The Law of Isolation

by Angela Holder

  Twelve

  “Get up, Josiah.” Elkan shook his shoulder roughly. “The evening meal is ready.”

  Josiah blinked. He tried to clear the fuzz from his vision and his thoughts. Healthy green wheat surrounded him. “What happened?”

  “You ran out of energy in the middle of the row. Tobi and I finished it for you.” Elkan extended a hand to Josiah and helped haul him to his feet. Beside them, Sar heaved himself up and shook dirt and bits of straw from his back with a shudder.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… We would have finished, as soon as we rested.”

  “You did your best.” Elkan scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead and led Josiah down the row toward the edge of the field. “This is a great deal to ask of apprentices. You and Mathir both have done far more than would normally be asked of wizards your age. We don’t expect you to have as much endurance as those of us who’ve served longer. It will come in time. Pushing yourself to the end of your strength like this will help build up your stamina.”

  Josiah looked away to hide the flush that came to his cheeks. He avoided the accusing look he knew would be in Sar’s eyes. Five days of secret healing had taken their toll. This wasn’t the first time the other wizards had been forced to finish a task he or Mathir hadn’t been able to complete.

  The local farmers provided the usual generous meal. Josiah focused his attention on his food, avoiding the sympathetic or annoyed glances the older wizards shot his way. Master Hanion strode up to the circle, trailed by Mathir. Hanion heaped his plate full and went to sit by Elkan without looking at his apprentice. Mathir brought his plate and came to sit beside Josiah. He looked even more gaunt-cheeked and hollow-eyed than the rest of wizards. Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were starving already, not stuffing themselves until their stomachs groaned every morning, noon, and evening.

  Hanion and Elkan huddled over the map, muttering in low voices. Josiah kept sneaking glances at them, trying to hear what they were saying, but it was no use. He knew, though. Every day they fell a little farther behind the schedule Master Dabiel had set. At first each field they came to had been slightly less affected by the blight than the last, but two days ago that pattern had reversed. Today they’d encountered worse infections than any since leaving the city.

  They were far from Elathir now, and the fields were more widely separated, but there were still a significant number of farms that shipped their grain downriver to the city. They’d hoped to overtake the blight before it reached the more extensive plantings around Korisan. If it spread there, even with all of Korisan’s wizards helping they might not be able to salvage enough of a harvest to prevent famine. Now that outcome appeared more and more likely.

  Elkan’s voice rose loud enough for Josiah to hear. “We can’t! It will spread back the way we came. All our work will be undone.”

  Hanion matched his volume, his voice strident. “What choice do we have? If it reaches Korisan nothing will stop it from going on to Jevtaran and Thedan.”

  “I’m afraid we’re already too late to prevent that.” Elkan slumped and reached for Tobi, scratching with jerky movements behind her ears. “The best we can hope for is to cover every field so it doesn’t slip behind us. We can’t let it reinfect the areas we’ve already healed.”

  “The fields around Elathir won’t be enough to feed all of Tevenar. And the other cities don’t have the number of wizards it would take to reach all their fields in time. I still say our best strategy is to press upriver as swiftly as we can and get ahead of it.”

  “And I say we should follow Master Dabiel’s plan and cover our entire sector. Word has gone ahead to Korisan; they’ll be on the watch for it.”

  “You’ve been to their Hall. You know how small it is.” Hanion glared at Elkan, but when the younger wizard showed no signs of backing down, he picked up his plate and began eating with quick, determined bites.

  Josiah thought of his family. Korisan was his home, where he was born and had lived until a year and a half ago. Would the energy he’d spent healing Azien and the others mean that his parents and sisters and brothers would go hungry?

  He couldn’t think about that. He had to believe he’d made the right choice. He forced himself to keep taking mouthful after mouthful, though he was stuffed already. Every bite would be used to fuel the Mother’s power.

  Finally he could hold no more. He took his plate back to the farmer, thanked him, and headed toward the horses. They would ride out for their last field of the evening as soon as the others finished. Maybe he could sneak a nap before then. He looked for a patch of grass far enough out of the way he wouldn’t get stepped on, but close enough he would rouse when the rest of them came to mount.

