They got the basket fixed in place. It proved highly satisfactory. The clumps of damp blasting powder broke up and sifted through the holes without the woven wicker flexing or distorting. Ledah immediately headed back to Master Fira’s shop to weave the rest of the set.
Josiah turned to tinkering with the mechanism he’d designed to spread the finished grains of powder on racks to dry. It wasn’t getting a thin enough layer. He was playing with a vague image of an entirely different setup he thought might work better, but it was so different from anything he’d ever seen he wasn’t sure it would be possible. But the grains of powder came out of the basket in such a perfectly even shower it seemed a shame for them to fall into a bin and have to be spread out all over again. He wanted to catch them on some sort of platform that moved under the sieves. Maybe a length of fabric, finely woven linen perhaps, stretched taut over rollers. Then they could rig up some sort of fan to blow through the thin cloth and dry the powder faster. Josiah doodled on a scrap of paper, trying to get his ideas into a more solid form before he took them to Meira and Master Rada.
When he finally showed them his sketch, they were more enthusiastic than he’d expected. The three of them worked over the paper for a while, marking it up with notes and alterations and scratched-out and re-drawn diagrams. Before they stopped work for the evening Master Rada sent for materials to build a working model the next day.
Sar walked beside Josiah toward Korisan. Josiah scratched around the donkey’s ears the way he liked. I know you’ve been bored silly doing nothing but grazing all day for weeks. Want to do something more exciting?
Sar’s ears went back and he eyed Josiah suspiciously. What?
Josiah shrugged. No matter what Elkan says, the only way we’re ever going to make our weapon match the Ramunnans’ is if I get the chance to study one. If we slip off tonight we can be in Elathir in two days. We can take as much time as we need to find a safe spot close enough to one of the ships for a window to reach, and still be back within a week.
Sar didn’t reply. He plodded ahead, eyes fixed stubbornly forward.
Josiah gulped. I know you don’t like it when I disobey Elkan, but I’m not planning to use the Mother’s power for anything against her will, or do anything to abuse my position as a wizard or undermine people’s trust in the Wizards’ Guild. So you don’t have any grounds to refuse to help me.
Sar still wouldn’t look at him. Correct.
Josiah quailed at his cold tone, but shrugged off apprehension. Sar would get over his annoyance. Josiah had set his will against his familiar’s before and won. This was too important to let the donkey control him in matters that should be his decision, not his familiar’s. Good. Be ready to sneak out of the Mother’s Hall as soon as everyone is asleep.
Twenty-One
Josiah chopped the last dead branch into manageable lengths and added them to the towering bundle on Sar’s back. He fastened the hatchet he’d salvaged from a deserted farm at the front. “There. The Ramunnans will never suspect you’re anything but a pack animal. And I bet people will be glad to get some firewood, with all their normal sources disrupted.”
I suspect they’ve found ways to manage.
They probably had. Josiah wasn’t sure how many people had volunteered to stay behind in Elathir to maintain the illusion the city was still fully inhabited, but he knew a lot of them had been members of the Laborers’ Guild. Elkan hadn’t wanted to leave those who remained without basic services like garbage removal, cleaning of streets and other public areas, and maintenance of the public baths. And of course the absence of those things would have alerted the Ramunnans that matters weren’t as they seemed. They were probably operating at a lower level of efficiency than usual, but hopefully that wasn’t obvious.
He presented himself for Sar’s inspection. “What do you think? Will I pass for a herder’s apprentice?”
The donkey eyed him up and down. You’re certainly dirty enough.
Josiah let the remark pass. Sar had mostly gotten over his fit of pique over Josiah’s disobedience, but every now and then he made some pointed comment that let Josiah know he hadn’t forgotten.
