The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  “Might-have-beens?” he suggested.

  “I suppose.” Her fingers twitched into yet another position.

  Glad of the excuse to change the subject, he pointed at her hands. “Does that mean something? The way you always fold your hands when you speak to people?”

  She ducked her head. “Followers of the Great Sage value clarity in communication. We use the position of our hands to convey subtle differences in meaning, and to acknowledge the relative status of the one with whom we speak. For instance, this position”—she moved her fingers back to where they had been a moment before—“indicates an inferior offering a polite disagreement to a superior. While this one”—they shifted to what Vigorre recognized as the first she’d used—“means that the words uttered might be considered improper for a younger person to speak to an elder, but they are not intended to be disrespectful. And this”—again her hands moved—“shows very high regard from a person of lower status to one of higher.”

  Vigorre wasn’t sure, but he thought it was the position she’d used when she’d offered her sympathy for Nirre’s departure. “Wait,” he protested. “What’s all this about inferior and younger and lower status? Aren’t you older than me? I’m only eighteen.”

  “I have lived twenty-one summers. But age is only one factor when determining status. You are the leader of the wizards of Erovont, and thus I owe you my deference.”

  It took Vigorre a moment to remember that Erovont was the Girodan name for Ravanetha. “I’m not, really. No one formally appointed me leader. If anyone, Kevessa should be, since she’s been a wizard the longest.”

  “All of us look to you for guidance.” Her dark eyes rose to meet his for a moment before dropping again.

  He couldn’t argue with that. “Even if you do, I consider us all equals, with an equal voice in deciding what we do.” He folded his hands. “How do you show you’re talking to someone of the same status?”

  She demonstrated. He attempted to copy her, but apparently he didn’t get it quite right, because her lips curved up and she reached to adjust the position of his hands. Her fingers were pleasantly cool and impersonal as they tucked one of his thumbs under and coaxed the other to curve around it. “Thus.”

  He bowed his head and inclined his body the way he’d seen her do so often. “Thank you for instructing me.”

  Her smile grew a little wider. She folded her hands again and returned his bow. “You are most welcome.”

  Something playful in her movement caught his attention. He studied her hands, comparing them with his to make sure he was right. “Hey. You changed them. That’s back to inferior-to-superior again, isn’t it?”

  Her thick dark lashes swept over sparkling eyes. “My mistake.” She swiftly reversed the position of her thumbs.

  He raised his eyebrows and kept a sharp eye on her hands. “We are all apprentices in need of masters, doing the best we can with what the Mother has given us. None of us is superior or inferior to the others. Now you say it.”

  She was quiet for a teasing moment, watching to see if his alertness would falter so she could change her hands again. When it didn’t, she ducked her head. “I defer to your command. We are equals.”

  He laughed and released his hands, pointing at hers. “And don’t you forget it. I know what to watch for, now.”

  “Indeed, now I will be able to convey the full depth of my meaning to you, as I am accustomed to do with my fellow followers.” Her hands moved through a complex series of poses, so quick and subtle Vigorre was sure he’d never understand all of them, no matter how much she consented to teach him.

  He spread his hands in defeat. “All right. You’ve made your point.”

  She continued to move her fingers into new positions. “Truly, though, it would not be terribly difficult for you to learn. I would teach you, if you wish.” Her hands stilled for a moment, then resumed. “I would enjoy having someone who understood.”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be a very apt pupil, but I’d like to learn.” He tilted his head. “What can I teach you in return? Your Ramunnan is already very good, but do you know Ancient Marvannan? The Tevenarans speak a variant of it. You’ll need to learn it to communicate with them.”

  “Yes, please. I would very much like to learn Tevenaran.” For a moment her thumbs shifted to the position he now knew indicated inferiority, but at his pointed look she changed them back to that which symbolized equality.

  “Good. Why don’t we get started now, while Kevessa and Borlen are filling the sails?” He turned to lean back against the rail. “As long as I’m out here, people will assume Nirre is just off fishing.”

  “Mimi is napping in our cabin.” Tesi moved to mirror his position.

