by CJ Brightley
Dabiel choked back a sob. “I know you won’t.” Her hug drove the breath from Larine’s lungs.
For a moment she feared her friend wouldn’t be able to let go, but eventually Dabiel’s arms went limp and Larine pulled gently away. She put a hand on Daisy’s head as she turned toward the dock. The dog maintained a solemn attitude, but her thoughts meeting Larine’s were bright and eager.
She was about to make a wry comment to her familiar when a commotion arose behind her. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she recognized one of the raised voices. “Blast it, let me go!” Larine twisted to see a stocky youth tear free from the older man holding him back. He pushed through the crowd toward her, shoving people aside heedlessly. “Mother!”
She reached for him, but he ignored her outstretched hands and grabbed her upper arms. “Smash it, Mother, what do you think you’re doing?” He shook her violently, his face contorted with rage and fear.
Daisy pressed against Larine’s leg and sent a wave of the Mother’s power to surround him and pry his fingers loose. Larine cupped his face and tried to make contact with his frantic eyes. “Ozor, stop. I know you’re upset, you have every right to be, but you’ve got to control yourself.”
He fought to break free, but Daisy kept a tight hold on him and Larine refused to look away. Finally sanity seeped back into his gaze and he stilled. “Mother, please. Tell me you’re not getting on that ship.”
She caressed his cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to.”
He’d grown taller than her, but his face and voice were those of the frightened child she’d comforted when he woke from a nightmare. “But you’re not going to—what she said. You’re coming back.”
If it had been anything less at stake than his life and the lives of everyone else in Elathir, she would have relented. But it wasn’t, so she forced her heart to become steel and stone. “No, Ozor. I’m not.”
He stared at her for a long horrified moment, then lunged to grab her again. Daisy held him back. His voice rose. “Father! Master! Someone! You’ve got to stop her!”
Dabiel hovered nearby, hand raised to come to Larine’s aid, but she waved her away. “Ozor, listen to me. This is my choice. I volunteered. Unless enough wizards and familiars burn ourselves out to push the storm up the coast, it’s going to hit Elathir. The city will be destroyed. Thousands of people will die. You might be one of them. I can’t let that happen.”
He sagged in his bonds, furiously dashing tears from his eyes. “Let someone else do it. Why does it have to be you? It’s not fair.”
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed his face to her shoulder. “I know it’s not, sweetheart. I hate this as much as you do. Believe me, I don’t want to die. But someone has to do it, and the Mother gave me the job.” She stroked his hair, then pulled back to hold him at arm’s length, surveying his strong body with pride. “Look at you. You’re a fourth-year apprentice. Practically an adult. You’ve got Master Foriah to teach you everything you need to know to be a good trader. And you’ve got your father to look after you. You’ll be fine without me.”
Ozor shook his head, his eyes burning. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t do this. You’d tell the Mother no. You’d tell the Guildmaster to go burn herself out, if it’s so important. You wouldn’t let them make you kill yourself.”
Larine clenched her fists, willing him to understand. “No one’s making me do anything. Dabiel would have been the first to volunteer, but the Mother—”
Heavy boots thudded on the dock behind her. “Ozor, don’t speak to your mother that way.”
Ozor jerked to face Shiar, desperate hope in his eyes. “Father, you can stop her. Forbid her to board your ship. Refuse to sail if she’s aboard.”
Shiar stationed himself beside their son and put a hand on his shoulder. “I must do as the Guildmaster commands.” He shot Dabiel a look of dislike.
“With the full support of the Sailors’ Guild,” Dabiel said, gesturing to a man near the front of the crowd.
Fordan, the guildmaster of the Sailors’ Guild, came to stand beside her and nodded. “When the Guildmaster asked me to recommend my best captain, I didn’t hesitate to name you, Shiar. I know you’ll do our guild proud.”
Shiar inclined his head. “I’ll try.” He turned back to Ozor. “Your mother’s made up her mind, son. I don’t like it either, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Ozor clenched his fists. His lower lip trembled. “Please…” he whispered.
