Josiah breathed easier. He should have known Master Dabiel would have a plan in place before she made the problem public. All they had to do was follow her lead, and all would be well.
But behind him, Elkan stiffened. Several of the other older wizards did as well. Josiah didn’t understand. He twisted around to study Elkan’s face. It was hard and bleak, the kind of expression he wore whenever he encountered a situation where even the full force of the Mother’s power wasn’t enough to ease pain or cure sickness or save lives. He’d looked like that after the mine collapse in Shalinthan, when he’d had to ration his energy to help as many as he could, even though it meant others would suffer and die. And when he’d discovered his niece was sick with a disease the Mother’s power couldn’t cure. And when he’d presided over the execution in Jianolan.
So Josiah wasn’t entirely surprised when Master Dabiel continued. “Some of you have already realized what this means. In order to act quickly enough and to cover a wide enough area, we need every bonded wizard in Elathir to take part. We’ll have to leave the Mother’s Hall without the Mother’s power. For at least two weeks, maybe as long as a month.”
Quick intakes of breath sounded from those who only now understood. On the other couch, Master Todira sat up straight. The owl on her shoulder flapped his wings wildly. “But what about our patients who need daily treatments? Not to mention the emergencies we deal with every…”
She trailed off as the full import of Master Dabiel’s words sank in. Master Dabiel met her pleading gaze, eyes regretful but ruthless. Master Todira sank back in her seat, her hand going up to her familiar. “Surely you don’t mean—”
“I do.” Master Dabiel took a deep breath and swept the room with her gaze. “People are going to die. There’s no escaping that fact. That’s why I was so careful to outline exactly what will happen if we don’t act. Our choice is between a few dozen, perhaps a few hundred deaths now, and several thousand next spring. You all know the Law as well as I do. If you have any doubts as to the Mother’s will in this matter, ask your familiars.”
Josiah turned to Sar. He wasn’t the only one. Even Elkan closed his eyes and reached blindly to fondle Tobi’s ears. Sar, is it true? Do we have to leave everyone without any help at all? Why can’t a few wizards stay behind and take care of the worst cases? We can send messages to the other cities for the wizards there to come and help us. Surely it doesn’t have to be so… so drastic.
All the strength of every wizard in Elathir might not be enough to stop the blight. And others won’t be able to travel here in time. From what I felt when Master Dabiel healed the plant, you and I will be able to clear four or five acres each day if we use all our energy. That will be enough to feed a few dozen people through the winter. If we stay behind, we might save one or two lives in that time. It’s the same as any triage situation. The Mother expects us to use her power to do the most good we can.
We don’t know for sure people would starve. Maybe the blight’s not so bad after all. Maybe we’ll get out there and find that it won’t take all of us.
If that happens, Master Dabiel will send some of us back. Sar’s deep brown eyes bored into Josiah’s. Making this sort of choice is part of being a wizard. You accepted the responsibility when you entered the Mother’s service. If you wish to be released from that service, you need only ask.
As gently as Sar imparted the words, Josiah knew how terrible they were. Sar could break their bond. Josiah had seen how that had affected Elkan: the fierce pain, the days of unconsciousness, the bleak emptiness. And that had been a purely practical matter, to save Elkan’s life. He’d still been a wizard, a member of the guild. If Sar broke his bond with Josiah because he refused to follow the Law, Josiah would be expelled from the Wizards’ Guild.
His heart raced as he thought about it. How could he bear to never again feel that rich, warm power flowing through his body? To never again see wounds close under his fingers, or feel sickness give way to robust health, or watch pain melt away from an anguished face? To lose Sar’s constant presence in his mind, solid and dependable and comforting, even when he was silent? To know he had failed the Mother, and have to answer for that someday when he stood before her? She’d forgive him, but it would hurt her. He hated to think of his actions causing grief in those warm chestnut eyes.
Besides, he didn’t really think Sar was wrong. It made sense to save many lives instead of a few. Even though the few were real, and immediate, and had faces and voices and names, and the many were distant and theoretical and anonymous. They’d be real enough next spring, begging the wizards for bread they couldn’t give. All it took was a little imagination to see that.
