“So, that’s everything.” Mathir twisted his hands together behind his back. “Until Rolie showed up this morning. I guess she must have gotten mad that I wouldn’t help her, because she started accusing me of things I didn’t do. I swear I didn’t!” He glared at Rolie.
Rolie glared back at him. “All they have to do is open a window and look, and they’ll see exactly what you did. I hope they throw you out of the Wizards’ Guild for it!”
“You’re only saying that because we’re too far away for a window to—”
“Quiet!” Hanion didn’t raise a gold-lit hand again, but his voice was so forceful he didn’t need to. Mathir and Rolie left off their accusations and shrank before him. “Girl, I recognize you from the Mother’s Hall. You suffer from a skin condition, is that right? Remind me of your name.”
“Rolie Fisherkin Tailor, sir.”
“You’re an apprentice?”
“Fourth-year, sir.”
Hanion spoke slowly and clearly. “I want you to tell us exactly what happened between you and Mathir. You need not be afraid to give the full details of whatever complaint you may have against him. The Mother will bear witness to the truth.”
Rolie looked at Mathir, then back at his master. She shifted her weight and looked down at the ground. Then she took a deep breath, and lifted her chin. “It was the night before the wizards left Elathir. He came to my house to tell me good-bye. We—we’d been seeing each other sometimes. Just talking, mostly.” Her eyes flickered down, and the pale patch on her cheek flushed bright pink. “And… kissing, sometimes. He said we couldn’t let you find out.”
Hanion’s frown deepened and he turned his stare on Mathir. Mathir hung his head. Hanion turned back to Rolie. “I understand. Go on.”
“He told me about the wheat, and how all the wizards would be leaving. How no one in Elathir could be healed until they came back. I knew that meant my patches would get worse, so I begged him to do something. To stay behind, or let me come with him. He said there was nothing he could do. That he didn’t dare go against what the masters said. Unless… Unless I made it worth it for him.”
Josiah stared at Mathir in shock. Rolie certainly sounded like she was telling the truth. But he couldn’t believe any wizard apprentice would say such a thing. Mathir scowled at him.
Hanion seemed momentarily overcome by emotion. His mouth moved, but no words came out. Elkan took up the questioning smoothly. “What did he ask you to do?” When Rolie only studied her feet and didn’t respond, he softened his voice, infusing it with the gentle kindness he was so good at. “As Master Hanion said, you need have no fear. We won’t judge you, whatever happened.” When she still didn’t answer, he dropped his voice even quieter. “If you’d feel more comfortable speaking to one of the female wizards in private—”
“No.” Rolie flicked her eyes up at him, then dropped her gaze to her clenched hands. “I did nothing wrong. Mathir told me he would let me come with him, and continue to heal me, if I agreed to sleep with him.”
Josiah felt like he’d been punched in the gut. From the indrawn breaths and sounds of disbelief and shock from the other wizards, he wasn’t the only one. Nina flattened herself to the ground, trembling.
Mathir opened his mouth. “She’s ly—”
Gold light shot from Elkan and Hanion in unison, bathing him and freezing his tongue. “You may speak when Rolie is finished,” Elkan said. “You’ll have the opportunity to answer her accusation. We’ll take no action without proof.” He turned back to Rolie. “Go on.”
She lifted her chin and glared at Mathir. “I said no. I told him I’d rather have all my skin go white than let him coerce me like that. He kept trying to persuade me for a while, but eventually gave up and left. He went off the next day, and I stayed behind.” Her hand crept up and rubbed the patch on her cheek. “But then the spot started spreading, and I kept looking in the mirror and seeing how it was getting uglier and uglier, and I thought—maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I’d liked him, before. I liked kissing him. I still didn’t want to, but if that’s what it took…”
“Thank you, Rolie. I know that must have been difficult for you.” Elkan looked at Hanion, but the other master shook his head. Hanion dropped the hand keeping golden light focused on Mathir and sank into a crouch. He put both hands on Mavke, who whined and licked his fingers.