  “Is this right for one equal respectfully instructing another?” He folded his hands the way she’d taught him.

  She leaned over to move his little finger to a different place. “There.”

  “All right. The first thing you have to understand about Tevenaran is that they pronounce their r’s very strangely. Ancient Marvannan has short flipped r’s like Girodan, not the long rolled ones of Ramunnan. But in Tevenar they’ve become a growling sound in the back of the throat. Like this. ‘Elathirrrr.’”

  She attempted to copy him. It wasn’t bad for a first attempt. He corrected her, and after a few more tries she was doing quite well. They practiced on every Tevenaran “r” word he could think of.

  They moved on to vocabulary. Time passed swiftly. When the galley bell rang to announce the midday meal, Vigorre blinked. “Already?”

  Tesi looked at the sun high overhead. “Apparently so.”

  “Good. I’m hungry. I hope there’s some fruit from the island left.”

  “I think there is. But the meat is gone. Mimi will have to catch a rat or be content with fish.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Vigorre searched the sky for dark wings. “Nirre won’t care; she prefers—” He stopped, swallowing, as the empty sky forcefully reminded him of Nirre’s mission.

  Tesi put a hand on his arm. “She will eat well while she travels.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you will be reunited soon.”

  “But not too soon.” Vigorre silently recited a litany of protection, for Nirre, and Elkan and Josiah, and all the wizards, and all of Tevenar. It ran through his mind over and over as he went with Tesi to get their portions of the meal.

  Thirty-One

  Elkan set his plate down at his usual table, feeling better than he had since arriving back in Tevenar. For the first time in months he’d spent Restday actually resting. The long reverent quiet of the morning service had filled him with the peace of the Mother’s presence. In the afternoon he’d taken Tobi for a long hike through the meadows and woods around Korisan. The mountain cat had brought down a deer and stuffed herself. She was sleeping off the meal in a slanting patch of light next to the sundial in the center of the plaza. Elkan’s muscles were pleasantly tired from the exercise. He looked forward to retiring early and getting a good night’s sleep.

  “Mind if I join you?” Meira set her plate down across from him and seated herself, not waiting for an answer.

  He ought to demur. But the pleasure of her company was the only thing lacking to make this day perfect. And what could happen, in this very public place? Someone else would surely join them soon. Until then he could relax and enjoy pleasant conversation without worrying whether he was letting things go too far.

  So he smiled and nodded. “Not at all. Where’s Ravid?”

  She gestured at another table. “Zagan has him and Dobon. The boys spent the day playing by the river, and I didn’t have the heart to drag Ravid away. Apparently in the Mother’s Hall Dobon spends all his time tagging after the older boys while Ravid’s stuck with the babies.”

  “How are things going in the Hall? Do the extra people make a difference?”

  “It’s better, though it still gets chaotic at pick-up time. But it will do until things get back to normal.�
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  “Maybe that will be sooner than we thought.”

  Meira’s eyes widened. “Has there been news?”

  “No. But I’ve been talking with Hanion about the situation in Ramunna and what Vigorre told me before we left. I may have been too pessimistic about how long it would take for the Matriarch to recall the Armada. Hanion pointed out that the Purifiers and Faithful probably wouldn’t wait for word that Tevenar had been conquered before setting their plan in motion. If they assumed we’d be quickly defeated, they might have sent word to their agents in the Autarch’s court soon after we sailed. The messenger recalling the Armada to defend Ramunna could come anytime. I really think that if we hold out for a few more weeks, the Ramunnans could leave without us having to fight them.” He hardly dared hope for such an outcome, but Vigorre had been a Purifier, privy to all their secrets, until he’d seen the Mother’s truth and joined the wizards. Elkan had never doubted his account of their bargain with the Faithful and their plan to force the Armada’s recall. He’d only been sure the reprieve would come too late to save Tevenar from disaster.

  “That would be wonderful, if Hanion’s right.” Meira laughed ruefully. “Even if it means I needn’t have left my mine, after all.”

