The Law of Isolation

by Angela Holder

  When he spoke, his tone was exquisitely polite. He pronounced his words with a strange accent, but enunciated them so clearly Josiah had no problem understanding. He used a formal, antique grammar that sounded to Josiah as if it came straight out of the earliest Histories. “My name is Gevan Navorre. Matriarch Verinna Fovarre of Ramunna has sent me as her personal envoy to the land of Tevenar. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Master Dabiel Dyerkin Wizard, Guildmaster of the Wizards’ Guild and head of the Council of Guildmasters?”

  Josiah’s heart raced. He must have gotten his information from Ozor. How else could he have learned Tevenar’s name, or the name of its leader? He turned the strange words over in his mind. Ramunna—there was a city named Ramun in ancient Ravanet, according to the Histories. Could the names be related?

  Master Dabiel nodded at him. “I’m Dabiel.” Josiah saw the hand hanging at her side relax fractionally from its tense, poised position, but the other remained firmly planted on Button’s broad head. “On behalf of the people of Tevenar, I greet you. What business brings you here, so far from your home?”

  Gevan inclined his head. “The Matriarch has heard that in Tevenar, wizards descended from those of ancient Miarban still wield the power of the Mother. She wishes to invite a representative of these wizards to visit Ramunna and enjoy the hospitality of her court. She has empowered me to negotiate on her behalf to bring about an agreement between our realms. Great good can accrue to both our peoples if we are able to come to a mutually beneficial accord.”

  Master Dabiel’s hand tightened on Button’s head. “While we wish nothing but good to you and the people of your home, your coming presents us with a dilemma. The Law the Mother has given us forbids any contact with those who dwell across the sea. We tread perilously close to breaking that Law just by allowing your ship to dock and conversing with you. But you’ve found your way to us, so we must consider the danger posed by your presence here, and the even greater danger that could come if we allow you to depart and carry news of our existence back to your Matriarch.”

  Gevan stiffened, and his voice took on an even more formal tone. “I’m afraid it’s too late to prevent that news from reaching Ramunna. Travelers from Tevenar have already come to our land. They provided the maps Captain Yosiv used to chart our course here. If we don’t return, the Matriarch will send more ships to discover our fate and bring us home. Ramunna’s Armada is the envy of all Ravanetha. We have proven our prowess by victories in many battles with the forces of Marvanna.” He swept his gaze in a slow, deliberate arc that took in the fishing boats at the other docks and the sprawl of Elathir on the riverbanks. Josiah imagined a huge fleet of ships like the one in front of him sailing up the river, and quailed at how vulnerable his home suddenly seemed.

  Gevan returned his attention to Master Dabiel. “I’m sure you have as little desire as I do to force the Matriarch to consider Tevenar her enemy.”

  Master Dabiel didn’t betray by any motion of her body or change in her voice that Gevan’s words had intimidated her, but somehow Josiah sensed her weariness. “I understand. Of course we don’t wish to provoke the Matriarch’s anger. I doubt we’ll be able to give you what you want, but we’ll listen to your proposal.”

  Gevan bowed again, though he didn’t remove his hat this time. “That’s all I ask.”

  Master Dabiel stepped back and swept her hand to indicate the shore. “There’s no need for us to stand out here in the wind. I invite you and whatever delegation you wish to bring with you to enjoy the hospitality of the Mother’s Hall for the duration of your stay. After you’re settled and we’ve refreshed ourselves with the evening meal, we can continue our discussion.”

  “Thank you. I am happy to accept your invitation. I believe most of the ship’s complement will prefer to stay aboard. But I would like a few companions to accompany me. Captain Yosiv, my aide, two bodyguards. And, with your permission, my daughter.”

  “We welcome them all, in the Mother’s name.” Dabiel inclined her head.

  Gevan spoke with one of the guards in a low voice. The man returned to the ship. A few moments later, several people filed across the plank to the dock. First a short, deeply tanned man, dressed in clothes nearly as elaborate as Gevan’s, who Josiah guessed must be the captain of the ship. He was followed by a nondescript man in plainer garments who carried a leather case. They joined Gevan, along with two of the blue-uniformed guards. Several sailors carried bundles and bags across to the dock.

