Josiah returned the embrace perfunctorily, not willing to let his master see just how comforting it was. “Yes, sir.”
Elkan stepped back and glowered at him. “I expect you to remember that in the future.” A shudder went through him, and he shook his head. He took a quick step to Sar and threw his arms around the donkey’s neck. “Thank you.”
Sar snorted gently and nosed his former bondmate. Josiah bit his lip and looked away, blinking. He studied the map until Elkan straightened and came to his side.
“How do you feel?” Elkan asked. “Are you handling it all right?”
“I told you, I’m fine.” Josiah swallowed. “It happened so fast. I didn’t even have time to be afraid.”
Elkan nodded, looking at Josiah’s scar. “The Mother’s power accelerated the healing of your body, but it can’t do the same for your emotions. Your physical wound is essentially months or even years old, but your feelings are fresh and raw. Don’t be surprised if it takes a long time for them to settle. I’ll try to remember, but sometimes that’s difficult with no blood or bandages visible. Remind me if I push you too hard. And come to me any time you need to talk.”
“Yes, sir.” Josiah would suffer through a dozen similar wounds before he’d admit weakness to Elkan, but he knew better than to protest.
“All right.” Elkan patted Josiah’s back and returned to his chair. “Is there anything else you need to tell us?”
Josiah pulled the rest of the blasting powder from Sar’s packs and gave it to Meira. “This is enough for three shots. I thought that would be enough.”
“It should be.” She gathered the sacks and rose. “We’ll try it first thing in the morning. If this powder gives the same distance as ours, I’ll have the smiths get to work on the grooves right away. It shouldn’t take them very long. Then we test again.”
“And then the smiths can start forging the rest of the weapons.” Josiah grinned. “That will take what, around two weeks? We can be ready to drive the Ramunnans out of Tevenar in less than a month.”
Elkan held up a cautionary hand, but he was smiling in return. “If everything goes according to plan. That hasn’t happened so far.”
“But we haven’t let it stop us.”
“No, we haven’t.” Elkan pointed at Josiah’s empty plate. “Go get another helping of roast beef and some of those good turnip greens. Have Sar speed up the formation of new blood as much as he can. Then go to bed. You can’t recover from something like this without plenty of rest.”
“Yes, sir!” It was always easy to obey when his master ordered him to eat. And tonight sleep would be welcome, too. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open.
* * *
Elkan maintained his composure until the door closed behind Josiah, then slumped in his seat and squeezed his eyes shut. Tobi crammed as much of herself as would fit onto his lap and snuggled her head under his chin. He put his arms around her neck, but even her warm, solid affection didn’t help much.
Smash it, could he do nothing right? How had he ever thought that trusting the Matriarch’s son was a good idea? Josiah had come within seconds of dying because of that mistake. He should have realized his headstrong, stubborn apprentice wouldn’t give up one of his impulsive schemes just because Elkan forbade it. Why hadn’t he set a guard on Josiah to keep him from running off to Elathir? After the success of that foolish venture, Josiah would be harder to control than ever. If Elkan tried to assign him a marginally safer role in the upcoming battle, he’d probably defy him again and find his way to the front lines.
Strong, gentle hands fell on his shoulders, kneading away knots of tension. He ought to protest, but Tobi’s weight kept him from pulling away, and his body was relaxing in response to the soothing touch. He sighed and dropped his forehead to rest against Tobi while Meira’s skillful fingers traveled over his neck and back.
At length she finished with a last long stroke and a quick pat. “Better?”
“Much.” He longed to take her in his arms, to show his gratitude for her kindness and generosity with his body, to return the massage as a prelude to more intimate touches. He knew he ought to reiterate how impossible any relationship between them was and ask her not to push the boundaries he’d established. But he did neither. When Tobi flowed out of his lap, he rose and clasped Meira’s hands, not attempting to hide the complexity of his emotions. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She squeezed his hands and released them. “Any time you need another, just ask. You’re under a lot of pressure, and it’s only going to get worse.”
