The prospect didn’t frighten him, but it weighed on his heart with an awful dragging sense of loss. There was so much more he wanted to do, to see, to be. So much more life he wanted to live.
So many people who would grieve his death. His parents, his siblings—his thoughts shied away from their pain. There was nothing he could do to make it any easier for them. At least Josiah was a wizard. He’d seen the Mother and spoken with her, so he’d understand. Sar, too, and Tobi, if he was fortunate enough to be able to spare her. The rest of his friends were wizards also, for the most part. Liand and Jamis would likely feel as much relief as sorrow.
Meira—smash it, why did Meira have to be the one who knew the secrets of the blasting powder? He’d give anything for her to be far away, safe in her mine, the months they’d traveled together a distant bittersweet memory. Then the news of his passing would have caused her no more than a faint pang, quickly forgotten. Now, though, with this fire rekindled between them, hotter than ever… She would suffer horribly, whether he was able to maintain his distance between now and then or not.
Maybe it would be easier for her to face his loss if he gave her what she wanted…
No, that was his selfishness talking. The best thing he could do for her was to have as little contact as possible. To throw all his energy into defeating the Ramunnans. To do whatever it took to win for her and everyone else a Tevenar safe and free from the Matriarch’s dominion, a Wizards’ Guild that survived here, even if nowhere else. Then in time she’d be able to forget him and go on with her life the way she would have if they’d never met.
Sixteen
Josiah surveyed the mill with satisfaction. It was all coming together. He’d spent the afternoon working with Master Rada and Meira to get each gear and shaft into perfect alignment. In the morning they would run the first batch of ingredients through. He was sure they’d have to make adjustments and maybe even change a few parts around, but with any luck they’d have their first few pounds of blasting powder by day’s end.
Meira paced up and down the line of equipment, studying each section in turn. She paused for a particularly long time at the series of sieves Josiah had devised to break up the clumps of wet blasting powder into uniform grains. “I’m still worried about these. The way they move back and forth—if the adjustment is even a tiny bit off they’re going to knock against each other, and then you’re going to get sparks.” She demonstrated, pushing one of the flat metal pans down on one side, then turning the shaft by hand the way the wheel would when it was connected. Sure enough, it clanged into its neighbor with each revolution.
Josiah winced as a bright spark sprang into the gloom of the dim mill. “Isn’t that why you keep the powder wet?”
“Yes, but it will still burn if it gets hot enough.” A few more twists of the shaft produced more sparks. “We can’t use metal here. It’s too dangerous. For sieving the separate ingredients it won’t be too bad, but here with the mixed powder—I won’t take that risk.”
In dismay, Josiah studied the meticulously fashioned sieves, their grids of holes in neatly graduated sizes. “But what can we use instead?”
Meira shrugged. “Wood, I guess.”
“Wood will have to be thicker to be strong enough. The holes will clog up.” Maybe they could reinforce a really thin layer of wood with wire. But there would still be the risk of sparks, and it might crack…
Meira scowled. “There may be no perfect solution.”
“I’ll think about it,” Josiah promised. “Until we come up with something better, we’ll just have to be absolutely sure these stay aligned correctly. Maybe I can put in some sort of stopper that will keep them from bumping into each other if they do shake loose.” He pictured a dozen different designs in rapid succession, discarding each in turn for some fatal flaw.
“And we won’t use all three ingredients together until we solve the problem. We can run the tests tomorrow with just sulfur and saltpeter. Without the charcoal they won’t even smolder, no matter how many sparks hit them.”
“But—” Josiah quashed his disappointment. He didn’t want to see the mill blow up any more than Meira did. “All right.”
His steps dragged as they walked back towards Korisan. He’d been so eager to produce some blasting powder. Now it might be days before they figured out a solution and Meira agreed to test the entire process. He worried at the problem all the way back, approaching it from every direction, trying to figure out a solution, but he wasn’t able to come up with anything he thought would work.
In Korisan their group broke up. Meira headed to the Mother’s Hall to pick up Ravid. Josiah patted Sar and sent the donkey off with her as they’d arranged. His familiar was thoroughly bored after two days of hanging around outside the mill grazing. Better to let him socialize with the other familiars for a while and then go to bed early than to ask him to suffer through more waiting around where he wasn’t needed.
The builders scattered toward their homes or the plaza. He wished he could join everyone there for the evening meal the way he had the day before. But instead he headed down a very familiar road that somehow managed to look exactly the way he remembered it and completely different at the same time.
It had only been a little more than two years since he’d been here. Why couldn’t he remember if that building had been there before he left or not? Maybe they’d just painted it. And he was almost sure the fountain at the corner had been bigger. But why would they replace it with a smaller one? The carvings looked the same. He scooped up a mouthful of water in cupped hands. At least it still tasted like home.
He turned onto Potter’s Street. A strange aching sensation hit his throat and gut as he spotted his family’s shop. His steps slowed for a moment. Then he shook his head hard, strode to the door, and pushed through.
Instead of the shelves full of pottery he expected, the front room was crammed with pallets and packs, toys and tools, clothes and clutter. The potter’s wheel behind the counter had a pair of damp breeches draped over it, drying. More wet clothes hung from a line strung across a corner. There was a strong smell of too many bodies in too small a space.