He studied his familiar. He was about to approve the donkey’s disguise, when the pale oval of the Mother’s fingerprint on Sar’s chest caught his eye. “Whoops. I don’t know whether the Ramunnans know about the Mother’s mark, but no use taking chances.” He went back to the muddy patch he’d used to smear his face and scooped up a dripping handful. Sar’s skin shuddered when he slapped it over the white patch and rubbed it around liberally. He surveyed his work, decided the single muddy spot stood out too much, and added more handfuls until most of Sar’s lower half was coated. “There. You look like you’ve been wading through a swamp. No one will ever suspect you’re a familiar.”
Sar flicked his ears, sending Josiah a wave of disgust. He set off toward Elathir with determined steps. Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible.
Josiah scrambled to grab the dangling lead rein attached to the crude rope halter he’d fashioned. Don’t forget to act like a normal donkey.
He regretted those words over the next few hours. Apparently Sar decided that any normal donkey would stubbornly resist every direction his handler tried to give him, balk with all four feet planted and refuse to go forward whenever the whim took him, and snatch at every blade of grass and leafy branch they passed. Josiah couldn’t even scold him, because it was such a convincing act. When they emerged from the woods into the outskirts of Elathir and started passing people, no one gave them a second glance.
There were a good number of people in the streets, even here on the far side of the Tarath, going about what seemed to be their normal business. The first time they passed an armed Ramunnan, standing on a corner watching everyone with suspicious eyes, Josiah had to force himself not to flinch. But the man ignored him. Soon Josiah had plenty of opportunity to practice acting nonchalant, because more Ramunnans stood guard at every intersection. For the most part the Tevenarans ignored the constant scrutiny, but every now and then Josiah saw one of them spit in the dirt a bit nearer one of the soldier’s feet than seemed strictly coincidental, or heard someone make a cutting remark that seemed designed to be overheard.
Why are the Ramunnans so wary? They act as if they expect a riot to start any minute. I thought Elkan told people to cooperate with them.
I don’t know. Sar blinked sleepy eyes at the soldier they were passing. Perhaps those he left here have devised a different strategy.
There was certainly more of an air of tension in the city than Josiah had expected. The enmity between the Tevenarans and the Ramunnans was almost palpable. Once, when someone slowed to pick up a dropped basket of fruit and the flow of traffic momentarily bunched up behind her, a Ramunnan soldier pushed into the midst of the backup, shouting threats. He dragged the woman out of the way with no regard for the apples rolling loose under people’s feet. Josiah pressed close to Sar and put a hand on his neck, but the Ramunnan only gave the woman a rough shake and spat a few insults between angry orders for the crowd to disperse. When the knot of people broke up, he released her and looked on as she gathered as many of her apples as were salvageable. Sar resisted Josiah’s efforts to drag him forward until the woman finished and stalked away, then yielded with a sudden lurch that sent Josiah stumbling and earned a contemptuous laugh from the soldier.
Something was definitely going on. He was nearly certain the woman had dropped her basket on purpose. What had he and Sar blundered into?
He led Sar toward the bridge. A Ramunnan soldier was stationed at the near end of the long wooden structure, examining each person before permitting them to cross. Occasionally he rummaged in a pack or made someone open a bundle and display its contents.
When Josiah and Sar reached the front of the line, the soldier’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t recognize you, boy. Where did you come from?”
Josiah gulped. He’d prepared a story, but he hadn’t expected to have to use
it. “My name’s Avan Herderkin Herder, sir. My family lives a ways upriver. We’ve been keeping to ourselves ever since we heard about what happened here. But we’re running low on supplies, and we heard that things had settled down and folks in the city were needing firewood just like they always have. So my master sent me to bring in a load and see if I could sell it the way I used to, and buy flour and fish and cloth and a few bottles of wine with what I earn.”
The soldier’s eyes raked over Josiah and Sar. Eventually he shrugged and waved them ahead. “Go on, boy. Just make sure you’re off the streets by sunset. No one’s allowed out while it’s dark.”
“I will, sir.” Josiah tugged at Sar’s halter. The donkey put up a token show of resistance before plodding after him, hooves landing with hollow thumps on the boards of the bridge.