“I’ll keep the offer in mind.” Not that he could accept. If he kept exposing himself to temptation, sooner or later his resistance would crumble. It was getting harder to remember the very good reasons why he should continue to reject her advances.
She quirked a grin at him. “You’ll think more clearly and make better decisions if you’re more relaxed. Consider it a contribution to the war effort.”
“You’re already doing far more than your share.” Elkan welcomed the opportunity to change the subject. “Do you think Josiah’s right? Will those grooves make our weapons match the Ramunnans’?”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Meira’s smile turned a little grim. “But yes, I think they probably will.”
“All right.” Elkan turned back to the map and moved the markers into position. “When the new weapons are finished, we’ll launch the attack, using Savir’s plan. The sooner this war is over, the better.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Meira said fervently.
When the war was over, he could stop sending people he cared about into danger. The folk of Tevenar could go home and resume their normal lives. He could go back to his real work, the work the Mother had called him to do. He could keep Meira safely at a distance, a friend and valued colleague.
And Ramunna, and Giroda, and Marvanna… he didn’t know how, but perhaps the Mother might still make it possible for her power to spread to those lands that needed it so desperately. He would continue to do what he could to help her. But his first priority had to be Tevenar. If the Wizards’ Guild survived here, hope would remain for the rest of the world, even if many more generations must pass before the Mother’s power was available to all her children. But if the Wizards’ Guild was destroyed, that hope would be lost forever.
He caressed Tobi’s head and gestured for Meira to precede him from the office. “You must be anxious to get back to Ravid. And I need to make sure to get plenty of sleep. I’ll meet you first thing in the morning to test the blasting powder Josiah brought. The same place we ran the previous test?”
“Yes. Good-night.” Meira hesitated at the door.
Kiss her, Tobi urged.
Elkan ignored his familiar. “Good-night.”
After another moment, Meira smiled ruefully and left.
* * *
Josiah rolled over on his pallet. Sar had fallen asleep immediately, but despite his exhaustion Josiah couldn’t settle. Every time he closed his eyes he felt the sharp jerk of Tenorran pulling his head back, the hot line of pain across his throat, the certainty that this sleep would have no waking.
He groaned and tried to find a comfortable position. If he didn’t get at least a little sleep, he’d be a wreck tomorrow. Across the barracks, someone was snoring. The late summer heat was smothering, and the pungent scent of human and animal bodies choked the air.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his breathing and relaxing his muscles the way Elkan had taught him. Gradually his thoughts grew hazy and drifted unfocused. He was slipping into darkness, deeper and deeper. The Mother reached out her hand to welcome him, but he slid from her grasp and sank further and further down. Blood poured from his open throat, and he gasped for breath in an airless void. He was dissolving into nothingness. Everything that was Josiah was breaking apart and crumbling into dust, scattering irretrievably into an eternity of oblivion.
He jerked upright, heart pounding, fear ra
cing through his veins and twisting his gut. He swallowed hard and lay back down. It was only a nightmare. He was alive. Tenorran was locked up, unable to harm him again.
He rubbed the thin ridge of scar tissue that started under one ear, ran across his thudding pulse, and ended over the hard lump of his larynx. That small slice had come close to ending his life. Soon he’d be going into battle again. Other Ramunnans would be turning swords and spears and arrows and flying balls of iron against him, eager to reclaim the life they’d been cheated of. What if everyone was wrong, and the Mother he’d met was as helpless against death as her power was. What if someday very soon he, Josiah, would cease to be, would vanish as if he’d never existed at all…
He rolled off the pallet and pulled his clothes on with jerky motions. He padded as quietly as he could through the Hall and outside. The cool night air and bright stars helped a little, but a vague heavy lump still weighed in his stomach and a formless dread caught at every breath.
He wandered aimlessly through the streets. Safe, familiar, homey Korisan was transformed by the darkness into a perilous maze, where danger might spring out at him from any alley, like the assassins that had attacked him in the Beggar’s Quarter. He’d escaped death then, too. How many times could he hope to dodge the predator’s pounce before it caught him and swallowed him whole?
