The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1)

by Angela Holder

  The view zipped back a bit more, than resumed normal forward progression. The boys’ voices became audible, and the volume increased until everyone could understand what they were saying.

  “You’re sure nothing can go wrong?” Roni looked nervously at the other boy.

  “Just be sure to make a big enough fuss so they chase you and not me. Then when they take you to the wizards, everyone will see it wasn’t you. I’ll hide in the privy. Everybody knows they aren’t allowed to look in there. I’ll take enough cakes for both of us.”

  “All right.” The Roni in the window squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped into the street.

  All eyes turned to the real Roni. He jumped from his seat, but his father’s hand on his arm stopped him. He scowled and ducked his head.

  The baker surged to his feet. “It was both of them! I want payment for what they took, and I want them punished.”

  Roni’s mother stood also. Her face was pale. “It was that other boy that took them. He was the one who planned it.” She turned to her son. “It was that laborer’s child, wasn’t it? I told you not to play with him any more. Now look at the trouble he’s gotten you into!”

  Elkan let the golden sphere disperse, and held up his hand for quiet. Reluctantly, Roni’s mother subsided. Elkan turned to Roni. “Do I need to look back further and see who suggested the idea?”

  The boy slumped in his chair, deflated. “It was both of us. We thought we knew how to fool the wizards. We wanted to see if we could get away with it.”

  “It didn’t work, did it?” Elkan’s voice was somber.

  “No, sir.”

  “Roni, I want you to understand. Even if you had been able to fool me, the Mother still would have seen what you did. It’s her vision she lends us, to help us understand the truth. You know that what you did was wrong, don’t you? If you wish, I can show you how hard Master Nur worked to bake the cakes your friend took. I can show you how much he paid for the ingredients that went into them. I can show you how hard the other customers in his shop worked to earn the money they paid him for the cakes they bought. Do you need to see those things?”

  “No, sir,” Roni whispered.

  “The work of our hands is sacred to the Mother. When you steal the products of a man’s craft from him and deny him his rightful payment, you defy her. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Roni seemed very small and defeated.

  The watchers brought the other boy into the room. Behind them, a tall man in the simple clothes of a laborer followed. They came to stand before Elkan.

  The watcher told Elkan, “We took the time to find the boy’s father.”

  “Well done,” Elkan told her. He addressed the boy. “What’s your name?”

  “Adin Laborerkin.” The boy was sullen.

  “And you’re his father?”

  “Master Dagan Fisherkin Laborer, sir.”

  “Master Dagan, why is the child’s mother not here also?”

  “She’s been dead these three years, sir. I do my best with my boy, but I won’t deny he can get in a spot of trouble, sometimes.”

  Elkan nodded. “Adin, do you admit to stealing the cakes?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Roni said the two of you planned this together. Is that true?”

  Adin glanced at Roni, who glared at him. He turned back to Elkan, shrinking even more beneath his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

  Elkan looked thoughtfully at him, frowning. He glanced at Sar, who returned his gaze for a long moment, then twitched an ear and looked away. Elkan turned back to Adin. “Is it, I wonder?”

  Elkan came to a decision. “Adin, Master Dagan, sit down. This may take a few minutes.”

  He laid his left hand on Sar’s back and extended his right. The ball of light appeared over his palm again. This time it stayed small, no more than a handspan in width. Anything within was visible only to Elkan, who bent over it, studying what it showed him.

  For a few minutes they waited. Josiah guessed Elkan was searching backwards and forwards in time, trying to find some crucial detail. Finally Elkan sat back. He raised his hand, and the ball of light expanded to its full size and cleared.

  Adin and Roni sat on a fallen tree by the river, pitching pebbles into the water. Roni turned to his friend. “I sure would like one of Master Nur’s honey rolls. Got any money?”

  “Only a copper. Want to split one?”

  Roni made a disgusted face. Both boys were silent for a moment. Then Roni sat up straight, his eyes widening. “We could pinch some.”

  Adin looked aghast. “Are you crazy? They’d catch us for sure. Those wizards can see everything, you know.”