Elkan turned to Mathir. “We’re going to free you so you can speak. Don’t address Rolie. Speak only to us. If you can’t be civil, we’ll silence you again. Do you understand?”
The golden light withdrew from Mathir’s head enough to allow him to nod. Elkan dropped his hand and Tobi ended the flow of the Mother’s power.
Mathir gazed defiantly into Elkan’s eyes. “I didn’t do what she said. I only told her that I couldn’t help. That the only people who could come with us were the ones who would die without the Mother’s power. She was angry at me. She must have made up that story to try to force me to cooperate.”
Josiah didn’t know what to believe. They both sounded like they were telling the truth. He glanced at Sar, but the donkey was impassive.
Elkan nodded slowly, studying Mathir and Rolie. He sighed and turned his attention to the other patients, who’d watched everything in silence. “Master Jomin, tell me what happened when Mathir came to you.”
Jomin passed Azien, who he’d been holding, to Ilcha. He stepped forward and addressed Elkan with a clear voice and a steady gaze. “I stand by what I did. My son is alive today because of Mathir and Josiah, when you would have let him die. They are true servants of the Mother.”
It was only because Josiah knew Elkan so well that he saw the tightening of his master’s fingers in Tobi’s fur and heard the slight strain in his voice. “Tell me what happened.”
Jomin nodded. “Mathir came to me that night. He said Josiah had told him that we were willing to do whatever it took to make it possible for Azien to continue to receive the Mother’s power. I told him that was true. He said the two of them were able to help some patients, but only a few. Only those who showed their need was greatest by what they were willing to give. So of course I offered everything we had. He assured me it was enough. He told me that you would be heading upriver and that we could follow. I gave him all the money we had on hand and promised to withdraw the rest of our savings from the Bankers’ Guild when we returned.”
The blood drained from Josiah’s face as he listened. He opened his mouth and took a step toward Mathir, but Elkan put up a hand. “Mathir, is this true?”
Mathir shot Josiah a glance he couldn’t read, then met Elkan’s eyes again. “Yes, but… it was Josiah’s idea. With the cutbacks in the apprentice allowances, none of us had any money. He said it was only fair for them to give us extra, when we’d be doing them such a big favor.”
All eyes turned to Josiah. He fought the urge to blurt out a denial until Elkan’s perfectly emotionless voice asked him, “Josiah, is that true?”
“No!” Josiah wanted to shout, and shake Master Jomin by the shoulders, and punch Mathir in the stomach. But he knew none of that would convince Elkan of his innocence. The opposite, probably. Only calm, reasoned denial would have any sway with his master. He forced his voice down until it only shook a little with the force of his suppressed anger. “I never said anything to Mathir about asking for bribes. He came up with that on his own.” A memory stirred, and his certainty faltered for a moment. “Wait… I think I said something to him about how desperate Master Jomin seemed, and how I thought he was going to offer you money. Maybe that gave him the idea.” He felt queasy. “But I never suggested he should take him up on the offer!”
Elkan’s eyes were dark and merciless. Josiah didn’t know whether his master believed him or not. He wound his fingers in Sar’s mane. Sar, you know I’m telling the truth, don’t you?
I know nothing but what I witness, or what the Mother reveals to me.
Ask her, she’ll tell you. Or open a window. But they were much too far away from w
here all this had happened for a window to reach. Please Sar, you have to believe me. You can’t— I know if it were true, you’d have to break our bond, but please, you can’t do that, it’s not—
I will make no judgment one way or the other without proof.
Josiah had to be content with that. Sar didn’t soften his attitude, but at least he wasn’t going to sever their bond just yet. There had to be some way he could prove his innocence. They’d be going back to Elathir eventually. Then everyone could see the truth.
One by one Elkan questioned each of the other patients. All of them repeated Master Jomin’s story, that Mathir had approached them, offered his and Josiah’s help, and asked for money as a proof of their need. All of them had agreed to his terms. Josiah wondered bitterly how many others Mathir had sought out. Were there folk dead in Elathir right now because they’d refused to pay?
