“Why?”
“No one knows. It seems to be a little more common in folk who are heavy, like Master Tava, but plenty of thin people get them, too. Usually they’re healthy otherwise.”
“But why—never mind.” No matter how often Elkan tried to explain the theology behind illness to Josiah, he was never satisfied with the answer. He still thought the Mother could have saved them all a great deal of trouble if she’d taken a bit more care to get things right when she created the world. “You said sometimes you can crush the stones?”
“That’s right. Surgery is always a last resort. We don’t interfere with the way the Mother has designed our bodies without great need.” Elkan bent closer to the organ, turning it with his knife. “See these gray patches, here and here? That’s where tissue was already dying.” He sighed and nodded. “We made the right call. It would have had to come out eventually, even if we’d cleared the blockage today. Still, often crushing the stone will fix the problem. Let me show you how, so you’ll know when you encounter this again. Sar?”
The donkey’s hooves clopped on the stone floor. He put his head against Josiah’s arm. It takes a good deal of force. Point at that one, in the middle.
Josiah put his finger as close to the sludge-covered stone as he could without touching it. The less distance the Mother’s power had to travel, the easier it was.
Gold light flowed out and encircled the stone. For a few moments nothing happened, though Josiah felt Sar drawing strongly on his energy. Then, with a soft crack, the stone crumbled into powder.
“That’s all there is to it,” Elkan said. “The pieces can pass out through the duct easily. Usually, that’s all you would need to do.” He wiped off his knife and scooped the organ back into the bowl. “Stones can form in the kidneys, too. There you definitely want to try crushing the stone first; removing a kidney is much more serious. Although it can be done.” He gathered up the towels. “I’ll take care of these. It’s about an hour until the midday meal, if this hasn’t totally ruined your appetite. You can have a break until then. Sar pushed you hard, and you held on well, right to the end. I can tell you’re getting stronger.”
Josiah glowed with the praise. “Why did you heal her so far?” He trailed Elkan out of the cubicle. Sar plodded behind him, and Tobi uncurled in a golden wave and padded after them. “I expected you to stop once the cut was closed.”
Elkan nodded. “I wanted to make absolutely sure there was nothing left open where infection could take root. With a nasty festering mess like this, there’s always the possibility that it can spread. Not much of a chance as long as it stays contained, but I’ve seen cases where the reservoir burst before we could get it out, and the infection spread through the abdomen.” He shuddered. “There’s something in the fluid that contaminates anything it touches.”
He stopped and dipped a finger into the bowl. He smeared the greenish liquid between his thumb and forefinger. “You can feel there’s something alive here, if you look close enough.” He held his finger out toward Josiah and nodded at Sar. “Show him.”
Josiah touched Sar and reached out toward the smear of liquid on Elkan’s finger. At first when the gold light probed it, he couldn’t sense anything but the warm life of Elkan’s skin. But as Sar focused more narrowly on the stain, he felt it, like a tickle in the back of his throat.
“How can it be alive?” He peered at it as the light died and Elkan wiped his fingers. “It’s just liquid. Don’t things need a body and blood and stuff to be alive? Or I guess plants have roots and stems and sap, but it’s the same thing.”
“We can only guess. The general consensus is that it contains creatures too small to be seen. Perhaps they’re like seeds, carrying a bit of life until they take root and grow in fertile soil. Or perhaps they’re like fish, swimming upstream to spawn. No one knows.” Elkan shook his head. “There’s a great deal going on within living creatures that’s too small to see. We can only make conjectures about what’s happening from what we observe. A similar sort of life can be felt in anything that decays, rotting meat or moldy fruit or sour milk. And also in people afflicted with the sort of diseases that can pass from person to person, fevers and such. Wizards have spent a lot of time and energy studying it.”
This was all so interesting Josiah nearly forgot about the promised break. He followed Elkan to the basins and scrubbed his hands as vigorously as his master, imagining tiny living creatures swarming over his hands. “Why? The Mother’s power can heal those diseases easily.”
