Tian glowered at her. “They’re both fifth-year apprentices. Too young to be talking about standing up together, but he’s got Rovia convinced that’s what he wants.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial level and leaned toward Elkan. “When you and I both know what he’s really after.”
Kireh’s voice rose to a shriek. “What are you insinuating, you oaf? She’s the one seducing him with promises she has no intention of keeping! Not that I’d ever let my son stand up with some—”
“No more insults.” Elkan stood up and went to the tent flap. “Kaniel, would you find Dari and Rovia and bring them here?”
Tian and Kireh spoke over each other. “I don’t see why—” “There’s no need—”
Finally something the farmer and herder could agree on. “I want to hear their side of the story before I make a decision.” It was possible one of them really was pressing unwanted attentions on the other, though Elkan doubted it. Still, it was important to be sure. He went back to his stool. “I’m unclear on something. Tian, you said Dari was supposed to stay in Jevtaran?”
“They both were.” He grimaced. “The guilds decided only sixth-year apprentices and older could volunteer to fight. Rovia snuck away and followed us. I could hardly send her back alone.” His expression displayed a mix of defensiveness about his apprentice’s disobedience and pride in her initiative.
“I was glad to see her, because I knew she wouldn’t be bothering Dari any more. But then that blasted apprentice of yours brought him here!” Kireh glared at Elkan.
That’s right, Josiah had mentioned his traveling companion when he’d described the events in Jevtaran. Among all the rest that detail had seemed insignificant. “Don’t I remember Josiah saying Dari suffers from asthma? Triggered by an allergy to ragweed, is that right?”
Kireh nodded. “Dari was so smug about finding a way to come here without one of his attacks killing him. He doesn’t understand what a huge risk he took, going off with some half-trained apprentice.” Kireh blinked. “I, ah, intend no offense. I’m sure you’ve taught your apprentice well, but, I mean, he is very young…”
“None taken.” The events of the past year had given Josiah more experience than many journeymen, and he and Sar were certainly competent to handle a simple asthma attack, but Elkan agreed that letting Dari accompany him had been reckless. “Josiah does tend to be impulsive.”
Kireh grimaced. “I gave Dari a good long scolding when he showed up at my tent yesterday afternoon, but I have to admit I was glad to see him and know that he’s safe. I’ve been worrying so much since we left him behind. Master Nulam is very old. If something had happened to him or his familiar, Dari would have been in trouble. At least here there are plenty of wizards to help him if he needs it.”
Tian made a scoffing sound. “Do the boy good to get away from wizards hovering over him every minute. It’s ridiculous the way Kireh babies him. A little sneezing never killed anyone.”
Kireh rounded on him. “How dare you! Dari can’t breathe when an attack hits—”
Elkan put a hand on her arm. “In fact, people can die of asthma,” he told Tian. “Dari does need to have access to wizards. But Kireh, he’s not in so much danger he can’t go about normal activities.”
She wiped her eyes. “I know. I just can’t help but think what would happen, if—”
She broke off as the tent flap opened and Dari and Rovia ducked inside. Elkan took in the way they stood close to each other, their fingers twined together, wearing identical expressions of wariness and determination. Clearly they were both enthusiastic participants in the relationship. That made this easier in some ways, more difficult in others.
He left them standing while he remained seated. “Dari, Rovia, your masters have been telling me about the difficulties they’ve been having with you.”
They glanced at each other. Rovia spoke, jutting her chin out defiantly. “All we want is the chance to spend a little time together. Is that too much to ask?” Dari nodded emphatic agreement.
“I understand both of you are fifth-year apprentices? So you’re seventeen?”
“I turned eighteen a month after Springtide,” Rovia said. “Dari turns eighteen next winter.”
“Old enough to understand your responsibilities. As long as you’re still apprentices, you owe obedience to your masters.”
They both looked at their toes. “Yes, sir,” Dari said. He looked up with a mulish expression. “But the apprentice contract says that masters are required to be reasonable in their demands.”