  A swirl of activity on the deck of the ship accompanied the last visitor to disembark. Many sailors reached hands to steady the girl who stepped onto the plank. She accepted their help graciously, but walked steadily even when she moved beyond their reach. Josiah caught his breath. The girl was strikingly beautiful. She couldn’t be more than a year or two older than he was, but she carried herself with the assurance of a master. Her dark hair was piled atop her head in an arrangement of many intricate braids. The garment she wore fitted closely around her upper body, but swirled around her legs with an excess of fabric. But Josiah only noticed these things tangentially, because he couldn’t take his eyes off her face. Her features held the most marvelous combination of sweetness and strength. Her skin was a smooth, flawless olive. Her dark eyes took in the strange sights around her with undisguised eagerness. They roamed over the cluster of wizards, her graceful lips parting to reveal straight white teeth. Josiah only realized he was staring when her gaze passed over him with the same fascination she displayed at everything else she saw. He ducked his head, his cheeks hot.

  Gevan extended his hands to her and helped her step down. A little smile played around his lips as he surveyed the reaction she provoked. Josiah realized he wasn’t the only one struck by her beauty; most of the other young men and quite a few of the older ones showed similar reactions. Gevan cleared his throat, prompting most of them to look away. “My daughter, Lady Kevessa Navorre.”

  “Welcome, Lady Kevessa. Come, all of you.” Dabiel turned and led the way down the dock. Gevan, Kevessa, and the rest of their party followed. Josiah fell into place behind them with the rest of the wizards. The procession wound through the streets of Elathir to the Mother’s Hall.

  Nineteen

  Gevan drank in the sights as they made their way through the city. He felt as if he’d stepped through one of the fabled windows into the mythical past. He still couldn’t quite believe all this was real. These people’s ancestors had come from Miarban in the era of the oligarchs and the wizards. Everywhere he looked he saw echoes of architecture he’d only ever seen in ruins or in artists’ depictions. Smooth white stone buildings shone in the golden light of the setting sun. Brilliant mosaics glittered above doorways and around windows. At each intersection a green park surrounded an elaborately carved fountain.

  But he quickly noticed signs of decay. The fountains were dry, dirt and dead leaves clogging their basins. They passed through what was clearly a market, but many of the shops were locked and empty. The people crowding the streets to see the foreigners had a haggard look to them, though their clothes, plain as they were, were well made, not the tatters of Ramunna’s beggars. At first Gevan assumed they were all men, until he noticed one unmistakably female shape, and realized with a start that many of them were women, clad in the same breeches and tunics as the men. He swallowed and turned his eyes away. Nirel and the others had told him that was the custom in their homeland, but seeing it in person was different.

  He glanced at Kevessa to see how she was coping. Outwardly she was as calm and poised as ever, but he could tell from the lightness of her step and the little wondering half-smile on her lips that she was even more thrilled than he was. Every now and then she looked around at the city, but mostly she watched the cloaked woman who strode in front of them, her hand resting on the head of the giant hog at her side, or twisted around to glimpse the cluster of people and animals following them.

  It was hard for Gevan not to do the same. Curiosity burned in his heart, mixed wit
h a generous dose of apprehension. If what the members of Ozor’s company had told him was true, these were wizards, wielders of the lost power of the Mother. He desperately wanted to grab one and demand an immediate demonstration of their alleged magic. He could hardly bear the suspense of waiting to see the truth behind all the myths, rumors, and speculation. But as the Matriarch’s ambassador, he could never do something so undiplomatic. He’d just have to be patient until the proper time came. He hated to admit it, but the part of him that feared what he would learn was happy to put off that moment as long as possible.

  They came to a large open plaza at the top of a gentle hill. Dabiel led them to the rectangular building that stretched across the whole far side of the square. Ranks of windows marched along its breadth. A short flight of steps led to a tall set of doors. Above them a round mosaic in warm tans and browns depicted a pair of cupped hands.

