Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  “Oak has returned to the Mother, peacefully and without pain, at the end of a long and meaningful life. I was deeply honored to serve at his side for many years. I grieve for what I’ve lost, but I rejoice for what we shared, and for the joy he now knows in the Mother’s presence. Those of us who’ve stood before her and spoken with her understand what that means. This life she’s given us is a precious gift. The power she grants wizards that allows us to preserve that life for her children is an equally precious gift. But in our eagerness to heal, we must never forget that death, when it comes in her time and according to her design, is not an evil to be feared or fought. It’s the natural and beautiful end of one story and the beginning of another.”

  He paused, looking around the room with grave eyes. After a moment his lips curved in a small smile. “In much the same fashion, the end of one Guildmaster’s story is the beginning of another’s. I hereby announce my retirement from bonded service and from the position of Guildmaster of the Wizards’ Guild. The wizard I’ve chosen to follow me is young, but she’s better prepared to lead the guild than any wizard twice her age. She’s learned everything I have to teach her about the Mother’s power, the Law, and leadership, and has taught me things I never knew on all those subjects. She brings fierce passion, hard work, and keen intelligence to everything she does. She’s deeply devoted to the Mother and to serving her children. I’m confident the Wizards’ Guild and all Tevenar will prosper under her guidance. I ask the masters of the guild to confirm her nomination with your vote. My friends, I’m proud to nominate Master Dabiel Dyerkin Wizard as my successor.” He held his hand out with a broad smile. The gathered wizards erupted into cheers and applause.

  Dabiel didn’t move. Larine kicked her chair. “Go on,” she hissed. When Dabiel remained frozen, Larine grabbed her knee under cover of the table and shook it hard. “Everyone’s waiting.”

  Buttons heaved himself to his feet and prodded Dabiel with his snout. Larine was wondering if she’d have to slap her friend when she swallowed hard and rose. She put a shaking hand on Buttons and walked beside him to join Master Idan at the hearth. To Larine’s critical eye she still looked dazed, but she managed to smile and nod and accept the nomination with only a slight tremor in her voice. She kept tight hold of Buttons, and he stayed pressed to her side, but nobody thought there was anything strange about that.

  Larine held back as wizards surged forward to congratulate Dabiel. She’d wait until the crowd thinned. At such a late hour, people wouldn’t linger long, but would express their support briefly and disperse to their beds.

  She looked around, catching eyes and exchanging nods and smiles. Dabiel’s closest friends had been planning for weeks to surprise her in her room with a private celebration. It wouldn’t be appropriate to become too festive down here, with Oak’s body reminding them that this was a sad occasion as well as a happy one, but upstairs they could relax and give Dabiel the party she deserved.

  Hanion drifted by her table. He kept his gaze focused on the gathering by the hearth while he spoke to Larine in an undertone. “Got the wine?”

  “In my room.” Larine kept her voice to the same soft mutter. “What about the cake?”

  “I ordered it this morning, as soon as it became clear this would be the day. The baker delivered it right before the evening meal.”

  “Perfect. The decorations?”

  He nodded at the door, where a trio of wizards were slipping out, whispering to each other, occasional muffled laughter breaking out. “Underway.”

  Larine grinned. Dabiel had no idea what was going to happen. “Does Semira have her song ready?”

  Hanion’s smile faded. “She just told me she wasn’t able to come up with anything she was satisfied with.”

  “Oh.” Larine had actually been looking forward to Semira’s composition. Her wicked sense of humor and clever way with words made her satirical ditties immensely popular. “That’s too bad.”

  Hanion’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “She said that since it’s so late, she’s going to skip the party and go to bed. She tried to persuade me to come, too, but I can’t miss Dabiel’s big moment. My friend doesn’t get named Guildmaster every day.” His tone stayed light, but Larine could hear the bitterness under the humor. “Frankly, I think Semira couldn’t stand the idea of someone else being the center of attention.”

