The Law of Isolation

by Angela Holder

  They reached a small clearing where several paths met. Two other couples were already there, the girls checking each other’s hair and replacing pins that had worked loose, the boys adjusting rumpled clothing. Mansan burst from a path, leading a girl by the hand. He gave her a last lingering kiss before turning to survey Vigorre and Nirel with a conspiratorial grin. He silently pointed to Vigorre’s tunic; Nirel blushed to see a crumpled camellia petal stuck there. Vigorre brushed it away.

  “Anybody left without a group? No? All right, let’s go.” Mansan headed up the main path. Vigorre and the other boys fell in with him. The girls surrounded Nirel and followed, striking up light relaxed banter as if they’d been chatting together for hours. Nirel did her best to join in, though she was sure the truth of what she’d been doing must be written clearly on her face.

  Back at the main lawn around the fountain they joined a mixed crowd of adults and young people. None of the parents gave their group a second glance. Mansan beckoned a servant with a tray and handed a glass of wine to Nirel. “See? All perfectly proper.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  Nirel nodded and took a gulp of wine. She searched the lawn for her father. Her breathing slowed to something resembling normal when she spotted him, still safely ensconced in Lady Yovella’s company. Kabos nodded to their hostess with a stiff formality that shouted to Nirel just how miserable he was. She should go to him so they could make their farewells to Lady Yovella and depart, as she saw a few other families doing. Her mission here was accomplished; there was no reason to linger.

  But she turned her back to him and edged toward Vigorre, reaching for a sweet on another server’s tray as an excuse. Her throat choked up with all she wanted to say to him, but couldn’t where anyone might hear.

  She wondered if the searching look he gave her meant he felt something similar. But all he said was, “Father likes to stay until the last of the wine is gone and the musicians retire for the evening. But I usually persuade him to leave sooner. I think Nathenarre will support me; she’s yawning already.”

  Nirel followed his gaze to where the First Keeper was holding forth on some topic to an eager circle of listeners, his hands sweeping in dramatic gestures to illustrate his point. Sure enough, his young wife was smothering a yawn in the back of her hand as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

  Vigorre’s fingers brushed Nirel’s. “I want to be sure I have time to talk with him tonight.”

  She bit her lip. “Just remember what you promised.”

  “I will.” She couldn’t doubt the grave assurance in his words.

  She looked away. “I’ll be leaving soon, too. I hope I get the chance to see you again. Sometime.”

  “I’ll make sure you do.” The warmth in his voice and eyes was just for her.

  Her face hot, Nirel stammered, “Um, ah… I guess this is farewell. Until then.”

  “Farewell.” He took her hands in his in a formal gesture. “May the Mother hold you cupped in her hands until we meet again.”

  She bobbed her head, flustered. It was a moment before she could tear her eyes away from his and pull her hands free. She dropped a perfunctory curtsy, which he answered with a smooth bow, and stumbled away.

  She managed to regain a little composure by the time she reached Kabos, enough to be able to speak in a normal tone. “Father, I’ve had a lovely time, but it’s very late. I’m getting tired.”

  She heard the relief in his voice, though she doubted anyone else could. “In that case, let’s make our farewells so we can go.”

  “Must you leave so early? There will be dancing for another hour yet. Not everyone who’d like to meet you has had a chance.” Lady Yovella’s entreating smile faded as it met matching determination from Nirel and Kabos. “Ah, well. I’m so glad you were able to come. You must do me the honor of gracing my home again in the near future.”

  She went on for a while longer. Nirel made polite responses, covering for Kabos’s grim silence. At long last they were free to make their way back through the ballroom and out the grand door where they’d entered.

  Most of the departing guests waited on the porch as carriages pulled up one by one. But a few were walking, probably a much shorter distance than Nirel and Kabos must travel, but enough that they weren’t conspicuous as they made their way down the broad boulevard and turned toward home.

  One task remained. The guard at the gate of the Dualist quarter was familiar with Ozor’s people now and let them through without question. The streets were dark as they made their way to the shrine where Elder Davon waited to hear her report.

