He didn’t want to have to explain to his master why he’d made the choice he had. But he’d have to if the Jevtaran forces Elkan was counting on never materialized.
Kireh considered her son and Josiah. Her eyes moved to Sar, and she nodded reluctantly. “Stay close to Dari, please, wizard. He never knows when an attack is going to hit. I don’t know what he thought he was doing, going so far from the Mother’s Hall.” Her face clouded. “Although with almost all the wizards gone, even staying in town won’t be safe. What if everyone’s busy when he needs them?”
“I’ll talk to them and make sure they understand how urgent his need is.” The promise seemed to make Master Kireh feel better, even though Josiah was sure his intervention wasn’t necessary. If someone came into a Hall with breathing troubles, anything else would be dropped to help them.
Dari led him through the dispersing group of farmers toward the center of town. “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble. I never guessed they’d react that way.”
“How could you?” If Elkan didn’t need fighters so badly, Josiah would be glad to let farmers and herders alike squat on their land and growl at each other. How could they let a stupid, petty quarrel get in the way of defending Tevenar? “I certainly didn’t.”
“You’re a stranger here; this is my home. I should have realized what might happen. Nobody was happy about going off to fight. They were probably looking for an excuse to get out of it.”
Josiah’s heart fell. That would make it even harder to change their minds.
When they reached the Mother’s Hall Josiah looked up at the mosaic of the Mother’s cupped hands over the double doors. It differed in detail from the ones in Elathir and Korisan, but it still gave him a warm, homey feeling. He pushed open one of the doors and held it for Dari and Sar.
The big, rectangular space was nearly deserted. Only a small group of people clustered in the far corner. He headed toward them.
An elderly woman approached. “I’m sorry. We’re not able to help you today. Only if you have some true emergency, a matter of life or death. Otherwise you’ll need to leave.”
“It’s all right,” Josiah said, putting his hand on Sar’s back. “I’m a wizard. We can help if you need us to.”
She peered at the donkey short-sightedly, then back at Josiah. “Dear Mother, so you are.” She extended her hand. “I’m Master Tamna. I’m retired now; my last familiar died several years ago. I’m afraid it’s only us old folks who stayed, along with the unbonded youngsters. My husband Nulam is the only bonded wizard left, and neither he nor Brownie has much energy to spare these days.” She led them to where a white-haired old man sat in the midst of a circle of boys and girls younger than Josiah, an equally elderly cow at his side, expounding on how to determine whether an ankle was sprained or broken.
He exchanged greetings with Josiah and Dari, seeming quite familiar with the farmer apprentice. Josiah poured out an account of what had happened and how urgent it was for both the herders and farmers to be persuaded to journey to Korisan.
Master Nulam shook his head sadly. “Once Tian makes up his mind, it’s well-nigh impossible to shake him. We’ve been trying to talk him out of his ridiculous grudge against the Wizards’ Guild for years with no luck. And the others follow whatever he says. It’s an ill chance that led you to blunder into the middle of our local quarrels, but I don’t see what can be done about it now.”
Master Tamna bobbed her head in agreement. “I’m sure Master Elkan will manage all right. The last thing he needs is those two packs of fools constantly at each other’s throats. They’d fight each other more than the Ramunnans! Let it be, I say. He’s better off without them.”
“No, he’s not!” Josiah balled his fists. “He needs people! I’m sure he’ll be able to persuade them to cooperate. Or at least keep them apart.”
“Maybe he could, but it sounds like it’s too late for that.” Master Nulam patted his familiar’s side. “Many’s the time I’ve wished the Mother’s power could change folks’ minds, but that’s not a gift she’s granted us.”
No, it wasn’t. She valued each individual’s free will far too highly. But she didn’t forbid persuasion, or even trickery. One way or another Josiah was going to get those recalcitrant herders and farmers on the road to Korisan. He just had to figure out how.