“The hope is that if we understand more about why they happen, we can learn ways to prevent or cure them without the Mother’s power. Then our energy could be put to use on other things. There’s always more need than we can meet; you’ve seen that.”
Yes, he had. He could see it now, in the rows of people sitting in the chairs and benches outside the screened area, waiting for a wizard to help them. On a busy day like today, many of them would be bandaged or dosed with a herb draught and sent home. Only those whose injuries or illnesses were sufficiently serious would warrant a wizard’s attention. And even so, every wizard on healing duty would fall into bed tonight exhausted.
“Run on, now.” Elkan waved him off. “Grab a nap, or better still, read a few more pages of the Histories. Meet me in the dining hall. After the meal, we’ll get back to work.
“Yes, sir.” Josiah trotted toward the stairs that led to the fourth-floor apprentice quarters. Sar followed him up the broad, shallow stairs that had been built with the needs of four-footed creatures in mind. Sar, want me to brush you for a minute first?
I’d appreciate that.
Being brushed was one of Sar’s favorite things in the world. Sometimes Josiah tired of the chore, but usually he enjoyed the chance to spend a little quiet time with his familiar. Occasionally the donkey would carry on a conversation about the work they’d done together, or points of philosophy or theology from his lessons. But more often Sar was content to remain as silent as any ordinary animal, letting the set of his ears and the attitude of his body convey everything he needed to communicate. It wasn’t much different than the year Josiah had spent in his company before they bonded, when the donkey had been Elkan’s familiar. Sar leaned into the brush just as he had then, needing no words to express his pleasure.
Josiah finished and dropped the brush on his desk. His copy of the Third History sat there, a ribbon marking his spot, but he couldn’t face an hour deciphering the tiny cramped letters. Elkan might find reading relaxing, but for Josiah it took almost as much energy as healing. He’d be lucky to get through the remaining six volumes before the time, three years hence, when Guildmaster Dabiel was scheduled to begin compiling and editing the last hundred years’ worth of records into a tenth volume.
He didn’t need a nap, either. He was almost fully recovered from the earlier draining. Too bad all his friends would still be hard at work with their masters.
He could go to the market, but he didn’t have any money. Today was Sixthday; the apprentices would get their weekly allowance at the midday meal. It seldom lasted Josiah past Firstday. Maybe Master Lirah would give him his early. She wasn’t supposed to start the distribution until noon, but that was less than an hour away. Decided, Josiah headed out with a quick word of farewell to Sar.
When he got to Master Lirah’s office, he found he wasn’t the only one with the same idea. Mathir was there, giving her his most soulful, innocent look. “Please, Master Lirah? Master Hanion asked me to pick up his new tunic from the tailor’s, and I thought on the way I would stop and buy some nuts as a treat for Nina. She’s worked so hard today; we had three court cases, one right after another.” His familiar, a gray squirrel, sat up on his shoulder and favored Master Lirah with a matching gaze from her bright brown eyes.
“And some pastries for yourself, no doubt. We know you’re going to spend it on sweets, that’s why we make sure you get at least one good meal first.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Josi
ah volunteered. He returned Mathir’s betrayed look with a grimace he hoped Master Lirah wouldn’t notice. “I’m going to the market, too. Sar needs a new brush.”
“You’d think that donkey was a new-made journeyman with seven suitors. Don’t think I don’t know all your tricks. I’ve been in charge of apprentice allowances for twelve years, and I haven’t heard a new argument in eleven.” She shook her head and reached into her desk to pull out two small pouches. “You’re not going to like it, but it’s not my decision. Take it up with Master Dabiel. She’s going to speak to everyone at the midday meal.”
With a sense of dread, Josiah accepted the light pouch. Sure enough, when he turned the coins out in his hand, there were half as many as he usually received.
“But—” Mathir protested.
“I said, complain to the Guildmaster. Now go on.”
Mathir sulked all the way out of the Mother’s Hall. Only when they reached the street outside did he let loose. “It’s not fair! They just lowered our allowance three months ago! And now they’ve cut it again?” Nina chittered in his ear. “Yes, of course I’ll still get your nuts. But it won’t leave me enough for anything else.”