  Mathir caught up to him and tugged on his sleeve. “Josiah, we’ve got to talk.”

  Josiah sighed and plopped down on the bit of ground he had selected. It felt reasonably dry; hopefully his breeches wouldn’t get too damp. “What?”

  “We can’t keep going like this. I think we’re going to have to tell them to go back.” Mathir settled to the grass beside him but kept shifting as if he couldn’t get comfortable. Nina scampered down from his shoulder and started to dig in the dirt by his feet.

  “We can’t,” Josiah hissed, whipping his head around to make sure no one was within earshot. “We’re days out of Elathir. Even if other wizards have returned to the Hall by now, they wouldn’t be able to make it back before most of them were in trouble.”

  “I know, but I can’t do this any more. Master Hanion’s getting suspicious. Nina drains us both dry every day, but it’s not enough.” He hunched over and put his head in his hands. “I feel like… I don’t know, like I’m going to pass out and not wake up again.”

  “Nina won’t take that much. Not unless you ask her to, and it’s within the Law’s requirement for a sacrifice.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself. But I don’t think I’m as strong as she thinks I am.”

  “You can do it. We have to. I’m not sending Azien back.” Josiah rubbed the rough patch on his palm where sliding wheat stalks had built up a callus. “But… if you really can’t take it any more… maybe we could confess to our masters.” Josiah hated the idea, but it seemed more and more appealing by the day. “No, wait, hear me out. They’ll be angry, but what can they do? They’ll have to help us. If everyone shares the healing, it won’t be so bad.”

  “No!” Mathir’s eyes rising to meet his were wild, shifting frantically from side to side. “We can’t!”

  “Come on. I know Master Hanion is strict, but believe me, Elkan will be furious too. But I can take it.”

  “It’s not that. But we can’t, Josiah. We can’t let them find out.”

  “All right. Have it your way. But we can’t send them back, either. We’ll just have to keep on the way we’ve been doing.” Josiah tried not to let his voice betray how much that prospect daunted him. “We’ll be in Korisan in a few days. We can send them to the Mother’s Hall there.”

  “What good will that do? Their wizards will be out fighting the blight, too.” Mathir rubbed his head. “One more day. But we talk about it again tomorrow night.”

  “Agreed.” Josiah looked off in the direction of the river, where it flowed out of sight beyond a rise in the ground. That’s where the party of followers would be hiding, waiting to trail after the wizards when they moved again, and sneak close after they camped for the night. He harbored a secret, guilty hope that maybe they would get lost and not be able to find them. At least for one night. But so far they’d proved dogged and unshakable, as fiercely persistent in their own way as the wizards were.

  Sure enough, when he dragged himself from the tent the next morning and went in search, he found the little party camped in a hollow behind a hill. Mathir plodded behind him. Sar trailed them, Nina perched on his withers.

  Most of them were still asleep, wrapped in cloaks or blankets on the ground, but a few were awake. Master Jomin was building
up the fire, adding a few broken branches and stirring the embers with a stick. Josiah wasn’t surprised to see Azien leaning on his father’s knee, begging to be allowed to help. But there was another figure beside them, pulling her cloak tight around her shoulders in the morning chill. Josiah froze when he realized he didn’t recognize her.

  Mathir came up beside him. “What’s the matter—” He gasped.

  The girl heard him and turned, rising. Her hand flew to cup her cheek. “Mathir, I changed my mind. I had to come—”

  He hurried to her and grabbed her arms. “Rolie, what are you doing here?”

  “I had to come,” she repeated, her voice almost a sob. “I had to.” She peeled her fingers away from her face. Bright against the warm brown of her skin, a lopsided pinkish-white patch blotched the swell of her cheek and the curve of one nostril.

  “It was just a little dot when you left,” she said, turning away from Josiah’s curious gaze. “If you don’t stop it, half my face will turn white. I won’t be able to cover it up no matter how much paint I use.”

  Mathir tried to put his arms around her. “It’s not so bad.”

