He nearly sobbed when Sar pressed close to his side. He twined his fingers in the donkey’s spiky mane as he’d often seen Elkan do, appreciating the solidity of the tough, wiry strands digging into his skin. It will be all right, won’t it, Sar? Elkan can do it, he can lead the guild, he can make them agree to send a wizard to Ramunna still. Can’t he?
Sar hesitated. I’m sure Elkan is worthy of the trust the Guildmaster placed in him. But even if he should succeed… Dabiel didn’t complete the fast. The Mother didn’t appear to speak her will. The Law that confines familiars within the boundary stones remains. We can’t go to Ramunna.
Twenty-Two
Gevan jumped to his feet and raised his voice over the shouts threatening to drown him out. “I had nothing to do with this man’s crime! I didn’t know what he planned. I would have turned him over to your justice if I had. He’s a traitor to Ramunna as well as Tevenar!”
But it was useless. Hanion made no effort to silence the crowd roaring in anger at Gevan. Gevan glared at Tharan, who sat, bound, across the arc of chairs, then turned with equal fury to the acting Guildmaster.
As far as he understood from what they’d explained to him about the ridiculous tangle of laws and traditions Tevenar called a government, upon the death of a Wizard Guildmaster, the most senior wizard still bonded to a familiar should assume the role of acting Guildmaster until a council of all active masters in the guild assembled to vote on a new one. So how had Hanion, who couldn’t be much more than sixty-five, managed to take the title? Apparently, every wizard in Elathir with more seniority had declined for one reason or another. True, some of them were frail, and Gevan could see that the strain of taking charge of the Wizards’ Guild in such a turbulent time would be too heavy a burden. But he suspected many were simply afraid of the responsibility. And he couldn’t shake a sneaking suspicion that Hanion had influenced others, maybe by persuasion and force of personality, but maybe with bribes or threats.
What was undeniable was that Hanion had emerged as the leader of the faction of wizards that laid the blame for Master Dabiel’s death squarely at the feet of the Ramunnans. All of them, not just the Purifier saboteur who’d fooled Gevan along with everyone else, including the Matriarch. He cursed himself again for not seeing through Tharan’s disguise. Had he really believed that a few avowals of interest in Gevan’s experiments proved anything about the man’s true loyalties?
Of course, Tharan hadn’t yet admitted he’d acted on behalf of the Purifiers. He hadn’t made any response at all to the extensive questioning conducted by the wizards, the local police force, and Gevan himself. He merely sat there, eyes dull, face blank. Occasionally he shrugged.
Gevan badly wanted to smash a fist into the traitor’s gut. That would loosen his tongue. The questioners in the Matriarch’s dungeons would have efficiently extracted the truth. But the folk here were so opposed to the concept of a little judicious torture they hadn’t grasped what he was saying when he’d tried to delicately hint at the possibility. When he’d finally come straight out and suggested it, they reacted as if he’d suddenly been stricken by some horrible disfiguring disease.
Hypocrites, all of them. They’d been quick enough to break his bones when it suited their purpose. It wasn’t as if any damage would be permanent, not with their ability to heal. Why else had they bothered to keep the assassin alive, if not to discover the information locked behind those stubbornly dull eyes?
In the front row of the crowd thronging the courtroom, Elkan rose to his feet. He looked as tired as Gevan felt, visibly aged from the confident youth of a few days ago. Beside him, his giant cat blinked sleepy eyes at the assembly.
Hanion ignored him for as long as he could, but eventually the crowd ran out of energy and the noise faded. Hanion shot his colleague an annoyed glance. “You wish to speak, Master Elkan?”
“Excuse me for interrupting, Guildmaster, but I’m curious to know whether you’ve found any evidence to support your assertion that Ambassador Gevan colluded with Tharan. If you have, I’m eager to see it. Tobi and I have searched every moment since the Ramunnan ship came close enough to observe without finding any such evidence.” He looked at Hanion with every indication of respectful attentiveness.
Gevan snorted to himself. Elkan played the game well. If he hadn’t known, he would never have guessed from the young man’s manner that Hanion was the most vocal opponent of Elkan’s confirmation as Guildmaster.