Elkan raised a hand to silence Kireh and Tian, who’d both opened their mouths. “So it does. The question is, what’s reasonable?”
Rovia’s eyes blazed. “It’s not reasonable to forbid contact with anyone from another guild! It’s not reasonable to try to control what we do every minute of every day, even after we’ve finished all our work!”
Elkan nodded. “I agree. Those things are outside the customary prerogatives of a master. But masters are required to protect their apprentices from danger to the best of their ability, to guide their development into responsible citizens of Tevenar, and to prevent them from engaging in actions that harm others or that they’re likely to later regret.” He turned his gaze to Tian and Kireh. “Your masters are both doing their best to carry out those duties.”
“Exactly,” Kireh said.
Tian slammed a fist into his thigh. “And a thankless task it is.”
Elkan spoke quickly, before either of them could say anything to disrupt their momentary accord, and before either of the rebellious-looking apprentices could protest. “What we need to do is find a way you can both continue to fulfill your responsibilities as masters while not placing unreasonable demands on your apprentices. In particular, I want to address the animosity you both seem to feel for the other’s guild.”
Tian and Kireh eyed each other warily. This time Tian spoke first. “Our grievances go back many years. I don’t expect you to understand. Not the herders’ perspective, anyway.” He shot Elkan a disdainful look. “You being Farmerkin.”
“I am Farmerkin,” Elkan agreed. “But in Arlith, where I was born, herders and farmers cooperate with no more than an occasional minor disagreement, soon resolved. The same is true in Elathir and the fields and pastures that surround it. Korisan, too, from what I’ve seen. Only in Jevtaran are the two guilds at odds.”
Kireh said, “That may be true, but if you’ll listen to the things they’ve done you’ll understand why we have no choice but to distrust them.”
Tian turned away. “If the Herders’ Guild ever got a fair hearing, this whole business might be settled. But how can we when the Wizards’ Guild obviously favors the farmers?”
Elkan shook his head. “When this war is over, I’m going to recommend to the Guildmaster that he thoroughly investigate your guilds’ dispute and negotiate a settlement everyone can agree on. But right now we can’t afford the luxury of being divided. If the Ramunnans succeed in conquering Tevenar we’ll all suffer, herders and farmers and wizards alike. So I’m asking you to put aside your grudges for now and focus only on a solution to the immediate problem.” He looked from one to the other expectantly.
Kireh looked away first. “I don’t speak for the Farmers’ Guild.”
“Nor I for the herders.” Tian held his gaze for another long moment before glancing aside.
“But you both speak for yourselves. I’ll take the matter up with your guildmasters when I can. But we don’t need their input to settle this private matter. Do we?”
They both shook their heads. Good, he had the two of them firmly on common ground. He turned to the apprentices. “Tell me honestly how you feel about each other. Dari?”
Dari looked at his mother, swallowed, and turned to gaze at Rovia. “I love Rovia. I intend to stand up with her the first Restday after we make journeyman.”
The earnestness in his face and voice made Elkan’s throat ache. This must be how Dabiel had felt when he told her about h
is plans to marry Liand. He wanted very much to believe that Dari’s innocent ardor could carry the two of them forward into a joyful lifelong partnership. But he’d been just as earnest and innocent, and it had ended in disaster.
Rovia gazed into Dari’s eyes. “I love Dari,” she said softly. “I intend to stand up with him as well.” She glanced at her uncle, then back at Dari. “I would today, if I could.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t make an exception to the rules.” Not that he wanted to. “You’ll both have to wait to wed. But it’s common enough for apprentices to settle on a spouse long before their trialwork is complete. There’s a reason the first Restday service after Springtide is the longest of the year.” He smiled at Kireh and Tian, inviting them to share the joke. “I daresay you’ve attended many a Springtide wedding. Perhaps even your own.”
