit for even the most audacious of his ideas. I don’t think any of them believed me. But you’ve proven yourself now, and I know he won’t hesitate to go ahead with his plans. I just hope…”
He shook himself. “Come. There’s food in the outer room for you to break your fast. Afterwards Elder Davon will give you your first assignment.”
Nirel grinned at him. Now that the shock had worn off, joy swelled in her heart. She’d passed her Trials. She was a full member of the Faithful. Elder Davon was pleased with her and would trust her with tasks to further the welfare of their people. And the thought of food was wonderful. She laughed. “As long as he doesn’t actually want me to kill the Matriarch, I’m eager to do whatever he asks.”
Semanel didn’t laugh in return, just looked at her steadily. “I don’t think that’s what he has in mind.”
The way he looked at her made Nirel feel uncomfortable. She turned away. Across the room, Elder Davon was gazing at her with an intent, speculative expression.
A little desperate, Nirel whirled on Kabos. “Father, did you hear? Elder Semanel says there’s food for us. I’m so hungry. I know you must be, too. He fasted with me, even though he didn’t have to,” she told Semanel.
He smiled at Kabos. “Your love for each other is an inspiration to me.”
Kabos ducked his head, not meeting either Semanel’s eyes or Nirel’s. “I do what I can.” After a moment’s hesitation, he mumbled, “I never doubted you would pass, Nirel.” His voice was rough. “You are truly Faithful.”
Nirel looked down. The welts on her back were long healed, but she felt them burning. “Thank you, Father.” She forced her voice into cheerful brightness. “Let’s go eat.” She headed for the flap in the draperies where the Elders were exiting, not looking to see if he followed her.
Twenty-One
Josiah set his plate on the table he usually shared with his friends and snuck a look at the high table. Gevan was there with the rest of the foreigners. Elkan and several other masters sat with them. Master Dabiel’s seat was empty, as it had been since she’d gone into seclusion to seek an audience with the Mother two days ago. The only other empty seat was the one next to Gevan where Kevessa usually sat.
Josiah sat down and dug into his meal. It was as sparse as ever, but now that seemed a sensible management of the available resources, not a desperate, futile stopgap. Before their carefully hoarded stores ran out, ships full of Ramunna’s bounty would put into the docks and all of Elathir would feast. As soon as Master Dabiel returned with news that the Mother had agreed to rescind the Law of Isolation, Gevan’s ship would set out, carrying a wizard whose services the Matriarch would richly reward.
And carrying Kevessa back to her home. Josiah was glad a way had been found to relieve the dreaded famine, but he was in no hurry to see the ship depart.
Braon came to sit with him, Seriti, and a few of the others, but Kalti was still absent. Josiah fumed inside, even though he tried to keep up his usual cheerful banter with his friends. Of all the wizards in Elathir, why had Master Dabiel assigned Master Hadara and Kalti as Kevessa’s hosts? Seriti or any of the other female apprentices would have been willing to introduce him to her. But Kalti hadn’t even given him a chance to ask. She’d been all over Elathir with Kevessa the day before yesterday, and yesterday had escorted her around the Mother’s Hall, showing her every aspect of the wizards’ work. If Josiah ever got a chance to speak with her, there’d be nothing left for him to show her that she wasn’t already bored with.
He’d chosen his
seat so he could watch Kevessa’s place without having to turn his head. Why wasn’t she here yet? Maybe Kalti had managed to get her lost, or in some sort of trouble. For all Kevessa’s poise, she was still a stranger here.
He was trying to figure out how to ask Braon and Seriti if they’d seen Kalti without being too obvious when a quiet voice spoke in his ear. “Would you mind if I sit here today?”
He jerked around to see Kevessa holding a plate and nodding at the empty seat beside him. Next to her, Kalti scowled, but there was nothing she could do. His suddenly racing heart barely let him draw enough breath to speak. “Um, uh, sure. If you want to. That would be fine.”