  Larine twisted to look at him. She’d never heard Hanion say anything remotely critical about his wife before. Surely it was too much to hope that he was finally growing disillusioned with her. Larine would never wish their marriage ill if it was a good one, but it wasn’t, and she hated seeing Hanion miserable. “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head, still staring forward. “A younger singer was given the big solo in the summer concert. Semira insists it was based on guild politics, not merit. She made a big fuss about it. When the Singer guildmaster confirmed the decision, I made the mistake of saying I thought he was right. I’ve heard the boy; he’s good. Semira wasn’t happy.” The wry twist of his lips told Larine how much of an understatement that was.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled out a chair and sat down. “We fought. She said some hurtful things. I… said some things I’ve been holding back for a long time. She stormed out. I don’t know where she went. Three days later she came back, acting as if nothing had happened. That was a few weeks ago. Since then… my heart’s just not in it anymore. I’m pretty sure hers hasn’t been for years.”

  Larine’s throat ached. She longed to reach for his hands and fold them in hers. She longed to do a lot more than that, if truth be told. But she wasn’t going to contribute to the failure of Hanion’s marriage. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them. “I’m probably not the person you should be talking to about this.”

  He shot her a glance she couldn’t read. “You’re my friend.”

  “Always. But maybe a male friend would be a better confidant. You don’t want Semira to get the wrong idea.”

  He looked away. Under his breath, he muttered, “Or the right one.”

  Larine blinked and swallowed. Surely she couldn’t have heard correctly. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He jumped up. “Look, Dabiel’s almost free of the mob. We’d better say our congratulations, then get the wine and cake to her room quickly if we don’t want her to suspect.” He strode toward the dwindling crowd. Thunder looked up from where he was browsing from a net of hay on the wall and went to join him.

  Larine stared after him. He couldn’t have meant what his cryptic comment seemed to imply.

  After a few minutes she shook herself hard. Even if he did, it didn’t matter. He was married, and until and unless his marriage fell apart on its own, she would stay far away.

  But maybe, someday, if he and Semira broke their bond… No one could fault either of them if… After an appropriate amount of time had passed, of course, a year or so, perhaps…

  Larine dragged her thoughts away from that track, called Flutter, and went to congratulate Dabiel.

  The party began with suitable decorum, but the mood lightened as it stretched past the point where late night became early morning. They all ate too many sweets, drank too much wine and ale, sang too many bawdy songs, and laughed until their sides hurt. Larine avoided Hanion, and he avoided her. There were enough people crowded into Dabiel’s room it wasn’t obvious.

  Dabiel laughed and sang with them, but there was a strange reserve about her in the midst of the merrymaking. She couldn’t be worried about the meeting of the masters of the guild that would take place in a month or so, after the masters from Thedan, Jevtaran, and Korisan traveled to Elathir. It was unthinkable they’d do anything but vote to confirm Master Idan’s nomination. Maybe she was thinking about next spring, when she’d withdraw into fasting for three days until the Mother appeared to name the new apprentices. Larine was sure she’d treasure the opportunity to speak with the Mother again. Most wizards only saw her on rare occasions, when they bonded with
a new familiar. Only the Guildmaster had the privilege of meeting with her every year.

  Finally, closer to dawn than midnight, the party began to break up. Larine hugged Dabiel, told her she’d be the best Guildmaster Tevenar had ever had, and stumbled down the stairs to her suite on the second floor. She thought about waking Flutter and having him speed her back to soberness, but he was asleep on her shoulder and she hated to disturb him. She hadn’t drunk that much, really. It was mostly sleepiness that was making the floor unstable beneath her feet.

  She entered as quietly as she could and transferred Flutter onto his perch. The falcon shifted his weight but didn’t rouse. A peek into Ozor’s room showed him sleeping, his covers pulled up until all that was visible was the top of his head. She smiled at the shock of thick brown hair poking from under the blanket. It was a good thing they’d moved to one of the family suites a few years ago, when Ozor started to want more privacy than a single room afforded. If they’d still been in her old room a few doors down from Dabiel’s, the noise would surely have woken him.