Secretly, Gevan agreed with Hanion. Mature as he might be for his years, Elkan was far too young for such responsibility. But Gevan had no choice but to hope for his election. Whatever faint chance remained of the expedition accomplishing its purpose rested solely in Elkan’s hands. Those who wished to keep the bargain Dabiel had made had rallied behind him. Among the guildmasters of the other guilds that faction held a sizable majority, for though they were as horrified as everyone else by Dabiel’s murder, they weren’t quite as emotionally affected by her death. But among the wizards, Gevan feared Elkan’s party was badly outnumbered. The election would be held as soon as all the masters who’d been summoned from the smaller cities around Tevenar arrived. If Hanion was chosen Guildmaster instead of Elkan, Gevan would return to Ramunna empty-handed.
He must do everything in his power to prevent that. He was convinced the wizards could do what the Matriarch wanted. It was more urgent than ever that he bring one to her so she could conceive an heir. The Purifiers had murdered an old woman to accomplish their goals; they wouldn’t hesitate to murder a young girl. Kevessa would never be safe until power in Ramunna was secured and the Purifiers driven out.
Hanion frowned coldly at Elkan. “Of course they wouldn’t speak of their plot once they were within range of a window. It was all worked out in advance. But this man brought the assassin here. He played on our hopes and fears to make us vulnerable. Do you really think it was a coincidence that he helped arrange for Master Dabiel and Buttons to be alone and weak from fasting, unable to effectively defend themselves?’
The crowd reacted noisily to that. Elkan waited until they quieted. “I agree that what you suggest is possible. But unless we send a wizard and familiar to trace their entire voyage, we can’t prove it.”
Hanion glared at him. “You know we can’t do that.”
Elkan inclined his head. “No, we can’t.” He paused, and his voice, when he went on, was slightly strained. “The penalty for the murders of a wizard and a familiar is death. But the Mother won’t allow us to use her power to carry out that sentence without absolute proof. We have that proof against Tharan. But not against Ambassador Gevan.”
A nervous murmur ran through the crowd. Gevan swallowed. He wasn’t surprised they planned to execute Tharan, but he’d never suspected they might threaten him with the same fate. Not that they’d dare. The Matriarch’s wrath would descend on Tevenar in fire and sword if they did her the grave insult of killing her ambassador.
Hanion must have been shaken, too, for he momentarily lost his poise. “I didn’t mean to suggest that the Ambassador be sentenced.” He leaned forward, and his voice recovered its confidence. “Only that he and his people be expelled from Tevenar.”
“That’s a matter for the Council of Guildmasters, not the Wizard’s Court. I respectfully request that this trial be confined to the question of Tharan’s innocence or guilt and the consequences of his actions.” Elkan sat down.
Hanion scowled at him. Gevan expected him to berate Elkan, or at least dismiss his suggestion. But apparently the foreigners’ odd customs granted the younger man the right to make the demand, for Hanion turned back to Tharan with a jerk. “Does anyone else have evidence to present?”
Gevan found the whole elaborate procedure ridiculous. Everyone present had seen Tharan commit the murders through the wizards’ windows. In Ramunna, he’d have been strung up within an hour of his crime with that kind of evidence, not coddled in prison for a week. But let the Tevenarans go through whatever dance they wanted, as long as it came to the sam
e thing in the end.
No one spoke. Hanion looked at Elkan, his eyes narrowed, but the young wizard was silent. Hanion cleared his throat. “After review of the evidence, this court finds Tharan Menarre guilty of the murders of Guildmaster Dabiel Dyerkin Wizard and the Mother-touched familiar Buttons. The Law states that anyone who commits such a murder must have their life given over to the Mother. Does anyone object to that penalty being carried out?”
Elkan stood again. Gevan gaped at him. Surely the young wizard wasn’t going to speak in Tharan’s defense? Even with Gevan’s limited skill at politics, he could clearly see that any hint on Elkan’s part of leniency toward the hated murder would weaken his position. Surely the wizard realized that.