  “Aw, come on, you’re smart. I bet you can figure out some way to fool them. Just think about it.” Roni poked him in the arm.

  Adin bit his lip, but his eyes lit up with a calculating look. “I have been thinking of something that might work…”

  As the two boys bent their heads together, Elkan let the window fade. “So, Adin, it was Roni’s idea, not yours. Yet you didn’t accuse him. Why?”

  Adin stared at the floor. “I didn’t think you’d believe me, sir. I mean, he’s the son of a cobbler and a tailor, and I’m just a laborer’s son.”

  Elkan spoke sternly, aiming his words at much at Adin’s father and Roni’s parents as at the boy. “The Mother’s justice is for all. The Mother values all work equally and makes no distinction between crafts. No one need ever be afraid to speak before the Wizard’s Court, because her window will always show the truth.”

  He turned back to the boys. “Boys, come here and stand before me.”

  They did so. Elkan nodded at Master Nur. “I believe you owe Master Nur an apology.”

  “I’m sorry, Master Nur,” they each mumbled in turn.

  “Master Nur, you wish restitution for what they took?”

  “Yes, I do.” He tried to glare coldly at the shamefaced boys in front of him, but couldn’t quite keep the look from softening.

  “Would you find a week’s worth of labor in your shop from each of them fair compensation?”

  The baker nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “And you won’t seek to revenge yourself on them by treating them cruelly?”

  “Of course not!” The baker looked sincerely shocked at the idea.

  Elkan turned to the boys. “Are you willing to serve Master Nur faithfully, and work hard for him, in order to make amends for the harm you did?”

  “Yes, sir.” Both boys seemed relieved their punishment was no harsher, though daunted at the thought of working under the man they had robbed.

  “And you,” Elkan said, addressing the parents. “Are you willing to let your sons work for a week at the bake shop, in the understanding that if they don’t report for work and complete their duties satisfactorily, you’ll be held liable to compensate Master Nur?”

  “Yes, sir.” Adin’s father was eager. Roni’s parents seemed reluctant, but they agreed to the terms.

  Elkan looked around the room. “Does anyone have any objection to the proposed settlement?”

  No one responded. “Good. The Mother sets her seal on this judgement.”

  There was a general sigh. People rose to their feet and made their way out of the court area. A new group of people filed in.

  Kaniel, Windsong on his shoulder, rose from the last row of benches and came forward. “I slipped in and watched the bit at the end. Very well done. I might have missed that final point if I hadn’t been paying close attention. Windsong and I are ready to get back to work. We can handle the rest of the cases if you want to stop for the afternoon a little early.”

  Elkan stretched, then shook his head ruefully. “I expect there’s still need for healing. Come along, Josiah, we’ll finish up over there.”

  Four

  The last of the waiting patients were healed and sent home, and the last of the court cases were settled. Josiah helped Elkan and the other wizards fold screens and put them away in stora
ge rooms. Everyone pitched in to move the chairs and benches into concentric rings, ready for the Restday service in the morning.

  After supper, Elkan showed Josiah to the male apprentices’ dormitory. “You’re sure you’d rather stay here tonight than at your parents’ home?”

  He nodded. Last night had been awkward enough. If he was going to be apprentice to a wizard, even unofficially and temporarily, he should act the part. “I’ll join them tomorrow after the service for the midday meal, if you don’t mind. Then I can say my good-byes and come back for supper and sleep here. You said you wanted to get an early start on Firstday.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.”

  “Elkan?” Josiah set his pack down at the foot of his bed. He spoke quietly, and Elkan drew close to hear him over the murmur of the boys preparing for bed.

  “Yes, Josiah?”

  “How are wizard apprentices chosen? Do masters choose their own, like in most guilds, or are there tests, or what?”

  “Each spring the Mother speaks to the Guildmaster and reveals the names of the apprentices for that year. Why?”

