The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  Was Sansine from Jevtaran? Elkan couldn’t remember, but she must be. “That’s not true. The Wizards’ Guild is bound by the Law to treat everyone equally, no matter which guild they belong to. We don’t favor herders or farmers. We make our decisions based on what will be best for Tevenar as a whole.”

  Sansine gave a scornful bark of laughter. “If you expect us to believe that—”

  Adrel waved her silent. “We came here to fight. Will you give us the opportunity to do so from now on?”

  Elkan struggled to remember the lessons in diplomacy Dabiel had patiently taught him. He feared he’d badly mishandled this confrontation so far. “I hear your concerns. You want to contribute to the defense of Tevenar. I want you to have that opportunity.”

  “That’s not what it seemed like yesterday.” Adrel crossed his arms.

  “Yesterday was a single skirmish. Exciting for all of us because it was our first. Your willingness to do what was asked of you helped us win a decisive victory. I took a large number of fighters because I wasn’t sure how well Tevenarans new to war would stand up against experienced Ramunnans. You showed me I needn’t have worried.” He smiled at the members of the delegation in turn, trying to catch each person’s eyes and project his pride in their competence.

  Some of them smiled back. Adrel didn’t, but he relaxed his stance a bit. “What does that mean for the next battle?”

  Elkan’s smile faded. “As soon as the weapons we’re building are ready, we’ll march on Elathir. Every one of you will be vitally important when we do. I can’t promise you’ll get a chance to kill Ramunnans, but it’s very likely.”

  Manan shifted his feet. “We don’t want to kill them, necessarily. Just throw them out of Tevenar.”

  “Whether we want to kill them or not, I expect that’s what it will come to. They won’t give up unless we leave them no other choice.” Elkan focused on Adrel. “If the Ramunnans attack again before we’re ready, I’ll probably use the same tactics, since they worked so well this time. Are you willing to hold the rear again? Or do you want me to send you to the front? If I do, the results will probably be worse. Likely a number of your fighters will be killed. Without the physical barrier of the horses to hold them back, the Ramunnans might be able to advance past where the wizards and archers are concealed. Which will lead to even more casualties among your fighters, with the wizards too far away to heal them quickly. Is that the strategy you’d choose if you were in charge?”

  Adrel huffed. Elkan knew it was as close as his father would come to admitting he was wrong. “How likely do you think such an attack is?”

  “Not very. I’ve asked our people in Elathir to stir up enough trouble to keep the Ramunnans busy while we finish the weapons. I think they’ll buy us the time we need.”

  Adrel narrowed his eyes, nodding. “And when we attack Elathir, you’ll use the foot fighters to our full ability?”

  Elkan gave up trying to keep his hand away from his hair and swept a few strands out of his face. “I’ll use everyone and pray it’s enough. There’s almost no chance that fight will be anything less than a fierce struggle. We’ll need every fighter we have plus a great deal of luck if we’re going to win. I promise I’ll remember your desire to fight, and I won’t hesitate to send you into danger. But I also won’t hesitate to hold you back if I think that’s the most effective strategy. Can I count on you to follow your orders, even if you don’t understand or like them?”

  Sansine scowled and started to speak, but Adrel held up his hand to quiet her. He studied Elkan. Elkan felt like a child caught shirking his chores, but he stiffened his spine and forced his eyes to meet Adrel’s calmly. His father might not like it, but Guildmaster Hanion had put Elkan in charge of the defense of Tevenar. Adrel must defer to that authority, despite the fact it was held by his son.

  At length Adrel inclined his head a fraction. “The foot fighters will do our duty.”

  “Thank you.” Elkan took a deep breath. “Are there any other issues you want to address?”

  “No. We’ve said our piece.”

  “In that case, I’ll take my leave. Master Edniel is waiting for me.” Elkan inclined his head. “Feel free to approach me again if you have anything further to discuss.” He nodded to them and strode forward. For a moment he was afraid they wouldn’t yield, but Adrel stepped off the path to let him pass, and the others followed suit. Tobi trailed at his heels; they moved farther back to avoid her.

