The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  In a very careful, formal voice, Tesi said, “I am not sufficiently advanced in the Art to be allowed to teach it.”

  “You could show her a few of the most basic things, surely?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nirel said dully. “The Faithful would never allow one the Lord of Justice has cast out to serve them.”

  “Why not, when they let Nalini and the other Girodans?” Vigorre had lost his hostile look and sounded genuinely curious.

  “Those who never knew the truth cannot be expected to act according to it. Those who have studied the Lord’s Ordinances and committed to follow them are held to a higher standard.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Vigorre complained.

  Kevessa caught his eye and gave a tiny jerk of her head. In a light tone she said, “While it’s fascinating to learn more about each other’s beliefs, this sort of discussion is probably better conducted late at night, over wine and ale and maybe some soft music in the background. We all have a busy afternoon ahead of us, with the masters still out of action. Nirel, I can spare another hour or so to help you with the insulin, but then I’ve got to get back to the Hall.”

  “That should be plenty of time,” Nirel said, clearly grateful for the change of subject.

  “And maybe afterward you can work with the unbonded wizards on bandaging and all the other things you helped us with in Ramunna. We’re sending a lot more people than usual to them today. I’m sure they’d appreciate another set of skilled hands.”

  Cautiously Nirel nodded. “I suppose I could.”

  “In fact, I bet they’ll need you tomorrow, too, since we’ll probably have a backlog. So you really must stay in a guest room tonight. Master Elkan will insist.”

  Nirel looked away. “I’ll consider it.”

  Kevessa smiled at her, then flashed Vigorre a gloating look.

  He acknowledged her with a raised eyebrow, but his smile was strained. “If he wins the election.”

  Kevessa’s smile faded. “Yes. If.”

  Fifty-Five

  Elkan was sure the master cooks employed by the Wizards’ Guild had provided their usual excellent fare, but it seemed tasteless. All was not yet lost, but the council was at an impasse. A few of Hanion’s supporters had been so shocked by his tactics they’d switched to Elkan’s side immediately after the discussion resumed, but since then they’d remained deadlocked. Hanion’s remaining allies were too loyal to their friend to be swayed. And there were enough of them to prevent the consensus Elkan needed.

  Which meant his only hope was to persuade Hanion himself.

  He pondered what Dabiel had taught him about conflict resolution as he forced down the last few bites of his meal. Look through the other person’s eyes, she’d said. Think about how he feels, what he wants. Listen to what he says. Don’t think of him as an enemy, or even an opponent. The two of you have a mutual problem that needs a solution. Work together to find one that satisfies you both.

  He rose, went to set his plate and cup on the cart full of dirty dishes, and walked over to where Hanion was sitting. “Can we speak together privately, Hanion?”

  Hanion looked around. His friends were frowning and shaking their heads. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I have a few things I’d like to say to you. Will you listen?”

  Hanion narrowed his eyes. “Only if you’re going to tell me you concede.”

  Elkan took a deep breath. “I might. Depending on the outcome of our conversation.”

  Hanion glanced around at his supporters again. This time they gave him uncertain looks. He studied Elkan for a long moment, then rose. “Well, I can hardly pass up an opportunity like that. I’d suggest my office, but technically we’re not supposed to leave this room.”

  “A quiet corner will do.” Elkan headed toward the far side of the room from the door. A word to Todira set her briskly shooing people out of one corner. He snagged a chair and carried it into the abandoned space. Hanion did the same. Elkan waited until Hanion set his chair down and placed his at a ninety-degree angle to it. A collaborative position, not confrontational as face-to-face would have been.

  If Hanion noticed, he gave no indication. He sat, stretched his legs out in front of him, and draped one arm over the back of the chair. Relaxed and confident, taking ownership of the space. Mavke flopped at his feet.

  Elkan considered taking a similar position, but instead perched on the edge of his chair and leaned forward. He wanted Hanion at ease, unthreatened and unwary. Tobi rubbed her face against his, then settled into a crouch beside his chair, her eyes fixed on Hanion.