Oh. His family must be hosting some of the refugees who’d fled Elathir, or maybe some of the volunteers who’d responded to Elkan’s summons. But at the moment the room was empty of people. They must have gone down to the plaza. At least Mother wouldn’t be cranky from having to feed them all. She’d always said she’d have apprenticed with the Cooks’ Guild if she wanted to spend her time working over a stove instead of at a wheel.
Cheerful voices came from the back room. Yellow lamplight spilled through the cracks around the door. Josiah swallowed and opened it.
“Josiah!” The girl who tackled him was a lot bigger than she had been, but her hug was just as enthusiastic. “What took you so long? We’ve been waiting forever to see you!”
He hugged Adina back, then pried himself loose. “I only got back to Korisan yesterday.”
“Yesterday morning, from what I heard,” his mother scolded, as she came to wrap her arms around him. “What was so important you couldn’t drop by for one minute to say hello?”
Josiah moved from her embrace to his father’s. “I’m sorry. But I guess you probably heard, I’m helping convert the fulling mill so it will make blasting powder.”
His father held him close for a moment, then released him and tousled his hair. “I want to hear all the details from someone who actually knows what they’re talking about. You wouldn’t believe the rumors that have been flying around. I certainly don’t believe most of them.”
Josiah moved on to hug Benta, Namir, and Eban in turn. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise. But it’s a very long story. Can we please eat while I’m talking?”
“Of course,” Benta laughed. She carried a big pot from the stove to the table. “Everything’s ready. We’ve just been waiting for you.”
“Congratulations,” Josiah said. “You shouldn’t let Mother make you cook now
that you’re a journeyman.”
“I don’t mind,” she protested. “Tirzah, where’d you go? Come say hello to your big brother.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t remember me,” Josiah said with a catch in his heart.
Benta stooped and pulled a big-eyed four-year-old from under the table. “Probably not, but that’s no excuse for bad manners. Tirzah, this is Josiah. Remember, we told you he was coming to visit today.”
Tirzah clung to her, stared at Josiah for a long moment, then buried her face in Benta’s side. “It’s all right,” Josiah said as Benta reprimanded her. “I guess she’s still as shy as she used to be.”
Mother shook her head in frustration. “I make sure she gets plenty of time to play with the neighbor children, but anyone she doesn’t know well sends her into a fit of clinginess.” She gathered Tirzah into her arms. “Sit down, everyone. Don’t let the soup get cold.”
The soup was hot and rich and hearty. Josiah ate three bowls between recounting everything he’d done since leaving home. They knew some of it from the occasional letters he’d written, and more from the regular reports Elkan had sent, but they were eager to hear it in person and were full of questions. He especially relished how their eyes got big and their expressions awestruck as he described the exotic sights of Ramunna.
He finished with a rousing description of the battle for Elathir, the destructive force of the Armada’s weapon, and his realization that Tevenar already possessed its secret. “We’re almost ready to start grinding the powder, and the Smiths’ Guild said they’d have the first weapon ready to test in less than a month. They’re having to build special equipment because they don’t usually make anything so big, but if it works, they can cast the rest much more quickly. Then we can drive the Ramunnans out of Elathir and send them running back to Ramunna.”
“And that will be the end of it?” his father asked. “The war will be over, and things will go back to the way they’ve always been?”
“I guess.” Elkan had asked him not to talk about what Vigorre had told them. All the Dualists were going to pile into their trading ships and cross the ocean to take over Tevenar, expecting to find it in chaos after the Armada first conquered and then deserted it. They’d be relatively easy to deal with, because Vigorre had been certain they didn’t have the secret weapon. Probably it would never happen, anyway. When the Armada went back to Ramunna they’d report that the Tevenarans were far stronger than they’d anticipated, and the Dualists would abandon their plan.
But even so, things would never really go back to the way they had been. The Law of Isolation was abolished, the boundary stones were no longer a barrier, and Tevenar’s existence was known to the rest of the world. The Ravanethans would still crave the Mother’s power, and the wizards would still be obligated to find some way to bring it to them. Those who hated and feared the Mother’s power would still oppose them. This war might be only the first of many.
He gave Father a bright smile to cover up his doubts and changed the subject. “So what’s been happening while I’ve been gone?”
They were eager to fill him in. The events they described were far less momentous than what he’d experienced, but for his family they were just as important. Benta’s trialwork had been acclaimed as the best Korisan’s Potters’ Guild had seen in years. She’d received offers from masters in Elathir who wanted her to come work with them, but she’d declined, because she’d been talking with another journeyman potter down the street about opening their own shop. From the way she blushed when she said it, Josiah suspected it was more than just a business partnership they were considering.
Namir was developing a reputation as an excellent artist. A rival potter had accused him of stealing designs; they’d had to testify before the wizard’s court to prove Namir had originated the pattern and the other man had copied it. Namir was both outraged and flattered that a master potter had considered his work good enough to steal.
