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

by Angela Holder

  “So be it. This hearing is concluded, and we are dismissed.” Master Admon squared his stack of papers with a decisive motion.

  The crowd of spectators surged to their feet, voices rising in a babble. The participants at the front of the room were slower to disperse. Josiah was eager to get out of the room, which had grown just as hot as he had feared, but Elkan leaned against Sar, his eyes closed, and Josiah knew he shouldn’t disturb him.

  Watchers surrounded Kabos. He rose, face as cold and closed as ever. He didn’t look at Sathea, though she gazed at him, a lost, hurt expression on her face, nor at Nirel, whose eyes burned as she tried to catch his attention. He walked unresisting between the watchers as they led him away.

  Loud cries drew Josiah’s attention to the other side of the room, where Yovela carried in the sobbing Yarin. She’d kept him occupied in an adjoining room during the hearing. As soon as she set him down he ran to Sathea, wailing. Sathea passed Ilana over to Nirel and gathered Yarin close. She buried her face in his hair, murmuring reassurances in a voice that trembled on the edge of breaking.

  Josiah twisted his hands in his lap. He tried to convince himself that the day’s events were for the best. Nirel and Sathea—and Yarin, too, he hadn’t even known about him—would be free from Kabos’s abuse. They’d be able to start a new life. It would be a hard adjustment, but in the long run they’d be better off.

  But as the family rose and made their way past, he couldn’t bring himself to face Sathea’s grief, Nirel’s anger, or the little ones’ uncomprehending unhappiness. He bowed his head until they were gone.

  Elkan’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Come.”

  Josiah trailed behind him out of the courtroom. They made their way through the streets, away from the crowds that slowly dispersed from around the Mother’s Hall.

  They crossed one of the bridges over the river. Sar’s hooves thudded on the wooden boards. Josiah wondered whether after the midday meal he would be needed to help Elkan with more work, or if he might be able to sneak down to the river for a swim.

  Elkan’s voice startled him out of his longing fantasy of cool water. “There’s a group of traders and travelers leaving Tathorlith in a weeks’ time, heading downriver to Korisan.”

  Josiah nodded, uninterested. Why had Elkan brought this up?

  Elkan stopped and turned to face Josiah. “I’ve spent many hours debating whether I should send you with them.”

  Josiah swallowed, cold apprehension running through his arms and legs and settling in the pit of his stomach. “But, but… why?”

  Elkan’s lips tightened. “You know why. You disobeyed me. I told you we weren’t allowed to interfere with Kabos and his family, and you ignored me. You did what you wanted, in complete disregard of everything I said.”

  Hanging his head, Josiah could only nod. Elkan was right. Shame flooded him. But he fought against it. He’d had very good reasons for what he’d done, and he was determined not to regret it. He forced his voice past the tension in his throat. “I couldn’t just leave them with him.”

  Elkan scowled at Josiah. “How can I keep you with me if I can’t trust you?” He ran a hand through his hair. “My own wizardry is at stake. I’m acting as your master, and I’m responsible for what you do. If I can’t control you, if I allow you to break the Mother’s Law while you’re under my supervision, I’ll be held accountable. You’ve been invaluable to me on our journey so far, and I would sorely miss your companionship as well as your help, but I won’t risk being expelled from the Wizards’ Guild for your sake.”

  Dumbstruck, Josiah stared at Elkan. Finally, he stammered, “Surely it would never come to that…”

  “It could.” For a moment Elkan maintained his stern expression. Then he glanced at Sar, put his hand on the donkey’s neck, and relented a little. “Although not for this misadventure.”

  He wound his fingers in Sar’s mane. “In truth, my conduct in this matter was hardly faultless. I, too, chafed at the restrictions the Law put on our actions. I suspected you might try something, and I should have acted to stop you, but part of me wanted you to succeed. I let you force my hand so the violation of the Law would be yours, not mine. It was wrong of me. If I couldn’t accept the wisdom of the Mother’s decrees, then I should at least have had the courage to defy them openly instead of hiding behind your youth and recklessness.”