Larine had never realized emotions could cause actual, physical pain, but the stabbing agony in her chest truly felt as if her heart were shattering into pieces. She lurched to Ozor and put her arms around him. For a moment he remained stiff, but then he sagged against her. She forced words from her numb throat and lips. “I love you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. May the Mother be with you, and watch over you, and bless you—” Her voice broke, a sob escaping despite everything she could do to stop it. She swallowed hard, took his face between her hands, and kissed his forehead. “Good-bye.” She tore herself away, grabbed for Daisy, and stumbled down the dock, not daring to look back.
Her fellow wizards surrounded her, offering commiseration with silent looks and touches. Behind her Ozor’s voice rose, high and fierce with passionate conviction, turning her bones to ice and her gut to lead. “I hate you! I’m glad you’re going to die! I hate the Wizards’ Guild, and the Guildmaster, and the Mother! Smash and burn and blast you all!”
8
Secondday, 3 Sprouting, 962
Larine paid careful attention to the information the Mother’s power poured into her senses. There were the slightly sour taste and squishy feeling in the bones she’d identified as markers of the disease. The visual indicator was more subtle, but she was sure she wasn’t imagining the slight dimming of the normal glowing, swirling lights given off by the various organs, as if a faint shadow lay over the child’s body.
See it, Flutter?
The falcon’s vision was far more acute than hers. He’d been the first to notice and call her attention to the shadow. It’s pretty strong in this one.
She hadn’t distinguished a darker shade, but she’d take his word for it. The feeling is strong, too. Maybe if he’s acutely affected we can find a sound or scent to go with the rest. Their best chance of finding an effective treatment for the mysterious disease lay in identifying it early, before the characteristic malformation of the bones began. Growing up, she’d never thought the bowed legs and flared ribs common to many residents of Gemgeda were strange. But after years in Elathir where they were almost unknown, the defects leapt out at her, a skewing of the Mother’s design for the human body.
Flutter’s sense of smell wasn’t strong, but his hearing was keen. Larine let him listen while she took a deep breath and sorted through the healthy scents of a normally functioning body. I think I’ve got something. A sort of moldy, dusty smell, like a cave or a dark cellar. Just a trace, but I think I’ve smelled it before. What do you think?
I suppose that could be something. Send me what you’re sensing.
Larine opened her mind and shared the sensory impression through her link with her familiar. Flutter absorbed it and compared it with what his senses were receiving. It’s very faint, but I think you’re right. We’ll have to go back to some of the worst of the others we’ve examined and see if they’ve got it.
Larine agreed. Excitement coursed through her as Flutter let the golden light enveloping their patient fade. They’d learned more about the disease in the past week than wizards had in the previous thousand years. If this observation proved another reliable indicator, her masterwork would surely be accepted by Master Tasha and the other masters, even if she accomplished nothing else. But she still held out hope of finding a cure. There had to be one. Something the people of Elathir got plenty of, while the people of Gemgeda didn’t.
They’d confirmed the correlation between birth season and how badly a child suffered. Larine had been born late in the
winter, so she’d only been mildly affected. When she’d moved to Elathir, the slight aches in her bones she’d occasionally gotten as a child had abated within the first year. She’d heard the same from other people who’d relocated. Maybe it had something to do with the temperature. Elathir was so much warmer than Gemgeda.
Larine smiled at the boy as he squirmed in his mother’s lap. “All done. You can let him down. Thanks for letting us interrupt you.”
The woman let her son slide to the floor. He toddled off to a corner full of blocks and cloth animals. “It was no trouble. If you can find a way to fix his aches, it will be a blessing.” She rose and went to a table spread with fabric and littered with shears, pins, and needles. “But I do need to get back to work. With this early warm spell, everyone’s impatient for new summer tunics.”
Larine was glad of the sun and mild weather. Her years in Elathir had ruined her tolerance for cold and gloom. She bid the woman farewell and left the house. Flutter sprang from her shoulder as soon as they were outside and spiraled into the sky. Larine squinted at the sun, wondering if they had enough time to visit and re-check a few of the children they’d studied before her parents would expect her home for the midday meal. Maybe two or three, if they were quick.