He dropped his eyes away from Sar’s. I’ll do whatever Master Dabiel tells us to.
Sar answered with a bob of his head and a wash of warm, sturdy approval. Josiah sighed. Around him other sighs sounded, along with murmured reassurances and a few muffled sobs.
Mathir was speaking to the squirrel in his lap in fierce whispers while she chittered back at him. As the room quieted and eyes turned towards them they fell silent, but Mathir wore a stubbornly defiant expression. Nina snuggled into his arms, and he stroked her head. He glared around at the wizards watching him, then looked pointedly at Master Dabiel.
She waited until all eyes returned to her. “We’ll depart first thing in the morning. You’ll be paired up, with each pair leading a party. I have lists of who will accompany you and where you’ll be going; be sure get them before you leave. I’ll speak to the assembled Guild at the midday meal. During the afternoon you’ll need to see as many of your chronic cases as you can and inform them of the change in circumstances.”
Josiah hung back while Elkan went forward with the other masters to collect his assignment. He joined the cluster of apprentices gathering around Mathir.
Ladael, who was Josiah’s age and not yet bonded to a familiar, studied Mathir with a frown. “Can Master Dabiel really make you stop taking care of your patients?”
“That’s what Nina says.” Mathir scowled at his familiar. “I keep telling her it’s like in the Third History, when Guildmaster Tunis sent wizards to fight the forest fires in Thedan. Or even the hurricane twenty years ago. Master Hanion’s always telling me about it. Master Dabiel didn’t force people to go back then. She asked for volunteers.”
“But that was different,” Josiah said. “Both of those times, the only way they could have enough power was if the wizards and familiars sacrificed themselves.” He swallowed. “The Law says the Guildmaster can’t order a wizard to do that. But this time no one should have to.”
“So we sacrifice the people of Elathir instead?” Mathir glared at Josiah. “Maybe it would be better if a few wizards did burn themselves out, rather than let the people we’re responsible for die.”
Josiah’s face went cold. He hadn’t thought of that possibility. “Are you offering?” he retorted, but his words didn’t have any force. Sar? Would the Mother…
Mathir’s eyes dropped. “No,” he muttered.
Only in great need, and only if more could be saved than would be lost. In this case it wouldn’t be practical. The affected fields are spread over many miles; the burst of power released by a sacrifice could reach only a fraction of that distance. Far more can be accomplished by wizards and familiars working together over many days. Sar’s voice was matter-of-fact, as calm as if he were discussing the most effective allocation of fertilizer, not wizards willingly going to their deaths. I’m sure Master Dabiel considered the possibility, but she decided on this course instead.
Nina sat up on her haunches in Mathir’s lap and chittered at him. Josiah guessed she was trying to make the same point. From Mathir’s face, she wasn’t getting very far. When she left off and placed one delicate paw on his chest, he scowled at her. “I still don’t like it.”
Josiah offered a hand and pulled him up from the couch as Nina scampered to his shoulder. “None of us do. We’ll just have to whip that blight quick so
we can get back to wearing ourselves out doing our real work.”
Most of the other bonded apprentices laughed, while the few unbonded looked jealous. Josiah grinned at Ladael. “You unbonded are going to have to take up the slack. You do know how to set a bone without the Mother’s power, don’t you?”
She made a face at him. “You just say that because you got to skip that part.”
“I did not! I helped Elkan for a whole year before I bonded.”
“Yeah, right. As if some little mountain village could compare to a busy Sixthday in Elathir.”
Josiah snorted. “You may have a point.” He patted Sar, sobering. “I expect it won’t be much fun for you here.”
She crossed her arms. “Wait and see. You’ll get back and find out we haven’t lost anybody.” But for all her bravado, Ladael’s eyes were shadowed. She knew as well as Josiah that there were some things nothing but the Mother’s power could help. Only luck would determine whether those afflictions appeared in the Mother’s Hall while the bonded wizards were gone.