  She shoved him away. Her sleeves pulled back from her wrists, and Josiah saw similar pale patches there. The edge of another peeked out above the neckline of her tunic. “I’ll do what you asked—”

  “Shut up,” Mathir hissed between clenched teeth. He looked with a convulsive jerk of his head at Nina sitting atop Sar’s head, one paw resting lightly on an ear. Her bright eyes watched him. He spun back to Rolie and grabbed her shoulders. “Rolie, I want to help you, I promise I do, but you don’t understand. I didn’t know how it was going to be. I have to use every bit of my energy on the wheat, every day, until I pass out. These people will die if I don’t heal them, but you’ll be all right.”

  Rolie raised clenched fists. “You promised!”

  “I’m sorry.” He reached to stroke her hair, but she jerked away. “Please, you have to go home. As soon as we get back I’ll come find you.”

  Sar came up beside Josiah. He stood poised, muscles taut, ears erect and fixed on Mathir. Nina leaped from his head to Mathir’s shoulder, claws scrabbling to find a purchase on his tunic. He flinched and put up a hand to steady her. She chattered urgently in his ear.

  “She didn’t mean anything by it.” Mathir tried to stroke Nina’s head, but she whisked around and raced down his body. She went to Rolie’s feet and rose to her hind legs, her voice rasping and clicking at the bewildered girl.

  “Mathir, make it stop.” Rolie stepped back, but the squirrel followed her and continued her harangue.

  “She likes you.” Mathir’s voice was falsely bright. He flinched as Nina whirled and dashed to his feet, shrieking at him. “I’m not hiding anything from you! I swear by the Mother!”

  Josiah shook himself free from stupefied confusion. “Mathir, what’s going on?” He looked from Mathir to Nina to Rolie. A sick feeling of dread churned in his gut. “What did you ask her to do?”

  “Nothing!” Mathir shouted. “Stop asking me that, both of you!”

  Rolie gaped back and forth between Nina and Josiah. She shut her mouth with a snap and took a step toward Mathir. “Heal me right now, or I’ll tell them everything.”

  “All right!” Mathir grabbed for Nina. His hands closed around the squirrel’s body, though she writhed to free herself. “Please, Nina, just this once—”

  She sank her teeth into the ball of his thumb and he dropped her. She hit the ground hard, sprawling. He stared at her in horror as she gathered her feet under her and crouched, hissing at him. “Nina…” he whispered.

  Sar shoved himself against Josiah’s side. Josiah’s hand went reflexively to the donkey’s back. Josiah, the situation is out of control. You must take charge.

  Josiah couldn’t even formulate a coherent thought, just numb agreement. He put up his hand, and gold light pooled around it. He cleared his throat. “Mathir, stop. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Mathir stared at the power swirling around Josiah’s hand, mouth open. His eyes shifted around, seeking vainly for some escape. Then he broke and ran toward the river.

  Sar sent the Mother’s power spinning out after him. Before Mathir had gone half a dozen steps, the light surrounded his body and froze him in place.

  Josiah’s hand shook. What was he supposed to do now? Sar, we can’t just hold him. We’ve got to figure out a way to get him to cooperate before someone comes looking for us.

  This has gone beyond what we can deal with. You’re going to have to take him to the masters.

  No! They can’t find out. There’s got to be some way—

  Josiah, from what the girl said, it seems he made some demand of her in exchange for agreeing to heal her. Do I need to remind you how grave a breach of the Mother’s trust that is?

  No, he didn’t. Josiah knew. If it was true, it was an offense serious enough to justify a broken bond. He looked at Nina, who stood hissing at Mathir, back hunched, tail stuck out behind her, every hair on her body standing straight out so she looked twice her normal size.

  He gave up. “I’m sorry, Mathir,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve got to do this.”

  He turned to the audience that had gathered and were watching in shocked silence. Master Jomin knelt by Azien, his arms around his son. Josiah cleared his throat. “Come with me, all of you. We can’t keep this a secret anymore. I hope they’ll still let me help you.”

  Heartsick, he turned away. How had he ever hoped to keep the whole ridiculous subterfuge going? Had Mathir really thought he could get away with demanding some illicit favor from Rolie? Wizards didn’t do such things!