  Nirel was still nervous in Davon’s presence, though Elder Semanel squeezed her hand in reassurance. The two Elders led Nirel and Kabos into the round curtained shrine. They made their obeisances to the Ordinance scroll and knelt in silence. Nirel seethed with impatience to pour out her story, but she used the time to practice the deep calming breaths Elder Semanel had taught her to clear her mind and heart. They helped a little.

  Finally Elder Davon raised his head and regarded Nirel. “My daughter, have you carried out my commands, in obedience to the Lord of Justice?”

  “I have, Elder.” Nirel lifted her eyes and met his.

  He nodded, a very small and cryptic smile curving his thin lips. “Tell me everything, just as it happened.”

  Nirel drew a deep breath and launched into her story. She tried to recall every little detail of the evening and relay them with as much accuracy as she could remember. She feared she might be boring the Elder, but his attention never wavered. Occasionally he inclined his head or murmured in acknowledgment of some point. She left nothing out, not even the way she’d felt dancing with Vigorre, or how they’d slipped off together, or that they’d kissed.

  She could feel the tension gripping Kabos as he knelt beside her. Once or twice he strangled a gasp. She didn’t let her gaze waver from Elder Davon. Kabos couldn’t fault any of her actions if the Elder approved them.

  At the end of her account she fell silent. For a long time Elder Davon was quiet, gazing toward the white rectangle of the Ordinance scroll, though his eyes focused somewhere far beyond it. Finally he turned back to Nirel. “You’ve done well, my daughter. Very well. Your conduct was blameless, because you acted in perfect accord with the highest Ordinances.” He shifted his gaze to Nirel’s father.

  For a long moment Kabos glared back. Slowly, stiffly, he crumpled into a low bow. Nirel let out her breath.

  Davon turned back to her. “I want you to maintain your contacts within society. Inform me immediately of any invitations you receive. I’ll probably instruct you to accept them. Most importantly, I want you to encourage Vigorre Rothen in any further attentions he may give you. From what you’ve told me, it seems he’s attracted to you. If he should seek you out, do whatever you think will best increase that attraction. Kabos, that means I permit her—indeed, I require her—to break any lesser Ordinance, if in her judgment it will bind Vigorre Rothen more closely into her influence. You must not interfere.”

  Nirel swallowed. Davon was giving her enormous latitude. Her face grew hot as she thought about what his words might mean.

  Kabos raised shocked eyes. “Elder, you can’t mean—”

  “I do. The Lord of Justice gives me that authority. Will you obey?”

  Kabos squirmed. Nirel knew the question that burned in his heart. He wouldn’t ask it, but she would.

  “Elder Davon, why?” Nirel looked at him squarely, without any attempt to feign meekness. She needed to understand. He knew that about her. He’d accepted it at her Trials. “What do you think I can accomplish by… influencing Vigorre? For that matter, why did you have me lie to him tonight?”

  Davon tilted his head and studied her. Finally, he nodded. “I can’t reveal all my plans, but I think I can share enough to satisfy you. With reflection, you could probably figure most of it out for yourself. Tell me, Nirel, what do you think will happen if the Verinna returns from its voyage without a wizard aboard? Wi
th tidings that the people of Tevenar have refused to aid the Matriarch, even in light of the extravagant payment she offers?”

  “Why wouldn’t they? I’d think the wizards would be happy to come and heal her.” From what little Nirel knew of the wizards, it seemed to be the sort of thing they did. Even when Elkan had been Ozor’s prisoner he’d been quick to heal the bandit leader.

  Davon waved a negligent hand. “That’s not important. Say, for whatever reason, matters turn out that way. What would the Matriarch do?”

  Nirel pondered that. “She wouldn’t be happy.” She pictured the Matriarch’s face as she negotiated with Ozor. It had been canny and ruthless, weighted with experience beneath its layers of paint. “I don’t think she’d take no for an answer.”

  Elder Davon nodded. “I expect her to order the Armada against Tevenar, to subdue the wizards and bring them here by force.”

  Nirel had heard a great deal about the Armada. She paled at the thought of the massive warships wreaking destruction on her homeland.