This time Tian dropped his eyes first. Ah, that had been a lucky guess. “The Mother smiles when her children find happiness with one another. I think it reasonable to allow Dari and Rovia time together to confirm that they wish to join their lives when the time comes. Or perhaps to reconsider their plans. Whichever it ends up being, it’s a decision only the two of them can make. Masters are not allowed to choose who their apprentices wed, or if they wed or not.” He studied both masters carefully. If he got their assent on this point, the rest would be easy. “Does that agree with your understanding of the contract you signed? If either of you need to review the wording, I’m sure I can find a copy.”
They glanced at each other, then away. Kireh shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I suppose.”
Tian said gruffly, “No need to read the contract again. I’ve signed enough of them; I know what it says.”
Elkan’s breath came easier. “Kireh, are you willing to allow Dari to spend some of his free time with Rovia?”
Kireh eyed Rovia hostilely. “As long as she keeps her hands off him.”
Rovia opened her mouth; Elkan shot her a warning look. She closed it again, but her lips twisted in a sullen frown.
“Tian, what about you? Are you willing to allow Rovia to spend time with Dari?”
Tian scowled at Dari. “As long as she doesn’t shirk her duties. She insisted on volunteering to fight. I won’t let her go back on that, not now that people are depending on her.”
“Well, Rovia?” Elkan tried to warn her with his expression to be diplomatic.
Either she got the message or she was smart enough to figure out for herself that tact would get her what she wanted better than bluster. “I wouldn’t dream of missing a moment of training or practice.” The passion in her voice convinced him of her sincerity. “I want to kick those blasted Ramunnans out of Tevenar more than anyone.”
“And you, Dari? If you haven’t been assigned to a group yet I’ll make sure you are.”
“Yes, please!” Dari was just as eager as Rovia. For a moment Kireh looked as if she was going to protest, but she grimaced and remained silent. “I’ve got some experience with a bow. I used to shoot rabbits that got into Mother’s vegetable patch while everyone else was out in the fields.”
“You can join the archers, then. Kireh, do you agree that’s where he can best serve?”
Phrased like that, she couldn’t really disagree. “I suppose.”
Elkan nodded sharply. “I think we have an agreement. Dari and Rovia can spend a reasonable”—he stressed the word, giving the two apprentices a hard look—“amount of time together each day, after their training duties are complete. Of course, when the time comes for us to move against the Ramunnans, you’ll both put your orders and the needs of Tevenar first.” They both nodded earnestly. “Kireh and Tian, you will put aside your animosity toward the other’s guild as necessary to accept your apprentice’s choice of companion. And in due time, if they continue their relationship, of spouse.” Neither of them seemed happy about it, but they both nodded. “Does anyone object to anything I’ve said?” Silence. “Do you all concur in this agreement?”
One by one they confirmed their assent. Elkan did his best not to grin. In a way, a successfully resolved conflict was even more satisfying than a difficult healing. The skills had been harder for him to learn, but Dabiel had been the best, and she’d taught him all her tricks. “The Mother sets her seal on your agreement.”
He rose and clasped hands with both masters, and then both apprentices. The two youngsters looked happily dazed, the elders wearily relieved. He was sure they’d all find it much easier and more pleasant to have the relationship open and acknowledged rather than clandestine. Keeping his voice casual, he put a hand on Dari’s arm. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a private word with you and Rovia before you go.”
Dari gave him a puzzled look, but hung back as Kireh and Tian left, pointedly ignoring each other. Rovia stuck close to Dari’s side, glowering at Elkan. “What do you want?” she demanded as soon as the tent flap fell closed.
Elkan gestured for them to take the vacated stools and sat facing them. He waited a moment to give their masters time to get out of earshot. “Tell me, Rovia, why do you think young people are required to qualify as journeymen before standing up together?”
Rovia grimaced. “I suppose so we can be free to concentrate on learning our craft, instead of having to worry about a family.”
“That’s certainly part of it. Dari, what do you think?”
He looked thoughtful. “Because we’re required to stay with our masters so they can supervise us? If we were going to live together at least one of us would have to leave home.”
