The trail followed the river, veering away in places but always coming back, crossing several times on narrow wooden bridges or through shallow rocky fords. Josiah knew from the map that they would travel along the river all the way to where it joined with the Deorga and turned south out of the mountains. They’d spend a few days at Tathorlith there, then turn and follow the Deorga upstream.
Late in the afternoon, Meira stopped where the path forded a small stream that flowed from the north to join the river. She touched a blaze carved into a tree. “This is the place. Ravid and I traced this stream up to where we ran into the bandits.”
“All right.” Elkan looked around. “We can camp here for the night. Josiah, help Meira with her tent while I set up ours. Then you can get a fire going and start cooking while we go and investigate.” He turned to Meira. “If you’d rather, you can stay here with Josiah. I’m sure Sar and I can find the bandits’ camp from your description.”
“No. I’ll come with you.” She swallowed. “I want to make sure you see everything that happened. I won’t let Ravid’s murderers escape justice because you missed something I could have shown you.”
“Are you sure it won’t be too painful for you to see Ravid in our window? To see—”
Meira looked away, clenching her fists. “Of course it will. But I have to anyway.”
Elkan took half a step toward her, then stopped. After a moment he strode over to Sar and began unfastening the tent poles with sharp, jerky movements. “Josiah, there’s another clear spot over there. Take Thistle and start unloading.”
Josiah started putting up Meira’s tent while she changed Ravid’s diaper. She spread a blanket on the ground and laid the baby where he could watch, then came to help. Between the two of them her tent went up quickly, so Josiah went to help Elkan finish theirs.
The wizard worked in grim silence. Josiah waited until the last stake and rope were in place before he spoke. “Please, Elkan, can I go with you? I want to see what happened, too. The fire can wait until we get back.”
“No. Absolutely not. We’re going to have to watch a murder. A man’s violent death. Do you think I’d let an apprentice witness that without some compelling need? There’s no reason for you to see this. Meira and I can give evidence of what the window shows when the bandits come to trial.”
“But I—”
“No buts.” Elkan thrust the pail into Josiah’s hands. “Go fetch some water from the stream.”
Josiah seethed as he dipped the pail into the icy stream and lugged it back to camp. He wasn’t a child. He could handle watching whatever the window showed just fine. He might even notice something the others missed. He already knew about Ravid’s murder from Meira’s description. How would seeing it happen be any different?
He thought about following when Meira, with Ravid on her back, led Elkan and Sar up the little stream, but he knew he’d never get away with it. One of them would be certain to notice and send him back. And if they didn’t, Sar’s sharp ears would betray him. Instead he busied himself gathering firewood and cutting up meat and vegetables for the soup.
As it was getting dark, they returned. Meira wore a bleak, haunted expression, Elkan a forbidding scowl. Sar went to join Thistle grazing in a patch of grass near the river. Josiah ladled bowls of hot soup. Meira thanked him in a strained voice. Elkan took his with a curt nod. They ate in silence, the only sound a few brief whimpers from Ravid before Meira soothed him at her breast. As soon as she finished eating Meira bid them a quiet good-night and went to her tent.
Elkan watched her go, then turned to bank the fire. Josiah finally dared speak. “Did you see what you needed to?”
“Yes.” Elkan jabbed the poker into the coals, sending a burst of sparks flying. “Everything happened just as Meira described.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
Elkan sat back and rubbed his face. “I think so. She’s strong. I just wish there were some way I could…” He shook his head and went back to work on the fire. “But there’s not.”
Late that night Josiah woke to the sound of muffled sobs coming from the other tent. He opened his eyes to find Elkan lying rigid next to him, staring at the canvas ceiling. “Go back to sleep,” the wizard whispered.
Josiah tried, but only after the crying finally stopped and Elkan relaxed was he able to drift off again.
* * *
For the next two weeks they wound through the mountains, frequently venturing off the main river path to visit the many small farms and villages scattered through the area. Elkan was enthusiastically welcomed. He and Sar were pressed into service for everything from healing a child’s infected toenail to helping repair a collapsed well.