Seven
Nirel kept her eyes properly downcast as Elder Davon finished the morning prayer and lifted the first bite of breakfast to his mouth, signaling that she and his wife Lena might begin eating also. She scooped up a spoonful of lentil and onion pottage. The food was filling and nourishing, but it was plain. The Faithful weren’t supposed to take excessive sensual pleasure in food. Or anything else. Satisfaction was drawn only from strict adherence to the Ordinances of the Lord of Justice.
She cleared her throat. Her voice sounded rough in her ears. “Elder, may I speak?”
Davon looked at her in surprise. In the two months she’d lived in his household, she’d been a model of proper Faithful female behavior. She’d been unfailingly quiet, compliant, and modest. She’d worked without complaint at Lena’s side on all the domestic tasks the Ordinances assigned women. She’d deferred in all ways to Davon, who as a man, the head of her household, and an Elder, was triply due her obedience. She’d adhered to the routine of daily prayers and reported to the shrine for confession and penance at her appointed time each week. She’d never given any indication of discontent.
If she had to keep it up for one more day, she’d scream.
It had been bearable at first. Two years ago Mila, Davon and Lena’s youngest daughter, had broken off a betrothal when she’d been disabled by a badly impacted tooth. But after surgery had relieved her constant pain, the young man had indicated to Elder Davon his desire to renew the contract. Mila, in her quiet way, had been delighted, so the wedding had been scheduled to take place as soon as possible. The preparations for the ceremony had kept Lena, Mila and Nirel working from before sunrise to after sunset six days a week, deeply grateful for the enforced idleness of Restday.
As long as she’d stayed busy, Nirel had been able to ignore her growing unhappiness. She was profoundly grateful to Elder Davon for offering her a home after her father’s death. She loved being able to practice her Faith openly instead of hiding it. She took pride in sharing the persecution and restrictions her people were subject to in Ramunna. She didn’t care that she was now confined to the Dualist Quarter, or that any Mother-worshipping Ramunnan would spit in the dust or shout insults as she passed, or that food and fabric and all other goods cost three times as much because of the heavy taxes imposed on the Faithful. All those things would end soon, when Elder Davon’s plans bore fruit and they departed for their own land, a goal the Faithful had dreamed of for centuries.
But she’d come to dread the life that awaited her at the end of their journey.
Davon smiled gently at her. “Of course, daughter.”
She loved Davon. He was always kind and gentle and reasonable. He never abused the power of his position the way some Faithful men did. He was warm, not harsh and cold the way her real father had been. He accepted the privileges and power the Ordinances granted men as simply and naturally as he breathed. She’d liked that at first, but it was beginning to grate on her.
While she’d studied for her Trials, she’d been held to the same high standards any male would have been. During her ordeal, the Elders had demanded she demonstrate excellence of mind, body and spirit in order to be admitted to the Faith. Elder Davon had been impressed by her abilities. He’d devised elaborate plans to take advantage of her unique position as a secret Faithful with the Matriarch’s favor. He’d depended on her to carry out complex, important missions, and she’d done so flawlessly. His trust had been both terrifying and exhilarating. There had been times she’d despaired of living up to what he asked of her, but in the end she’d succeeded. She’d fooled the Matriarch with her lie about the wizards and goaded her into sending the Armada to co
nquer Tevenar.
But instead of trusting her with more tasks, Davon had rewarded her with release from his arduous demands. It was true she was of less use to him now, since her Faith had become public knowledge during the events surrounding the wizards’ fall from favor, but she could have done something. The Matriarch valued her now more than ever. If Davon asked, she would be delighted to take advantage of Verinna’s trust for the good of the Faithful, no matter how difficult or dangerous the mission he wished her to accomplish.
But that wasn’t what he wanted from her anymore. He wanted her to live the life of a typical Faithful woman. And that life was tedious beyond belief. Mila’s wedding had taken place two weeks ago. Since then it had been just Lena and Nirel going about the normal routine of caring for the household. Cooking and cleaning, broken by occasional shopping and visiting with neighbors. That was all she had to look forward to for the rest of her life. The journey to Tevenar would provide some brief excitement, but once they were settled in their new home she’d be expected to resume the routine, with no possibility of relief. Elder Davon would betroth her to some Faithful man—she was sure he’d pick someone as kind and gentle as himself—she’d marry, have children of her own, and raise them to be good Faithful followers of the Lord of Justice. She knew Elder Davon thought that’s what she wanted. She’d thought that was what she wanted.
