The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  He looked at Tobi. She gazed back at him, yellow eyes bright and unblinking, ears pricked forward. The Mother’s fingerprint stood out in dark contrast against one translucent pink shell. What does the Mother say?

  That this is a matter for your free will.

  But the Law will allow you to execute them if that’s the decision we reach?

  Yes. I saw the evidence of their guilt in the window. They’re responsible for Sar’s death.

  He closed his eyes. The memory of Sar’s warm affectionate presence was so vivid. He couldn’t believe it was gone forever. I want them to suffer for what they did. I want them to die. He wanted it so badly it was all he could do not to jump down from the fountain and lock his hands around their throats.

  The rational part of his mind was shocked and horrified. He couldn’t believe he was capable of such murderous, vengeful rage. But the emotion was far too powerful to deny. I want to feel their bodies go limp and cold and empty when you kill them.

  Tobi’s mind met his with pure, compassionate acceptance. Of course you do.

  He buried his hands in her fur, struggling to regain control. Shame flooded him. I shouldn’t. A wizard shouldn’t hate people, shouldn’t want to kill.

  You’re only human.

  The people who loved him didn’t want him to act on his desire. They were afraid for him. They believed it would hurt him, damage him in ways that couldn’t be repaired.

  Josiah’s right. Killing Tane and Verinna won’t bring Sar back. It won’t make me grieve him less.

  No.

  He wanted it anyway, with fierce lust. He wanted to block out all sense and caution and plunge over the cliff. He fought to drag himself back from the brink. So what’s the point?

  They won’t be able to hurt anyone else.

  Gradually his racing heart slowed. No, but their deaths might do more harm than they will if they live.

  Maybe.

  He rubbed his face. His anger abated as other emotions competed for space in his heart. Giving it up hurt, but it was a relief, too. I feel like I’ll be betraying Sar if I don’t demand their deaths.

  Would he want you to?

  Elkan wanted to say yes, but he knew his former familiar would side firmly with Josiah and Meira. Probably not.

  Tobi licked his hand, her warm rough tongue rasping across his palm. I know I wouldn’t want you to, if it had been me who died. You don’t have to hurt yourself and Tevenar to prove that you loved him.

  Is that what he’d be doing? It was hard to think clearly with his emotions in such turmoil. He wanted to do what was right, but he couldn’t be sure what that was.

  So what should I do? He drew a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. I’m terrified that if I make the wrong choice, Tevenar will suffer because of my mistake.

  That might happen.

  He winced. You’re not much help.

  Her tongue lolled out. What would Verinna or Tane do if they stood in your place, and you in theirs?

  He choked out a humorless laugh. I’d be dead already.

  Well, that tells you something, doesn’t it?

  Her irreverence was helping him emerge from the storm into something approaching his normal clarity. He tried to match her light tone. Maybe it tells me that leaders have to be ruthless for their people to survive.

  Maybe. She twined her warm, solid body around his legs and pushed her head under his hand. Who do you want to be, Elkan? What kind of place do you want Tevenar to be? When you write the Tenth History, what do you want it to say?

  He swallowed. He didn’t want to be like the Matriarch or the Autarch. He didn’t want Tevenar to be like Ramunna or Marvanna. He wanted the Tenth History, like all the Histories before it, to tell how the people of Tevenar tried their best to seek and follow the Mother’s will.

  The Mother whose power allowed the wizards of Tevenar to heal, and help, and show truth. The Mother who loved all her children and wanted what was best for them. The Mother who’d called him, not because he was a strong, ruthless leader, but because he was willing to humble himself and allow her power to be used through him.

  Maybe he needed to humble himself now. Enough to admit he was wrong. To surrender his desire for revenge. To listen to the people who had the courage to oppose him. They wanted what was best for Tevenar and the Wizards’ Guild every bit as much as he did.

  He drew a deep, shuddering breath and looked over the crowd. “It seems there is no consensus to execute them. So let’s consider our alternatives. Since their guilt is clear, some sort of punishment is necessary.”