That was an exaggeration, but not by much. “Come on,” Josiah said. “Master Lirah’s right, Sar’s got plenty of brushes. I’ll get some taffy at Master Nevya’s shop and share with you.” Taffy wasn’t Josiah’s favorite sweet, but it was cheap and lasted a long time. Usually he’d buy rock candy, but he didn’t think he’d be able to stomach that again for a while.
“All right.” Mathir looked slightly mollified. “But why do you think they did it?”
Josiah shrugged. “I’m sure Master Dabiel will explain.”
Word of the smaller allowances must have spread, for when the Guildmaster stood by the hearth in the dining hall and called everyone to order, it took a long time for the nervous, angry buzz to quiet. She waited with her hand raised until the last voices stilled.
“That’s better,” she said into the hush. She dropped her hand and rested it on the head of the enormous hog standing beside her. “Yes, the rumors are true. Apprentice allowances have been reduced to half their former amount, beginning this week and continuing for the foreseeable future. Journeyman stipends and master shares have been cut as well. The other masters and I debated long and hard about this, but in the end we couldn’t deny the necessity. You all know of the difficulties that have beset Tevenar this year.”
Josiah nodded along with the others. The problems had begun around the time he had arrived in Elathir with Elkan, just before last Springtide. Heavy rains and a sudden snow melt in the western mountains had led to flooding. The great Tarath had overflowed its banks, submerging much of the low-lying areas of Elathir. The dam on Mill Stream had broken, releasing a torrent that had washed away the old prison and a substantial residential area. Enormous resources had been poured into repairing the damage and replacing the losses.
Since then, the troubles had continued. The weather had remained unseasonably cold and rainy all summer. Planting had been delayed, and even after the crops were in, the Farmers’ Guild reported they weren’t thriving. They’d warned the Council of Guildmasters to expect a slim harvest. The new dam was still under construction. Until it was finished, the system of pipes and fountains that supplied Elathir with fresh water was useless. Water had to be hauled up from the river. The grist mill below the dam had been destroyed, and until the new one was complete, whatever meager harvest there was would have to be shipped up to Korisan to be ground into flour.
All these things combined to cut back revenues of almost all the guilds. Food prices had risen, and would probably continue to increase until spring. Everyone guarded their money, saving against the lean days of winter to come. The crowds at Elathir’s busy market had thinned, and many shops had been forced to close. People weren’t going hungry yet, but everyone feared it might come to that. Elathir was the worst hit, but the rest of Tevenar was feeling the effects as well. The country hadn’t dealt with such widespread hard times since the aftermath of the hurricane twenty years before.
As the money folk earned from their crafts fell, the portion they paid to their guilds in dues fell also. In turn, the percentage each guild passed on to the Wizards’ Guild to cover the services provided to its members came to a much smaller amount. Josiah had listened to Elkan and the other masters discuss the problem nearly every night. No one had any answers, save to cut back and endure until the Mother sent better fortunes.
“The current conditions are bringing hardship to everyone in Tevenar. As representatives of the Mother, it’s our duty to lead by example. I expect every one of you, from the oldest master to the youngest apprentice, to demonstrate a spirit of cheerful acceptance of these new restrictions. If we all work together, Tevenar can come through these difficult days stronger and more united than before.”
Dabiel’s words rang firm and confident through the hall. Despite himself, Josiah felt his spirits lift. The nearly empty pouch at his belt seemed a noble sacrifice, his small contribution to Tevenar’s welfare.
Some of the other apprentices showed signs of the same reaction in their faces, but a number still scowled. Even a few of the journeymen looked discontented. Some of them had families and households of their own. The cut in their stipends would hit them harder than a mere lack of pocket money.
Beside Josiah, Mathir kicked at the floor. “It’s not like the coins they take from us are going to make any difference.”
“Hush!” Beyond him, Kalti glowered. “Listen to Master Dabiel. You, too.” She fixed Josiah with her glare.
