But the day his group of friends traveled upriver was the day he found his calling. The great turning water wheels, rumbling with the power that drove the machinery within, fascinated him. The tangled mazes of shafts and gears and belts tantalized him with their secrets. The grinding stones of the grist mill and whirling blades of the saw mill drew his interest, but it was the deafening racket and huge swinging stocks of the fulling mill that had captured his heart. After that, there had never been any real question which apprenticeships he would apply for. When the lists of assignments were posted, he’d been delighted to learn he’d been accepted by his first choice.
He began his work at the fulling mill with enthusiasm, and for a while it was everything he had dreamed it would be. He threw all his energy into learning the intricacies of the craft. Master Sef was stern, but fair, and his measured praise was often bestowed on Josiah.
It had been difficult to adjust to the long weeks away from home between Restday visits. He missed his old friends, and as the only first-year apprentice at the mill, had no opportunity to make new ones. First-years were traditionally given the most trivial and boring duties and were shunned by the older apprentices.
As long as his mind and hands were occupied learning new tasks, none of this bothered him very much. But as summer passed into autumn and winter set in, he began to realize that the work itself was not that interesting. He had no problem understanding the different parts of the mill and how they worked together. He knew the purpose of each stage of the fulling process, from the newly woven bolts of cloth that arrived, fresh off the weaver’s looms, through scouring, fulling and tenting, teasing and shearing, to the high quality fabric that left, ready for the tailors. He was not skilled in all the processes yet, but there would be no new discoveries, only long painstaking practice. The fuller’s craft was highly honed and regimented, an efficient process that left no room for creativity or innovation.
Try as he might to do his duty and focus on his work, his mind began to wander. At first there was only an occasional sharp word from Master Sef, calling his attention back when his eyes strayed to the window. Eventually, though, as he chafed more and more at the lack of challenge, Josiah gained the reputation of a dreamer and idler. He began to realize what a terrible mistake he had made.
Seven full years of apprenticeship awaited him, and seven after that as a journeyman, before maybe, as a master in charge of his own mill, he would be able to make changes and experiment with new and better ways of doing things. He couldn’t face that.
Finally he decided to request a transfer to another guild. It was a daunting prospect, but better than what awaited him at the fulling mill, he was sure. But he had no idea which new craft to pick, since he’d been so certain about his first choice, and it had proven so disastrously wrong.
Today the decision had been taken out of his hands. No, he’d thrown it away. Now his path, for the next year at least, was set. It seemed like an exciting, attractive path, but at the end of it he’d be right back where he started, stuck in a craft he couldn’t love.
He came to the fountain, a graceful stone statue in the center of the intersection. Water poured from elegant pitchers on the two sides facing Potter’s Way, and from cleverly carved awls and laths on the sides that faced Cobbler’s Street. Above them a stream rose into the air and splashed back down, gurgling into the cupped hands that symbolized the Mother’s blessing on all who continued her work of creation.
Josiah stuck his buckets under the streams of water. He studied the carvings. Maybe he should choose the Stonemasons’ Guild. Even apprentices were allowed to decorate their work as they chose.
He sighed. The problem was, he wasn’t an artist. He had little sense of how to create the balance and proportion that lifted a work into the realm of the beautiful. No matter how much his mother and father tried to teach him to shape the clay, his bowls remained merely competent. Set next to Benta’s gracefully curving vases or Namir’s cleverly modeled twining vines and clusters of fruit, his attempts looked awkward and dull. The same thing happened whenever he tried his hand at any craft that required a sense of aesthetics.
What he’d really like, he mused as he lugged the heavy buckets home, would be the opportunity to spend a year or so on every craft in turn, studying the basics of how each process worked, and then moving on to the next. But that was impossible. He’d never gain the status that came with expertise, never become a master and a full citizen of Tevenar.
Josiah shrugged to himself as he shouldered open the shop door. He had a year of reprieve. He’d have all the new and intriguing sights he could ever wish for. Perhaps by the time they returned he’d be able to see his path more clearly.