Meira was subdued for a few days, but gradually her mood brightened. Talking seemed to help, so Josiah tried to engage her in conversation as often as he could. Much of the time the way was too steep and difficult to allow for much talking, but at other times the land was more level, and they were able to walk abreast and converse. In response to Josiah’s questions, Meira told them about her work in the mines and her childhood as the daughter of a famous goldsmith.
“Mother would have loved it if I’d chosen to apprentice with her, but I was a bit of a rebel back then. I wanted to get my hands dirty. And my younger sister was far more gifted with gold than I was, anyway. Not many women go into mining if they’re not born to the craft, but I found it rewarding. And of course I met Ravid. We wed as soon as we became journeymen. We had dreams of finding a vein of gold or copper and founding a new mine once we were masters.” She sighed. “We could have done it, too. One of the sites we found on our journey was perfect. Very promising signs of a major gold deposit, close to a stream with plenty of water. Since we discovered it, the Miners’ Guild would almost certainly have given us the commission to develop it.” Her face set into determined lines. “I plan to apply anyway. I know a few people who might be willing to partner with me.”
They broke their journey the next Restday far from any settlement. Elkan held a brief private service for them. Josiah found it much easier to sit still and quiet for the allotted time under the open sky, with the rustle of wind in the trees and the gurgle of the water over rocks in his ears.
The next week they worked their way farther down the river valley. Detours to farmsteads became more frequent, with nearly every household requiring some minor healing or aid from Elkan. They observed the next Restday at one such holding, spending most of the service listening to a long rambling prayer of gratitude from the current farmer’s elderly father, thanking the Mother effusively for Elkan’s healing of his painful and debilitating case of shingles. The Fourthday after that was Springtide. They celebrated the new year in a tiny village which was elated to have visitors join them for the holiday.
The next week they camped two nights in a row because no farms were nearby when it came time to stop for the night. On the third day it rained, the blustery wind cutting right through Josiah’s cloak. He was grateful when Elkan led them down a branching path a bit earlier than they usually stopped for the night, anticipating the shelter of strong walls and the warmth of a fire.
They rounded the last bend and came into view of a farmhouse. It was typical of many others where they’d stayed, rough-hewn wooden walls topped by a slate roof. A few goats wandered about the yard, but most of the flock huddled in the shelter of a three-walled shed.
The door opened a crack to Elkan’s knock, and a thin-faced, nervous looking girl, around Josiah’s age or a bit younger, peered out. Elkan assumed his most reassuring attitude. “Greetings. My name is Elkan Farmerkin Wizard, and I—”
The girl turned from them. “Mother!” she called back into the warmly lit room. “Mother! It’s a wizard!”
Josiah heard a muffled gasp from within, and the clatter of a wooden bowl being dropped. A moment later, a woman who closely resembled the girl appeared in the doorway.
“Thank the Mother,” she exclaimed, her voice choked with emotion. “Please, come in. I kn
ew a wizard would have to come through soon. But I thought I’d have to go down to Tathorlith to find you, if—But you all must be weary and soaked. Come dry yourselves.”
Elkan stood aside to allow Meira and Josiah to enter. He exchanged glances with Sar, and the donkey, trailed by Thistle, plodded over to take shelter under the shed with the goats. Elkan came into the warm farmhouse and shrugged off his cloak. “You have need of the Mother’s aid?”
“Yes.” The woman glanced anxiously at a cradle beside the fire. “It’s the baby. But she’s sleeping now. It can wait until she wakes. Sit down, make yourselves comfortable.” She shooed aside a boy of about three who clung to her legs, peering fearfully at the strangers, and moved to draw chairs close to the fire.
The girl joined her mother, looking anxiously toward the door. “Father will be back from the field any time. Do you think…?”
The woman shushed her. “Of course he’ll welcome the wizard and his companions. Go, bring in a few onions and a scoop of barley from the storeroom.” The woman turned back to her guests. “I’m Sathea Farmerkin Knitter, and that’s my daughter Nirel. This is Yarin.” She indicated the boy still clinging stubbornly to her legs. “My husband, Kabos, will be here soon.”
