The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  What would the Great Sage have done if confronted with the evidence of his senses that the Mother’s power was no metaphor, but a true way of the world? The answer to that was clear in his teachings as well. He would have sought to understand it. He would not have shrunk from it as Tesi, who was after all among the youngest and most foolish of his followers, had done. The truth was to be sought, not feared, even if it contradicted the truths one had been taught and had believed all one’s life.

  But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to find out that the Great Sage had been wrong, and that the Mother truly existed. She didn’t want to bring word to her mentor and the other Sages of a new truth. They were all far wiser than she, but perhaps not as wise as the Great Sage himself. Some at least would undoubtedly consider her a victim of deception. With profound thoughtfulness they would consider her words and come to the conclusion that cunning folk had fooled her with clever illusions. Unless they saw for themselves what she had seen, they would cling to the Great Sage’s teachings just as she wished she could do. She was sure she would have done the same if it had been some other traveler who had brought the news to the mountains of Giroda.

  Even more, she feared learning that her Art was the clever illusion. The wizards frequently remarked on the difference between the Art and their power. They never said they doubted it was real, but such doubts tormented Tesi. They always had. She’d never been able to feel the flow of qi the way the other students of the Art claimed to be able to, except occasionally as the faint tingle she’d felt today. Yet she’d assured her mentor she did. Were all the other practitioners of the Art liars as she was? The effects of the Art were so subtle. It worked most strongly to ease pain, and what was pain except a mind’s experience of its body? Perhaps the Art worked only on the mind.

  That’s why she would never allow Vigorre to watch her work, nor any of the other wizards. She was too afraid they would see nothing.

  Vigorre engaged her in conversation a few more times during the meal, but she kept her words to pleasant trivialities. Finally she was able to escape. She deposited her empty bowl and spoon in the pile of dirty dishes, glad it wasn’t her turn on cleaning duty. She had no wish to linger in the company of others tonight. Instead she expressed tiredness and retreated to the small room in the corner of the tent where she slept.

  She closed the screening curtain tightly and quietly removed the pegs that held the outer wall of the tent to the ground. She crawled under and pegged it back down. Then she straightened, drew a deep breath of the cool, humid night air, and walked toward the path that led into the mountains.

  The mountains here were different from those at home. The warmer, wetter climate caused them to be cloaked in blankets of straight, towering trees, instead of the small, wind-twisted, sculpturally beautiful trees of her homeland. The bare rocky bones of the land were only visible in certain places, instead of thrusting in stark majesty everywhere one looked. Cool mists formed mostly at night, instead of at all hours. Yet even so, the mountains nourished her spirit as surely as food nourished her body. Ozor had forbidden any of them to go alone into the wild areas, yet even before he left she had snuck away nearly every night to walk the steep, winding paths and drink in the glorious vistas.

  Tonight she took her favorite path, which led to a rocky outcrop with a lovely view of the ocean and the orange groves to the north. The trek was long and steep enough to make her heart pound and her breath quicken, without being so difficult as to exhaust her after an evening of hard work. At the top was a conveniently located boulder where she could sit and contemplate the vast beauty of the world.

  She labored up the last few feet of trail, panting. The stars blazed brilliantly overhead. The moon glowed, huge and round, halfway up the eastern sky. A white streak of moonlight blazed across the ever-moving waters of the sea.

  She was so taken by the glorious sight she moved to sit on her boulder without looking. But instead of cold, hard rock beneath her buttocks, something warm and furry writhed. An offended squawk exploded in her ears.

  She flung herself away, heart racing, terror stealing the strength from her muscles. What wild creature had she disturbed? A predator that would take out its displeasure with its teeth? Or some hapless innocent she’d harmed with her carelessly deposited weight?

  She turned back to the boulder. Her breath caught. Perched on the stone was a ghost from her past. “Mimi?” she whispered.

  The white cat mewed plaintively. It cocked its head at her, very much as Mimi used to do. But of course it wasn’t Mimi, Tesi saw as she moved closer. Mimi was many years dead, buried next to the cottage where Tesi had grown up, beneath the rock where she’d loved to lie in the sun. She’d not been young when Tesi was born, and had died of honorable old age when Tesi was twelve.

  This cat was much thinner than Mimi had been, its fur patchy. Feral, probably, descended from some pet that had wandered away or been cast off and found a new home in the mountains. Yet such cats seldom allowed humans to approach as closely as this one was letting Tesi come. They were shy and wary, not prone to lay unmoving while a clumsy woman sat on them.

  Tesi moved slowly. The cat remained still, even when Tesi put her hand close to its face. It sniffed her fingers, then allowed Tesi to fondle its head and stroke her hand down its back.

  “Are you someone’s pet, after all?” Tesi asked it. “Is someone searching for you or grieving your loss?”

  The cat mewed as if it understood what Tesi had said and was offering a reply. Tesi smiled and continued the conversation. “If you no longer have a home, may I offer you one? I would enjoy having a cat again.”

  The cat gave an intelligent-sounding answer. It didn’t protest when Tesi cautiously picked it up, ready to drop it again if it took offense and tried to use teeth or claws to break free. She snuggled it in her arms and rubbed her face against its head. “Are you female or male, I wonder? If you are female, would you mind if I call you Mimi? She was my cat when I was a child. I loved her very much, and she was white, also.”