  “No reason. It’s just… I never considered making the Wizards’ Guild one of my choices. I never had any interest in the Mother or any desire to serve her. But today, seeing the work you do… I think I could do it. Maybe, if you’re satisfied with me when we get back next year, I could put in my application to be considered. I mean, I know I’ll be two years too old—”

  “No one applies to the Wizards’ Guild, Josiah. The Mother chooses from all those of apprenticing age. Take me, for instance. I had every intention of apprenticing to my father as a farmer until a messenger showed up at our door with the letter announcing I’d been chosen.”

  “So I’ve already had my chance.” Josiah tried not to sound bitter, but it wasn’t easy. “The Mother decided I’m not good enough.”

  “It’s not like that.” Elkan put his hands on Josiah’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “There’s a place for you somewhere, Josiah. If at the end of this year you’re sure you don’t want to go back to the fulling mill, I’ll help you find a craft that will allow you to fully use your talents.”

  Elkan sounded very sure, but Josiah couldn’t bring himself to share the wizard’s unquestioning faith. He was terribly afraid there was no place he could be truly happy, no craft that called for the peculiar mix of abilities and flaws that made up his personality. He mumbled his thanks to Elkan and turned to pull down the covers of his bed.

  * * *

  The next morning Josiah joined Elkan in the dining hall for breakfast. He was glad the two of them had the table to themselves.

  “Ah, Elkan.” He felt awkward calling the wizard by only his name, but in the midst of the informal way the wizards treated each other it would have been just as awkward to stick with “Wizard Elkan.”

  Elkan smiled encouragingly at him. “Yes?”

  “I’ve never actually been to a regular Restday service. Just on holidays. Will it be like the services for Harvest or Springtide?” Josiah thought of last year’s Harvest Festival, with the hall packed with revelers, members of the Singers’ and Players’ Guilds presenting their offerings to the Mother, encouraging all those attending to join them in their crafts. A wizard—now that he thought about it, it might have been Master Tivon—had given a speech that Josiah had mostly ignored, all about thanking the Mother for the bounties of the harvest.

  “Oh, no, it will be very different.” Elkan grinned a little to himself, and Josiah wondered if the Harvest Festival he had attended in Elathir had been half as fun. “The holidays are times of celebration. Restday services are more about quiet contemplation. People speak to the Mother, and we listen.”

  “Oh.” Josiah couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

  “As you’re not formally a member of the Wizards’ Guild, you’re allowed to speak, should you feel so moved. However, since you’re with me, I would ask you to remain silent, so no one will be confused.”

  Now Josiah was confused. “Wizards can’t speak?”

  “Master Tivon, as the senior wizard of this Hall, will call the service to order, and when it’s time for it to end he’ll dismiss us. Other than that we remain quiet.”

  “You just… sit there? The whole time?”

  “That’s right. There are a few situations in which we speak. But none of them apply to you, so don’t worry about it.”

  After breakfast, the wizards filed into the main Hall. Sar paced beside Elkan. Josiah looked around and saw that all the wizards were accompanied by their familiars. They moved into the ring of benches and chairs and chose seats scattered at random around the circle. Only Tivon seated himself in the center ring. Most of the others chose places near the outside of the circle, especially those whose familiars were large. Elkan sat in a folding chair in the outer ring, and Sar settled in beside him. Josiah sat on Elkan’s other side. He squirmed in the hard wooden chair, gloomily certain his tailbone would be sore long before the service was over.

  People filtered in through the main doors, taking seats. A quiet buzz of voices built up in the room. Gradually the circle filled, until most of the seats were occupied. An old woman sat down on a bench next to Josiah.

  When the flow of people from the door trickled to a halt and most of them were seated, Tivon stood up. The few stragglers hurried to seats. Conversation died away.

  When everyone was still, Tivon spoke.

  “We are gathered together in the Mother’s name. Let us be still and listen to her voice. Let us speak, knowing she hears us. Let us ponder her mysteries. Let us share together the joy of her presence.”

  He sat down. All was silent.