He hadn’t even offered Josiah a share of the money. He must have known Josiah wouldn’t have taken it, and would probably have reported him to his master and his familiar. Josiah took a certain comfort in that. Not that it made him feel any better.
Nina crept over to Hanion. She looked as limp and bedraggled as when water plastered her fur to her skin. Hanion took one hand off Mavke and extended it to her. She crawled up his arm, and he cupped her against his chest.
Elkan ran a hand through his hair. His gazed traveled over everyone, the group of patients, Mathir and Josiah, the cluster of watching wizards. He came over to Hanion and put a hand on his shoulder. “I defer to you in this matter. What do you want to do?”
Hanion gave Mavke a last caress and rose, careful not to jostle Nina. “I don’t see we have much choice. Nothing can be settled until we return to Elathir.”
Elkan nodded. “I agree. You and I can take our apprentices and the patients back, and the rest can go on. They’ll have to take care of as many fields as they can without us. It won’t be enough, but it will have to do.”
“No, wait!” Josiah knew he should keep quiet, but he couldn’t help protesting. “You can’t do that! We can still help with the blight. A window will be able to show the truth for a whole year. Let us work to heal the wheat and take us back to Elathir afterwards.”
Elkan jerked to face him. “Your actions and Mathir’s have made that impossible. You’ve been accused of abusing your position as a wizard. Until the truth is known, your familiars won’t give you access to the Mother’s power. People are probably going to starve before spring because of the two of you. But we have no choice but to return to Elathir, because the integrity of the Wizards’ Guild must be upheld. Even if people die for it. I hope you think it’s worth—” He bit off his words, breathing heavily. “No. I’m sorry. I’m sure you realize what you’ve done.”
The sheer injustice of it made Josiah’s throat close and tears sting his eyes. “I didn’t—” he choked out, but broke off. Nothing he could say would change the hurt and angry resolve in Elkan’s eyes. He wanted to bury his face in Sar’s fur, but his familiar could be no comfort. Neither of them trusted him enough to believe that the accusation was false.
It wasn’t fair. All he’d wanted was to help people. Elkan and Sar should know that.
Mathir took a step toward Hanion and extended a hand toward Nina where she huddled in the crook of his arm. “Nina, you wouldn’t refuse to help with the wheat because of a bunch of lies, would you? Give me a chance to show you I can still be a good wizard. Use up my energy, burn me out if you have to, but don’t make them take me back to Elathir and let the blight spread unchecked.”
Nina peered at him a moment, then buried her head under Hanion’s arm. Hanion jerked his head toward the fire. “Get a bite to eat, then grab your pack and mount up. We’re leaving.”
Elkan gestured for Josiah to do the same. He went over to the group of patients and spoke softly with them.
Josiah plodded over to the fire. He obtained a bowl of porridge from one of the farmers who had watched the whole thing. Her eyes were wide and curious, but she refrained from speaking to him.
There was very little talking as preparations were made for their departure. All the patients came to the main fire to eat. A few went back to their campsite to put out their fire and gather their belongings. Elkan spoke with the journeyman he was leaving in charge of the group and spent a good while going over the maps and Master Dabiel’s notes before turning them over to her. Then he and Hanion took care of healing the patients with quick, focused bursts of the Mother’s power. Josiah was glad Azien wouldn’t have to go without healing for one more day, at least. The masters would have energy to spare, since the day would be spent riding and not working.
The herders turned over the few extra horses they’d brought along to the patients, with promises to locate more from farms and herds nearby and send them along after. Until then, several of the patients rode double. Sar bore a frail older woman on his back. The sun was barely over the horizon when they set out, at the same time the rest of the wizards left to ride to the next field.
Two days of riding would bring them back to Elathir. Elkan had sent a messenger ahead for Master Dabiel to meet them there. A trial would be convened, and the truth would be shown. Josiah eagerly anticipated having his name cleared. Then maybe Sar would talk to him again, instead of turning away, stubbornly unresponsive, whenever he tried to get his familiar’s attention. But he wondered, dread in his heart, what would happen to Mathir if the window showed that the accusations against him were true.