  “The Mother’s Hall,” Dabiel told him. She stood aside and gestured for him to precede her through the massive doors. “In the Mother’s name, we welcome you here.” She turned to one of the people who followed them, a tall young man whose hand rested casually on the head of an enormous cat. Gevan had never seen anything like it. It was as big as the lions that roamed the wilds of eastern Marvanna, but leaner. “Elkan, would you show Gevan to one of the guest rooms? The third to the left of the stairs, I think; it’s the largest.” She gestured for Gevan to accompany him before addressing several others of her people. “Hadara, if you wouldn’t mind, you can help get Kevessa moved into the one next to it. Hanion, Savir, Vethon, if you’ll take care of the others. Once they’ve had a chance to get settled, bring them to the dining hall. After we eat we can continue our discussion.”

  Gevan eyed the huge cat warily. It looked back at him with disconcertingly intelligent eyes before turning away and padding off beside its companion. He swallowed, but diplomacy allowed him to do nothing but politely follow where the young man led.

  At least the older woman assigned to Kevessa was accompanied only by a relatively small creature perched on her shoulder, with a ringed tail and a mask-like pattern on the fur of its face. She looked trustworthy enough, carrying herself with the calm assurance of her years. She took Kevessa’s arm. “Come, my dear. You must be tired after your long journey.”

  “Thank you,” Kevessa murmured, going where the woman led her. The rest of the party from the ship, along with those carrying their baggage and the other wizards Master Dabiel had singled out, followed. Their escorts led them across the wide open space of the main Hall, up a flight of stairs, and along a corridor lined with doors.

  Gevan made sure Kevessa’s room was suitable before allowing his guide to usher him to his own. The rooms were very pleasant, though plain, spacious and well-lit by large windows. He supervised the unpacking of his bags and the distribution of his belongings. Most of them consisted of the wardrobe the Matriarch had provided for him. She’d sent a ridiculous number of outfits; it took a long time to get them all hung in the wardrobe and tucked away in the drawers of the dresser.

  “Where would you like this?” Gevan turned to see a boy, around Kevessa’s age or maybe a bit younger, pulling the window-glass case from his pack.

  Gevan managed to moderate his instinctive snatch into something slightly more decorous, but the boy still flushed at the speed with which Gevan retrieved the case from his hands. “Please don’t touch this. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Sorry,” the boy muttered.

  The young man—Elkan, Gevan thought he remembered Master Dabiel had called him—frowned at the boy. “Josiah, why don’t you see how long it will be before the evening meal is ready? Master Gevan, there’s a bath down the hall. If there’s time, you’re welcome to take the opportunity to refresh yourself.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Gevan looked around for a safe place to store the window-glass. He was starting to step over to a small but adequate desk when a golden glow shimmered at the edge of his vision. For a moment he was confused. There was something odd about the quality of the light, unlike that of a candle or hearth fire. Then he stiffened and whirled to see.

  The boy stood with one hand on the back of the donkey pressing close to his side. The other hand extended before him, palm upward. Above it, a sphere of golden light hovered, expanding as Gevan watched. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only stare.

  When the sphere was as big as a man’s head, a clear space appeared in the center. It spread until the light was only a rim of sparkles around the edge of a circle. Gevan looked through the ring of gold into a busy kitchen. Cooks bustled around, carrying trays of meats and vegetables, standing at tables chopping, turning a spit over a fire where a large roast dripped onto crackling, flaring coals. Voices reached him, one cook scolding another, who kept offering apologies that the first impatiently drowned out. Abruptly the view swooped, giving him a dizzying glimpse around the large room and out through a door into a hall full of tables.

  This was a real window. It bore about as much resemblance to his window-glass as a living, breathing person bore to a child’s rag doll. Gevan dropped the case onto the desk, his fingers numb. How could he have deceived himself into believing he’d recreated the Mother’s power? All he’d done was craft a cheap and feeble imitation.

  “It looks like it will be at least half an hour before the roast is done cooking,” the boy reported. “He should have plenty of time.”

