Forty-One
Vigorre tried to get Josiah’s attention. Josiah was telling them about the first time he’d seen blasting powder used, to excavate a mine, and the disastrous collapse that had followed. He’d been trapped far below ground, along with Elkan and a lot of miners. Their efforts had saved many lives, but not everyone.
“What exactly did he say about why he decided not to heal Master Noadiah? Was it just because it would take too much energy, or was the time required a factor, too?” The principles of triage both fascinated and horrified Vigorre. He’d only read the relevant portion of the Law once, and there was much he didn’t understand. When he’d seen Elkan employ it, after the sailworks fire in Ramunna, he’d still believed the wizard to be in the thrall of an evil demon. He hadn’t fully appreciated how difficult such coldly ruthless calculations must be for someone called to heal. Now that he might at any time be required to choose who Tharanirre healed and who she didn’t, he desperately wanted a more complete understanding of the subject.
But Josiah hadn’t even heard his question. He reached out with exaggerated drama, then snatched his hand back. “But it wasn’t a rock. It was a body.”
Kevessa gasped. “Oh, no!”
Josiah nodded gravely. There was remembered horror and grief in his expression, but also enjoyment of the reaction to his storytelling. “The light was too dim to see very well, but when I brushed the dust off his face, I recognized Nisi.”
“No,” Kevessa whispered. Josiah had vividly described the young miner apprentice he’d befriended. “That’s awful. You must have been so shocked.”
“I was. I almost passed out. But lots of other people were hurt, and Elkan needed my help, so I had to keep going.” He shrugged. “You know how it is.”
Kevessa nodded. She took Josiah’s hand, her voice rich with compassionate empathy. “I certainly do.”
Vigorre tried not to wince. In his opinion, using personal tragedy as a pretext to flirt was pretty tasteless, but Kevessa was eating it up. What Josiah was doing must not be as obvious to her. The emotions he was sharing were genuine enough, but it was clear to Vigorre that he’d deliberately brought them up to elicit exactly the reaction Kevessa was giving him. Perhaps he ought to warn her to be careful, but he doubted she’d listen. She’d been pining after Josiah ever since he left.
Who was he to give other people advice about romance, anyway? His one venture into love had been a fiasco from start to finish. Maybe he was overly sensitive to signs of manipulation because he’d been utterly blind to the way Nirel had manipulated him. Vigorre was sure Josiah wasn’t trying to seduce Kevessa with elaborate lies for nefarious political purposes. His interests seemed far more immediate and personal than that.
Josiah continued to spin his tale. Despite his misgivings, Vigorre listened with interest. Elkan had handled the situation skillfully, both the disaster and the controversy afterward. His years of training had prepared him to do so. Vigorre felt again how inadequate his own preparation was. So far he’d managed to blunder through without messing up too badly, but if he didn’t get some real training from an actual master wizard soon, his ignorance would eventually lead to mistakes that couldn’t be corrected.
The door of the stern cabin swung open. Josiah broke off mid-sentence as the messenger who’d returned a short time earlier emerged, closely followed by the Matriarch and Benarre. The messenger hurried back to his boat. Benarre went to the signal officer and rattled off instructions. The Matriarch headed straight for the cluster of wizards.
Vigorre put his hand on Nirre and stepped forward, positioning himself between her and the other wizards. “Your majesty?”
She surveyed them all, then nodded to Vigorre. “You’ll be pleased to know that Master Elkan and I have reached an agreement. I have abandoned my attempt to conquer Tevenar. He’ll help prepare the Armada to face the Marvannans. As a token of our goodwill, we’ll immediately exchange all prisoners taken in the recent conflict.”
“Thank the Mother,” Josiah blurted.
The Matriarch ignored him. “We’ll put in at the Elathir docks, where the exchange will take place. You, Josiah, will return to your master. And the three of you—” Her finger pointed. “Vigorre, Borlen, and Kevessa, will go to him also. He’s requested you, and considering what your recent actions indicate about your true loyalty, I think it wise to get you off my ship.”