The living quarters bustled and hummed with activity. Everyone had come inside but the donkey, who Josiah suspected would enjoy the quiet of the deserted yard.
He poured the two full buckets into the cistern, managing not to spill too much. He went to the washbasin to wash his hands, and finding the pitcher empty, returned to the cistern to fill it. Before he was done Mother called everyone to the table.
Elkan was seated at his mother’s right hand. Mother and Father were in their usual places at the head and foot of the table. Tirza sat in her child’s chair at Mother’s left, and the other children ranged down the sides. Josiah sat next to Elkan. He hoped his noisy, boisterous, chaotic family wasn’t making too bad an impression on his new master.
Elkan appeared to be enjoying himself. He praised the food, especially the salad of new spring greens and berries. By the end of winter everyone had grown tired of the dried and salted food that remained from autumn’s bounty. The first fresh fruits of spring, which were just now becoming available, were a treat.
Josiah slathered his warm brown bread with butter and honey. He turned to Elkan. “Will we be leaving tomorrow?”
Elkan shook his head. “I’ve been helping at the Mother’s Hall, mostly doing little tasks the wizards here have been too busy to attend to, like checking on the cloth.” Josiah squirmed, although Elkan didn’t look at him and there was no reproach in his voice. “Sixthday is always the busiest, so I plan to stay and work with them tomorrow, celebrate Restday, and then set out for the mountains on Firstday.”
Jensine’s head snapped around. “You’re going into the mountains?”
“There are dozens of villages and holdings up there with no wizards to heal the sick, bless weddings and funerals, judge disputes, and all the other things we do.”
“But… the mountains are full of bandits.” Jensine stared at Elkan. “We’ve been hearing reports about thieves breaking into barns and houses, stealing livestock and valuables. Supposedly there’s a whole band of them traveling from town to town, taking what they please and then disappearing into the wilderness. This winter’s been worse than ever. I heard they’ve killed people!”
Elkan nodded gravely. “The Guildmaster has heard the same. She’s asked me to investigate how much truth there is to them. So far no deaths have been confirmed by the local watchers. If I find these bandits really do pose a significant threat, she’ll consider authorizing a joint effort by the Wizards’ Guild and the Watchers’ Guild to capture them.”
“And you intend to take Josiah into the middle of that?” Jensine clenched her fists. “Maybe we should rethink this whole arrangement.”
Josiah jumped to his feet. “Mother, you can’t—”
Elkan put a hand on Josiah’s arm, drawing him back down into his chair. “Master Jensine, I would never expose an apprentice to any sort of risk. If we ever need to do more than use the Mother’s power to observe, I’ll be sure to leave Josiah somewhere safe first.”
Josiah wanted to protest. Hunting down bandits and capturing them sounded like a thrilling adventure. He’d hate to be left out. But he knew his mother would never agree to let him go if she thought the wizard would let him participate, so he nodded earnestly.
Jensine glowered from Elkan to Josiah and back again. “Josiah’s not l
ikely to obey if you try to keep him away from something he considers exciting.”
Josiah’s face burned. “I will, Mother, I swear!”
Elkan’s hand tightened on Josiah’s arm. “I’ll keep that in mind. I take my responsibility for your son’s safety very seriously.”
Jensine studied him for a long moment, then sat back in her chair, still scowling. “What if they attack when you don’t expect it?”
“The Mother’s power will protect us from any harm they might attempt.” Elkan sounded very confident.
Josiah gazed at his mother, putting all his desire into his eyes. She huffed and shook her head. “Maybe you’ll have better luck keeping him out of trouble than we ever have.”
“So you’ll let me go?”
“I don’t see that I have any grounds to refuse. Sef is your master. He has the right to loan you to the Wizards’ Guild if he wants. Our permission is just a courtesy.”
She was right, of course, but Josiah knew that if she’d decided to object, Elkan would have listened to her. He got up and threw his arms around Jensine. “Thanks.”