“I didn’t say—”
But she’d already turned away. Josiah fumed. She had never accepted him as a wizard. The disdain she’d shown him when they’d first met, when he was still a fuller’s apprentice, had continued even after he bonded with Sar. In her eyes, since the Mother hadn’t revealed his name to the Guildmaster with the others when they were thirteen, he could never truly be a part of the Wizards’ Guild. Even though he’d spoken with the Mother when he bonded, just like they all had.
It didn’t help that he was a year younger than the other bonded apprentices. They’d all paired with their familiars at the beginning of their fourth year of apprenticeship. Even if Josiah had joined the Guild the usual way, he’d only be in his third year.
“Don’t pay any attention to her,” Mathir muttered. Braon, Seriti and Daera all made encouraging faces or gestures. Josiah took heart. At least he had some friends among the other apprentices.
Master Dabiel continued, ignoring their disturbance. “I thank the Mother for all of you. You may be dismissed to get your meals.”
She sat down at the table she customarily shared with several of the older masters. She seemed as composed as always. But when she dropped her hand to Buttons’s head, her fingers scratched the hog’s stiff white bristles so hard he flicked an ear and pulled away. She glanced down and gave him an apologetic pat, but her eyes were shadowed.
Josiah gulped. He hadn’t been worried up to now. Nothing was so bad that it wouldn’t go back to normal sooner or later. But Master Dabiel was the strongest, wisest wizard he knew. Her understanding of the Mother was unsurpassed, and her practical skill in leadership kept the often fractious Council of Guildmasters working together effectively. When Elkan, who up to that point had been the very paragon of wizardry to Josiah, had been so badly shaken by the events of the spring that he questioned his fitness for the Mother’s service, her faith had remained unwavering, and her calm, gentle guidance had helped him find the way back to his true calling.
If Master Dabiel was so troubled by the present situation that she let it show, things must be far worse than Josiah had realized.
Four
The Matriarch’s audience chamber sweltered in the late summer heat. Hundreds of eyes stared at Gevan. Rank on rank of courtiers, swathed in velvet and satin and shimmering Girodan silk, encircled the room. On the high dais Verinna Fovarre, the Matriarch
of Ramunna, sat enthroned. Her skirts were heavy with layers of golden lace, and the gold chain of her office lay against her snowy lace collar. She watched him, her eyes attentive, though most of the men and women attending her exhibited various signs of boredom.
Only the leaders of Ramunna’s three religious factions displayed as much interest. Emirre Rothen, First Keeper of the Temple, sat calmly in his flowing embroidered robes, his thick shock of white hair appearing part of his vestments. In his seventy years, thirty of them as First Keeper, he had seen war, disaster and upheaval sweep over Ramunna, and Gevan doubted any of them had perturbed him in the slightest. He’d certainly never seen the Keeper display anything but serene calm. Gevan expected Rothen to accept the revelation of the window-glass with equanimity. But what he might do afterwards was the real question. He had great influence with the Matriarch, and a few pleasant words in favor of or in opposition to the new device could sway her reaction one way or the other.
Yoran Lirolla, leader of the Purifiers, perched on the edge of his chair. His hands gripped its arms, and his dark eyes bored into Gevan from under the hood of his plain black robe. He’d come to Ramunna from Marvanna ten years ago when he was barely twenty, afire with zeal to spread the Purifier doctrine which dominated their northern neighbor. He’d won many converts. Nearly a third of the Temples in the city were Purifier, and an even higher proportion in the rural areas. It wasn’t enough for him, though. Gevan was sure he would never be happy until every follower of the Mother professed the austere, fanatic beliefs of the Purifiers. For now, the Temple considered the Purifier sect an acceptable variation in the worship of the Mother, but Gevan wondered how long that could last. Yoran constantly declaimed against the laxness and decadence of the Temple and its leaders. Gevan couldn’t deny there was a certain amount of truth to his allegations. But Yoran had alienated Gevan and every other scholar at the University with his sweeping denunciations of any attempt to gain a deeper understanding of the Mother’s universe than was contained within the few ancient documents the Purifiers considered holy.
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