  Davon went on. “Now tell me. What have the Faithful always sought, over the centuries? What has the Lord of Justice promised us, though the day is long in coming?”

  This answer was easy. It had been a cornerstone of what Elder Semanel had taught her. “A land of our own where we may serve the Lord of Justice freely, unhindered by the followers of the Lady of Mercy.”

  Davon smiled in approval. “What will remain, if the Armada conquers Tevenar and removes the wizards and other leaders from governance?”

  Nirel frowned at him. “Chaos, I guess. Although wouldn’t the Matriarch put her own people in charge?”

  “I’m sure that’s what she intends. But we have plans to deal with them.”

  “Wait.” Nirel felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. “You want Tevenar for yourself. For us. For the Faithful.”

  Elder Davon beamed at her. “Imagine, Nirel. A land protected by the vastness of the ocean from the hostility of the Lady of Mercy’s followers.”

  She shook her head, dizzy. “But the Matriarch would never give it to us. And we certainly can’t fight the Armada.”

  “No. But suppose Marvanna, through the actions of a few well-placed informants, learned that the Armada was far away, leaving Ramunna vulnerable. Would they not seize the opportunity to launch an invasion? The Matriarch would be forced to recall her ships. Tevenar would be open for us to claim.”

  Shocked, Nirel stared at him. “It would be too much of a risk. Marvanna is controlled by the Purifiers. If they take power here, the Faithful will be expelled.”

  His face remained tranquil. “There’s space enough on our trading ships to transport all our people across the sea. Marvanna would be far too busy subduing Ramunna to worry about Tevenar for years. By that time we’ll be prepared to defend ourselves.”

  The vastness and audacity of his plan shocked Nirel. He intended to set Ramunna and Marvanna at war with each other to serve his ends. But it could work. She didn’t know enough to see all the ramifications, but Elder Davon obviously did, and he was too shrewd to risk so much unless he was certain of the outcome.

  She could go home. She could return with Kabos to the farm in the mountains. No one would take it from them again. They could openly proclaim their faith in the Lord of Justice and practice his Ordinances knowing that those in power would fully support them. Or, if that was too small a dream, now that her horizons had been broadened so dramatically, she could remain in Elathir and take part in remaking Tevenar as the Lord of Justice decreed. The Faithful would be free, as they had never been in all their history.

  She blinked against the dazzle of the imagined future, forcing herself to come back to the realities of the present. “I still don’t understand what that has to do with Vigorre.”

  Davon tilted his head at her. “When the Verinna returns empty-handed, the Matriarch will consult her advisors. Most of them she dominates. The rest will agree that the Armada must be sent against Tevenar. Only one is strong enough to oppose her. First Keeper Rothen won’t condone sending the Armada to invade and conquer a peaceful land which is no threat to Ramunna. Not if he believes them to be followers of the one they call the Mother.”

  “Oh.” It was starting to make sense to Nirel now. “But when Vigorre tells his father what I told him…”

  “The Purifiers have certain secret teachings. Keeper Rothen is aware of them, as am I. They describe a cult, an offshoot of the Faithful, who enslaved themselves to demons in the shape of animals in order to receive powers like those of the ancient wizards. Keeper Rothen has always considered these tales false, as I know them to be. But now it will seem to him that he has received verification of their truth from an independent source. He will come to believe, or at least suspect, that the Purifiers are correct, and that the wizards who claim the Mother’s favor in fact secretly adhere to the beliefs they term ‘Dualist.’ He won’t object to the Matriarch sending the Armada against those he considers heretics and followers of a Lord of Demons.”

  Nirel swallowed. She shook her head, trying to clear it. “I guess that could work.”

  “It will.” Elder Davon spoke with serene conviction. “We will turn their ancient hatred of us against them. The Lord of Justice has shaped circumstances so that his plan for his people will at last be fulfilled. When the ship from Tevenar first arrived, I began to believe that the foretold time had come, and started to work toward that end. When you came to us, and I understood the role you could play, I became more convinced. Now that you’ve carried out your task so flawlessly, I’m utterly sure. We are the tools the Lord of Justice is using to craft the destiny of the Faithful.”