If he did, it didn’t deter him. Elkan inclined his head to Hanion. The mountain cat had risen to stand beside him; Elkan’s hand rested on her head. “I acknowledge that what this man has done is worthy of death. But I ask that we grant him the Mother’s mercy. In their final moments, Master Dabiel and Buttons acted to rid the man of the poison he sought to use to take his own life. The Guildmaster warned us not to allow him to try again. She charged us to keep him alive so that we might learn who sent him and why. We haven’t yet discovered this information. I propose that we set aside his sentence, instead keeping him confined and questioning him further, until such time as he confides in us, or we come by the knowledge some other way.”
A discontented grumble rose while he spoke. By the end he had to raise his voice to be heard. Hanion eyed him grimly. “Do you think it likely he’ll divulge that information if questioned further? Considering that we will, of course, continue to refrain from practices contrary to the Mother’s will?”
“Not likely, no. But possible.” Elkan ignored the crowd’s agitated rumble and continued to fix his gaze on Hanion.
Hanion looked around the room. He glanced down to his side, where the brindle bulldog that was his familiar perched on a wide stool. The animal returned his gaze with the intelligence that Gevan still found disconcerting.
After a moment Hanion snorted and looked back at Elkan. “Very well. Let his sentence be set aside until after the Council of Masters meets. Then the new Guildmaster and their familiar can carry it out.” He stared challengingly at Elkan.
Elkan returned his gaze levelly. “I concur in this decision.” He sat down.
Hanion’s eyes swept the room. “Does anyone else wish to voice an objection?”
The crowd rumbled and stirred, but no one else rose. Master Hanion waited a long time, his eyes going to several individuals seated around the room, but none of them responded. At last he scowled and put his hand back on the bulldog’s head. “In the Mother’s name, I declare this matter closed. Watchers, return this man to prison.”
The red-cloaked watchers ushered Tharan down the center aisle and out the main doors of the Hall. He went without resistance.
Gevan clenched his fists. This was one more demonstration of how unfit for leadership Elkan was. He’d antagonized his fellow wizards for no purpose. Gevan was certain he’d never get information from Tharan, no matter how long he tried. Not if he confined himself to the exquisitely polite and ineffectual questioning Gevan had seen him use so far. It was probably all Tharan could do not to laugh aloud at his interrogator.
Gevan waited until most of the crowd dispersed before making his way toward the door and heading upstairs to the guest rooms. He hoped he’d find Kevessa in hers, but he feared he wouldn’t. After she and that boy had given their testimonies, Hanion had dismissed them from the room without giving Gevan a chance to speak to Kevessa and make sure she’d be suitably occupied while he was busy with the remainder of the trial. After she’d snuck off with Josiah to the chapel, nearly ruining the window-glass in the process, he’d forbidden her to be alone with the wizard apprentice. She’d meekly agreed, but he still had to keep a sharp watch on her, because she constantly found seemingly innocent excuses to seek out Josiah’s company. Always suitably chaperoned, never a hint of any impropriety, but still…
Sure enough, Kevessa wasn’t in her room. After questioning the few wizards who hadn’t been occupied with the trial, he found one who’d seen her—with Josiah, of course. She directed him to a section of the Mother’s Hall where he’d not previously had reason to venture.
The room he entered was open and airy, brightly lit by windows in two walls. A few couches and comfortable chairs were arranged in a loose square to one side of the door, but the rest of the room looked like a cross between a barn and a botanical garden. Piles of hay and troughs of water were interspersed between banks of potted plants, some of which held good-sized trees. In one corner a big mound of dirt was riddled with holes. Gevan ducked as a large brown bird swooped past his head and arrowed out a window.
“Don’t mind Amber. She came in day before yesterday, and she’s still a little shy around people.” The older woman in one of the armchairs gestured after the bird before returning her attention to the book she held. Gevan wondered that she didn’t seem concerned at the animal’s escape. He glanced around. A handful of other animals were scattered around the room. A big yellow dog sprawled in a patch of sunshine. A deer and a sheep stood side by side, munching hay. Another bird, this one small and red, perched in one of the trees and kept up a stream of twittering song.