  The wizard stared off into the distance, his hand still clutched tight in Sar’s mane. Hesitantly, Josiah ventured, “Everything came out all right, though, didn’t it? Kabos won’t be able to hurt them any more.”

  “There is that.” But Elkan’s mood was not lightened by the thought. He sighed. “I can’t allow anything like this to happen in the future. I must have your promise to obey me implicitly, without exception, from now on, or you’ll be joining the traders on the way to Korisan. Do you understand?”

  Josiah gulped. “Yes, sir. I promise.” Miserable under the weight of Elkan’s disapproval, he vowed in his heart to do everything in his power to earn back the wizard’s trust.

  Sar snorted and bobbed his head, and Elkan scratched the base of his ears. “Very well. Let’s get back to Admon and Yovela’s. We can help them prepare the meal.” He set off down the quiet street.

  Twelve

  Josiah woke with a start in the chill darkness before dawn to a confused clamor of shouting. He sat up. Elkan had risen from the bed they shared in Admon’s guest room and was hastily dressing. “Go back to sleep, Josiah.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “There’s been an attack on the jail. The watchers think it’s the bandits.”

  “What? Why would they do that?”

  “Sar and I will try to find out. You wait for us here.” He was gone before Josiah could protest.

  There was no way he could sleep, no matter what Elkan said, so he pulled on his clothes and went to the window. He couldn’t see much, only the glow of torches in the distance and an occasional glimpse of shadowy figures running through the streets. But he kept watch long after all commotion had died away. Finally the soft gray light of morning stole over the town.

  Admon had left in the night with Elkan. Yovela built up the fire and put on a kettle of porridge for breakfast. Josiah could only pick at his portion until the sound of boots and hooves on the cobbles outside announced the others’ arrival.

  After Elkan had settled Sar in the yard with a generous supply of hay, he and Admon gratefully accepted bowls of porridge. Elkan dug in hungrily as Admon filled them in on the night’s events. “There wasn’t much we could do. They were on their way out of town before the alarm was raised. They looted a number of shops, but their main goal seems to have been the jail. The two watchers guarding it were attacked. One’s dead, but Elkan managed to save the other.” He grimaced. “The bandits freed the farmer and took him with them.”

  Josiah swallowed a bite of suddenly leaden porridge. “Kabos? He’s gone?”

  Elkan nodded grimly. “We opened a window and tracked them as they fled, but they were already too far away for us to catch, and they quickly moved out of range. Sar and I can follow their trail, if you plan to pursue them.”

  Admon shook his head wearily. “They have hiding places all through these mountains. They’ve troubled us for a few years now, but they never dared hit the town before. I’ll order the Watch to set a patrol in case they try to come back, but I doubt we’ll see them again. They got what they came for.”

  It didn’t make sense. “Kabos can’t be one of the bandits. Why would they come after him? And what about Nirel, and Sathea and the others? Are they all right?”

  Elkan put a reassuring hand on Josiah’s shoulder. “Jonina’s been hosting them at her home. The bandits didn’t come anywhere close to it. We’re going over there as soon as we’ve eaten to see if Sathea knows anything.”

  Josiah resolved to do whatever it took to accompany them, even if he had to sneak out, but Elkan gave his permission when he asked to come along. He followed Elkan
, Sar, Admon, and several watchers across the river to the far side of town.

  Jonina admitted them. Sathea was bustling around the long table by the fireplace, clearing away the breakfast dishes. She shooed away Yarin, who clung to her legs, staring distrustfully at the newcomers. Sathea regarded Elkan and Admon with nearly the same expression. She retreated to a chair next to the cradle where Ilana lay sleeping and picked up long slender needles. Her fingers began forming stitches with quick, nervous movements. “You’ll forgive me. But I must provide for my family now. I hope whatever you want can be accomplished while I work.”

  “Of course.” Admon took a seat in the chair Jonina indicated, and Elkan drew up a stool beside them. Sar stepped carefully to an unobtrusive post by Elkan’s side. Josiah sidled up next to him and leaned against the wall.

  Yarin tried to climb into Sathea’s lap. She pushed him away before he could become tangled in her yarn. “Go find Nirel. She’s in the other room. Go!”

  Yarin’s face crumpled into a wail.