She returned his embrace. “Don’t you dare take any foolish risks. Though I suppose that’s like telling the sun not to rise.”
“I’ll be careful.” He was always careful. Things just didn’t always go as he planned.
She released him. “Your meal’s getting cold.”
He returned to his seat and dug into the rich, hearty soup. After a few minutes, when he was sure his mother’s attention was fixed on cleaning up Tirza’s mess, he turned back to Elkan. “How often do wizards go on this circuit, anyway? Not very, I guess, if the bandits have been able to get away with it this long.”
Elkan sighed. “They stay far away whenever a wizard comes through. The Guild does its best to send someone at least once a year. This year there are two of us traveling in opposite directions. Hadara and her apprentice Kalti left Elathir the same time I did and headed south. We’ll pass them somewhere around the middle of our route.”
“They’ll be surprised to see me with you.” Josiah squirmed uncomfortably.
“They knew Rodan wasn’t able to come, and that I was keeping an eye out for someone. The Mother provides.”
“Have you traveled this route before?”
“No, but I’ve spoken with many who have, and I have maps. Don’t worry, we won’t get lost. And don’t worry about the bandits either. We probably won’t encounter them.”
Josiah nodded, suppressing a sigh. The journey would be exciting even if they never saw the bandits. But he couldn’t help hoping Elkan was wrong.
Most of his family were finished eating. Mother let Tirza down to play around their feet. Benta rose and began clearing dirty plates from the table. Josiah joined his siblings cleaning up. Their many hands soon had the table cleared and dishes washed.
His mother drew up chairs to the fireside and invited Elkan over. His father opened a bottle of wine and poured glasses. As one by one the children completed their tasks, they joined the others by the fire. Tirza, who Benta supervised in her one chore of gathering and washing the spoons, climbed into Jensine’s lap and tugged at her mother’s tunic. Jensine pushed it aside absently and Tirza began to nurse, squirming about at first, but soon settling into calm and drifting off to sleep.
Hyam offered wine to the older ones: nearly a full glass to Benta, half a glass for Namir, and to Josiah’s surprise a finger-width in the bottom of a glass for him. He’d only ever been offered token sips before.
His father smiled at him. “You’re old enough to be leaving us for a whole year. I think you’re old enough to join us in a drink.”
Josiah nodded and ducked his head, his throat suddenly too tight to speak. He raised the glass to his lips and sipped the garnet liquid, sour and astringent to his unaccustomed palate, but with hints of complex flavors hidden within. It warmed his throat as he swallowed.
The conversation flowed around him. Josiah stared into the fire and let his thoughts drift. He’d be gone for a whole year. By the time he got back, so much would have changed. Tirza wouldn’t be a baby anymore. Benta would be starting on her trialwork, preparing the series of pieces that would be presented to the Potters’ Guild and judged to see whether she was ready to advance to journeyman. Yered might finally propose to that journeyman sailor he hadn’t been able to stop talking about when he’d visited last autumn. They might even be married by then. Josiah blinked back the tears that dampened his eyelids and looked suspiciously at the bit of wine left in his glass. He didn’t think he liked it much, not if it made him so vulnerable to his emotions.
Elkan rose. “I can’t thank you enough, Master Jensine, for your lovely hospitality. But I must head back to the Mother’s Hall before it gets any later. Poor Master Eleora has been fussing over me my whole visit; she’ll fret until I get back.” He turned to Josiah. “Josiah, do you want to come with me now, or spend the night with your family?”
Josiah thought for a moment. He’d rather skip sharing a bed with Namir, but Eban would be disappointed, and this would be the last opportunity he had to be with his family for a very long time. “I’ll stay here, with your permission, Wizard Elkan.”
“Of course. Come to the Mother’s Hall after breakfast.”
“He’ll be there,” Jensine assured the wizard. “It’s been a great honor and pleasure to have you as a guest. Whenever you’re in Korisan, consider our home open to you. Josiah, see Wizard Elkan on his way, please.”
