Hessarran exchanged glances with the men around him. He dropped his hand the rest of the way and lowered his voice. “There might be.”
“How?” Excitement raised Tenorran’s voice.
One of the men holding him cuffed the side of his head. His vision blurred and his ears rang. Dimly he heard Hessarran say, “You’ll see. Until then, you’re our prisoner. Tie him up. After we turn you over, Benarre can put you in irons until we get back to Ramunna. You’ll get your wish to stand before the Matriarch. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
The soldiers trussed Tenorran securely and stuffed him into a tiny tent. He curled on his side, cheek pressed into the coarse grass. Shots from the Tevenaran’s weapon rang out at regular intervals.
He’d succeeded in buying himself a few more weeks or months of life. But in the end his fate would depend on his mother’s mercy.
Unfortunately, he’d never seen evidence that she had any.
* * *
Meira surveyed the scraps of fluttering cloth that peppered the field. Ten blue flags marked the places where balls propelled by blasting powder from the new mill had fallen. Among them danced three red flags indicating shots using the Ramunnan’s powder. Some of the balls had traveled a bit farther, some had fallen short, but overall the range varied by less than fifty feet. The red flags dotted the middle of the field of blue, farther than the shortest blue shot, but nearer than the longest.
Elkan nodded. “I’d say that’s pretty conclusive. Your blasting powder matches the Ramunnans’. The grooves must make the difference.”
“Looks like it.” Meira fought a silly grin. They still had to cut the grooves and test them; it was possible their weapon’s range might still fall short when they did. But she savored the confirmation that her blasting powder wasn’t at fault.
Elkan grinned back and gave her shoulders a quick hug. “I’m not surprised. Let’s go give Josiah’s sketches to the smiths.” He beckoned to his apprentice. “Josiah, collect the flags and come with us in case they have any questions. Josiah!”
“What?” Josiah, who’d been staring into the distance, blinked and shook his head. “Yes, master. Right away.” He hurried to the nearest flag, but after the third one his steps slowed and his gaze wandered.
Elkan shook his head. “Follow us when you’re finished.” He struck off toward the smithy.
Meira fell in beside him. “He seems to be doing all right. Just a bit more distractible than usual.”
“A brush with death will do that to you.” Elkan looked similarly distant for a moment.
Meira strove to keep her tone light. “Sounds like you speak from experience.”
He shrugged. “Actually, yes.”
Meira’s heart stuttered at the thought of losing him, but she tried not to let it show. “When?”
He kept his gaze fixed forward. “A few times. I never told anyone, but I suffered a pretty severe head wound when the mine collapsed. It might have killed me if Sar hadn’t been there to heal it.”
The memory of that horrible day made Meira shudder. “I never guessed.” He’d been so strong and sure and gentle, acting with calm authority to sort out the wounded in order to make the most efficient use of the Mother’s power and the wizards’ limited energy. He’d passed over her broken leg because she wasn’t in danger of dying, going on to heal the many who were. Then, when he’d been stumbling with weariness, he’d come back and poured out the last dregs of his strength to ease the pain of her injury. She’d already known she loved him, but his actions that day had crystallized her decision to tell him how she felt.
He raised a hand to rub the back of his head. Meira wondered if his hair concealed a scar. “I was struck near the same spot right before we left for Ramunna. Tharan—the Ramunnan who killed Master Dabiel—clobbered me with a board. Tobi was inexperienced and made things worse at first, until Josiah and Sar helped her, and Kevessa and Nina.”
Meira longed to wrap her arms around him and comfort him. But she didn’t want to break this rare confessional mood. Elkan was so seldom willing to confide his private feelings to anyone. “Any other close calls?”
He was silent. His hand dropped to Tobi’s head and scratched around her ears. Just when Meira had decided he wasn’t going to answer, he spoke, his voice so soft she had to strain to hear. “I offered to burn myself out. During the flood. I was at the end of my energy, and people were dying, there were more than fifty about to be swept away.” He swallowed. “You always wonder. Or at least, I do. When your time will come, where, how. I knew. I told Master Dabiel and Josiah that it was as if the Mother spoke to me. ‘Right here, right now, like this.’”