  “Exile,” Josiah said before anyone else could speak. He paused to pant for a few moments, then went on doggedly. “Like you were going to do with Tharan. On one of the islands in the archipelago.”

  Elkan’s first impulse was to dismiss the suggestion as ridiculous. But he’d learned to carefully consider Josiah’s impossible ideas. “Their people would search for them. Eventually they’d be found.”

  “It would take years. The archipelago is huge.” Josiah struggled to say more, but he couldn’t get the words out.

  Kevessa squeezed his hand, then straightened and spoke. “Have them sign a peace treaty. The terms you wanted. If it’s kept for five years, you’ll turn over a map showing where they are.”

  Gevan pushed through the crowd and came to stand beside his daughter. “Make access to insulin and any new medicines the wizards help create conditional on Marvanna and Ramunna leaving Tevenar at peace.”

  Elkan’s pulse quickened. Maybe this really could work. “Perhaps Tenorran could go back to Ramunna as regent for Adrenna, as he suggested. He’d be a strong ally. Tane’s son might be willing to cooperate if we assure him his father is safe and will be returned in due time.”

  Tenorran stepped forward. “Do as you’ve suggested with the Autarch. But allow my mother to return to Ramunna.” He raised his hand as Elkan opened his mouth to protest. “Keep me and Adrenna in Tevenar as hostages.”

  Elkan studied him, trying to discern his true motives. “Verinna would do as we wish in order to keep you safe?”

  “Not for me, but she would for Adrenna.”

  Tenorran was surely right about that. But Elkan grimaced. “I don’t like taking a child away from her mother.”

  “Just think,” Tenorran said. “She would grow up in Tevenar. Someday when she inherits the Matriarchy, she would see Ramunna as you do. She would understand why our home must be changed.” He took a deep breath. “If you let me raise her, I’ll make sure she does.”

  “Hmm.” Tenorran certainly had strong personal reasons to do as he was suggesting. The idea was tempting, but Elkan still had reservations. He jumped down from the fountain, went to Todira, and took Adrenna from her arms. He cradled the baby and looked into her face. Then he walked to where the Autarch and the Matriarch stood motionless and silent in bonds of golden light. “Well? What do you say? Can we reach terms that will allow the two of you to live?”

  He nodded to the wizards holding the captives, and they removed the Mother’s power from their mouths. Verinna licked her lips, glanced at Tane, and gazed longingly at Adrenna. “You won’t let me have her, whatever I say. Whether dead or in exile or returned to my throne, my daughter won’t be with me.”

  “I don’t see any way she can be. Unless you’re willing to renounce both your claim and Adrenna’s and allow Ramunna to remain part of Marvanna, with your cousin as Matriarch.”

  Verinna stared at her daughter for a long moment, then swallowed hard. “No.” She shuddered. “Let it be as my son said. He and Adrenna will remain in Tevenar as hostages. I’ll sign a treaty on Ramunna’s behalf which meets the conditions you described during our meetings. The Wizards’ Guild will come to Ramunna as you desire.” She raised her chin. “Although I do not believe you will harm Adrenna, no matter what I do.”

  Elkan laughed ruefully. He nodded to Verinna’s guard, and the gold light on her arms fell away. He handed Adrenna to her. “Of course not. But I ho
pe you’ll think twice before firing weapons at the city where your children live.”

  Adrenna clung to her mother, whimpering. Verinna opened her clothing and positioned her to nurse. “And I hope the wizards you send to Ramunna will be wise enough to support the ruler on whose good will they depend.”

  “As long as you allow them to do their work unhindered, they will.”

  Verinna sniffed and tossed her head. Her haughty gaze softened as she turned to Renarre. “What will you do?” Elkan detected a catch of fear in her voice, though she tried to hide it.

  Her husband looked from her to Adrenna, his expression torn. “I want to be with you, Verinna. But I want to be with our daughter, too.” He drew back a little. “I will, of course, do whatever my sovereign commands.”