He cursed his inarticulateness as Kevessa seated herself. There was barely room for her big awkward skirt under the table, but she tucked it underneath with a practiced motion. The stiff fabric pressed against Josiah’s legs.
Kalti went around the table, making introductions. “And this is Josiah Potterkin… Wizard. There’s an interesting story about how he came to the guild. He wasn’t supposed to be a wizard at all. He was an apprentice fuller, but he got in trouble and ended up as Elkan’s assistant. It was going to be temporary, but then there was an emergency and he had to bond with Sar.” Kalti gave him a bright smile that did nothing to conceal her malice. Josiah glowered at her. “The donkey over there, next to Amia.”
Kevessa gave no sign of noticing the barbed undercurrent of Kalti’s words. She smiled at Josiah. “It is possible, then, to become a wizard even if one is not named by the Mother at the age of thirteen, as Kalti tells me is the usual procedure?”
Was he only imagining the wistfulness in her voice? “If a familiar chooses you. It doesn’t happen very often. I think I’m the first in a couple of generations.”
“You’re very fortunate.” Yes, there was unmistakeable longing in Kevessa’s tone. “I’d very much like to hear the full account of how it happened. Would you be willing to tell me?”
“Sure.” Josiah gloated at how thoroughly Kalti’s pettiness had backfired. He took a deep breath and launched into a description of the day he’d first met Elkan. Kevessa listened with rapt attention, plying him with questions between small, dainty bites of her meal. The other apprentices had all heard the story before, but even so they listened, occasionally chiming in to make sure he didn’t leave out any important bits.
He’d just started to describe how he and Elkan had gone out to help deal with the flooding in Elathir when all around the room wizards rose to go back to work. From the corner of his eye he saw Elkan beckoning him.
He hated to leave the story unfinished, especially when Kevessa was enjoying it so much. But an idea struck him. He leaned toward Kevessa, lowering his voice and filling it with hushed excitement. “Just then, a Watcher came wading up to us, yelling for help. The dam on Mill Stream had broken, and the water was washing away Prison Point. There were hundreds of people trapped over there, and only the Mother’s power could save them. So Elkan and I—” He broke off, making a show of catching sight of his master’s summons. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. Elkan’s calling me. I have to go.”
Disappointment flooded Kevessa’s features. “But you haven’t described how you became a wizard yet. I so wanted to hear it.”
Josiah enjoyed the way she looked at him so hopefully. “I’m almost to that part. I should be done with my shift a couple hours before the evening meal. If you like, we could get together and I’ll tell you the rest.” He tried to covey cheerful willingness at the prospect, without betraying the almost desperate eagerness he felt.
“I’d like that very much.” Kevessa glanced at Kalti. “You don’t mind?”
Kalti scowled at Josiah. “Master Hadara and I are scheduled to hear court cases right up to mealtime. I thought you wanted to observe how we use windows in settling disputes.”
“I do. But surely I’ll have ample opportunity for that during the early hours of the afternoon. You’ve entertained me so wonderfully these past few days. I don’t wish to inconvenience you more than necessary with my presence. I expect you’ll appreciate time to concentrate on your work without me distracting you.”
Kalti made one last effort. “Are you sure your father will approve?”
Kevessa smiled and waved a dismissive hand. “As long as I’m safe and constructively occupied, he’ll have no objection. His hours are full meeting with the guildmasters to finalize details of what will be shipped; I won’t disturb him unless the matter is urgent.” She turned back to Josiah. “Should I meet you here?”
“Sure. Then maybe we can go for a walk out in the square or down by the river. I’ll show you where Prison Point used to be.” Josiah could hardly believe his luck. He’d finally get to have Kevessa to himself for a little while.
“I like that idea. I’ll see you then.” Kevessa rose and gestured for Kalti to precede her out of the dining hall.
Elkan kept him so busy with patients during the afternoon that Josiah had no time to worry or get nervous. He did his best to work quickly and efficiently, and they finished at the appointed time. Sar had no objections when Josiah suggested he retire to their room for a nap.