  Nirel nodded. Part of her was excited by Elder Davon’s words. She’d spent the last two months steeped in the history and law of the Faithful. The idea that the dream of ascendancy her people had cherished for centuries would finally come true seemed almost too wonderful to believe. But part of her resisted the idea of being anyone’s tool. Even Elder Davon’s. Even the Lord of Justice’s.

  Davon went on, so lost in rapturous fervor he no longer seemed aware of her presence. “His victory over the Lady of Mercy which began a thousand years ago will at last be complete. Her corrupt powers will never again threaten the Faithful with their indelible stain. We will destroy them and all who wield them. We will wipe the world clean of their evil.”

  Cold washed over Nirel. If events played out as Elder Davon had described, the wizards were doomed. All of them. Most would probably be killed in the onslaught of the Armada or taken prisoner by the Matriarch, to be tortured into compliance with her desires and disposed of when they no longer served her purpose. Any who escaped that fate would fall before the victorious Faithful.

  She shouldn’t care. She should be glad. No one else would ever be violated as she’d been. Never again would that golden light be used to imprison and control.

  Never again would it wipe away pain, or bridge turbulent waters with a path to safety, or reshape deformity into wholeness.

  And Josiah would perish along with all the rest.

  Nirel did her best to keep her conflicted emotions hidden from Elder Davon, but even if they’d been written across her face as plain as the black letters of the Ordinance on the white scroll, he wouldn’t have seen them. He was lost in rapt silence, gazing into the distance. Elder Semanel, though, looked closely at her. He must have been satisfied by what he saw, for he gave her a rueful smile and quirked an eyebrow at her, inviting her to share his indulgent amusement at their leader’s excesses. She managed to smile back.

  After a while Elder Davon rose and left the curtained chamber. The rest of them followed. Nirel was exhausted. All she wanted was to get home and collapse into bed. Surely it was late enough she would fall asleep quickly. Not lay awake thinking about everything that had happened, and that might happen when the Verinna returned.

  Elder Davon put his hands on her shoulders in the sign of the Lord’s blessing. “Remember my instructions.”
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  “Yes, sir.” Nirel bowed her head.

  He turned and repeated the gesture with Kabos. “I know it’s difficult for you to watch your daughter behaving in ways that would normally violate the Ordinances. Remember that she remains obedient to the commands of the Lord of Justice. Everything she does is to fulfill his higher purpose. I’m confident she won’t disappoint him.”

  For an instant Kabos met the Elder’s eyes. Nirel caught her breath at the anger burning in his glance. But Davon gazed back steadily. Kabos bent his head. “As you say, Elder.”

  Davon nodded and ushered them out of the shrine into the night.

  Long weary trudging brought them to the village and their cottage. The moment her bedroom door closed behind her Nirel stripped off the heavy layers of her gown and fumbled to unlace her stays. She let them fall in an untidy heap on the floor. Morning would be soon enough to sort them out and hang them up. She’d need the gown again if more balls lay in her future. Right now she didn’t know if she hoped for that, or dreaded it.

  She crawled into bed and reached to snuff the lamp. The door opened.

  “Father?” Nirel stared at him. Kabos never intruded on her after she’d withdrew for the night.

  He regarded her for a long time without speaking. Nirel stared back, unable to interpret what his silence meant.

  Abruptly he spoke. “Elder Davon is deceived. He believes you obedient to his commands. But I know you do exactly what you want, regardless of what the Ordinances say. You and he can pretend that the Lord of Justice wishes you to play the whore. But I know the truth. You defame the Lord’s name to say he condones such wickedness.”

  “Father, I—” Tears blurred Nirel’s eyes and made his face waver in the lamplight.

  He ignored her protest, plowing over her words. “I should discipline you with the rod for what you did tonight. But I can’t, for Elder Davon commanded me to allow it, and his word is to me as the word of the Lord of Justice. But when you betray him, and the Faithful, as you’ve betrayed me time and time again, he’ll realize that he has committed a terrible sin. The blame will be on him, and on you. Not on me. I renounce any complicity in your blasphemy.”