  He must be deeply asleep, he was so still. Anxiety leftover from his babyhood twinged in her heart. She dismissed it sternly. Infants occasionally died in their sleep, for no reason the Mother’s power could discover, but eleven-year-old boys never did.

  She used the trick she’d developed then, watching and listening closely for the slightest movement. A single faint sigh of breath or a tiny twitch of one finger proved he was fine and her worries were baseless. She’d never had to wait more than a few seconds for the evidence to appear. It was much better than the early days when she’d kept waking him by having Flutter send the warm tingle of the Mother’s power to sense his life.

  He really was very quiet tonight. The covers must be muffling the rasp of his breath. No matter how Larine strained her ears, she heard only the soft sounds of the night coming through the open window—whispering wind, a bird’s cry, humming insects, soft voices speaking a few rooms away. And as much as she looked, the dim moonlight revealed not even the smallest rise or fall of the blanket over his chest.

  If Flutter were younger, she would have woken the falcon and asked for his help. Instead, silently berating herself for her foolish fears, she slipped through the door, crept silently to the bedside, and laid her hand on Ozor’s shoulder.

  For a panicked instant she couldn’t move. She wasn’t sure what she felt under her hand, but it wasn’t warm, living flesh. Volition came rushing back, and she seized the covers and threw them aside.

  The length of pillows and rolled blankets was cleverly fashioned to mimic Ozor’s body. The beaver-fur hat Larine’s mother had sent him for a Harvest present was just the color and texture of his own hair. A remote, rational corner of Larine’s mind recognized that the decoy was much better done than she’d managed the one time she’d tried a similar trick.

  The rest of her was consumed with blind, shrieking panic. Her child was gone. He could be in trouble, in danger, dead. She’d tear the city apart until she found him. No wonder her mother had screamed at her and shook her before crushing her to her heart and sobbing when she discovered the young Larine wandering the starlit beach, marveling at the luminescent waves.

  At least she had a resource her mother hadn’t. Flutter!

  He jerked awake, his drowsy mind sharpening as she flooded it with terror. What’s wrong?

  Ozor’s run off. You have to help me find him.

  As the falcon flew to her shoulder and pressed against her neck, Larine forced herself to take deep breaths. A window would make it easy to trace Ozor, no matter where he’d gone. They’d start at the moment he made his escape and follow him to wherever he was now. In a quarter of an hour, half at most, they’d find him, and she could give him the blistering reprimand he deserved.

  She thrust out her hand and Flutter popped open a glowing golden sphere. The center cleared to reveal the room many hours before, as Larine tucked Ozor into bed and kissed him good-night. The door had scarcely closed behind her when he scrambled out from under the covers, threw his clothes back on, and retrieved the components of his decoy from around the room. Separated, they were innocuous—extra blankets stored under the bed, towels from their place in a drawer, pillows from the cupboard, hat from the chest where Larine stored their winter clothes. Together they created an illusion that would stand up to careful visual inspection. Larine didn’t feel so ashamed at being fooled when she saw again how convincing it was.

  Once everything was arranged to his satisfaction, Ozor slipped out of his room, through hers, and into the corridor. The upper floors were almost deserted, with everyone downstairs waiting for the announcement. The one wizard he passed on the stairs grinned at him and tousled his hair. It wasn’t unusual for inhabitants of the Hall to run to the outdoor privies at night instead of using the chamberpots in their rooms.

  Ozor went straight there, entered, stayed long enough to do his business, and emerged. After a careful look around to make sure no one was in sight, he headed for the street with eager, purposeful strides. Anger and fear beat in Larine’s ears as he rounded the corner of the Mother’s Hall and took the road that led toward the center of the city, where some commercial establishments stayed open late into the night. The streets of Elathir were reasonably safe—watchers were always around, and any criminal they couldn’t apprehend on their own was quickly captured with the wizards’ help—but late-night entertainments were meant for adults, not children. Even if no one sought to harm him, he could be exposed to things he wasn’t ready for. And there was always the chance that people who preyed on the weak and helpless lurked in the dark corners of the city, keeping their activities secretive enough to escape the wizards’ and watchers’ notice.