“Again, that’s part of it. Although not all apprentices live with their masters. But there’s a much more important reason. We want to make sure all children are born to parents who are prepared for the responsibility of supporting them.”
Dari frowned; Rovia shrugged. “Obviously,” she said. “But it’s not like Dari and I want children now. Probably not for a while after we’re wed.”
Blushing, Dari added, “We’d never risk Rovia getting pregnant. I mean, we haven’t…”
“Shut up, Dari.” Rovia was almost as red as he was.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t. Which is why I want both of you to visit the Mother’s Hall. Today, as soon as we’re done here. I’ll clear your absence with your trainers, Rovia. The Mother’s power can easily suppress fertility for both of you. Temporarily, so you’ll have to make regular visits. They’ll make sure you’re both healthy, too.”
Elkan thought of a particular girl he’d treated in the Beggar’s Quarter in Ramunna, the worst of many similar cases he’d encountered there. She’d been younger than Josiah, but she’d had a toddler by the hand and an infant at her breast. Her body had been ravaged by the effects of a disease the wizards had eradicated from Tevenar centuries before. After he and Tobi healed the infection she’d begged him to make her permanently infertile so she could continue to sell her body for the pittance that kept her and her children from starvation. The woman who ran the brothel where she worked had ordered her to end any future pregnancies, and she couldn’t bear to go through that again.
He’d had little choice but to grant her request. Tobi hadn’t resisted, although normally the Law would balk at such a drastic alteration in one so young. He’d made sure they used a delicate touch. Perhaps at some point in the future some other wizard would be able to remove the scar tissue blocking her tubes, if her situation changed.
If wizards were ever free to work openly in Ramunna again.
Would Dari and Rovia benefit from hearing about her? No, there was no need to frighten them with horror tales. The Mother willing, neither of them would ever have to face such dire choices. Nor any other of Tevenar’s children. That’s why they were fighting this war, to prevent the Matriarch from destroying the institutions and traditions that kept Tevenar’s people safe and whole and healthy. To keep her from exporting Ramunna’s evils across the ocean. He had to remember that, if he was ever tempted to end the coming death and destruction by surrendering. Preserving Tevenar’s independen
ce was worth whatever it cost.
He hardly dared dream anymore of the goal he’d traveled to Ramunna to pursue. The Mother had promised Vigorre it was still possible for them to spread her power to the rest of the world, but it was difficult for him to believe her. The odds were stacked so high against them. Even with her guidance, how could they hope to find the one narrow path to a hopeful future among the myriads that led to nothing but ongoing misery for most of the world’s people?
He shook his head to dispel his dark thoughts and forced himself to grin at Dari and Rovia. “If my familiar were with me I’d take care of it myself, but she’s not, so head on over to the Hall. I doubt anyone will notice if it takes a bit longer than strictly necessary to get back.”
They returned his grin and chorused their thanks as they scrambled to their feet and out of the tent. He heard Dari’s eager voice. “He said he’d put me with the archers! You watch, we’ll take out way more Ramunnans than you riders do.”
Rovia’s voice dripped playful scorn. “Those arrows of yours are like pins next to my spear. You should see us when our horses all charge together across the field. The Ramunnans will turn and run if they have any sense.”
Elkan closed his eyes. What was he doing, sending these children into battle? To their deaths, more than likely. He wanted to rip open the tent flap and beg them to run away together, far up into the mountains where they’d be safe from the devastation that was about to ravage their homeland. To urge them to grab each other and love each other now, before it was too late, before one or both of their bodies lay broken on the battlefield, before their lives returned to the Mother brutally shorn of all the years and experiences that should have been theirs.
Which probably made him the worst sort of hypocrite, because he’d already rejected that path for himself. His chances of making it through the coming conflict alive were vanishingly small. If he wasn’t killed in battle, he’d likely be called on to let Tobi burn him out in order to power some otherwise impossible use of the Mother’s power. He had several contingency plans he’d never mentioned to anyone that would require just that sort of sacrifice. He’d faced the choice before; he knew he could do what was necessary.
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