Here comes Shiar.
Larine stiffened. Flutter’s warning gave her just enough time to relax her shoulders and plaster a smile across her face before she turned. It warmed into something more genuine when Ozor darted ahead of his father and tackled her around the knees. But it chilled again when she raised her eyes to her husband. “You’re early. Again.”
He didn’t even have the grace to look abashed. “I need to go by the cobbler before I report to the ship. My new boots are ready for their final fitting.”
“You could have taken Ozor with you.” Smash it, her work was just as important as Shiar’s. More important. She never interrupted him during the afternoon to ask for help with Ozor, but he seemed to believe she was available to take over their son’s care whenever he found it inconvenient.
“He’ll be happier with you.”
The fact it was true didn’t mollify Larine. She only had two weeks in Gemgeda to complete all the research for her masterwork. She needed every minute she was due. “Can you take him extra tomorrow to make up the time?”
“Maybe.” Shiar shrugged and backed away. “Thanks. See you at the evening meal.”
She scowled after him, then strode to grab Ozor an instant before he plunged his hands into a muddy patch by the road. Several of their subjects were near Ozor’s age. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go visit some friends you can play with.”
The father of one of them, a carver, opened the door of his workshop. “Of course you can examine Kezel again. Although I thought you were finished with her.”
“There’s one more thing we’d like to check.” Flutter swooped through the door behind Larine, made a tight circle around the room, and landed on her shoulder. Kezel jumped up from her toys with an exclamation of delight, but Ozor was so used to the bird’s comings and goings he didn’t even notice. He dove for the unattended toys as soon as Larine released his hand.
“Don’t let us keep you from your work,” Larine said, when the carver glanced toward the abandoned tools and fresh curls of wood around his stool. “We’ll only be a moment.” She took Kezel’s hand and went to sit on the floor by Ozor.
“Thank you.” He hurried to pick up a knife and a half-formed block of wood.
Larine settled Kezel next to Ozor and Flutter sent the Mother’s power over her. She tried to focus on what her senses were telling her, but it was difficult to concentrate. Ozor kept snatching toys from Kezel, who screamed and snatched them back. Larine had to keep shifting her attention to restoring the peace. Finally she got them both settled with separate toys and was able to sink deeply into her perceptions, sorting through them layer by layer.
There, a waft of cool, damp dust, like a root cellar briefly opened. But before she could be certain it was the same, the scent slipped away, and she had to search for it again.
Through the humming, buzzing background melody came a sharp voice. “Don’t touch!”
Larine’s eyes flew open and she jerked her senses back to the real world. The carver was holding his knife away from Ozor’s grabbing hands. She grimaced and hurried to pull him back. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing. Kezel does the same thing.” But his voice was insincere, and Larine could see traces of the annoyance he sought to hide.
“Let me take the children outside. It’s warm and lovely today. I can observe Kezel as easily out there as I can in here.”
Relief was plain on his face when he assented. “I hate to trouble you, but I must get this done, and her mother isn’t due back from the shop for another hour.”
“It’s no trouble,” Larine assured him. She took Ozor by the hand and went to get Kezel as well. Both of them fussed at being dragged away from the toys, but as soon as they emerged into the sunny spring morning, they cheered up. Larine found a patch of sandy soil with a few child-sized shovels and buckets that was obviously a favorite play-place. Once Kezel and Ozor were busy digging, scooping, pouring, and building, she settled cross-legged beside them. Flutter nestled against her neck and they resumed their observation.
No matter how hard she searched, Larine couldn’t find the elusive scent again. She tried for at least a quarter hour before giving up. I was sure I smelled it before, but it’s gone now.
Flutter rubbed his head against her cheek. We’ll check the others. Maybe we can do it this afternoon; Ozor seems happy to play while we’re busy.
But discouragement settled over Larine’s heart, too heavy to shake. If it’s even part of the disease, and not something unrelated. Even if we consistently find it, I should check the affected children against healthy ones. And all the children here have at least traces of the disease.