Elkan beckoned from near the door. Josiah bid the other apprentices a hasty farewell and ran to join him. “Where are we going? And who’s going with us?”
Elkan showed him the map. “I’m paired with Master Hanion, so your friend Mathir will be with us. Master Dabiel’s sending us up this side of the river toward Korisan. She wants us to work quickly and get ahead of it before it spreads into their territory. Our group’s mostly young masters and journeymen with familiars who can travel fast. The older and slower are going to take the closer areas.”
“I guess we wouldn’t want Buttons slowing us down.”
“He can move faster than you’d think when he has to. But you’re right, he and Master Dabiel will be working some of the closest fields, so as soon as things are under control they can come back.” Elkan gave Sar a strained grin as the donkey caught up with them. “Sorry, Sar. I thought we were back in Elathir to stay for a while.”
Tell him I’m sufficiently rested from our year’s journey to manage a brief jaunt. Is he?
Josiah relayed Sar’s words, and Elkan chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to be.” He tousled his familiar’s head. “Tobi’s annoyed that she’s going to get even less nap time than usual.”
The mountain cat yawned in the donkey’s face. Sar put back his ears and drew his lips from his teeth in mock threat. Elkan and Josiah both laughed, but Elkan quickly sobered. “We should grab a quick bite. We don’t need to stay to hear Master Dabiel speak; she’s just going to repeat what she told us. All court cases are canceled until this is dealt with, so we’ll be able to make a round of the city this afternoon and check on our regulars.”
Every wizard helped care for folk with an ongoing need for the Mother’s power. Elkan and Josiah were responsible for a good-sized group. Once a week they made a circuit through the city, tending those who were too old or frail to come to the Mother’s Hall. Josiah ran over the list of their regulars in his mind. Most of them would be fine, even if the wizards were away for a whole month. The older folk with various common deteriorating conditions, like blood vessels that tended to get clogged up, or brains that lost the ability to think rationally, would do all right. The Mother’s power could reverse such things for a period of six months or more. The problems would arise with those who depended on the Mother’s power to spur a failing part of their body into greater activity, or to hold back a process that was causing part of their body to die. Because the Mother’s power couldn’t reverse death, even if it had happened only moments before.
One such patient watched Elkan with wide eyes as golden light poured from his hand over her rounded belly. “But you told me I had to come in every week! I can’t lose this one, too. I can’t.”
Elkan sat back, and the light faded. “Your baby’s doing fine, Joa. We’ve built up her blood and damped down your body’s reaction as much as we can. I think she’ll handle a month between treatments without a problem. But I’ll put you on the list for a visit as soon as the first wizards get back. Don’t worry too much, though. Many babies of mothers with this condition make it to birth without any help at all.”
“I know.” Joa turned her face aside, scrubbing at her eyes. “Edwen did, but by the time we got him to the Mother’s Hall…” She sat up and pulled her tunic down. “It was so easy with Reka. I would never have guessed she’d be my only child.” She glanced over at the girl busily copying down numbers and letters at the table across the room.
“She’s going to have a sister soon,” Elkan assured her. “We know what we’re dealing with this time. Even if she’s badly affected, we’ll be able to help her.”
Josiah thought of how it had felt, on the previous visits when he and Sar had worked with Joa under Elkan’s supervision. For some reason her body was treating her baby like a tumor or a disease and trying to fight it. He could feel the waves of red and orange attacks on the child in her womb. The baby’s blood withered with a faint sigh, like a wheezing breath. It was easy enough to stop the process and restore the child to health, but it began again as soon as they withdrew. Elkan said no one knew why it happened, only that it usually affected women who’d had at least one child already. Josiah was just glad they knew how to deal with it.
“Thank you,” Joa said. “And thank you for saving the wheat. I know that’s important, too.”
Elkan clasped her hands. “Our joy is in the service,” he said with that special intonation Josiah had yet to master, that conveyed to the listener the same deep gladness he’d felt when he stood in the Mother’s presence.