  Larine stood frozen with indecision as Flutter pushed the window to the edge of their range and it dissolved into sparkles. It had been more than five hours since Ozor had been where they lost him, a mile south of the Hall, hurrying farther away. The Mother only knew where he’d ended up. As much as she wanted to conceal her failure to keep her child safe, getting help was more important.

  Flutter flapped for balance as Larine darted into the corridor and ran for the stairs. She was panting so hard by the time she tore Dabiel’s door open she couldn’t speak for a moment. Only two people were left within, sitting across from each other amid the decorations and detritus from the party, deep in conversation. They swiveled to face her as she gasped her plea. “Ozor’s run away. You’ve got to help me find him.”

  Dabiel was at her side in a moment, her arms encircling Larine’s shoulders in bracing comfort. “We will. You traced him as far as you could, I take it? Where was he going?”

  “To the East Market.” Between the main market and the docks was a busy district full of taverns and other nightlife. Larine hated to think of Ozor there, but where else would hold excitement enough to tempt him out of his cozy bed? “I’ve only just started to let him go around the city without me during the day, and only with friends. What if he’s lost in the dark and can’t find his way home? What if he gets hurt, with no one to help him? What if—”

  Hanion came to her other side and took her hand. “We’ll find him. He’ll be fine.” Thunder snorted his agreement, and Buttons chimed in with a forceful grunt.

  Larine babbled her thanks. Her friends and their familiars accompanied her downstairs and outside. In the plaza, Hanion leaped astride Thunder. “We’ll scout ahead. If we find him, we’ll bring him to meet you.”

  Larine watched them canter away, a window shining over Hanion’s hand like a captured star. Dabiel strode after him, Buttons trotting at her side, eyes fixed on their own window. Larine hurried to catch up. She didn’t ask Flutter to open another window. No use wasting energy they might need later.

  They’d gone a few blocks when Dabiel cleared her throat and jerked her head at the image over her hand. Ozor strode purposefully through the dark streets. “He looks very confident. Comfortable. Is there a chance he might have done this before?�
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  With a sinking heart, Larine considered the question. “He used to fight going to bed, but recently he hasn’t been complaining. I usually peek in last thing, and he’s always asleep.” How often had it been the decoy she’d seen instead of Ozor? Not every time—she could distinctly remember her son’s slumbering face touched by moonlight, an outflung hand dangling off the bed, a grunt as he rolled over, rhythmic snores as he slept. But there had been plenty of nights when she’d been happy to see him motionless and quiet, swathed by covers even on warm summer evenings. “He likes to sleep late in the morning, but don’t they all at this age? Usually I get up and head downstairs an hour or two before he wakes up. He works on lessons in the dining hall most mornings. In the afternoon I let him go off to play with his friends. When it rains he likes to sit in one of the courtrooms and watch the cases. I guess sometimes he seems sleepy during the day, but he’s a growing boy. I never thought anything of it.”

  Dabiel nodded without looking at her. “After we find him, you should take some time to trace his movements over the past few months.” She gestured at the window. “I don’t think he’d be this assured if it was his first time.”

  Looking at Ozor’s relaxed posture and eager stride, Larine had to agree. She swallowed. “That almost makes me feel better. I mean, he must have come home safely before. He might even be on his way back to the Hall now. He must sneak back in early enough to be sure Flutter and I will still be asleep.”

  Flutter shivered against her neck. I should have heard him.

  She stroked his feathers. So should I. But if we had, he’d just have said he was coming back from the privy. She would have believed him, even though she knew very well he didn’t always tell her the truth.

  “If he is, Hanion will see him.” Buttons shifted the window to a broad overhead view of Thunder and Hanion several blocks ahead. Larine couldn’t make out much in the dim moonlight, but there were only a few moving shapes in the shadowed streets around them, and they were all adult-sized. Dabiel shook her head, and the window reverted to the view of Ozor.