Use Ozor as your comparison. We know he’s healthy.
The suggestion was sensible, but Larine couldn’t shake her gloom. If it hasn’t hit him, too, since we’ve been here.
They’d seen nothing to suggest the disease was contagious, but sudden unreasoning dread seized Larine. She put out her hand, and Flutter sent a wash of golden light over Ozor. He ignored it. Larine evaluated the beloved, intimately familiar sensations of her son’s body. Thank the Mother, there was nothing soft about his bones, and his taste was as pleasantly spicy-sweet as always. His colors were bright, his light undimmed.
She dutifully sought the new scent, but a long search produced no hint of it. At her thought, Flutter moved the light back to Kezel. She braced herself to endure the unpleasant contrast, but the difference was less than she expected. The signs of the disease were there, but slightly less pronounced than they’d been earlier. Larine frowned and sank deeper into the Mother’s power. The more she studied Kezel, the more certain she became that the difference was real.
She broadened her focus to take in Kezel’s whole body. For a while she just watched, while the children played happily in the dirt. The processes of life went about their swishing, swirling, singing business. Wizards didn’t fully understand them all, but Larine could identify many. Digestion broke down the last of the breakfast in Kezel’s intestines, extracting its nutrients. The slowing flow stimulated her hunger for the coming midday meal. Her lungs took in the vital component of the air and infused it into her blood, which carried it to her brain and muscles.
Larine sank deeper and deeper into her perceptions, turning her attention back to the signs of Kezel’s disease. She was certain now they were abating. Only a tiny amount, but enough to sense. Whatever was happening was on a level too small for her to make out, but instincts honed over years of using the Mother’s power let her tease out hints of understanding. It felt as if Kezel was absorbing an important nutrient, but not from her digestive tract.
From her skin?
The insight was so odd Larine almost dismissed it, but something made her look closer
. There was something happening in her skin. On her cheeks, her hands, her arms, the back of her neck, wherever the bright, warm sunlight fell on her bare skin, some infinitesimally small process was busily at work. Some substance sank through the layers of skin like water through a sponge until it reached the blood. Wherever it traveled the light brightened, the sour taste sweetened, the squishiness firmed.
Her breath quickened. This had to be it. She couldn’t experiment on Kezel without her parents’ permission, but…
At her urging, Flutter moved the light back to Ozor. Now that she knew what to look for, it was easy to find the same process at work in his skin. But only where the sun touched it, not where clothing blocked the bright rays.
She drew a shaky breath. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s take off your tunic. It’s so warm today, you don’t need it.”
He looked puzzled at her strange suggestion, but like most children his age he was happier without clothes, so he let her unbutton his tunic and pull it off without a fuss. As soon as she finished he went back to digging in the sand. Sunlight fell across the smooth brown skin of his shoulders and back.
Larine held her breath and watched. At first nothing happened, and disappointment stirred in the pit of her stomach and tightened her throat. But gradually the slumbering skin awoke. The process started slowly, like a heavily laden wagon lurching into motion, then accelerated, like that same wagon rolling downhill. Before a quarter hour had passed it was well underway, flooding his body with the life-giving substance.
Larine shouted for Kezel’s father, but she couldn’t wait. Hands trembling, she stripped off the girl’s tunic. The carver came running, alarmed. She thrust the garment into his hands. “Sun,” she cried, pointing at his daughter’s bare torso. “She needs more sun.”
He looked at her as if she was insane, but Larine didn’t care. It made perfect sense. Here in Gemgeda, children were bundled heavily against the cold all winter. They spent most of their time indoors by the fire. When they did venture out to play in the snow, their hands were encased in mittens and their faces shrouded by hats and scarves, only their eyes and maybe a few inches of cheek exposed to the wan winter sunshine. Babies didn’t even get that much, because mothers covered their faces with blankets to guard them from the wind. And the days were short, with the sun rising late and setting early. If sunlight was necessary to their bodies’ well-being, no wonder they got sick.