“Excuse me.” Gevan stepped toward the woman, who looked up from her book again. “I was told my daughter might be here?”
“Oh, Kevessa. Yes, she and Josiah are over there, behind those bushes. He’s brought her by a few times, now. The unbonded ones do love attention.” She waved toward a thick cluster of plants.
Gevan scowled and stalked in the direction she’d indicated. If he caught that boy so much as holding Kevessa’s hand he’d confine her to her room for the duration of their stay.
But they were a perfectly proper distance apart. Josiah reclined against his donkey, who lay with his legs tucked under him, his eyes half closed. Kevessa sat opposite him, her skirts spread around her on the floor. A grey squirrel perched on her shoulder. While Gevan watched, it whisked around to scamper down her arm and up the other, pausing to chitter in her ear before it whisked down again.
“See, she likes you. I haven’t seen her this playful since—” Josiah faltered, and shrugged. “Anyway, see if she’ll take another.”
Kevessa extended a nut toward the squirrel. The creature seized it and held it daintily in its paws, gnawing at the shell. Bits showered onto Kevessa’s skirt. She laughed.
Gevan cleared his throat. Both of them looked up, Josiah guiltily, Kevessa with relaxed pleasure. “Father! Come see. This is Nina. She’s a familiar who isn’t bonded to a wizard right now. See this darker bit of fur on her back? That’s where the Mother touched her.”
Despite himself, Gevan was curious. Somehow the wizards’ animals were the source of their powers. He’d seen enough strange behavior from them to be convinced they weren’t ordinary animals, but he was eager to learn more. Did the wizards breed them for their special characteristics? Or did they do something to alter them? What mysterious alchemy happened when they touched? What did this bonding they talked about consist of, and how was it accomplished? He stepped closer to Kevessa and crouched, peering at the squirrel. It did indeed have an oval patch of black fur on its back, just the size and shape of a fingerprint.
“See, there’s Sar’s.” Josiah gestured to the donkey’s chest. The beast rolled cooperatively to one side, displaying a white marking in the same shape. “I bet you’ve seen Tobi’s, too. It’s in her ear.”
Now that Gevan thought about it, he remembered something of the sort, an irregular spot marring the symmetry of the great cat’s face. But he put his curiosity aside. He’d have to investigate further another time. Right now he had more important responsibilities.
“Kevessa, come with me. The trial is over. I want to spend the time until the evening meal working on your mathematics. I think you’re almost ready to begin advanced trigonometric calculation
s.” He held out a hand to her, pointedly excluding Josiah from his attention.
Without any visible sign of disappointment, she lifted the squirrel from her lap to the floor, depositing the last few nuts she’d been holding in front of it. “Good-bye, Nina. I hope to visit you again later.” She rose gracefully to her feet, accepting Gevan’s hand. “Josiah tells me that Nina and the others will most likely bond with the third-year apprentices at Springtide. Have you met Dadael? She and several of the other third-years were here with us the day before yesterday. A falcon flew in through the window and landed on her shoulder. Master Jenion says they’ll probably become bondmates. She even let Dadael pick her name.”
“That’s very interesting.” He must find some way to supervise Kevessa more closely. If only he weren’t so busy trying to sway the election in Elkan’s favor. He’d spoken to several of the wizards that seemed most trustworthy, but none of them saw any harm in Kevessa socializing with the apprentices, so they were disinclined to discourage it. He hoped the rest of the masters would arrive soon so this whole business could be concluded. He’d expected to be sailing back to Ramunna by now.
“Do you think we might return to Tevenar with the ships that bring the food? Then we could attend the Springtide celebrations. I’m sure you’d find it fascinating to observe a bonding ceremony.”
Actually, he would. It might even be worth another tedious trip across the ocean. Assuming, of course, that ships ever did return with food. Much as he hated to admit it, that was looking less and less likely. “Only if the Matriarch wishes us to.” He stepped aside for Kevessa to precede him out the door.
The Law of Isolation Page 38