Nirel bowed her head in the attitude of polite supplication proper for a young woman making a request of the head of her household. “Elder, might I accompany you to your meeting with the Purifier representative this morning?”
He blinked at her. “There’s no need. All is going forward as planned. If I require your help, I’ll tell you.”
Nirel fixed her eyes on her plate. “I thought it might be useful for me to stay aware of the issues you discuss and the decisions you make. So if you need me again, I’ll be ready.”
“I appreciate your devotion to our cause, daughter, but I have no need of your assistance at the moment.”
Nirel’s head drooped lower. “Yes, Elder.”
That was it, then. She’d asked, and been refused. She swallowed, considering the bleak prospect of yet another day of tedium, followed by another, and another, and another…
She started when Davon spoke. “There is one thing you might do for me, if Lena can spare you. I’ve finally located what I think is a suitable space for Nalini to establish a surgery clinic within the Quarter. If you’d like, you can walk out to Little Tevenar and invite her to come inspect it. You can show her the place, and if she approves, help her move her equipment and set it up.”
Nirel caught her breath, forcing her voice to stay suitably meek. “I’d like that very much, Elder.”
She lifted her eyes enough to see his rueful smile. “At one point we spoke of you learning skills from her, so that when we travel to our new land you can serve our people. Do you still wish to do so?”
“Yes, Elder. Very much.” Nirel gulped. “If it you consider it permissible under the Ordinances for a woman.”
He tilted his head to one side. “It would be a role more suitable for a man, but my inquiries haven’t located any young men both interested in and capable of pursuing the necessary learning. In those circumstances the Ordinances grant me the authority to allow you to take on the responsibility.”
She resisted the urge to jump up and hug him. “Thank you, Elder.”
“When we’ve finished eating you may walk with me as far as the site I’ve picked. It’s not far from the shrine. I’ll show you around, and then you can fetch Nalini.”
“Yes, Elder.” Nirel dug into her lentil pottage with more enthusiasm than she’d felt in weeks.
* * *
Nalini put her hands on her hips and surveyed the former cleaner’s shop, which was empty because its proprietor had died with no son or apprentice to leave it to. “The stench is a drawback, but most of it will go away if we give the place a good scrubbing, and the rest will fade in time. The piped-in water and big braziers make it worth the trouble. Yes, I think it will do.”
“Let’s tell Elder Davon,” Nirel said, suppressing the grin that wanted to spread across her face. Such a show of emotion wasn’t proper for a Faithful woman. “His shrine is around the corner.”
Nalini strode down the street, her head up in a terribly inappropriate manner. With her unbound hair and Girodan-style loose tunic and flowing trousers, nobody would ever mistake her for one of the Faithful. She went right up to the door of the shrine, yanked it open, and ducked inside. Nirel scurried at her heels, ready to smooth over any conflict her bold approach caused. This was too important, to both the Faithful and to Nirel personally, for cultural differences to ruin it.
Nalini stopped so abruptly Nirel ran into her back. The Girodan held up a hand. “Quiet,” she hissed.
Nirel heard a raised voice coming from the meeting room opposite the shrine proper. “Blast it, Davon, what are you waiting for? The Armada’s had plenty of time to reach Tevenar. They’ve surely defeated whatever pitiful opposition the wizards were able to make. If we wait two months for official word to cross the ocean, it might well be too late. The fleet could head back to Ramunna at any time. If they get here too soon after Marvanna attacks, they’ll fight them off and we’ll lose everything.”