Thirteen
“Professor Navorre.” The courtier hurried across the entry hall and put his hand on Gevan’s arm. “The Matriarch would like a word with you before you leave.”
Gevan swallowed annoyance. He was tired, and his emotions were still unsettled from the events at the Dualist village. He badly wanted to get Kevessa home and return to the security of his quarters for a good night’s sleep. Even better would be to spend a few days alone in his workshop delving into the mysteries of the wizards’ powers. But he knew it would be a long time before that wish could be granted. Especially if the Matriarch had some new task to give him, as seemed likely from this summons.
He would have refused if he could. Instead, he inclined his head. “I’m at the Matriarch’s service. But I must see my daughter safely home before the hour grows much later.”
“Her business with you will only take a moment. Your daughter may accompany you. Come, her majesty awaits you in her private audience chamber.”
Kevessa’s demurely lowered eyes couldn’t hide her flash of excitement. She hadn’t yet had the opportunity to see the Matriarch any closer than across the dining hall at the evening meal. At least she would enjoy this detour. Gevan nodded his acquiescence and followed the courtier through the corridors of the palace.
The private audience chamber was a small but lushly appointed sitting room not far from the main hall. The Matriarch sat in a chair only slightly less ornate than her formal throne, though it appeared far more comfortable, with thick padding and richly embroidered upholstery. Gevan bowed, and Kevessa sank into a deep formal curtsy. The Matriarch gestured for them to take seats on the elegant couch opposite.
“What a pleasure it is to meet your lovely daughter, Gevan. My ladies report that you have become fast friends with the Tevenaran girl, my dear Kevessa.”
“I thank your majesty for the great privilege of being allowed to make Nirel’s acquaintance. I hope my poor efforts have helped make her time in Ramunna pleasant.” Every line of Kevessa’s body and every inflection of her voice bespoke the perfect attitude of respectful yet confident deference. If she was intimidated to be in the presence of Ramunna’s monarch, she didn’t betray even a hint of it, but made use of her training to project serene and effortless obeisance. Gevan swelled with pride. Kevessa was surely worthy of a place high among the nobility of Ramunna. He silently vowed that he would do everything he could to make that possible for her.
“I’m sure they have.” The Matriarch gave her an approving
smile and turned back to Gevan, dismissing Kevessa from her attention as completely as if the girl had vanished. “Gevan, I will be brief, lest I keep you any longer than necessary from your rest. I’ve found your services as a translator invaluable. I consider it a blessing from the Mother that you were present when they arrived and were able to understand their language. I know such service is not your primary occupation, and I apologize that I’ve kept your from your important research for so long.”
“It’s been my pleasure to serve your majesty in whatever way is most useful to you.” Gevan tried to make his words sound sincere. But he suspected the Matriarch was quite aware of how true an assessment of his feelings her formulaic words were. Fascinating as the strangers were, he was tired of spending his hours passing other people’s words back and forth while his workshop sat empty. Any new discoveries it might provide must wait until Gevan was released from the obligation to let the servants know that Ozor desired a second helping of soup.
“I’m afraid I must keep you away from your work a while longer.” Gevan kept his sigh strictly within the confines of his mind. He’d suspected that was where the Matriarch was leading the conversation. “But perhaps the task I have for you will not be without its rewards. Tell me, Gevan, would you like to be among the first to witness the power of the wizards with your own eyes?”
Despite himself, Gevan’s pulse quickened. “I would appreciate such an opportunity, your majesty.”
She sat back, a smile crinkling the corners of her lips. “Then you will be pleased to hear that I’d like you to accompany Captain Yosiv on his voyage to Tevenar. I wish you to serve as my personal envoy to the wizards. You will bear them my greetings and conduct whatever negotiations are necessary to persuade one or more of them to return to Ramunna with you.”
Gevan had anticipated she might ask him to go along with the expedition as translator, but he’d never guessed she might appoint him her ambassador. He had to pause a moment and gather his thoughts before he could manage a reply. “I would be honored.”
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