Eban was trying to decide which guild to apprentice with the following spring. He’d just gotten started on the customary visits with masters of every guild when Korisan had been inundated with people from all over Tevenar and normal business was disrupted. Josiah spent a while discussing his various options. Much like him, Eban was interested in everything. “And don’t forget, there’s a new guild getting started. You should come to the mill sometime and talk to Meira about the Blasters’ Guild. You could be a founding member.”
Eban’s eyes got big. Participating in the founding of a new guild was a great honor. “Really?”
Their mother cut in sharply. “I’m sure Master Meira is much too busy to worry about next year’s apprentices. You leave her alone. It’s bad enough I have one son messing around with dangerous exploding powders and huge new weapons without you getting involved, too.” She crossed her arms and huffed, but to Josiah’s astonishment he saw unshed tears glinting in her eyes.
“It’s all right,” he hastened to reassure her. “It’s not really that—” He swallowed. “I mean, Master Meira and Master Elkan are being very careful not to let anyone get hurt.”
His father’s voice was gruff. “I’m sure they are. But you’ve already fought in one battle, and more are coming. You can’t blame us for worrying.”
“I’ll be fine, I promise.” He knew as well as they did such a promise might be beyond his ability to keep. “And even if something does happen to me…”
His family had never been devout. They didn’t attend Restday services or visit the wizards for anything except serious illnesses or injuries. He doubted they’d understand what he wanted to tell them, but he had to try to explain.
Just in case.
“When I bonded with Sar, I saw the Mother. I talked to her, just like I’m talking to you now. I know she’s real. So I’m not afraid, and you don’t have to be either. I mean, we’re all going back to her sooner or later. It doesn’t really matter when…”
He trailed off at the blank look in his siblings’ eyes, the horrified denial in his father’s, the anger in his mother’s. “Don’t you dare think that way,” she said forcefully. “You’re reckless enough with good sensible fear keeping you in check. Don’t you dare pretend it doesn’t matter if you—”
She turned away with a choked sob. Josiah felt horrible. He stared at his empty bowl, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t make things worse.
After a long uncomfortable silence, Benta cleared her throat. “I bought a cake at the baker’s this afternoon. That one near the docks that was always your favorite, Josiah, remember? It’s got apples and raisins and pecans.”
“That sounds great,” Josiah said, at the same time his mother said, “What are you waiting for? Serve it up.” For a moment there was a babble of voices as everyone chimed in about how delicious they were certain the cake would be.
After a while the strained atmosphere eased. The cake was as good as anything he’d had at the Matriarch’s table. Tirza even smiled as she downed a big slice. Josiah took the opportunity to speak to her, being careful not to meet her gaze for more than a moment before flicking his eyes away. “Hey, Tirza, do you remember Sar? A little gray donkey? You really liked him last time he was here. If you want, I could bring him by to visit you.”
She blinked. “A donkey?” she said so softly Josiah could hardly hear her. “Could I ride him?”
“Sure. He pretends it annoys him, but secretly I think he enjoys it.”
“I’d like that.” She studied her plate intently.
“All right. Maybe on Restday. I’m going to be really busy until then.” That gave him an excuse to rise. “I have to get up before dawn tomorrow, so I’d better head back to the Hall.”
Everyone urged him to stay a little longer, but he persisted, and eventually he was hugging everyone again by the door. “Restday,” his mother said. “We’ll expect you for the midday meal. Invite your master, too, if you want.”
He might do that. Elkan needed rest more than any of them, and Josiah
doubted he’d get much if he lingered around the Hall, no matter what the Law said. “What about Tobi?” His family had met the mountain cat when they’d come to Elathir for the ceremony when he formally joined the Wizards’ Guild. “He can leave her at the Hall if you’d rather.”
“No, bring her.” Mother swallowed. “We’ll be glad to welcome her.”
She’d probably buy Tobi the biggest cut of meat the butcher had, just to prove she wasn’t intimidated by the huge predator. “All right.” He put his hand on the door.
“Wait a moment.” Mother furrowed her brow. “I just remembered. Someone came by asking about you a few months ago. An apprentice basketmaker, if I remember right. She’d just come to Korisan from some little town up in the mountains. Her name was… Lirah? No, Le-something…”
“Ledah,” Josiah supplied. He flushed hot, and not just his face. “I met her in Darilla, not long after I left here with Elkan. She said she wanted to come to Korisan, so I told her where to find you.”
“That’s right. She left a message for you. Now, where did I put it? Nothing is where it belongs since our guests moved in.” She rummaged among papers on a shelf, then others in a cabinet.
Josiah remembered a sunny spring day by a waterfall, and Ledah’s warm hand on his. He’d kissed three girls in his life. She’d been the first. He didn’t think he’d meant much to her, just a pleasant diversion from the tedium of small town life. And as much as he’d enjoyed the things she’d taught him, he’d never cared about her the way he did Nirel and Kevessa. But she’d remembered what he’d told her about his parents and taken the time to seek them out, looking for him.
Nirel and Kevessa were both half a world away. Nirel had conclusively rejected him. His chances of ever seeing Kevessa again were slim. And he hadn’t promised her anything, nor she him.
The Wizards' War Page 23