  Verinna nodded and pressed her lips together. She looked down at Adrenna. “She’ll be safe with Tenorran. He’ll take good care of her.” She looked back up at Renarre. “I need you beside me.” One corner of her mouth tilted up. “There might still be time for us to have more children together.”

  “That won’t negate my responsibility to Adrenna.” Renarre stared at the nursing baby for a long time. Finally he turned to Elkan. “I’m a trader. Would it be possible for the treaty to specify that my ship be one of those allowed to trade between Ramunna and Tevenar?”

  Elkan searched for any danger in the request, but found none. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Very well. I’ll return to Ramunna with Verinna, but I’ll make regular voyages to Tevenar to monitor my daughter’s welfare and carry word of her back to her mother.” Renarre moved closer to Verinna.

  She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment before straightening. “Will you accept those terms?”

  Elkan nodded slowly. “I will.” He turned to the Autarch, who was watching silently. “What about you, Tane?”

  “A tropical island sounds like a pleasant place to spend a few years.” His voice was cool, with anger underneath. “My son will undoubtedly concede to your demands.”

  “Since you expect he will anyway, why don’t you go ahead and sign a treaty with the terms I described? It would help things go more smoothly. In exchange, we could offer supplies that would make your time in exile less onerous. We might even allow a few of your people to accompany you.”

  He gave Elkan a long, calculating stare. “I will consider it.”

  Elkan regarded them both. Was this really a good idea? He still hated the thought of them escaping so lightly.

  He turned and walked over to the table where Sar’s body lay. He dropped to his knees and laid his head against Sar’s cheek. Can you forgive me for not punishing them more harshly?

  Tobi snuggled against his side. Meira came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder.

  Warm peace settled over him. He breathed it in, letting its comfort sink into his bones. He could clearly picture Sar at the Mother’s side, swiveling one long ear forward and back, then dropping his head to tear up a mouthful of lush green grass.

  He let out a long sigh and climbed to his feet. Turning, his eyes met Josiah’s. His apprentice looked exhausted, pain and grief etched on his haggard face, but he smiled with a trace of the ebullience nothing could ever completely suppress. “I felt it too, master,” he whispered. “He approves.”

  Elkan nodded, his throat tight. “I know.”

  With a quick hug for Meira, he climbed back onto the fountain. “A new settlement has been proposed. The court will find Tane Voreen and Verinna Fovarre guilty and sentence them to exile from Tevenar. In exchange for their lives, they will make peace with Tevenar and allow the Wizards’ Guild to come to Marvanna and Ramunna.” He spelled out the rest of the terms as clearly and concisely as he could. “Who concurs in this decision?”

  The response this time was a great deal more enthusiastic than before. Tesi’s and Vigorre’s voices, Meira’s and Josiah’s, carried over the rumble of assent. The grim looks most of the wizards had worn were replaced by expressions of relief and joy. Some of the guildmasters looked disappointed, but most of them spoke firmly and decisively. The crowds beyond were loud and approving.

  Elkan swallowed. Executing Tane and Verinna had never been what the people of Tevenar truly wanted. They’d followed his lead because they trusted him to speak for the Mother. The sheer responsibility of being Guildmaster almost overwhelmed him.

  The noise took a long time to die down. When all was finally quiet, Elkan took a deep breath, pressed his hand into Tobi’s fur, and asked, “Does anyone object?”

  No one did.

  “The Mother sets her seal on this judgement. Watchers, take custody of the prisoners until they can be sent into exile. Verinna may nurse her child until other arrangements can be made. Master Rada, assemble a team and report to me at the doors of the Hall as soon as possible. Wizards, it may be several days before we can move back into the Hall. I ask the cooperation of everyone in Tevenar to provide places for them to stay until then.” Elkan thought about all the things that remained to be done and decided the rest could be addressed with the concerned parties individually. “Thank you all for your cooperation. This meeting of the Wizards’ Court is dismissed.”