  “Now!” Sathea glowered and pointed to the door. Still crying, Yarin went, pausing often to look back. But Sathea remained relentless. When he reached the door he stopped again. Sathea made as if to rise, starting to lay down her knitting. “Go on!”

  Yarin complied, and Sathea sank back into her chair. “Stay in there until I say you can come out!” She rubbed the back of her neck, wearily picked up her needles, and started forming stitches with angry stabs.

  After an uncomfortable moment, Elkan leaned over the cradle to peer at Ilana’s face. “How is she doing? Has everything gone well since the healing?”

  “Yes, yes, just fine. At first she would wrinkle her face and rub her mouth and cry. I guess it felt strange to her. But she’s gotten used to it now.” Sathea’s fingers faltered momentarily, then resumed their rapid knitting. “I have to admit, sometimes I miss the way she used to look. It’s like she’s a different child. It’s wrong, I know; she’s so much healthier now…”

  “It’s natural to feel that way,” Elkan assured her. “You loved her the way she was, and now she’s changed; of course you have mixed feelings.” He hesitated. “Even when a change is for the better, you grieve for what you’ve lost.”

  Sathea looked at him bleakly, aware of the double meaning in his words. “True.” She bent intently again over her knitting.

  Admon leaned forward. “Sathea, I know this will be difficult for you, but you must tell us anything you know. Have you heard what happened during the night?”

  Sathea was silent. Jonina nodded. “The news was everywhere as soon as the sun rose.”

  “Then you must have heard that the bandits appear to have come with the express purpose of freeing Kabos. Did he have any contact with them before now?”

  For a long time Sathea didn’t answer. She focused on correcting an error in her work. But as the silence lengthened and everyone continued to watch her, her hands gradually stilled. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded. When she spoke, her voice was low and husky. “It started about three years ago. They came by every few months. We’d sell them grain and milk and meat. They’d pay me to knit masks for them. Kabos would let them camp in the upper fields.”

  Elkan spoke quietly. “Do you know their names and faces?”

  Sathea bit her lip. “I only ever saw a few of them—Kabos didn’t like them coming around me and the children. But once he introduced me to their leader, Ozor. Short man, round face, pointed beard. Kabos used to go off with him for days at a time. He’s the closest thing Kabos has to a friend, I think.”

  “That explains why they came for him.” Admon leaned forward. “Do you know where they might be headed?”

  “No. They never told me anything.”

  Across the room, Josiah noticed the door to the bedroom swing open a crack. Yarin appeared, face red and tearstained. He crept toward Sathea, his need for her comfort warring with his fear of her anger. Josiah slipped as unobtrusively as he could to intercept him.

  He reached Yarin and held out his arms. Yarin eyed him with distrust but allowed Josiah to scoop him up. He hiccuped and buried his face in Josiah’s shoulder.

  Sathea spotted them. “Yarin! I told you to stay with Nirel. Why’d she let you come out?”

  Yarin twisted in Josiah’s arms, reaching for his mother. “I couldn’t find her!” he wailed.

  Frowning, Sathea put her work aside and rose, accepting Yarin from Josiah. “Nirel!” she called. She pushed the bedroom door open and peered around inside. “Nirel?” She backed out, worry undercutting her annoyance. “She’s not in there.” She turned to Jonina. “When did you last see her?”

  “At breakfast. I think she might have gone out to the privy afterwards, but I’m not sure.”

  Sathea’s face paled. “He can’t have come for her, can he? He wouldn’t dare.”

  Elkan laid a hand on Sathea’s arm. “Let us help.” Reaching for Sar, he produced a sparkling golden sphere over his palm with a quick gesture.

  The room they stood in appeared within. Nirel sat at the breakfast table, white-faced and silent, shoveling porridge into her mouth. Sathea nodded. “She was so upset when we heard the news, but then she got… strange. Quiet.”

  Elkan nodded and focused on the window. Time slipped past quickly, then slowed to normal speed. Nirel waved casually as she headed out the door. “I’m going to the privy, Mother.”

  Jonina leaned in close. “What’s that she’s carrying?”