  When he was well beyond them, he closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. Tension drained from his limbs, leaving him as limp as if he’d just healed a dozen life-threatening wounds. He’d successfully stood up to his father. They’d both kept their tempers and dealt with each other as adults. Adrel hadn’t exactly been warm, but he hadn’t been coldly hostile, either. Maybe there was hope that eventually they’d be able to truly reconcile. Elkan fervently prayed they would. His estrangement from his father was a nagging ache deep in his heart, usually ignored, but never completely absent. They’d been so close before his wizardry had come between them.

  A thought from Tobi warned him an instant before Adrel fell in beside him. He shot his father a sidelong look, but waited for him to speak first.

  A few strides later, Adrel did. “Fibor tells me he’s been meeting you for the midday meal.”

  “Yes.” Elkan treasured the time with his younger brother. He’d left home when he was thirteen and Fibor was ten, with only a few visits since, so they’d never really gotten to know each other as adults. But after a brief awkwardness they’d fallen into an easy camaraderie. Fibor had a never-ending supply of anecdotes about their family. He was willing to talk about the subject Elkan craved to discuss even as he dreaded it, how their sister Sairna was coping with the death of their niece Bethiav. Fibor and his wife Tersira had done as much as they could to comfort Sairna, as had their mother and elder sister, but Sairna’s newborn daughter Dayina had proven a greater balm than any of them. With quiet compassion Fibor had listened to Elkan describe the joint effort that had produced a treatment for diabetes and the near-miraculous recovery of a ship full of comatose patients. He alone could fully empathize with both Elkan’s joy at the discovery and his bitter grief that it had come too late to save the one who inspired it.

  Adrel broke into Elkan’s reflective silence. “I’ve been eating with my group. It’s important I get to know all of them. That way, when it comes to the fight, I’ll know what each one’s capable of. You learn things sitting down over a meal with someone you don’t during fighting drills.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Elkan fondled Tobi’s ears. “Tell me about your group.”

  Adrel’s voice quickened with enthusiasm. “They’re a fine bunch. From all around Tevenar, because people were assigned to groups in the order they arrived. The fifth has the last of the Jevtarans, plus a sizable number from Thedan and a few from Shalinthan. As well as those of us from Arlith, of course. I’ve got Daor as one of my seconds, but Nicham and Gilom went off with the archers. My other second’s a master watcher from Thedan, Kamia. She’s been teaching us to use knives and staves. It’s not so hard once you get the hang of it. And we’ve got a hunter teaching us spear techniques. We’ll be ready whenever we’re needed.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Elkan rubbed the back of his neck. “The test of the blasting powder showed that ours works as well as what the Ramunnans have. That means the problem is most likely the grooves Josiah saw. Supposedly they make the ball spin, like the fletching on an arrow, and that makes it travel farther. I’m skeptical, but Josiah and Meira assure me it should work. We’ll see in a few days.”

  “I heard you’d sent your apprentice to Elathir. What is he, a fourth-year? Awfully young to give so much responsibility.”

  Elkan’s face burned. Trust Father to hone in on the one thing he’d have preferred to hide. He could evade the subject or lie, but the truth was bound to come out sooner or later. Better to admit it now than to give Adrel another slight to hold agains
t him. “I didn’t send him. I forbade him to go, but he disobeyed me and snuck off in the middle of the night.”

  Adrel snorted. “Who’d he learn that from?”

  Too late Elkan saw how neatly Adrel had maneuvered him into the trap. He clenched his fists. “I’ve never told Josiah about that.”

  “No wonder.” Adrel looked into the distance. “At least your apprentice came back.”

  Elkan’s stomach gave a sick lurch. “How many times do I have to apologize, Father?”

  “Only once, if it’s a true apology. You’re not really sorry. You still think you were right.”

  “What choice did I have? You locked me up! I don’t remember you apologizing for that.”

  Adrel laughed mirthlessly. “Because I still believe I was right. Which means there’s not much else to say, is there?”

  Elkan stopped. Tobi pressed against his side, and he rested his hand on her head. He could have her make some flashy display of the Mother’s power, summon a gust of wind or open a window to replay the conversation or even lift Adrel off his feet, but none of those things would convince his father of the essential worth of his son’s vocation. “Come to the Hall with me, Father. See for yourself what the Mother’s power can do. How many sick or injured people will we have to heal in front of you for you to change your mind? Smash it, you were there at the battle. Didn’t you see what we did? How we ripped the weapons out of their hands? Tobi and I healed a man who’d been speared through the shoulder. The other wizards did as much or more. No one died, Father. No one! That’s why I chose to defy you and become a wizard. That’s why I’ll always choose wizardry over anything else.”