  Not so dangerous looking, please. Pretend there’s a nice shaft of sunlight and sprawl out like you’re taking a nap.

  She shot him a skeptical look. I hope you know what you’re doing.

  So do I.

  She lolled her tongue at him, then did as he’d asked, collapsing onto her side and splaying her long limbs every which way. She flung her head back in what was nearly a mockery of complete abandon. Good enough?

  Perfect. After a while, see if Mavke’s willing to get cozy.

  You have got to be joking.

  No, I mean it.

  She heaved a deep sigh. The things I do for you.

  Elkan shifted his attention to Hanion. “It’s hard to say this, but… thank you.”

  Hanion narrowed his eyes. “For what?”

  “For discovering what Josiah did.”

  Hanion tensed, but Elkan went on. “I had no idea. It might never have come to light if you hadn’t investigated.” He grimaced and rubbed his temple. “I tried so hard with him. He’s so clever and quick to understand, I thought he’d absorbed what I’d taught him, but I guess he never really did. He’s got a wizard’s heart, I truly believe he does, but he just wasn’t mature enough to resist temptation.”

  Hanion grunted. After a moment, he said, “It happens to the best of us.”

  “I knew you’d understand. It’s such a helpless feeling. What should I have done differently? How did I fail him? How could he imagine he’d get away with it? I want to go back and grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.”

  Hanion grimaced. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “You’re probably the only one who can. When Mathir was on trial, did you wish he’d been a little smarter, a little better at covering up what he’d done, so no one ever found out? Because I did. I was so angry that Josiah hadn’t made Rovia understand how important it was to keep the secret.” He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. “Except if he’d gotten away with it once, he would have done it again. And again. Worse every time, until in the end he was caught anyway, after doing far more damage. Better to put an end to it now, no matter how painful. The Mother is wiser than we are.”

  Hanion didn’t reply immediately, but Elkan could see empathy in his eyes, so he fell silent. Eventually Hanion said, “I still miss Mathir, sometimes.”

  Elkan nodded in quiet commiseration. They sat without speaking for a while. The rest of the room buzzed with conversation. Adherents of both sides mingled with the opposition, campaigning for their candidate.

  Hanion rubbed the back of his neck. “Will you concede, Elkan? You know this division isn’t what the Mother wants. It’s not good for the guild, and it’s not good for Tevenar.”

  “No, it’s not.” Elkan studied his feet. “Do you like being Guildmaster? Honestly, I mean. Not just what you think you ought to say.”

  Hanion actually thought about it for a few minutes. “I do,” he said, sounding almost surprised. “The other wizards respect me. That hasn’t always been the case.”

  Genuinely curious, Elkan asked, “Why not? If you don’t mind telling me.”

  The silence this time was longer. Finally Hanion said, “It was the hurricane. Back before your time.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about it.”

  “It was headed straight for Elathir. Dabiel asked for volunteers to go out on a ship and push it farther up the co
ast. We all knew what that would take.” He shifted in his chair and crossed his arms. “She called each of us into her office privately. I said no. I had my reasons, I thought they were good ones, but in the end it came down to fear. I didn’t want to die.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Dabiel was perfectly understanding. She expressed no disapproval whatsoever. I thought many people must have refused.” He closed his eyes. “Every other person the Mother named in my year was on that ship. Everyone I’d been an apprentice with. Along with many others. Thirty-one wizards and their familiars. I expect you know what happened.”

  “They burned themselves out.”

  “All of them. Every one.”

  “And they were successful. The hurricane missed Elathir.”

  “Twelve people died because they refused to heed our warnings. One ship tore loose and ran aground, destroying a couple buildings. When all of Elathir could have been swept away.” Hanion crossed his ankles, uncrossed them, crossed them again. “No one said a word. But everyone knew I hadn’t volunteered, or Dabiel would have sent me, too. For years afterward I felt it in every interaction, every look. They knew I was no true wizard. That I valued my own life over the people we serve.”

  Words of reassurance leapt to Elkan’s lips, but he forced himself not to speak them. He couldn’t say anything Hanion hadn’t said to himself many times over the years.