  Elkan frowned at him. “I meant for you to run down there and see.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” The boy shrugged. The window over his palm shrank rapidly into a glowing point, then disappeared.

  A wordless sound of protest and disappointment escaped Gevan’s lips. Both wizards looked at him, curious. He looked down, trying to gather his scattered wits and regain his composure.

  “Is something wrong?” Elkan asked.

  “No. I’m sorry. It’s just… I’ve never seen… It’s real, isn’t it?” He should check for lenses, wires, mirrors, any trickery that might have been employed to produce the effect, but he couldn’t. He would, eventually, but he knew what he’d find. The boy hadn’t performed a trick for Gevan’s benefit. He hadn’t even known Gevan was watching. He’d done it for his own purpose, casually, easily, without a thought. The power had flowed at his wish just as in the most fanciful of the ancient stories. “Not a trick, not a device, just…” He spread his hands, unable to articulate the significance of what he’d seen. “Real. Magic.” I’ve been such a fool.

  “It’s real, but it’s not magic,” Elkan said. He put down the jerkin he’d extracted from a trunk and came to stand beside Gevan. “It’s the power of the Mother. No more or less miraculous than any of her works. Would you like to see more?”

  Gevan’s mouth was dry. He licked his lips. “Please. If you don’t mind.”

  He didn’t see Elkan signal in any way, but the huge cat flowed to its feet from where it had sprawled in a corner and padded to Elkan’s side. Elkan fondled its ears, then set his hand firmly on its head. He glanced around and extended his other hand. Gevan caught his breath as golden light poured from it. The light shot across the room and surrounded the abandoned jerkin. It floated into the air and unfolded, shaking out wrinkles and creases, until it hung as if suspended from the shoulders by invisible hands. Elkan turned his hand, and the jerkin drifted toward Gevan. It came to rest before him, haloed by the softly glimmering light that trailed into a thread connected to Elkan’s fingers.

  Gevan instinctively reached toward it, but hesitated and glanced at Elkan. The wizard nodded. “Go ahead, you can touch it.” He watched Gevan thoughtfully, smiling a little, evaluating his reaction, Gevan thought. Next to him, the cat’s eyes remained focused on the hovering jerkin.

  Gevan took a deep breath and thrust his hand into the light. It bathed his skin with a warm, pleasant tingle. He grasped the sleeve of the jerkin, which moved easily in his hand. When he released it, it sank back down to hang relaxed.

  Gevan circled the floating garme
nt, examining it from every side. Any concern of offending his hosts with his skepticism was lost in his fascination with determining exactly how this astonishing feat was accomplished. He passed his hands over and under and around the ball of light, feeling for any strings or other support. Only air met his fingers. He even swept his hand through the tendril of light connected to Elkan’s outstretched hand without any visible effect, only a slight intensification of the warm sensation as the beam of power passed through his flesh. Back and forth around the jerkin he paced, staring, until he admitted to himself that he would see nothing beyond what was obvious.

  He turned his attention to the wizard. Elkan remained calm and motionless as Gevan examined him just as intently. He walked behind the man and cat, observing the slight tenseness in Elkan’s muscles pressing his hand to the cat’s head. He pointed. “What happens if you don’t touch it?”

  In response, Elkan lifted his hand way from the cat. The gold light vanished, and the jerkin fell to the floor, sleeves fluttering.

  “Astonishing. So you must maintain contact in order to produce the effect?” Gevan sorted through the natural processes he was familiar with, trying to fit this into place. His lodestone could transmit its effect through a metal object in contact with it, causing it to attract other metal just as the stone did…

  “Exactly.” Elkan set his hand back on the cat’s head, and once again light sprang from his hand to envelope the jerkin. It billowed up. With a twist of his hand Elkan sent it soaring toward the open wardrobe. Another tendril of light spun out and swept up a hanger, which the jerkin settled around as neatly as if manipulated by deft hands. The hanger hooked itself over the wardrobe’s bar, the door swung closed with a sharp click, and the gold light faded away. “Is that enough for now? Because if you want that bath before supper, we’ll need to finish up in here so you can get started.”