  “Oh, we’ll need the weapons, no matter what happens.” He couldn’t be sorry for calling her to Korisan. “The Faithful will show up eventually, expecting to move in and take over. With the weapons we’re strong enough they’ll realize fighting us is useless and agree to negotiate.”

  Meira’s forehead creased. “Negotiate what? From what you’ve told me there are far too many to make room for here. Would they agree to go back to Ramunna?”

  “Maybe. Although their situation was so bad I’d hate to insist, even if they were willing. Hanion and I have been discussing other solutions. Did you know that a group of Faithful came with Gurion Thricebound from Ravanet, a thousand years ago? There’s only a brief mention of them in the First History, but Gurion left other writings that give more detail. Luckily the Hall here has copies.” He clenched his fists, staring at his plate. “We couldn’t take the archives with us from Elathir. Savir says the Ramunnans have made the Hall their headquarters. The Mother only knows what they’ve done with the documents.”

  Meira put a hand over his fist. It opened under her warm touch. “They have no reason to destroy them.”

  “I hope not. I hope Savir’s been keeping them too busy to worry about old papers.” He shook his head. Meira didn’t withdraw her hand. He left his nestled under it, reaching with the other for the cold meat pie the cooks had prepared the day before so they, too, could take a day of rest. “He wasn’t happy we postponed the attack, but he reports that things are under control. His people have gone back to the sporadic disruptions they can keep up for weeks.”

  “So at the Council meeting tomorrow will you support Hanion if he wants another delay? It’s obvious Benarre lied about coming here.”

  “I don’t see any need for an immediate attack. They’re not getting any stronger, but we are. The fletchers have produced a full quiver of arrows for every archer and are working on reserves. Master Ularah tells me he’s got enough iron on the way from Remethera to forge another weapon, maybe two.”

  Meira sighed. “I suppose you’re right. The mill ground the last of the saltpeter yesterday, but more should arrive soon. I’ve sent for more sulfur as well. Although we have plenty of blasting powder already, even if we lose another wagonload or two.”

  “Good. Edniel’s got the fighters settled into a regular routine of drills. She says she can keep them ready for at least another month before they start losing their edge. Quarrels are still breaking out occasionally between the foot and mounted fighters, but she’s going to set up a series of competitions to put their rivalry to constructive use.”

  “That’s a good idea. It reminds me of the yearly contests between the gold and iron miners in Shalinthan. Whoever won got to—”

  A scream pierced the air. Meira broke off and gaped over Elkan’s head.

  Before he could twist around to look, beating wings thundered in his ears and a heavy weight landed on his shoulder. He flinched as talons dug into his flesh.

  Surprising as the bird’s sudden appearance was, it wasn’t without precedent. Elkan put up a hand to soothe the agitated creature, who continued to emit ear-splitting cries. “It’s all right,” he told Meira, although he doubted she could hear him. “It must be Mother-touched. I’ll get it calmed down and take it to the Hall.” He smiled as he stroked the smooth feathers. Maybe this was Sika’s destined partner. At Springtide it would bond with one of the new fourth-year apprentices. Its appearance proved that the Mother believed the Wizards’ Guild would continue. A delightful blessing at the end of a lovely day.

  He rose from his seat and crouched, urging the bird to step from his shoulder to the chair’s back. It complied willingly. Elkan straightened, taking in the lustrous golden-brown feathers broken only by a small white oval patch on its shoulder. “What a beauty you—”

  Recognition hit him like a punch in the gut. “Tharanirre?” The eagle had shared his room in the Matriarch’s palace. He couldn’t mistake her. “What in the Mother’s name are you doing here?”

  She bobbed her head and extended a leg. Numbly he reached to unbuckle the metal tube attached to it. “This is Vigorre’s familiar,” he told Meira, fighting to keep his voice steady. “She should be in Ramunna.”

  “Is that a message from him?”