  “I worked twice as hard, tried twice as much, to prove them wrong. But I knew they were right.” He rubbed his brow. “My familiar at the time was a horse named Thunder. When he died ten years ago, I thought I’d retire, even though I was young for it. But then a herder brought Mavke to the Hall.” Hanion’s face softened as he looked down at his familiar. Mavke raised his head and panted, meeting his bondmate’s gaze with devotion. “He was only a puppy, barely weaned. He adopted me from the first day. I wanted to bond with him, but I didn’t want to face the Mother again. I was afraid of what she might say.”

  “What did she?”

  Hanion smiled ruefully. “That living can be harder than dying. That she valued my service and was glad I’d chosen to continue.”

  Elkan swallowed. “That’s more or less what she told me when I bonded with Tobi.” He rubbed the mountain cat’s shoulder with his foot. She purred without opening her eyes.

  “Things were better after that. Then last year, after Dabiel died… She named you, but it was so clear to me that ending the Law of Isolation would plunge Tevenar into chaos. I had to do whatever I could to stop you. And the other masters… they listened to me. They believed me. They came to a consensus in my favor. Even though everyone knew you had offered your life and only lived because the Mother loved you so much she bent the rules for you. But that didn’t matter. Because my years of service had earned their respect and honor and trust.”

  The danger of looking at things from another person’s point of view was that you came to understand why they felt and chose the way they did, and doubt whether your own feelings and choices were right. Elkan stared at the floor. “Maybe I should have listened when you asked me not to go to Ramunna.”

  Hanion laughed without humor. “The Mother had already rescinded the Law of Isolation at that point, so it wouldn’t have changed much. Didn’t you say the Matriarch intended to send the Armada to bring a wizard back by force if Gevan’s mission had failed?”

  “She did.” Elkan forced himself to remember why he was there, why he wanted to take the office of Guildmaster from Hanion. “She’s a dangerous foe. And nearly as dangerous an ally.”

  Hanion grimaced. “Every time I think I’ve gotten the best of her, later I find out she’s maneuvered me into doing exactly what she wanted. Last week the Smiths’ Guild complained that she was pressuring them to deliver the weapons she ordered sooner than they could complete them. I went to her and persuaded her to give them more time. I offered to extend her deadline for leaving Tevenar to accommodate the smiths. She was reluctant, but eventually agreed. Yesterday I learned that for weeks she’s been buying shares in farmers’ crops that won’t be harvested until well after the original deadline.”

  Elkan nodded in commiseration, concealing his wince. This was the third time Hanion had extended the deadline. The Matriarch’s ships continue to sit at anchor just offshore, her sailors and soldiers consuming food that should have gone to replenish Tevenar’s depleted stores. “She originally asked to spend the whole winter here. I wouldn’t be surprised if she pushes the deadline farther and farther out until she finally sails exactly when she always planned.”

  “I’d think she’d want to get back to Ramunna as soon as possible, especially now her daughter is born. Do you know she intends to take the child into battle with her? Thia keeps trying to persuade her to leave her here until conditions in Ramunna are safe, but she’s adamant she won’t be parted from the child.”

  Elkan tried not to let his reaction show, but Hanion looked narrowly at him, then grimaced. “She’s doing it again, isn’t she?”

  Elkan spread his hands. “When she let me take Tesi, she made me promise to allow Tenorran and Adrenna to stay in Tevenar if I became Guildmaster.”

  Hanion shook his head and laughed. “That woman’s plots are more tangled than an apprentice spinner’s first skein.”

  “She’s probably planning to ask for some other concession in exchange for letting you persuade her.”

  “Poor child, being used as a stone in her mother’s game. I’ll grant it, if I can, so she’ll be safe here. Maybe if we’re lucky the Autarch’s fleet will defeat the Armada and we won’t have to deal with Verinna any more.” His brow furrowed and he studied Elkan. “Do you really think you can get those two to talk to each other, or was that only a ploy to win support?”

  “I think I can. Josiah suggested it. I don’t know whether I can mediate a peace between them, but I have some ideas. I truly believe it’s Tevenar’s best hope for the future.”