Elkan nodded acknowledgment and introduced Josiah, Meira, and Ravid. “And also, my familiar, Sardonyx, a donkey, is outside, along with Meira’s donkey. If you don’t mind them sharing your goats’ hay, your shed should be sufficient shelter. But do be aware, Sar will have to come in when you’re ready for us to see to your need.”
“Of course.” Sathea turned distractedly to Nirel, who had returned from the pantry. “Give me those, and go break open another sheaf of hay for the wizard’s animals.”
“Josiah, would you help her, please?” Elkan murmured, and Josiah, reluctant as he felt to leave the warmth of the house, nodded and pulled his wet cloak back around his shoulders.
He followed Nirel through the rapidly fading twilight to the goat shed. It was warm and steamy inside from the animals’ body heat. The goats had bunched to one side, making room for Sar and Thistle, who lipped up the last few strands of hay from the floor.
Nirel nodded to the back of the shed, where sheaves of hay were neatly stacked. Josiah helped her lift one down. She pulled a knife from her belt to cut its binding, and they scattered the sweet-smelling yellow stalks.
Nirel helped Josiah unload the donkeys, piling the camping gear and anything else they wouldn’t need that night into a heap in a back corner. Josiah dug through the pile and found the donkeys’ brushes. He tossed one to Nirel. Together they stripped the harnesses off the animals and set about brushing them, Josiah working on Thistle while Nirel groomed Sar.
They were almost finished when a cold voice spoke. “Nirel.”
The girl jumped and swung around to face the speaker. “Father!” Her voice was respectful, even happy, but there was tension in it that struck Josiah as strange. He looked back and forth between the two curiously.
Before her father could say anything else, Nirel continued. “Father, this is Josiah. He’s apprentice to a wizard. A wizard, Father, just like we’ve been waiting for. This donkey is the wizard’s familiar; I was just helping brush him.”
The man walked into the shed and laid a hand on Nirel’s shoulder. He wasn’t that large, perhaps an inch or two shy of Elkan’s height, though broader in the chest. But there was a presence about him that made him seem much larger and more intimidating. His dark eyes studied Josiah for a moment. He turned to Nirel. “Where’s this wizard now?”
“In the house with Mother.”
Her father nodded curtly. “Come with me.” His fingers tightened on Nirel’s shoulder as he steered her around. “You’re not to be alone with this boy. You know better. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Yes, Father.” Nirel looked at the floor.
He released her, and strode purposefully from the shed, herding her before him.
Josiah watched them go, taken aback. He shook his head and tried to return to the task at hand, but couldn’t concentrate. After giving Thistle a last perfunctory swipe, he ran through the rain back to the house. He slipped through the door and froze, struck by the tense atmosphere.
Nirel’s father stood in the middle of the room. He stared hard at Elkan, who had risen and extended a courteous hand to the man. Behind him, Sathea watched, eyes round with apprehension. Meira, seated nursing Ravid by the fire, studied Sathea with a frown.
“—Farmerkin Wizard,” Elkan finished, voice calm and pleasant. “In the Mother’s name I greet you, and thank you for the hospitality of your house.”
The man’s eyes shifted around the room. Finally he extended his hand and clasped Elkan’s. “Master Kabos Farmerkin Farmer. Welcome.”
Turning away abruptly, he stripped off his heavy cloak and hung it on a hook by the fire. He stared into the flames, holding his hands out for warmth.
Josiah pulled a chair into a corner of the room and sat. Sathea and Nirel bustled about, preparing food. Elkan seated himself near Meira and quietly conversed with her. Superficially everything seemed cozy and normal, but a strain underlay the peaceful domestic scene.
Sathea came and stood beside her husband. “The stew will be ready soon. Come, sit down and I’ll fetch you some beer—”
A thin wail sounded from the cradle by the fire. Sathea jumped. She moved hastily but with an odd reluctance to gather the baby into her arms.
Biting her lip, she turned to Elkan and drew the blanket away from the baby’s face. Elkan’s expression remained calm, but Meira’s eyes widened in horror and pity, quickly suppressed.