After a long silence, he shrugged. “But I was wrong. Sar broke our bond and bonded with Josiah. He had enough energy to block the water and survive.”
Meira reached for his hand and twined her fingers with his. “I’m very glad.”
He turned to her, gripping her hand so hard it hurt. “I almost left the Wizards’ Guild afterwards. Because of you. I seriously considered transferring to the Farmers’ Guild and going to Shalinthan to marry you. But I couldn’t, no matter how desperately I wanted to. I’m called to serve the Mother.”
Her throat was almost too tight to force the words out. “I know.”
“If I had, think what would have happened. Maybe no one would have gone to Ramunna, and we’d be in the middle of a famine right now. Or maybe someone else would have.” He gave a pained laugh. “Probably it couldn’t have turned out much worse than it did. But now here we are, and I’m caught in the middle of this disaster, trying to salvage some hope for the future.” He was quiet for a moment. “Meira, I think it’s very likely that in order to win this war, at some point I’m going to have to offer my life again. This time with no last-minute miracle to save me.”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “I’ll only do it if there’s no other way to save Tevenar and the Wizards’ Guild. But if I have to, I will. It’s bigger than my life, or yours, or Tobi’s or Sar’s or Josiah’s, or anyone’s. And I’m asking you, please, if it comes to that, don’t try to stop me.”
She stared at him, heart pounding. How could he ask her to promise that? She wanted to argue, to deny that the situation would ever arise.
But she knew that wasn’t true. This was war. Of course he risked death; it made little difference whether it came by a magical sacrifice or a Ramunnan sword. She, too, would willingly give her life for Tevenar’s sake if it became necessary. Any of them who went into battle might be called on to do the same.
She took a deep breath. “All right. On one condition. Promise me the same thing. If there’s some way I can turn the tide of battle, but it requires me to go into greater danger, take an awful risk, even if you’re terrified for me—let me do it.
His breath came fast and shallow for several minutes. Finally, in a choked voice he said, “That’s not going to happen.”
“It might. I’m going to be in charge of one of the weapons. I might need to take it into a position they’re firing on, or I might need to stay with it to keep it from being captured, or—” Her imagination failed, but she was sure there were a multitude of other possible scenarios that might put her at risk. “I don’t want you trying to protect me. Not at the expense of our victory. Or of putting others in greater jeopardy, either. We each bear our share of the danger. And if a sacrifice needs to be made, someone will make it. Whether that’s you, or me, or someone else. Whoever’s in the right place at the right time to make a difference. You have to command so that we have the best chance to win. Not to shield everyone else and only put yourself at risk.”
He pulled his hand away. Meira was afraid she’d pushed him too far, but she couldn’t be sorry. He needed to hear it, and there was no one else to tell him. They walked side by side in silence until they reached the smithy.
Apprentice and journeyman smiths labored to roll the weapon on its wooden carriage into the building. Elkan pulled her aside and they watched unti
l the big double doors swung shut.
He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I promise.” He extended his hand.
She clasped it, feeling as weary as if she’d just spent a full day swinging her pick. “Then I promise, too.”
Elkan’s fingers tightened on hers. “Meira…”
She turned to him, heart lifting with expectation. “Yes?” she said, breathless.
For a moment their eyes met. Then he closed his and turned away, dropping her hand. “Nothing.” He strode to the smithy door and opened it. “You’ve got Josiah’s sketches, don’t you?”
“Right here.” Burying her disappointment, Meira pulled the papers from her pouch and walked through the door.
* * *
Meira, I love you. Stand up with me. Make love to me. Let me make love to you. Now, before it’s too late. Forever, for the rest of our lives…
That’s what he’d wanted to say. Maybe that’s what he should have said. But when it came to the point, he couldn’t.
The rest of their lives wasn’t going to be anything close to forever. Not that it ever was, of course, but their lives were likely measured in weeks, not years. Hers as well as his.