Nirel recognized Elder Davon’s voice. “I agree to a point, but I still counsel patience. I’ll send word to my contact in Marvanna next week. It will take a week for the message to get there, and approximately two for the Autarch to mobilize his forces. If the Matriarch sends a ship to recall them in one month, the Armada will have a full three months to subdue any Tevenaran resistance. Assuming they encountered no delays on the voyage and are now engaged with the enemy.”
“Three months!” The strange voice was derisive. “You give the peasants a great deal of credit.”
“They wield the power of the Lady of Mercy,” Davon answered mildly. “It can be an effective weapon, or so the ancient records tell us.”
“Against the Armada’s Secret, it will be no more use than a street performer’s tricks,” the other voice said.
“I’m sure you’re correct. But we don’t have the benefit of the Secret. If the Armada doesn’t wipe out the wizards, they’ll remain for us to fight when we get there. I’ll do all I can to prevent that.”
The other voice snarled, “Yoran Lirolla won’t be happy to hear you’re being difficult. He might decide to move without you. We have contacts in Marvanna, too, you know.”
“That’s Keeper Yoran’s choice. But he and I have agreed that my contact will be more effective in swaying the Autarch to do as we wish than any he has.”
“The Purifiers control the Temple in Marvanna. Our contacts will do well enough.”
“But the Autarch remains independent of the Temple, despite your best efforts. Let my plan play out as I’ve made it. The Faithful have been putting our pieces in place for many, many years. Keeper Yoran only joined forces with us a few months ago.”
The other voice sounded grudging. “I’ll tell Yoran everything you’ve said. He’ll make the final decision.”
“That is as it should be.” Nirel heard a chair scrape back.
Nalini said loudly, “Davon, where are you? I’ve had a look at the place you’re offering, and I suppose it will do.” She strode forward and pulled open the door of the meeting room.
A man in nondescript workman’s clothes, which would draw no glances in the Quarter or out of it, glared from her to Elder Davon. “Who’s this?”
Davon rose calmly. “Nalini Oba, a healer from Giroda. Nalini, this is Keeper Saronna Ranterre.”
“What did you hear?” Saronna glared at Nalini.
She met his gaze levelly. “Hear? Nothing. I just came in. Davon, could you have found a place that smelled worse?”
“I’m sorry about the odor. The Quarter is crowded and space is at a premium.” Davon moved toward the door, deftly ushering Saronna past Nalini. He shot Nirel a questioning glance.
>
For an instant Nirel panicked. If she alerted Davon to Nalini’s lie, he’d stop trusting the Girodan, and he’d rescind permission for her to work in the Quarter. She couldn’t let that happen. Nirel felt she might die if she didn’t have some relief from the awful boredom of her Faithful life.
Besides, nothing they’d heard was terribly important. Nalini would never go to the Matriarch. She might have alerted the wizards, but they’d escaped to Tevenar. She’d probably tell Ozor when he returned, but that would be much too late for these few tidbits of information to make any difference.
Nirel gave Davon a very slight nod.
Davon smiled at Saronna and conducted him to the outer door. “Nalini is a friend of the Faithful. We value her ability to heal without using the corrupt power of the Lady of Mercy. I expect the Purifiers find her more acceptable than the ones you consider demons and their slaves, yes?”
Saronna still glowered, but he nodded grudgingly. “We know of her and the other Girodans. So far they haven’t caused any trouble. See that it stays that way.” He went with Davon out into the street.
Nalini quirked an eyebrow at Nirel. “Thanks for standing up for me,” she murmured.
“Why did you eavesdrop on them?” Nirel demanded in a hushed voice.
“No particular reason. I just like to know what’s going on. And I thought it a bad idea to interrupt them. Don’t worry—” She broke off as the outer door opened and Davon reentered.
He raised his eyebrows at Nalini. “Besides the smell, you approve of the location?”
“It will do.” She crossed her arms. “I want you to provide people to clean it.”
“That can be arranged. Nirel, would you like to participate?”
Scrubbing a nasty building wasn’t the assignment she’d hoped for, but it was better than nothing. “Yes, Elder.”
The Wizards' War Page 9