  Hanion looked down at his hands, then at Mavke. The bulldog came eagerly to be petted. Hanion scratched around his ears for a while before turning his attention back to Elkan. “You’ve given up the idea of reinstating isolation?”

  “I’m still going to ask the Mother if she will, but I expect her to refuse. She’s made it pretty clear she wants wizards in Ramunna and the rest of the world.”

  Hanion sighed. “It’s a beautiful dream. I just hope she hasn’t overestimated our ability to make it happen.”

  All Elkan could do was silently nod.

  They were both quiet for a while. Hanion looked around the room. Elkan followed his gaze. Many of the masters had returned their chairs to the circular formation and settled in place, petting their familiars and casting occasional anxious glances toward their corner.

  “If I prevail, three-quarters of the guild is going to be unhappy.” Hanion wouldn’t quite meet Elkan’s eyes.

  Elkan carefully said, “They’ll have to assent to a consensus in your favor for that to happen.”

  “Against their first inclinations. They really believe you’d do a better job leading the Guild. Any time I do something they don’t like, they’ll be grumbling about how you would have handled it better.” He gestured in the direction the dock lay, beyond the stone walls. “If the Matriarch betrays us again and Tevenar falls, it will be my fault. People will forever believe that you could have stopped it.”

  “They’d say the same thing about you, if I were to win.”

  “No, they wouldn’t.” Hanion rubbed his face. “They’d say you did your best, and no one could have done any better. Certainly not me.”

  He stared into the distance. Elkan held his breath.

  Finally, so softly Elkan almost didn’t hear, Hanion muttered, “And they’d probably be right.”

  Tobi didn’t twitch, but her voice crowed in Elkan’s mind. Ha! Even old pooper-scooper can’t deny the truth when it’s staring him in the face. You’ve got him now. Play this right and we’ll have time to get rid of a few more of Tane’s tumor
s before the evening meal.

  Hush! This is hard enough for him without your gloating.

  Oh, very well. I suppose you want me to get all friendly with Mavke.

  Please.

  When Elkan’s eyes focused again, Hanion was watching him. “I expect Tobi agrees. Enthusiastically.”

  Elkan shrugged helplessly. “She’s young.”

  Tobi rolled over to Mavke and began licking his head. The bulldog submitted to the grooming with a happy sigh and nestled against her side. “Look at them.” Hanion shook his head. “Traitor,” he said fondly, poking Mavke with his toe. Mavke grinned at him, then closed his eyes and relaxed under Tobi’s ministrations.

  Hanion straightened and turned to Elkan, his voice businesslike. “I want what’s best for Tevenar. I don’t want to go down in history as the Guildmaster who was so stubborn he lost everything the Mother had built over a thousand years.”

  “I want what’s best for Tevenar, too.” Elkan shivered. “And I certainly don’t want to be responsible for Tevenar’s downfall.”

  “Yes, well, I think you’ve probably got a better chance than I do of avoiding that fate. Unfortunately.” Hanion rubbed the back of his neck. “You won’t hold me to that stupid vow, will you? I won’t do this if it means losing Mavke.”

  “Of course not,” Elkan hastened to reassure him.

  “And you’ll promise to do everything in your power to bring the Matriarch and the Autarch to a settlement that keeps Tevenar independent? You won’t let them trick you into signing away our future?”

  “I don’t trust either of them, and I’m well aware they’ll both be trying to get the upper hand. I’ll do my best.”

  “All right.” Hanion grimaced and glanced toward the waiting masters.

  “Can I ask you to do something for me?” Elkan asked.

  Hanion eyed him warily. “What?”

  “I need someone I can trust to go to Jevtaran and sort out the mess between the farmers and herders there. I can’t do it, because I’m Farmerkin. But you don’t have ties to either guild. Master Nulam is ready to step down and let someone else lead their Hall. I can’t think of anyone better for the job.” Nulam supported Elkan, so he’d be agreeable. Hanion was tough and fair. The farmers and herders wouldn’t like being treated firmly after being allowed to get out of hand for so long, but they’d respect him and abide by his decisions.