  The window zoomed in to focus on Nirel’s hand, tucked behind her back. A leather sack dangled from it.

  Sathea sank back, eyes wide. “Oh, dear Mother. She’s run off to join him.”

  Jonina moved to Sathea’s side and put an arm around her shoulders. Sathea clutched Yarin tight and stared at the window.

  The view followed Nirel out the door and down the street to the public privies, hovering outside as she made a brief stop within. When she emerged, she glanced furtively both ways down the quiet street. Then, slinging her pack onto her back, she strode in the opposite direction from Jonina’s home. Her progress was quick. When she reached the jail she paused for a quick look, then chose the street that led toward the mountains to the north. She didn’t stop or look back when she left the town, passing the last outlying buildings with quick steps. The image started to fade and grow fuzzy as she reached the limits of the Mother’s power. Elkan breathed heavily, and Sar’s sides heaved. Just before the window dissolved into a wash of golden sparkles, Josiah saw Nirel turn from the main road onto a side path.

  Wiping sweat from his brow, Elkan patted Sar. “Did you see that last?”

  Admon nodded. “I know the place.” Going to the door, he spoke to the watchers who remained outside. One set off in haste.

  “Give Sar and me a moment to recover, and we’ll come along. We should be able to find her quickly enough.”

  Sathea was pale, but grim. “I want to come with you.”

  Admon laid a hand on her shoulder. “I think you should stay here with your other children. They need you. I promise, we’ll find her and bring her back as quickly as we can.” He didn’t say that she’d only get in the way, but Josiah guessed that was what he meant.

  He figured his own best bet to be included in the search was to be quiet and follow along. He slipped out the door after Sar and trotted behind the donkey as Admon led the way toward the jail. Elkan glanced at him, but didn’t say anything.

  They had only traveled a few dozen yards from Jonina’s door when a voice hailed them. “Elkan!’

  Meira hurried to meet them. Ravid was in his usual place on her back. “They told me you were coming here. What happened? I heard bandits attacked the town last night. Do you think they’re the same…”

  Elkan hesitated. “Go on,” he told Admon. “I know the way. We’ll catch up.” He turned to Meira. “They were wearing masks, so I couldn’t be sure, but I think they must be the same ones. Will you look and tell me what you think?”

  Meira’s face blanched, but s
he set her lips into a hard line and nodded. Elkan ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and reached for Sar. A window blossomed over his open palm. Dark-clad shapes darted from the shadows into the pool of light cast by a single lantern by the door of the jail. They wore the same sort of knitted masks as those who’d raided the abandoned farmhouse. One called, “Douse the light!” Another stepped over a slumped form with arrows protruding from its back and lifted his mask momentarily to blow out the flame.

  “I recognize him,” Meira said, her voice strained. “Not their leader, but the other one. With the long knife, who stabbed—”

  “That’s what I thought, too. What about the one who spoke?”

  “That was the leader, I think. Let me hear him again?”

  The window blurred momentarily, then replayed the scene. Meira nodded. “Yes, that was him. The one with the pointed beard.”

  “Ozor, Sathea said his name is. Apparently Kabos is his friend.” Elkan dismissed the window and turned to Josiah. “Josiah, stay with Meira. Do whatever she tells you. Take her to Jonina’s house; you can wait for us there. We’ll bring Nirel as soon as we find her.”

  Josiah was about to protest, but a sharp look from Elkan reminded him of his promise. He bit back his objection, and instead bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”

  Elkan flashed him a quick grin, amused and sympathetic, but unyielding. “Don’t worry. Nirel will be fine. Come, Sar.” Wizard and familiar hurried away.

  Josiah bit his lip and clenched his fists as he watched them go. Mustering a false smile, he turned to Meira. “Here, let me show you to Master Jonina’s.”

  Meira inclined her head. “Lead on.”

  He took her to Jonina’s house and introduced her to the knitter. Meira went to Sathea and embraced her, murmuring in sympathy. The two women settled by the fire, nursing their babies and speaking quietly.

  Josiah paced the room, stopping often to gaze out the window. It would be many hours before the others returned, even if they found Nirel quickly and without incident, yet still he felt compelled to watch for them.