He only understood where he was going when he came to a familiar door. It was far too late to disturb them, but he knocked anyway, quietly. If no one answered, he would go back to the Hall and try one more time to sleep.
He was about to give up when the door creaked open. Ledah blinked at him. She wore a loose, soft sleep tunic and her hair was disheveled. “Josiah?”
He reached for her, heart pounding with a sensation blessedly different than fear. “Please,” he said hoarsely, pulling her to him. “I need to feel alive.”
Her arms went around his neck. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want—” He dropped his head to kiss her, pouring out his desperate need for comfort and distraction. She responded willingly, though not with the complete abandon Josiah craved.
After a moment she pulled back. “Are you sure?” she asked, studying his face.
Josiah swallowed. “Yeah.”
“All right.” She beckoned him in. “I assume you took care of things? I go to the Hall every month, but I’m almost due for my next visit and things are so crazy I don’t know when they’ll have time for me.”
“Yeah.” Josiah’s face was hot and his pulse was hammering in his ears. He wasn’t thinking about death anymore. “I had Sar fix me up.”
“Good.” She took his hand. “My bedroom’s upstairs. Master Fira doesn’t mind if I have guests, as long as we’re quiet.” She pressed close and kissed him, this time holding nothing back. Long before Josiah was ready, she broke off, tugging him after her. “Come on. I promise you’ll forget whatever’s bothering you.”
Josiah went where she led him.
Twenty-Six
The door of Tenorran’s cell banged open. He rolled over on the narrow cot and pulled the thin blanket over his head.
“Get up,” a harsh voice ordered. “You’ve got one minute to get dressed.”
Tenorran didn’t budge. “No.”
The blanket yanked away. “Then you can go to the camp naked.”
Tenorran rolled back to glower at Ralshan. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are.” Ralshan threw the blanket on the ground, seized Tenorran’s shoulder, and hauled him upright. “I won’t waste watchers guarding you anymore. Master Edniel’s put the seventh group of foot fighters in charge of Ramunnan prisoners. I’m taking you to join your friends.”
“No!” Tenorran blurted, going cold. He groped for his breeches. “They think I betrayed Ramunna. They’ll kill me!”
“Not my problem.” Ralshan crossed his arms and tapped his foot as Tenorran scrambled into his clothes. As soon as he shoved his feet into his boots the master watcher grabbed his arm, drawing a long knife from his belt with his other hand. “Don’t give me trouble and you won’t get hurt.”
Tenorran fought to resist as the watcher shoved him toward the door. “I demand to speak to Master Elkan.”
“Master Elkan is much too busy to be bothered.” Ralshan propelled him out the door and down the hall. “I’m not giving you the opportunity to play him for a fool again. Wizards like to think everyone’s good at heart, but watchers know better.”
Tenorran continued to protest as Ralshan dragged him through the dark streets, but the watcher ignored him. His grip on Tenorran’s arm was like iron. When Tenorran tried to wrench away, the knife jabbed the small of his back. “Keep it up. I’d love an excuse to send you to face the Mother’s justice.”
Tenorran stopped struggling. He stumbled beside Ralshan past the last of Korisan’s buildings and through fields where people were beginning to emerge from rows of tents and gather around campfires. Far across the camp he glimpsed a group of people hauling the Tevenaran’s weapon out of the smithy. His heart plummeted. If the Secret powder Josiah had stolen performed comparably to their homemade blasting powder—and he had no reason to believe it wouldn’t—they’d rush to add the rifling grooves to their weapon and build more. In a matter of weeks they’d have an arsenal of weapons that matched the Armada’s Secret in range and destructive force. No one would believe they’d accomplished the feat entirely on their own. They’d be certain Tenorran had helped them.
Ralshan hauled Tenorran to the edge of the camp. A ring of armed Tevenarans encircled a cluster of campfires and tents. Armada soldiers in rumpled, dirty uniforms sat around the fires, watching their captors with sullen wariness. Ralshan addressed a watcher who seemed to be in charge of the guards. “I’ve got another prisoner for you.”