She was absolutely right, of course. Thank the Mother she’d made him see it. Up till now all his thinking and planning about the battle ahead had been skewed to place himself at the center of danger. Everyone else, from the most skilled master to the clumsiest apprentice, must be protected, exposed to as little risk as possible. He’d treasured their lives like a miser treasured each gold coin among thousands. While he’d been as eager to spend his own as an apprentice with a surprise Sixthday bonus. Of course that would distort his thinking.
If the strategy that gave the best odds of winning required him to sacrifice many other lives while preserving his own, shouldn’t he use it? No one would thank him for saving their life while losing Tevenar. Meira wouldn’t.
He fought the blind unreasoning panic that rose to overwhelm him at the thought of her coming to harm. Meira was an adult. She had just as much right to choose to risk her life for Tevenar’s sake as he did. It was perfectly reasonable for her to demand the same respect for her decisions he asked of her. Only his emotions made the two sides of the equation seem so wildly unbalanced.
Meira bent over the drawing with the smith, discussing what tools and techniques would cut the necessary grooves most quickly and cleanly. She had the matter thoroughly in hand; his input wasn’t necessary. He murmured a farewell that she acknowledged with an absent wave and slipped out the door.
He collided with Josiah, who was reaching for the handle. Josiah shook his head and stepped back. “Sorry, master. I didn’t see you.”
“Maybe you should watch where you’re going.” Elkan immediately regretted his sharp words. He moderated his voice. “After you finish here, head to the Hall and spend the rest of the morning doing whatever Master Mebora needs. Tell her I’m meeting with Edniel to go over what happened during the battle and discuss any adjustments we need to make in the training procedures.” He swallowed. Smash it, he didn’t want to go on, but he’d considered his options carefully, and this was the only course that made sense. “After the midday meal, and every afternoon from now on, I want you and Sar to report to Master Edniel and train with the other wizards. I know I’ll never keep you out of the fighting. At least I can make sure you’re prepared.”
Josiah’s grin threatened to split his face. “Yes, sir!” He practically bounced through the door into the smithy. Sar flicked an annoyed ear as the door swung shut in his face, then wandered around the side of the building to graze.
Elkan wondered what had gotten into his apprentice. He’d expected Josiah to be happy about the assignment, but his reaction seemed excessive. He’d been in a strange mood all morning. Probably a reaction to yesterday’s narrow escape, like he’d told Meira. Although his apprentice didn’t seem disturbed, exactly. The expressions Elkan kept glimpsing when Josiah’s attention wandered suggested that whatever thoughts occupied him were pleasant ones.
Tobi butted her head under his hand. You really can’t smell it?
He blinked. What?
A wave of amused exasperation rolled over him. You humans really are scent-blind. It was obvious to me all the way across the Hall this morning.
What are you talking about?
He’s been enjoying himself with a female.
Elkan halted and stared at Tobi. I know he’s been spending time with Ledah, but I didn’t think…
The mountain cat twined around his legs. Yep.
You’re sure they weren’t just kissing?
Believe me, I can tell the difference.
Elkan swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. Josiah was so young. But plenty of apprentices his age explored the Mother’s creation together. It wasn’t a problem as long as everyone was responsible. He’d done his best to make sure Josiah was prepared. When his apprentice had started seeking out Ledah every spare moment, he’d observed the two of them carefully. Although Ledah was older and obviously more experienced, he hadn’t detected anything in their relationship to suggest she was taking advantage of him. But the trauma of yesterday’s attack might have pushed Josiah to seek comfort in something he wasn’t ready for. Although his dreamy expression and bouncy step suggested that at least it had been a good experience.
He certainly smells happy. You would, too, if you’d quit dithering around and give your female what she wants.
Elkan ignored Tobi and walked over to where Sar was tearing up big mouthfuls of grass. “Sar, did Josiah have you make him infertile?”
The donkey flicked his ears at Elkan and bobbed his head. Elkan sighed. At least there’d be no unexpected pregnancy to complicate matters. “You’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish, won’t you?”