  The cat started to purr. Tesi explored it with sensitive fingers. Except for the effects of neglect, it seemed fairly healthy. A quick peek under its tail confirmed it was female. “Mimi it is.”

  She wasn’t entirely white, though, the way Mimi had been. She had a dark oval-shaped mark on her right flank. Tesi laid her finger on it. It fit perfectly, just as if she’d dipped her finger in ink and marked a fingerprint there.

  She gasped and dropped the cat. It squawked in surprise and twisted to land on its feet. Tesi pointed at it with a shaking hand. “You are one of the wizards’ creatures!”

  Vigorre had showed them the marks, on the eagle’s shoulder, and the squirrel’s back, and the cobra’s hood, when the wizards had sought refuge. He’d explained what they meant, that these animals had been touched by the Mother, granted intelligence like a human and the ability to channel the Mother’s power in conjunction with their human partners. He’d assured them that the snake no longer posed a danger like its wild brethren, but could be trusted not to harm them. He’d demonstrated how the creatures understood human speech and responded intelligently even to strangers.

  The cat looked at Tesi now with that same intelligence. It seemed to be patiently waiting for Tesi to come to terms with her realization.

  Tesi forced her hands into an apologetic fold. “I beg your pardon for treating you so roughly. If you wish, I will escort you to the wizards. They have expressed the expectation that more of your kind will come to them. Perhaps you will become the partner of Thanna, their assistant. Or of Seshone, a Keeper from Marvanna who also sometimes assists them. Either of them would be overjoyed to become a wizard.”

  The cat walked to her, its tail held high, and twined around her ankles, rubbing its face on her foot in a gesture of ownership Tesi remembered well from the first Mimi. “Forgive me. I must withdraw my earlier offer. I cannot give a home to one of your sort. You belong with one who worships the Mother, who will welcome the
opportunity to serve her with your help. Not with a disciple of the Great Sage. I do not even believe the being referred to as the Mother exists.”

  None of that deterred the cat. She continued to press her warm body against Tesi’s legs, her purr vibrating in Tesi’s bones.

  Tesi sat down heavily on the boulder and buried her head in her hands. “Why have you come to me? You cannot wish to make me a wizard. I do not want—” Her voice choked to silence.

  The Great Sage had sternly warned against envy, as a destroyer of the soul’s peace and a poisoner of relationships. Yet Tesi envied the wizards. The elegant, subtle persuasion of the Art no longer satisfied her. She wanted the power to force bodies into wellness the way they did. She was ashamed of her desire, for it was a betrayal of the precepts she strove so hard to honor.

  And yet truth was the highest of those precepts. The Great Sage would be ashamed of her for hiding from the truth, for denying it, for running from it as fast as she could. If her mentor were here, he would gently but ruthlessly force her to face the reality of the world.

  Tesi pictured his lined face and wizened form. He would fix her with his bright black eyes and say, “Pupil, tell me what you have observed.”

  Tesi raised her head and folded her hands in the position that showed the greatest respect. She spoke aloud, as if he stood before her. “Mentor, I have observed these things. First, I have seen the wizards perform acts my previous understanding of the way of the world viewed as impossible. Second, I have considered the possibility that these acts were the result of illusion or trickery, and concluded that this is unlikely. Third, I have heard the wizards attribute their abilities to the one called the Mother and to the familiars they maintain she has sent them. Fourth, I have observed the animals bearing the mark of familiars behave in ways unlike other animals. Fifth, I have observed that this cat bears the mark, and behaves in an affectionate manner toward my person.”

  The cat jumped onto the rock beside her and cocked its head as if it was listening with great interest to what she was saying.

  What would her mentor reply? “Pupil, what impact do these observations have on your understanding of the way of the world?”

  “Mentor, my observations suggest that my current understanding is wrong. They suggest a new understanding. They suggest that the power of the Mother, which legend describes and which the Great Sage considered a metaphor, is in fact a true way of the world.”

  The cat gave an approving mew. Tesi took a deep breath and continued. “They suggest that this cat wishes to partner with me in order to give me the ability to use that power.”

  She looked at the cat, which regarded her happily. “That is what you wish, is it not?”

  Very deliberately, the cat lifted a paw to its mouth, gave it a few licks, then made a precise nick with its teeth in one of its pads. A drop of blood welled out.

  Tesi swallowed. She didn’t know what that meant, but it seemed clear it was some sort of confirmation. “My mentor would say, ‘Pupil, how can you test the accuracy of the new understanding your observations suggest?’ And I would say…” She felt terribly afraid, and at the same time marvelously excited. “…Mentor, by allowing this cat the opportunity to do as she wishes, and observing if indeed the power becomes available for my use.”

  The cat moved its bloody paw a bit closer, watching her intently.

  Tesi whispered. “And he would say, ‘Pupil, do so. For followers of the Great Sage seek truth above all else.” She held her breath and tentatively extended her hand.