Josiah tried to seem casual as he looked across the river to where the three long docks extended into the water a short way downstream. His stomach lurched. Where are the Ramunnan ships?
The docks were only sparsely occupied. All the vessels Josiah could see were familiar Tevenaran fishing boats. None of them had the three tall masts or high prow and stern of Armada ships.
Sar lifted his head to glance at the docks, then dropped it. They must have put out to sea.
Josiah scanned the horizon where the Tarath opened into the ocean. I don’t—oh. There. A cluster of masts stood silhouetted against the blue sky. His heart sank. They’re a lot more than a mile out.
I wonder why they’ve anchored them out there.
I don’t know, but it’s going to make our job a lot harder. Josiah tried to think what they could do. Probably he and Sar could sneak down to the beach without any trouble, but even if they found a place to hide where the glow of a window wouldn’t be visible, he was almost sure the ships were well out of range of any place on land. Which meant they’d have to find a boat they could use.
As they approached the far side of the bridge, Josiah got a better view of the docks. Look, Sar. A stretch along the seaward side of the third dock was scorched and blackened, ragged ends of beams sticking out where most of the boards had been ripped away. That must be why. Someone managed to set off the blasting powder and blow up one of the Armada ships.
Savir and Music?
Maybe. Although they’re only supposed to be spying. And wouldn’t he have reported it?
He probably did. Elkan doesn’t tell us everything.
True. Josiah wondered what else had been in the reports from Savir. What if they’d inadvertently blundered into a far more volatile situation than they’d expected? Maybe Elkan’s assertion that this venture would be too dangerous had been based on more information than he’d shared. Maybe he’d known the ships were being kept out of range. He could have said that, though.
But Josiah knew it wouldn’t have deterred him from trying, at least not for long. He could think of too many possible ways to accomplish his mission despite this setback. But he would have liked more time to plan.
Another Ramunnan guarded the south side of the bridge. He, too, demanded an explanation for Josiah’s presence, and Josiah gave him the same story. The Ramunnan scowled at Sar’s load. “That’s poor quality wood. But take it to headquarters anyway.” He pointed to where the Mother’s Hall was visible over the roofs of the shorter buildings. “A word of warning, since you don’t know how we do things. Take whatever price they give you and be glad of it. If you make a fuss, you’ll regret it.”
Josiah had intended to avoid the Mother’s Hall. He hated to think of the Ramunnans using the space where wizards had served the Mother for centuries as a base for oppressing the people left in Elathir and plotting the conquest of the rest of Tevenar. But with the soldier watching him, he had little choice but to head that way. He considered veering toward the market once they were out of sight, but there was always a chance the soldier might say something when he got back to the Hall. If they really were short on firewood, it might be noticed if he never showed up.
While they’d been gone on their voyage to Ramunna the Builders’ Guild had finished reconstructing the dam and gotten the fountains working again. The one in the square in front of the Mother’s Hall played merrily, its cheerful splashing reminding Josiah forcefully of the day he’d first arrived in Elathir, not much more than a year ago. He’d been in awe at the size of Elathir, happy to see the end of his and Elkan’s year-long journey around Tevenar, but worried about his future. He’d had no idea he’d become a wizard himself only days later. And if someone had told his younger self about the events that would follow, he’d never have believed it. Sometimes he still had a hard time believing the things he’d seen and done.
He avoided the big double doors of the main entrance, instead leading Sar around to the kitchen door. He knocked. A rough-looking Ramunnan, wearing the clothes of a common sailor instead of an Armada officer’s uniform, opened the door. “What do you want?” he demanded in the heavily accented and old-fashioned sounding version of Tevenaran the Ramunnans called Ancient Marvannan.
“The soldier at the bridge told me you need firewood?” Josiah scuffed his feet and gestured at the sticks on Sar’s back. “It’s not very good, but it’s the best I could get with just a hatchet.”