  “It must be.” Elkan extracted a tightly rolled sheet of parchment and uncurled it. “Although she can’t have flown all the way across…” He trailed off as he scanned the cramped lines. For a moment hope sent his heart soaring. But as he read further, horror at the true import of the words snatched it down and lodged it like a cold lump of iron in his stomach. “Blast and burn it.” He swallowed and raced to the end of the message, then looked up, his eyes unfocused as he calculated times and distances. “If only we’d taken Elathir last week. But wait, maybe…” He screwed up his face, checking over his mental addition. “I think there might still be time. Barely, if we start immediately. I need to look at the map.” He spun and strode toward the Mother’s Hall, mind churning with possibilities.

  Meira yanked his elbow. “What does it say?”

  He blinked at her. She was half-running to keep up with his long strides, but he couldn’t slow down. “Vigorre and the rest of the Ramunnan wizards are on a ship with the Matriarch. When this was written two days ago, they’d just reached the southern coast of Tevenar. He estimated they would reach Elathir in five days. Which puts them there three days from now.”

  “To recall the Armada?” Meira brightened just as he had. But then her brow creased. “Why would she come in person?”

  “Because the Faithful’s plan worked too well. When Marvanna’s ships attacked the portion of the Armada left guarding Ramunna, they were armed with a new weapon that could set fire to the Armada ships.”

  “But aren’t they full of—Oh.” Meira’s tone echoed his horror.

  “Exactly. After enough were destroyed, the rest retreated. The Marvannans landed in Ramunna and took control. The wizards learned about an attempt to assassinate the Matriarch and stopped it. She escaped in a ship she had hidden, and took the four wizards with her.” The detail he’d missed before caught his attention. “Four. The Mother must have chosen another.” The swift spark of pleasure struck by that thought smothered in the turmoil of his frantic worry. “She rallied the remaining Armada ships, more than thirty of them. She’s bringing them here.”

  Meira’s steps faltered. “Dear Mother.”

  “Vigorre says she intends to make a base in Tevenar where she can repair and restock her ships, and ready them to return and drive the Marvannans out of Ramunna. He says she expects it to take months, probably all winter. She’ll launch the attack next spring.”

  “We can’t hold out in Korisan that long.”

  “No, we can’t.” Elkan shoved t
he door of the Hall open and held it for Meira. “And if the Matriarch docks in Elathir, we’ll never take the city. Her fleet will more than double the number of soldiers defending it. Our only chance is to get there first. Once we seize the city, we can line up our weapons on the shore and fire on any ship trying to land. Between them and wizards to explode any ship that gets through, I think we can hold her off. If we control Elathir.”

  “Three days, you said? That gives us two days to travel, and only one to fight.”

  “It will have to be enough.” Elkan burst into the office he’d ceded to Hanion. The Guildmaster jerked up from the papers he was studying, grabbing for Mavke. The bulldog leapt to his feet and snarled.

  Wizard and familiar relaxed when they recognized the intruder. “Dear Mother, Elkan, what is it? You gave us a fright.”

  Elkan thrust the roll of parchment at Hanion. “Read this. Vigorre’s familiar brought it. We have to launch the attack on Elathir now.”

  “Vigorre? The Ramunnan you told me about?”

  “Yes. Just read it. Please.” Elkan sank into one of the chairs facing the desk and forced himself to be still. A few precious minutes spent convincing Hanion could save hours later.

  Meira moved behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. Her strong fingers massaged his knotted muscles. He closed his eyes, unable either to reject her touch or to relax into it.

  The minutes stretched as Hanion read both sides of the parchment, then returned to the beginning and went over it again. Elkan stayed silent as long as he could. When the Guildmaster flipped the sheet over and started reading a third time, he could no longer contain himself. “If we work through the night to get ready and leave at first light, we can reach Elathir late the day after tomorrow.” The map he’d spent so many hours poring over lay among a jumble of other papers on Hanion’s desk. Elkan grabbed it, spread it out, and pointed to illustrate his words. “We’ll camp outside the city and attack at dawn. That gives us a whole day to drive the Ramunnans out. Even if the Matriarch’s fleet has perfect wind and makes better time than Vigorre expects, she can’t get there before that evening.” He traced the coast south of Elathir with his finger, reassured by its length.