  He pressed his hand into Sar’s warm back. His familiar wrenched Mathir around with the Mother’s power and sent him stumbling toward the main camp. Josiah followed. The others trailed silently behind.

  The camp was still quiet when they approached. Only a few people gathered around the remains of the fire. They were just starting to glance toward Josiah and the others with puzzled expressions when Tobi bounded up. Her ears perked toward them, the gray oval smudge of the Mother’s mark showing clearly in one. Instead of her usual affectionate greeting for Josiah, she skidded to a halt and took in the whole tableau with her intelligent eyes.

  Josiah dropped his eyes. “Tell Elkan I need him,” he muttered.

  Tobi stared for an instant more before loping off toward the tents. Josiah followed, his feet dragging. Sar pushed Mathir along with them.

  Elkan emerged from their tent. Crouching, he put his arms around Tobi and gazed into her eyes. He cast a confirming glance toward Josiah, leaned his forehead against Tobi’s for a moment, then straightened and pushed his fingers through his hair. He drew himself up to his full height and rested a hand on Tobi’s head. “Hanion, you’d better get out here.”

  Josiah approached him with a mixture of dread and relief. No matter what punishment he faced, at least he could turn over the responsibility for dealing with Mathir to those who were older and wiser. “Master, I… I’m sorry, but I can explain… There’s a problem…”

  “I can see that.” Elkan looked every bit as stern as he’d feared. He held Josiah’s eyes for a long moment before letting his gaze travel over Sar, Mathir, and the group of patients behind them. “This is going to be quite a story.”

  Nina left her post beside Sar and bounded to Elkan’s feet. She stood on her hind legs and chattered at him. He nodded to her respectfully. “We’ll help you deal with Mathir in any way you need.”

  She subsided, apparently satisfied, and took up a position next to him, eyes fixed on her bondmate. Mathir stood, head hanging, making no attempt to struggle against the gold light that held him motionless.

  Master Hanion stepped out of his tent, Mavke close at his heels. His initial shock at seeing his apprentice bound quickly gave way to cold anger. “Mathir, what’s the meaning of this?”

  Sar glanced at Hanion, who nodded. Mavke pressed against Hanion’s shin, where one leg
of his breeches was rolled up so the bulldog could make contact with his partner’s skin. Hanion put up his hand and gold light flickered around his fingertips. “Let him go so he can speak. We’ll take over if necessary.”

  Sar let the Mother’s power fade away. Josiah sighed in relief and put his hand down. Mathir gave a little jerk as the light released him, but didn’t try to flee. He shifted from foot to foot and seemed to shrink in on himself. “It’s not what it looks like, master,” he mumbled. “I can explain everything.”

  “Do so.” Master Hanion crossed his arms over his chest. The light around his fingers faded, but Mavke remained alert. “Start at the beginning. Why are these people here?”

  “Could I sit down, maybe…?” At his master’s silent glower, matched by Elkan and the other wizards who’d come to witness the confrontation, Mathir trailed off and shifted his weight again. “I guess not. Anyway. Back in Elathir, before we left, a bunch of us apprentices got together. None of us wanted to leave behind the people who would suffer without regular healing. It wasn’t just Josiah and me, Braon and Seriti and Kalti were there, too.”

  Hanion gave a little jerky nod, but didn’t speak. Mathir waited a moment, then plowed on with his story. “We all agreed it wasn’t right. So I went around to everyone and told them to follow us, that we would come out every day and heal them. All we wanted was to use the Mother’s power the way we’re supposed to. To help people! Isn’t that right, Josiah?”

  He turned to Josiah, a plea in his eyes. Josiah took a deep breath. “Yes. We believed it wasn’t the Mother’s will to let them suffer and die while we went off and did something else.” He lifted his head and met Elkan’s pitiless eyes. He didn’t regret that choice. He didn’t. He still thought it was the right one.

  “So they did. And we went out and healed them every morning. Nina said it was within the Mother’s will, so she wouldn’t refuse.”

  “Sar did, too.” Josiah put in. “He said it was our choice to make.”

  Elkan looked at the donkey. “Sar?”

  Sar flicked an ear forward and bobbed his head. Elkan looked thoughtful. “Go on.”