Josiah’s heart was pounding and his hands were sweaty as he hurried to the dining hall. But it was empty. His heart plummeted. Kevessa must have changed her mind.
As he sank into a chair, breathing hard and trying to control his disappointment, the door swung open and Kevessa pushed through, the bell of her skirts swinging as she maneuvered them away from the closing door. When she caught sight of him, her face lit up with an eager expression. “Hello, Josiah.”
“Hey, Kevessa.” Josiah stood, his mouth dry, feeling awkward in her presence all over again.
“Let’s walk outside as you suggested. The sun is bright and it’s not as cold as it has been.”
“All right.” Instead of parading past the waiting patients and working wizards in the Hall on the way to the main doors, he headed to a smaller exit that led out the side of the building. Josiah held the door so it wouldn’t catch her skirts.
As soon as they emerged into the quiet street, Kevessa turned to him. “Please, continue with your story. You said the dam broke?”
“Yeah. The water pounded against the land of the point, tearing out big chunks. I saw a big tree topple over and float away. Buildings fell down and everything. Come on, I’ll show you where it happened.”
Josiah had been afraid the conversation would be strained and stilted, but Kevessa was easy to talk to. He was sure she was genuinely interested in his story. When they reached the broken fragment of road poking out into the water where Mill Stream met the Tarath, all that was left of Prison Point, she gazed into the water as if she could see the storm-torn scene he described.
“…So Sar bit my hand, and bit himself, and pushed me so I touched him and our blood mixed. That’s the way a bonding happens.” Josiah flexed his hand and rubbed the faint scar in his palm. “Everything around kind of faded out, and I was standing somewhere all gold, like clouds all around me. And the Mother was there.” He faltered. It was hard to describe that moment; it felt like revealing something deeply private, too intimate for casual conversation. He waved his hands, at a loss for words.
“What did she look like?” There was a hushed, awed quality to Kevessa’s voice that told him she understood.
“Like a person. Tall, in a white robe, with long wavy hair. Young. Beautiful.” Kind of like you, he thought, but he didn’t dare say that. “Her eyes were old, though. Ancient.”
Kevessa’s lips parted and she sighed, a long gentle breath. Her eyes focused somewhere far away.
Josiah waited until her gaze came back to him. He raised one shoulder and let it fall. “So she asked me, was I willing to be a wizard?” That wasn’t the only thing she’d said, but it was the important part. He wasn’t allowed to talk about the rest, about how it was really the familiars that controlled the Mother’s power, not the wizards. “And I said yes. Then I was back here. Sar and I used the Mother’s power t
o block the water. Like Elkan was going to do, but he was so drained it would have burned him out. I had plenty of energy left. But even so it was hard, one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”
He went on, telling the rest of the story. They walked toward the docks, following the course Josiah had taken that night. Josiah tried to keep his voice animated, expressing the excitement and fear he’d experienced, though Kevessa only seemed to be listening with half her attention. But her focus sharpened again when he got to the part about seeing Nirel on the fleeing ship, and how he’d broken off his attempt to sink it. A sound of sudden enlightenment escaped her lips.
“What?” Josiah tried to figure out what he’d said to provoke her reaction.
“Now I understand what she meant.” Kevessa turned to him with an attitude of some difficult decision finally made. “My father didn’t want me to speak of this to you. But Nirel is my friend, and I promised her I would give you her message.”
“So it was Ozor who told you how to reach Tevenar.” It was irrational to be angry at the bandit leader. If he hadn’t betrayed their secret, Tevenar would have been doomed to famine. But Josiah couldn’t help how he felt.
“Yes.”
Josiah shook his head to clear it. “How is Nirel?”
“She’s well.” Kevessa hesitated. “She was injured when she helped me reach the ship, but I believe her hurts were minor and she will recover fully.”
Josiah caught his breath. “You’re sure?” Just because he was interested in Kevessa didn’t mean he didn’t still care what happened to Nirel.
The Law of Isolation Page 34