Sar tilted his head and blinked at him.
Elkan laughed. “I know. That’s like asking you to keep him from breathing. But do the best you can, please? I will, too.”
Sar nodded again and leaned against Elkan. Elkan stroked his nose and scratched the base of his ears the way he’d done so often during the years the two of them had been bonded. He still missed the donkey’s wry voice in his head and the effortless way they’d worked together. He loved Tobi, too, but the bond he and Sar had shared had been special.
Uh-oh. Looks like trouble’s coming. Tobi sounded eager.
Elkan sighed and straightened, giving Sar a final pat. Whose complaint or request or brilliantly misguided idea would he have to deal with this time? Lately it seemed he couldn’t walk from the Hall to the camp or back without a dozen people stopping him, demanding to be heard. Tobi loped to his side, ready to charm or intimidate the petitioners as required.
A cluster of figures approached from the direction of the camp. Elkan stiffened as he recognized the tall man in the lead. Smash it. What does Father want?
He’d managed to avoid his father for the most part since his family had arrived. Master Edniel had put Adrel in charge of one of the groups of foot fighters, and his duties kept him busy. It didn’t surprise Elkan that Edniel reported he was one of her best commanders. His father had always possessed a natural authority that made people eager to follow his lead.
Elkan sucked in a deep breath and walked down the path to meet the delegation. As they drew close he identified the other five men and women as leaders of groups of foot fighters, also. There was Thia, a master farmer, from the third, and Manan, a journeyman watcher, from the first. And wasn’t that Sansine from the sixth? Edniel had been forced to promote her a few days ago when the former leader of the sixth had gotten into a brawl with a leader of one of the mounted groups. Luckily the foot fighters Elkan had summoned hadn’t been needed during the battle, so her leadership hadn’t been put to the test before she’d had a chance to solidify it. In fact, Elkan realized, these were the leaders of each of the six groups who’d gone out to do battle with the Ramunnans and returned home without drawing the
ir weapons.
“Elkan,” Adrel greeted him with a curt nod.
Elkan ignored the lack of title. “Father. Is there something you wish to discuss with me?”
Adrel gestured to his companions. “We need to talk about what happened during the battle yesterday. Those of us who lead the foot fighters aren’t happy with the way our folk were treated.” The other leaders nodded and murmured agreement.
Elkan caught his arm tensing to raise his hand to his hair and forced it to remain motionless at his side. “I’m happy to listen to whatever you have to say. Why don’t we go to the headquarters tent where we can sit down and discuss the matter?”
“There’s no need to discuss anything.” Adrel scowled. “All we want is your promise to stop favoring the mounted fighters.”
Elkan’s brow furrowed. “How have I favored them? They were at far more risk than the foot fighters. Everyone who was wounded came from the mounted groups.”
“Exactly.” Adrel pointed at Elkan. “We’ve been training for weeks to defend Tevenar. When word came we’d finally get to strike a blow against the Ramunnans, we were elated. But you put us at the rear. We walked for an hour, stood around doing nothing while others fought, and then walked an hour back. That’s no way to treat people who left their homes and work because you asked for our help. If we’re not needed, tell us so and we’ll leave. Otherwise, let us do what we came here to do.”
“Of course you’re needed.” Elkan spread his hands, wishing that Edniel were there to back him up. “I’m sorry you felt left out of the battle, but I had to use the strategy I thought would work best. Luckily the wizards and archers and mounted fighters were enough to stop the Ramunnan’s advance, but if they’d broken through, your groups would have been vital to stop them from reaching Korisan. You should be thanking the Mother you didn’t have to fight, not complaining.”
Angry glares answered his words. “Listen here,” Sansine said, pushing past Adrel. “We know very well the Wizards’ Guild has always favored the herders over the farmers. This is just more of the same. You can’t expect us to stand around while they take all the credit for saving Tevenar. When this is over they’ll use it to get even more concessions in their favor.”
The Wizards' War Page 39