Far too curious to remain where he was any longer, Josiah slipped quietly around behind them to see.
The child’s face was a distorted parody of a normal infant’s. Where her upper lip should have been, a wide gap extended up towards her misshapen nose, rising to peaks that merged into each nostril. A blob of flesh dangled in the middle. She opened her mouth to cry, and Josiah could see an opening in her gums and the roof of her mouth.
Elkan reached out to take the child and explored her face with gentle fingers.
Sathea studied the two of them, twisting her hands. “She can’t nurse right. When she tries, she just sucks air. I’ve been expressing milk by hand and giving it to her in a cup, but I know she’s not getting enough. It was all right at first, but lately I get less and less milk. I give her goat’s milk, but she spits most of it up. She’s not growing like she should. She’s only three months old, not nearly old enough to give solid food, though I was thinking I’d have to try…
The baby quieted in Elkan’s arms. She reached out to grab a dangling lock of his hair. Elkan winced and untangled her fingers. He wrinkled his nose and grinned at her. She returned his smile with an impossibly wide grin of her own, the broadness of her mouth giving her expression a look of infectious merriment. Josiah found himself smiling as his initial shock at the girl’s appearance wore off, but he could tell her face and arms were too thin.
“She does seem to be lagging a bit in her growth. No.” He raised a hand to silence Sathea’s anguished apology. “You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, you’ve done amazingly well, to keep her alive and thriving all this time with such a severe cleft. While it’s not the worst I’ve seen, it’s certainly among the more pronounced. You must have shown deep devotion to her.”
Sathea nodded, tears bright in her eyes. “When she was born she was so lively and healthy, but now she’s fussy and listless, and I know it’s my fault because I can’t get enough milk into her…”
Elkan met her gaze sternly. “No mother could have done more than you have.” He looked at the stewpot over the fire and the table, set and ready. “Go ahead and feed her. We should eat first, too. This will be a long, hard healing, and I’ll need my strength.” He stroked the girl’s hair and handed her back to her mother. “What’s her name?”
“We never formally named her, since we weren’t sure she’d make it…” Elkan raise
d one eyebrow at her. Sathea glanced over at her husband and lowered her voice. “But I call her Ilana.”
Elkan nodded gravely. “We’ll do our best for you, little Ilana.”
Elkan, Meira and Sathea tried to keep up a pleasant conversation over supper, but the brooding presence of Kabos cast a pall over the table, and the talk frequently lapsed into uncomfortable silence. The second or third time this happened, Josiah eyed Nirel questioningly, but she shook her head at him and focused her attention on her bowl.
Finally the meal was over. Josiah jumped up to help Nirel clear the dishes from the table. She accepted his help scrubbing them at the washbasin.
A gust of rain blew in as Elkan held the door open for Sar to enter. Elkan arranged himself in a chair by the fire, the donkey at his side, and called Sathea to bring Ilana.
Unbidden, Josiah went to dig Elkan’s logbook out of his pack. He sat where he had a good view and carefully wrote the date on the next blank page. Sathea hugged Ilana close for a moment then surrendered her. As Elkan settled the baby into his lap, Josiah studied her face again, so he could describe it.
Elkan spoke quietly to Josiah and Sathea, who took up a station in a chair on Elkan’s other side. “This kind of defect originates while the child grows in the womb. At some point, the process goes awry, and development can’t proceed normally. The Mother’s power can reverse her growth to a certain extent, just in the affected areas. But we won’t be able to take her all the way back to the original flaw without harming her. So for most of it, we’ll have to reshape the bones and flesh into their proper form by direct application of the Mother’s power. Much of the time you won’t see anything, because we’ll be working deep below the surface. The repair won’t be perfect, but she should look more normal. And most important, she should have nearly normal function, so she can nurse, and in due time be able to speak clearly.”
Sathea nodded, trembling. Elkan hovered his hand over Ilana’s face and leaned against Sar’s side. The golden glow of the Mother’s power spread to encompass Ilana’s head.
The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) Page 13