Elation struck Vigorre. Far more quickly and easily than he’d anticipated he’d go to the Mother’s Hall, where in company with hundreds of other wizards he’d finally receive the training he needed.
Horror followed an instant later. “What about Tesi?”
The Matriarch smirked. “Master Elkan didn’t mention her. He specified only Ramunnan wizards. Which is fortunate, because I need one wizard to accelerate my pregnancy and make sure the birth goes smoothly and my daughter remains healthy.”
He wondered whether her spies had heard and understood what they’d said, or if she was just making an arrogant assumption about her child’s sex. But he was too upset to care. “You can’t do that. Master Elkan obviously meant all wizards. He’ll be furious when we tell him.” He should have squeezed his writing even tighter and told Elkan about Tesi in his message, but the paper had already been nearly illegible. He’d thought the news could wait until they arrived. “I won’t go unless Tesi comes with us.”
Tesi laid a hand on his arm. “I do not mind remaining here.”
He turned to her and grabbed her hands. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you behind.”
She nodded gravely. “Once Master Elkan learns that I have become a wizard, he will conduct further negotiations with the Matriarch. I am sure I will soon be able to come to the Mother’s Hall as well. And you will only remain there until it is time to return to Ramunna, in any case.”
Her good sense calmed the panic he felt at the thought of being separated from her. Of course it was for only a short time. Elkan would insist that she, too, come to the Hall to get the training all wizards needed. And the Matriarch would insist that all of them keep their promise to accompany her to Ramunna and help her defeat the Marvannans, no matter what Master Elkan had to say about it. They would only spend a brief time apart.
He squeezed her hands. “I guess you’re right.”
Her fingers returned the pressure, strong despite their dainty size. “I will—I’ll—be fine.”
“I know you will.” Dear Mother, when had she become so important to him? In the tight quarters of the ship they’d necessarily spent most of their time together, but when had that enforced closeness ceased to be something he endured and become something he treasured? “Be sure to keep practicing your Tevenaran. You’ll want to be able to talk to more than just Master Elkan and Josiah when you get to the Mother’s Hall.”
“I will.” She looked down at their clasped hands, her eyes dark and unreadable. She tugged, and he released his grip, but instead of pulling away she shaped his hands into a fold she’d never shown him before, then mirrored it with her own.
“What does it mean?” he asked, dropping his voice nearly to a whisper.
She didn’t look up. “Thus does one indicate that the person addressed is… dear to one.” She dropped her hands and stepped back. “Forgive me. I presume too much.”
“No.” He caught her hands and tucked them back into position, folding his own to match. He bowed the way she’d taught him, deep and formal. “You are dear to me, also. May I show you so in the Ramunnan manner?”
Finally she raised her eyes to meet his. “Yes,” she whispered.
He stepped forward and bent his head. He kept the kiss brief, mindful of the many eyes watching them, but even so the sweet warmth of her lips set his heart racing.
When he moved away her eyes were soft, but a playful smile danced around those lips. “Such expressions of affection are not entirely unknown in Giroda.”
If certain rumors he’d heard about Giroda could be believed, that was a drastic understat
ement. More and more he was learning that a sly, clever sense of humor lay beneath her demure appearance. He smiled back. “Perhaps you can instruct me further in the customs of your homeland when we reunite.”
“I would be pleased and honored,” she said, all dutiful deference. Her hands shifted subtly to yet another position he didn’t know. He thought about copying her, but something in her manner suggested she was teasing. He wondered exactly how much intimacy the gesture signified. More than he wanted to indicate without knowing exactly what he was agreeing to.
Her smile widened fractionally at his caution. He blinked as he dropped his hands and stepped back. How long would it be before they engaged in this sort of delightfully subtle banter again? “I’m going to miss you.”
Her playfulness fell away. “And I you.”