  Josiah shifted in his chair. He looked around at the gathered townsfolk. Most had their heads bowed. There were many older people, but also a number of young families. Occasionally a child would speak or make some noise and be softly hushed by a parent. A baby cried, but soon found comfort at her mother’s breast. Someone coughed. Someone else sneezed.

  Josiah glanced at Elkan, sitting serenely quiet, calm eyes looking off into the distance. He looked at the old woman on his other side, who nodded in time with some internal rhythm.

  Josiah closed his eyes in despair. This was going to be the longest hour of his life.

  The silence stretched on. Josiah ran his hands through his hair. He chewed at a hangnail. He studied the patches of light cast on the floor from the windows high overhead. One fell near his feet. He scooted his foot over to the edge of the light surreptitiously, and lined it up just inside the shadow. The sunlight crept imperceptibly until it brushed the edge of his boot.

  Across the circle, there was a rustle. A woman stood up. Her voice was low and soft, but in the quiet it was clearly audible. “Thank you, Mother, for guiding my sister safely through labor and birth, and for the gift of a new niece.”

  She sat down. Silence settled over the assembly again.

  After a while, a man rose. “Mother, I ask your protection as I embark on my journey to Elathir.” He resumed his seat.

  Quickly, a little boy jumped to his feet. “Mother, please take care of Shaggy and help me find him, ’cause he’s the best dog ever and I miss him and he’s never stayed gone this long before, and please don’t let him be dead or have found some other family he likes better—”

  The child’s father laid a hand on his arm. The boy looked at him and blinked. “—well, anyway, please send him home.” He sat and looked down at his hands clenched in his lap.

  It went on like that for a while, with people rising and speaking their gratitude or requests to the Mother. At first Josiah diverted himself listening to them, but soon they blurred together into a haze of sameness and he lost interest. He looked at his boot. The light had crept a finger-width up his toe. He abandoned his timekeeping attempt and shifted around in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position.

  He looked around the circle. He spotted a few apprentices he’d met the day before and tried to catch thei
r eyes. Eventually one of the girls glanced his way. He mouthed, “How much longer?”

  She frowned and shook her head, looking pointedly at Elkan. Josiah looked at the wizard too, but he seemed oblivious. He tried to get her attention again, but she stared off in the other direction.

  Josiah gave up and began to study the familiars he could see from his position. Not far away a goat lay on the floor next to its wizard’s chair, chewing its cud. Across the circle a rabbit rested in its master’s lap. Her hand rhythmically stroked it between the eyes. Windsong perched on Kaniel’s shoulder, shiny black eyes focused intently on the center of the circle. Beside them, a wizard held a mouse on his knee. Josiah entertained himself for a few minutes with the thought of the hawk swooping down on the mouse and enjoying a messy meal right in the middle of the service. But the two animals ignored each other, and Josiah’s attention drifted again.

  The floor of the Hall was laid out in intricate marble tiles. Josiah noticed a network of lines in subtle blacks and grays, like a spider’s web, radiating from the mosaic of the Mother’s hands at the center of the room to the farthest corners of the hall. Here and there in the pattern were round medallions with what Josiah at first took to be abstract designs. He studied the one nearest his feet. Was that a fish, and the suggestion of a net? Intrigued, he searched the floor until he found another. He wasn’t quite sure, but that one might be a spiraling thread and a spindle. And there, around the curve of the circle, but still visible, was a symbol that could only be a millstone and an ear of grain.

  A woman had risen and was speaking. “…as I was kneading the dough, I thought about the yeast in the bread, how it just takes a little bit, but it spreads through the bread, and changes what would be heavy and dull into something light and fluffy and good. And I thought about how that is like the Mother’s gifts to us, how only a little can spread through the world, doing her good…”

  Josiah tuned out the speaker, hunting for references to more crafts among the stones of the floor. He succeeded in spotting a carpenter’s square and hammer, a cooper’s barrel, and a knitter’s needles. He was puzzled by one that depicted an oddly shaped tool he’d never seen before, and another that had to be more than a random pattern of lines, although he couldn’t make out what it was supposed to represent.