Outside Joa’s house, Josiah turned to Elkan. “Was it true? Will the baby be all right?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Josiah? We don’t lie to our patients. I told her what I believe to be true. I phrased it as kindly as I could, but I didn’t keep anything from her.”
“But isn’t there a chance the baby could die without regular visits?”
Elkan sighed. “Yes, and she knows it. But from what Tobi and I could see, I judge the chance to be very small.”
“Good.” This was the hardest part of being a wizard. Knowing what to say, and when, and how. The actual work was easy—your familiar did that. But Sar wasn’t much help when it came to finding the right words to reassure a woman her baby would be all right, while at the same time letting her know it might not, all without deviating from the absolute truth.
Their last stop was the worst. Josiah suspected Elkan had chosen their route through Elathir to bring them to this home last. It was near the Mother’s Hall, at the end of a long loop that had led them around most of the city. The sun was setting over the western hills in a blaze of orange and pink. Josiah was hungry and footsore. His head ached and his legs shook with the deep draining of his energy. He tried not to think about how tomorrow would probably be even worse.
Azien burst from a group of children playing in the yard and ran to meet them. “Master Elkan! Josiah! Mama, Papa, the wizards are here!” He tackled Josiah around the knees. Josiah grabbed him and engaged in a brief bout of mock wrestling. He ended up hoisting Azien upside down and swinging him in a circle while the boy shrieked in pleasure.
Masters Jomin and Ilcha came to meet them at the door. They were both laborers, and they lived in a tiny apartment in a large building near the river. Warm golden lamplight welcomed Elkan and Josiah in. Josiah’s stomach rumbled in response to the savory scent coming from the pot bubbling in the fireplace.
Master Jomin’s eyes were troubled as he invited Elkan and Josiah to take seats. “We welcome you, as always. But why are you here? We saw Master Todira this morning.”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news. Josiah, would you and Sar take care of Azien while I explain?”
Azien came cooperatively to Josiah when he beckoned. Josiah leaned into Sar, and the donkey sent golden light pouring from his hands over the boy. They’d done this often enough that Josiah felt confident, but he was careful to make sure Sar did a thorough job. The
small organ in Azien’s abdomen showed less of the grey haze and nauseating feeling than usual, since he’d had a treatment just that morning. But some of it was there, as his disease relentlessly tried to destroy a tiny, vital piece of his body.
The Mother’s power reversed the attack, pushing back the insistent fizzle that ate at the boy’s tissues. It urged the small healthy portion left of the organ to greater productivity, sending the essential substance into the blood. Azien’s body glowed with renewed well-being as the mysterious substance flooding his tissues allowed them to function in the way they couldn’t without it.
Azien was special to both Josiah and Elkan. He’d first come to the Mother’s Hall last spring, a week after the Springtide ceremony when Josiah had formally joined the Wizards’ Guild and Elkan had been elevated to mastery.
He seemed tired, his father had told them. Irritable, constantly thirsty, and needing to visit the privy more often than a boy his age should.
Josiah and Elkan had exchanged a look. Those were the same symptoms Elkan’s niece Bethiav had shown. If Elkan had learned of them earlier, he and Sar could have saved her life.
Sure enough, Azien suffered from the disease that had killed Bethiav. Elkan showed Josiah the little organ and the way the substance it made let the whole body function normally. The Mother’s power could arrest the slow death that for some unknown reason had begun to overtake it. But only if a wizard attended to the boy every day. Each day without the Mother’s power, a little more would die. Eventually too much would perish, and all the golden light they could pour into Azien’s body wouldn’t be enough to revive it.
A little bit of the grief and guilt of Bethiav’s death had been eased for Josiah, and he thought for Elkan, too, as they helped return Azien to his normal, rambunctious, mischievous self. He’d become one of Josiah’s favorite patients. He always looked forward to the days it was their turn to administer Azien’s treatment.
Josiah tried not to listen to the panic in Master Jomin’s voice. “Two weeks? A month? But you warned us to never miss a day!”
The Law of Isolation Page 11