Vigorre turned to the other wizards with a determined smile. “I expect there are things we can do to help the exchange go smoothly.” He swiveled to face the Matriarch, who was regarding him and Tesi with an odd expression, both pleased and wary. “How can we help? Do you want us to fill the sails so we’ll reach the docks more quickly? Or are any of the Tevenaran prisoners wounded? Master Elkan will be happier with you if they receive attention before you turn them over.”
“And we can open windows so you can see that Elkan is keeping his end of the bargain,” Josiah added quickly. He flushed. “I mean, they can.”
“All those things would be helpful,” the Matriarch said. “Borlen and Kevessa, please consult the helmsman as to the most helpful wind. Tesi, accompany Commodore Benarre. He will escort you to any wounded Tevenaran prisoners.”
She turned to him. “Vigorre, as soon as we’re within range I want you to open a window. You will locate Tenorran and make sure he’s alive and unharmed.”
“Gladly, your majesty.” Vigorre hesitated. “Although I’m afraid I’m not familiar with your son’s appearance. Is there someone who knows him who can help me?”
Benarre said, “Lieutenant Mirlen is available, your majesty.”
The Matriarch stared across the waves at the buildings of Elathir. “He won’t be needed. I’ll guide your window myself.” Her voice was hard. “Once we find him, Tenorran won’t leave my sight.”
* * *
Tenorran stood at the end of the dock beside Elkan. He wasn’t bound, either by ropes or by strands of golden light, but two wizards stood behind him, hands on their familiars, watching his every move. Elkan had instructed them, right in front of Tenorran, to freeze him in place at the slightest suspicion he was trying to escape. Then he’d looked at Tenorran with the earnest kindness he hated so much. “I’m sure there’s no need for you to fear. I’ll explain to the Matriarch why you broke your oath, and how you always remained loyal to Ramunna. Even she won’t execute her own son on a technicality.”
How little he understood. Of course Tenorran’s mother would execute him if she felt doing so would benefit Ramunna. His death would demonstrate to all Secrets officers that nothing could save them from the consequences of breaking their oath. If the Secret were still a secret, he’d think her right to do so.
But the secret of the blasting powder was out for good. Dozens of people in Tevenar knew how to manufacture it. If Marvanna hadn’t learned of it yet, they soon would. Within a year or two every ship the Armada faced would be armed with their own weapon. And not just one, tucked away where no one could see it. Without the need to conceal how the weapons worked, ships could carry dozens openly on the deck. Every sailor and soldier and officer on board would be taught to crew them, not just a select few. In this new world, Tenorran’s death would serve no purpose. His mother never did anything without a purpose.
Tenorran’s hope rested on that fact, and on the trap he’d helped Benarre lay for the wizards. That above everything else proved his loyalty. She might or might not choose to use it, but it gave her the power to decide whether or not the Wizards’ Guild continued to exist. Only if they served Ramunna’s need would they survive.
Just like Tenorran.
A handful of wizards and their familiars lined the shore, stirring the air and shedding a dim gold radiance on river, docks, and land. In the soft light Tenorran could see the first of the Armada ships nosing toward the dock, pulled by a boat full of rowers. Upstream, a Tevenaran ship bumped against the dock, its crew throwing ropes to dockworkers who made them fast. For the last hour Tenorran had watched it and two others shuttle back and forth across the river, ferrying Tevenaran fighters and Ramunnan prisoners from the far side. This was the last load; the far bank was empty.
The workers extended a plank across to the ship. Tevenarans escorted the last few Ramunnan prisoners off and hustled them down the dock to join the throngs choking the shore and backing up into the surrounding streets.
A wizard with a ferret on her shoulder came across, followed by Sar, Josiah’s familiar. The donkey swiveled his ears forward and broke into a brisk trot. Elkan strode forward to meet him. The wizard knelt and threw his arms around the donkey’s neck, while Tobi offered a welcoming sniff. “Josiah’s safe,” Elkan said. “He’s with the Matriarch on one of those ships. You should be able to hear him soon.”
Sar’s ears flipped back and forth. He pressed his head into Elkan’s chest.