  The cat protruded the claws on its wounded paw and delicately drew one across the base of Tesi’s thumb. A chain of tiny blood droplets formed, like a miniature garnet necklace. The cat set its paw lightly on her hand, and their blood mingled.

  Eleven

  Elkan finished his last bite of bread and chased it with the dregs of his cider. He worked to keep discouragement off his face as he smiled at the man across the table. “Well, Tenorran, this has been pleasant as always.”

  Tenorran glowered at him. Elkan rose and gathered their empty plates and mugs onto the tray. “Until next time.” The watcher opened the door of the cell to let him out, then closed and locked it behind him.

  Now that Tenorran couldn’t hear, Elkan released the sigh he’d been suppressing. He might as well stop wasting time on these visits to the captured Ramunnan. All his efforts to break down Tenorran’s hostility and win his trust, or at least a few tidbits of useful information, had come to nothing. The young officer just sat there and scowled. Occasionally he’d vary his expression of loathing with one of boredom. He’d responded no better to the cheerful young watcher apprentice Elkan had asked to make friendly overtures or the kindly old laborer assigned to clean his cell.

  Elkan was going to have to find some other source of insight into the Ramunnans’ plans. Savir sent frequent messages, but he hadn’t been able to discover much. He couldn’t yet speak Ramunnan. When dealing with the people of Tevenar, the Armada officers spoke the strangely accented Tevenaran that Gevan had said was remembered and taught as the language of ancient Marvanna, but when they met in the Mother’s Hall to discuss strategy, they spoke their native language. The two tongues were close enough a dedicated listener could puzzle out the differences eventually, but Savir was still working on it, and Elkan didn’t have anyone familiar with Ramunnan to send him.

  Elkan didn’t know if Commodore Benarre had figured out that there was far more to Tevenar than a single city. Or whether he’d grown suspicious at the small number of refugees that had trickled back into Elathir, or the absence of children and the elderly among them. Or whether Hanion’s attempts to keep the Ramunnans confused and off-guard were succeeding. At least he knew the Guildmaster was still alive, or had been the last time a messenger had made it through.

  Savir had confirmed that Benarre had gotten the word that Tenorran lived and was in the Tevenarans’ custody. Elkan had instructed one of the dockworkers to let the information slip when questioned. When Benarre had found the bodies of the other Secrets officers, he’d drawn the desired conclusion. Tenorran alone would be held responsible when the Tevenarans struck back against the Ramunnans with their own weapon.

  If that ever happened.

  Elkan added up travel times in his mind again, and reached the same conclusion. Josiah should have arrived in Korisan days ago, whether or not he’d persuaded Meira to help them. What could have happened to delay him? There were many possibilities, most of them grim. Elkan couldn’t keep from dwelling on them, no matter how hard he tried to place Josiah’s fate in the hands of the Mother.

  Tobi joined him outside the Watch headquarters, her mind replete with the satisfied sleepiness that followed a successful hunt. Tell me you’re going to be working in your office all afternoon.

  He fondled her ears. Sorry. We need to go out to the camp to check on the progress of the training and settle a dispute that’s cropped up. Apparently there’s some sort of infighting among the volunteers from Jevtaran. Maybe there will be time for you to relax if we finish before too late, although I’d hoped to spend an hour or two healing. He delegated as much as he could, but there were many things he had to do himself, and if he didn’t stay on top of the people he’d assigned tasks, some of them would let things slip. Still, he tried to devote at least a little time each day to normal wizard duties. They’d spread word that they were only taking the most urgent cases, but with Korisan and the countryside for miles around stuffed full of refugees from Elathir and volunteers from all over Tevenar, there were a great many of those. Wizards had come from Thedan and Jevtaran to join those from Korisan and Elathir, but they remained constantly busy.

  Tobi gave a disgruntled huff, then bounded off toward the road that led to the fields where the masses of volunteers were being forged into something resembling an army. She exuded an air of limitless energy. Elkan laughed and followed.

  He’d only gone a few steps when an apprentice messenger dashed up. “Sir! You’re needed a
t the dock!”

  Elkan glanced toward the river, where a regular influx of barges put in with food and other supplies from the regions to the north. “What’s the trouble?”

  “No trouble, sir. Master Zinva said you’d be pleased.”

  That would be a nice change. Elkan nodded to the girl. “Tell them I’m coming.”

  She ran off. He followed at a more sedate pace. Tobi, change of plans. We’re going to the dock.

  The mountain cat checked her progress mid-stride and switched directions with a lithe twist of her body. When he reached the intersection, she was already halfway along the road to the river. But as he turned, she skidded to a stop. What’s that horrible smell?

  He sniffed the air without detecting anything. But he trusted Tobi’s sensitive nose, so he wasn’t surprised when a pervasive odor of rotten eggs hit as he neared the dock.

  A barge was moored there. Workers were hauling barrel after barrel ashore. They didn’t complain about the stink, but a desire to be finished with their task as quickly as possible was written on each face. The work proceeded rapidly.

  Master Zinva hurried up. “Apparently this shipment is for you. I almost ordered it dumped in the river, because obviously whatever’s in there is horribly spoiled. But the barger insisted I give this to you first.” She handed over a thick envelope.