  He climbed down to the sound of cheers. Meira gave him a hard hug. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair for one sweet, much-too-short moment. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to use our house for my office until we can get back into the Hall. It may be weeks; Rada was talking about installing a whole system of supports. And of course we have to take in as many wizards as we have room for.”

  “Josiah can have Ravid’s room and Ravid can move into ours for the duration. We can pack quite a few into the other rooms. All the tents we brought from Korisan have got to be somewhere, if beds can’t be found for everyone. I’ll check with Master Edniel.”

  “Please do. Kevessa and the others can help you move Josiah in.” He glanced at Josiah and winced. “See if you can get him to actually rest for a while.”

  Meira followed his gaze to where most of the guild’s apprentices were gathered around Josiah, listening raptly to his every wheezed word. “Don’t worry. He’s like Ravid when he’s overtired. The minute it’s quiet he’ll crash.”

  “I hope so.” He feared Josiah was going to find the coming days and weeks far more difficult than he anticipated. “I’ll come home when I can, but there’s going to be a lot to sort out. Plus all the guild’s normal work. We’ll have to do our healing in the plaza temporarily.”

  “Just like in Ramunna.”

  He shuddered. “I hope not. But we’ll be all right as long as it doesn’t rain. We can cloud-herd if we have to.”

  She kissed him. “There will be a warm meal and a warm bed waiting whenever you get home.” She trailed her hand across his cheek and through his hair just in case he’d missed her meaning. Then she went to fetch Ravid from where he was playing with several cooperative familiars and headed purposefully away.

  Elkan smiled after her, then turned and walked toward the doors of the Hall. He’d have to persuade Rada to pull as many builders as she could off other projects. His mind swarmed with all the accommodations that would need to be made until then.

  “Elkan, wait.”

  He froze. “Father.” He turned to face Adrel as his father’s long strides carried him across the plaza. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going back to Arlith.”

  Adrel shrugged. “I decided to wait.”

  Elkan felt surprisingly calm. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” Adrel was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low and rough. “I just wanted to say, the way you handled that just now… When you couldn’t get what you wanted, you didn’t act like a stubborn fool and refuse to listen to reason. You had the grace to admit you were wrong and make peace instead of clinging to old hurts.” He cleared his throat. “You’re the Guildmaster Tevenar needs, son. I still don’t think the
re’s anything to those pretty lights you flash around, but if that’s what it takes for them to give you the job, I guess there’s no real harm in it.”

  Elkan couldn’t have been more astonished if Tobi had sprouted wings and flown away. “I… I…Thank you.”

  “You’re going to do our family and the Farmers’ Guild proud. It’s been three hundred years since we had a Farmerkin Guildmaster. About time for another one.” He rubbed the back of his head, then raked his fingers through his long, silver-streaked black hair. “I’m sorry I tried to stop you.”

  A great many possible reactions crowded into Elkan’s mind, from stunned disbelief to childish joy to harsh rejection to cool disdain. He rubbed Tobi’s head until he could choose the one he wanted. “And I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

  Adrel shuffled his feet. “I really would like to get to know your wife and my new grandchild. Perhaps it’s not too late, after all?”

  Elkan shook his head. “I guess not.” He reached for his father’s hand. “Meira will be delighted. Come. Let me show you where we live.”

  Sixty-Four

  Nirel spotted the roofs of Faithhome in the distance at midmorning on a sunny day in early spring. She shaded her eyes and studied the settlement. For all the long months it had taken her to walk across the continent, she’d pondered what to do when she finally arrived. In the past week, since she’d reached the coast and turned south, the question had become urgent. But only now, gazing at the cluster of buildings that was so much bigger than when she’d left, longing swelling in her chest and tightening her throat, did she finally decide.

  Her plan was preposterous. It might mean her death. It would probably fail. But it was her only chance to be accepted back among the Faithful.

  She pulled the last of the dried meat and fruit from her pack and ate it as she walked the final few miles along the beach. When she drew close enough to the outskirts of the settlement to hear voices ahead, she stopped and drank all the water in her canteen. Then she squared her shoulders and strode into town.