More Tevenarans were disembarking. One of the men standing near Tenorran, with Master Edniel and a number of other leaders, caught his breath and waved, shouting, “Sachiel!”
The man coming off the ship looked up, and a brilliant grin broke across his face. “Jaron!” He strode down the dock, hands outstretched. The other man hurried to meet him, and they embraced fiercely.
“Thank the Mother,” Jaron said. “I was worried sick about you.”
“You’ve been worried?” Sachiel said with a grin, but shadows in his eyes. “The fighting was over in an hour on our side. I had to sit and listen to the weapons firing and watch smoke going up all day. Never knowing what you were doing or if you were even—” He shook his head and pointed at a rent and stiff brown stain on Jaron’s tunic. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Jaron said quickly. “Just a little cut. A wizard healed it.”
Sachiel’s fingers probed the tear and the scar beneath, tracing its length. “Not so little,” he said, his voice cracking.
“I’m alive, you’re alive, and we’re together. That’s all that matters.” Jaron stilled Sachiel’s further protest with a kiss.
Tenorran clenched his fists, his heart racing, his face hot. Didn’t they realize anyone might see? Their feelings for each other were so obvious even a casual glance would perceive them. Such carelessness was understandable under the circumstances, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t end in disaster.
Maybe if he tried to escape he could distract people’s gazes long enough for the couple to break away from each other before anyone noticed. But that would draw attention to him. Someone might wonder why he’d acted just then. Might ask why he’d tried to protect two men he didn’t know, who’d fought against his people and probably killed many of them, who crewed the weapons whose existence might mean his death.
Frozen with fear and indecision, Tenorran did nothing. He watched with sick horror as Elkan rose from Sar’s side and walked toward Jaron and Sachiel. They pulled back from their kiss, gazing at each other with naked longing, oblivious to anything else.
Elkan cleared his throat as he approached. They turned to face him, smiling, their hands clasped. Elkan put his hand on Sachiel’s shoulder. “Good work this morning. Thank you.”
Sachiel shrugged. “I’m only sorry we didn’t take out more Ramunnans.”
“You did enough.” Elkan dropped his hand and stepped back. “I won’t keep you longer. I expect the two of you want to celebrate our victory.”
Jaron grinned at him. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”
Elkan’s smile faded a fraction. “I suppose.”
A stricken look replaced Jaron’s humor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Elkan cut him off with a curt wave. “I know.”
Sachiel looked from one to the other with round eyes. “Wait. Is Master Meira—”
“She’s fine.” Jaron took his arm firmly. “I’ll explain later. Let’s get out of the way so Master Elkan can get on with the prisoner exchange.” He hustled Sachiel down the dock. They passed Tenorran and skirted the crowd of prisoners and guards, disappearing into the gloom beyond the lighted area.
Elkan reached for Tobi and fondled her ears. Sar came up on his other side and he repeated the gesture with the donkey. He walked between the two animals back to his station beside Tenorran.
What he’d just seen was so impossible Tenorran couldn’t believe it. His mind flailed, grasping for some other explanation. Had he been tricked by the androgynous Tevenaran clothing, and one of the two was actually female? But no, they were both unmistakably male.
Elkan gave him a wry smile. “It won’t be long now.” He nodded to where workers were lashing the Nikenna into a berth. “Hopefully we can get this done without too much chaos, and you can be back with your mother before midnight.”
Tenorran had to learn more, but he didn’t dare risk being too obvious. “Those men you were talking to. Who are they?”
“Meira’s journeymen. They came with her from her mine and worked on the blasting powder and weapons with her. They each lead one of the weapon crews. Why do you ask?”
Tenorran swallowed and looked away. “No particular reason.”
Elkan turned to glance where they’d gone. “Thank the Mother they both survived the battle. Meira said they’ve been inseparable since they were apprentices, and stood up together the first Restday after they became journeymen.” His expression was rueful as he said this, but his voice remained warm. “If either had been killed, it would have destroyed the other.”
Tenorran nodded, unable to speak for the emotions churning through his body.
The Wizards' War Page 61