Josiah stepped toward the door that led through the shop and out onto the street, but Elkan headed toward the back door and out into the kiln yard. Remembering the donkey, Josiah flushed at his error and hurried to catch up.
Sar was drowsing, head down and one rear hoof cocked up. He huffed when Elkan stroked his neck and blinked his long lashes at the wizard before closing them again.
“Come on, Sar, our room at the Hall is waiting for us. I know you’re awake.”
The donkey huffed again, but opened his eyes.
“Well, Josiah, it’s been quite a day, hasn’t it? I’ll wager you never thought when you woke up this morning that you’d be preparing to leave on a trip around Tevenar by nightfall, did you?”
“No, sir.”
Elkan put his hands on Josiah’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “I’m glad you’re coming with me. I’m sure the Mother set us on each other’s paths, and her work is never without purpose, baffling as it may seem to us sometimes. Sleep well, Josiah. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He clucked to Sar, and set off toward the street. Josiah watched them go. The wizard’s parting words left him with an uneasy feeling. He believed in the Mother, he supposed. The wizards’ power was certainly real enough; if he’d ever doubted that before, he’d had plenty of proof of it today.
But he’d never given her much thought before, and the notion that she might take a special interest in him, to the point of influencing or even controlling his actions, was disturbing. Maybe even frightening. Certainly not comforting, as Elkan seemed to mean it.
Three
The Mother’s Hall rose on the far side of the square, tall and rectangular. Over the wide double doors, a mosaic in brown tile depicting the Mother’s cupped hands contrasted with the grey stone walls.
Josiah had been there on occasion before, but it had been a long time, and he was nervous. The morning was already well advanced. People hurried across the square in every direction, intent on their tasks.
Josiah gathered his courage and crossed the square. He pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped into a huge, open room, airy and spacious even though it was filled with people. Light streamed in through many small windows high on the walls.
An older woman wearing the cloak of a wizard sat behind a desk just inside the door. “Welcome. Do you seek healing, justice, or some other help?”
“Um, no,” Josiah replied, edging nervously forward as a woman carrying a baby entered behind him. “I’m looking for Wizard Elkan
. He’s expecting me.”
“Ah, you must be Josiah!” The old woman’s wrinkled face beamed at him. “Elkan told us all about you. We’re so glad he’ll have a companion on his journey. He’s right over there, helping with the healing. We’ve got quite a crowd today.”
Josiah went where she directed him, to the left side of the large rectangular room. Benches stood in rows, filled with people of all ages and descriptions. Beyond them, a cluster of carved wooden screens marked off private spaces. A girl not much older than himself in a wizard’s cloak spoke in turn to each person waiting in the long line.
Josiah made his way past the line and waited while the girl finished speaking. Before she could query the next person, he broke in. “Um, excuse me. I’m looking for Wizard Elkan. The lady up front said he was here?”
The girl nodded. “He’s with a patient right now, but you can go back.” She gestured to a gap in the row of screens. Josiah thanked her and went on, trying not to feel like he was trespassing.
The screens formed a hallway, with cubicles on either side. Josiah peered into the first. A man of middle years bent over a patient lying on a cot. Beside the wizard a small, shaggy dog nosed the patient’s leg. The dog looked up first and spotted Josiah. He gave a little woof, and the wizard followed his gaze.
Josiah felt awkward. “I’m looking for Wizard Elkan, please?”
The wizard nodded. “Last cubicle on the left. If he’s in the middle of a healing, just wait until he’s finished. Don’t disturb him. He’ll be glad you’ve arrived.”
The wizard turned back to his work. Josiah made his way down the rows of cubicles. In each a wizard and a familiar tended a patient. Many had apprentices, some with familiars, some without, watching intently or listening to explanations. Josiah reached the last cubicle to the left and entered.
Elkan sat on a chair, Sardonyx standing beside him, both their heads bowed over a woman lying on a cot. Elkan’s left hand was on the donkey’s back, his right hovering just above the woman’s breast. The golden light wrapped around the woman’s body, flickering and pulsing.
The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) Page 3