The man gave the wood a scornful glance but swung the door open wider. He dug in a pouch at his waist and produced a few coins that he tossed to Josiah. “Bring it in. Put half in the rack by the kitchen stove and take the other half into the big room and fill up the bin by the main hearth.”
Josiah tugged on Sar’s rein. The donkey resisted for a moment before yielding and following him toward the door.
The man barked, “What do you think you’re doing?” He blocked Josiah’s way.
Confused, Josiah gaped at him. “What you told me to, sir.”
“I didn’t mean for you to bring the beast in here! This is a kitchen, not a barn! Unload him outside and carry the wood in yourself.”
“But the wizards always let their animals—”
“Do it! Unless you want me to take the money back and your firewood as well. The last thing I want is donkey droppings stinking up my kitchen.”
Josiah had no choice but to lead Sar to the side. There was a hitching post there for when merchants made deliveries in wagons pulled by ordinary horses. Josiah looped Sar’s lead rein loosely around it. I think you can pull free if you need to.
Don’t do anything to alert them, and I won’t need to. Sar drooped his head, for all the world like a lazy pack animal eager to snatch a nap.
Josiah carried armful after armful of sticks into the kitchen and piled them in the wrought iron rack next to the stove. When half the wood was transferred, the man curtly gestured toward the door that led into the main hall. “Go on in. Just be quiet. Commodore Benarre doesn’t like his meetings disrupted.”
Josiah caught his breath, but worked hard not to show anything on his face. Maybe he’d get the chance to overhear something important.
Despite the warmth of the sunny summer day, a small fire was burning in the main hearth. Near it stood one of the long tables that usually seated apprentices in the dining hall. Instead of benches, it was surrounded by the padded chairs from the masters’ round tables. At least thirty men in elaborate uniforms were seated in them. At the table’s head, Josiah recognized Commodore Benarre. Lieutenant Mirlen stood at his elbow.
Josiah moved as slowly as he thought he could get away with toward the hearth. A few men gave him idle glances; but they all dismissed him and turned their attention back to the meeting. He wondered why, with tensions so high in the city, they dared speak openly in front of someone who might carry information to those plotting against them.
When he got close enough to hear their words, he understood. They were speaking Ramunnan, which as far as they knew no one in Elathir could understand. But Gevan and Kevessa had taught Josiah and Elkan the language during their voyage to Ramunna. He’d spent weeks there speaking little else. His accent might not be perfect, but he ha
d no trouble making sense of the Armada officers’ words.
A man he didn’t recognize was speaking. “We all know he’s lying. I’m not disputing that. I’m just saying it’s too risky to send so many men out of the city right now. Rebellion could erupt at any moment.”
One of the other men slammed a fist on the table. “Why haven’t we rounded up their leaders yet? A few hangings would put an end to this nonsense.”
Josiah laid the sticks one by one in the bin. Commodore Benarre said grimly, “I agree, but whoever’s behind these outbreaks of violence has proven elusive. Efforts continue to locate him or them, but the language issue makes it difficult to infiltrate their organization. These folk are stubborn and willful. They’re used to lax, negligent leaders who never established even the most basic controls. They resist every effort to bring them into decent order.”
The other men nodded in frustrated agreement. As Josiah set the last stick in place and headed for the kitchen door, Commodore Benarre said, “Nevertheless, I think it’s vital we send out the reconnaissance expedition as planned. I’m convinced that—”
Much as he hated to miss a word, Josiah had to go through the door. He hurried outside, scrambled to collect another armful of sticks, and rushed back to the hall. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he slowed to a weary plod.
Benarre was still talking, or maybe talking again. “…found no trace of wizards, and everyone questioned denied they’d ever been there. We know more than two hundred of them lived here. There were two on every ship that faced us, most of whom made it back to shore alive. They went somewhere. We have to find them, or someday very soon they’re going to descend on us and try to take this city back.”
A chorus of voices responded. Josiah began setting sticks down. Benarre made a cutting motion. When silence fell, he pointed.
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