The other watcher eyed Tenorran with a frown. “Nobody told me there were more.”
“Just this one. He was captured earlier. We were keeping him in the jail, but Master Edniel wants all Ramunnans here now.”
The man grimaced. “All right.” He stepped to one side and gestured with his spear. “Go in.”
Tenorran considered trying to run, but it was hopeless. The guards were watching him intently. They might be farmers and craftsmen with only a few weeks of training, but they held their makeshift weapons competently, even the women. Some looked eager for a chance to use their new skills.
He drew himself up and summoned as much dignity as he could manage. With a cold nod to the watchers he strode through the ring of guards and approached the central fire of the prisoner’s camp.
The men around the fire rose as he approached. One in the uniform of an Armada commander stepped forward. Tenorran saluted. “Lieutenant Tenorran Fovarre, late of the Sinvanna, sir.”
The officer studied Tenorran with narrowed eyes, not returning the salute. “Commander Hessarran, of the Galla. Benarre said you’d been captured.” His gaze went to Tenorran’s bare wrist. “And that you’d failed to carry out a Secrets officer’s final duty.”
“I had a good reason—” Tenorran started.
Hessarran spat in the dirt at Tenorran’s feet. The men around him glowered at Tenorran with cold hostility. “There is no good reason.” He reached for his belt, cursing as his fingers brushed an empty sheath. “They took our weapons, but I suspect if you rush the perimeter, one of those peasants playing soldier would be pleased to do your job for you. Or are you still too much of a coward to fulfill your oath?”
Tenorran dropped his eyes, his face hot. “I swear, sir, I’m no coward. But—”
A familiar deep boom echoed across the camp. Hessarran jerked around, taking in the billowing cloud of black smoke that rose beyond the Tevenaran’s tents. His fists clenched. “You Mother-blasted worm. You gave them the Secret. You betrayed your country and your comrades and your sacred oath. You deserve to have your guts cut out and your skin flayed off and to be strung from the rigging for the crows to peck your
eyes out.” He breathed heavily for a moment, staring at Tenorran. “But since our resources are limited, we’ll have to improvise.” He gestured for the men flanking him to seize Tenorran and drew a fist back.
“Wait!” Tenorran cried. “You don’t have the authority to execute me. Secrets officers answer directly to the Matriarch.”
Hessarran sneered. “That’s right. Run crying to mama. Do you think she’ll spare you once she finds out what her baby boy’s done? You should know better than anyone how cruel she can be to those who fail her. You’ll beg for our gentle mercy before she’s through with you.”
“I don’t care.” Tenorran knew Hessarran was right. In her fury his mother would destroy him without a qualm, after extracting double and triple payment in pain for his betrayal. But he couldn’t think of any other way to stall for time. “I demand you turn me over to her for judgement. I have that right.”
Hessarran’s fist dropped a few inches. “In case you haven’t noticed, taking you to the Matriarch would be rather difficult at the moment.”
“Then hold me until you can.” Tenorran spread his hands. “I didn’t give the Tevenarans the Secret. They already had it. One of their miners discovered it and used it to blast rocks apart. They looked at our weapons with the Mother’s power and copied them. I tried to mislead them, and managed to delay them for a while, but now they’ve figured out how I lied. Before long they’re going to have weapons to match ours. We have to get word to Commander Benarre so he can plan accordingly.”
Hessarran let his fist fall another inch. “That’s the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard. You expect me to believe these backwoods peasants matched the accomplishment of the finest minds of the University? In weeks, not decades? That you’re a heroic double agent and not a filthy traitor?”
Another boom rolled across the field. Tenorran winced. “It doesn’t matter, does it? However they got it, they have the Secret, and they’re going to use it against us. Commander Benarre needs to know.” He looked around at the ring of guards and his shoulders sagged. “Although I guess there’s no way to get the information to him.”
The Wizards' War Page 38