  He panted, staring at Adrel. Adrel shook his head and looked away. “None of the foot fighters saw the battle. We were too far away.”

  Elkan swallowed and forced his voice back under control. “But you can still come with me to the Hall. Please.”

  Adrel smiled wryly. “Not today, son. I’ve got responsibilities. I’ll be busy tomorrow, as well.” He held up a hand to still Elkan’s protest. “I think it’s better if we agree to let things remain as they are. Some wounds can’t be mended, no matter how much pretty light you shine on them.”

  “You’re only saying that because you know what you’d see, and you’re too blasted stubborn to admit you’re wrong.”

  “A trait we share, it seems.”

  Elkan sputtered, unable to articulate a reply.

  Adrel patted his shoulder. “Congratulations on beating the Ramunnans yesterday. I have every confidence you’ll lead us just as ably when it’s time to take Elathir back.” He turned and strode toward the fields where shouts and the clash of weapons rose from groups of training fighters.

  Elkan stared after him until he was far across the meadow. Finally he rubbed his forehead. “Smash it, I will never understand him.”

  That’s all right. I’ll never understand humans, but I don’t let it bother me. Tobi butted her head into his stomach. Let’s go. Master Edniel will be annoyed if you’re late, and I want to have plenty of time to nap while you talk.

  Elkan gave her a solid thump on the hard muscle of her shoulder. Watch out, or I’ll volunteer us for overnight duty in the Hall.

  She flicked her tail at him and bounded down the path. I’d be so delighted I’d leave gifts of dead rabbits on your pillow for a week.

  Elkan chuckled ruefully and followed her.

  Twenty-Seven

  The door of the workshop crashed open. The enlarging glass trembled and the thin glass plate underneath it shifted. Gevan cursed and looked up, an angry reprimand on his lips. He’d have to start over from the beginning counting the tiny rod-shaped creatures to see if Nalini’s latest potion had significantly reduced their numbers.

  Gan stood on the threshold, chalky-faced. He stammered a few times before he could force the words out. “Marvannans! Hundreds of them, coming down the road. There’s a man on horseback in the middle, he’s wearing a purple cloak and a gold helmet. I think it’s the Autarch!”

  Gevan’s heart pounded. So far the Marvannan invaders had been busy subduing the city proper and had left the village of Little Tevenar alone except for a few cursory inspections to make sure they weren’t harboring resistance fighters. When they’d gotten word a few days ago that the ruler of Marvanna had come in person to witness the installation of Malka Fovarre as the new Matriarch, they’d had no reason to believe that would change. What could the Autarch want with the handful of traders and healers who’d taken refuge here? They posed no threat to his power.

  “Nonsense,” Nalini said, rising from her stool. “I’m sure it’s some minor official. They probably want to start collecting taxes from us, now that the insulin’s turning a profit.” She glared at the rows of workers at their long tables, who were staring gape-mouthed at Gan. They bent back over their grinders and braziers, but continued to sneak quick glances at the door. “Darone, you’re in charge.”

  The young Marvannan nodded acknowledgement. Like many of the workers, he’d come to Ramunna on the mercy ship from Vitae, lying unconscious and near death from diabetes. The insulin Nalini, Gevan, and Josiah had discovered had saved his life. Now he and all but the youngest of the rest labored to produce sufficient quantities of the precious liquid to keep themselves and an ever-increasing number of customers alive.

  Nalini jerked her head, and Gevan went to join her. Did Nalini lack the information that was common knowledge among Ramunna’s aristocracy, or had she deliberately lied to prevent the workers from panicking? Marvannans reserved purple garments for royalty. And Autarchs traditionally wore a gold helm on the field of battle or in a hostile land. Apparently until Malka was formally installed as his puppet, the Autarch considered Ramunna the latter.

  Outside they met Eifel, who was the informal leader of the Tevenarans who’d remained behind when Ozor sailed for Tevenar. She frowned worriedly up the central street of the village to where the first riders were turning off the coastal road. “I don’t like this. They look like trouble.”

  Gevan had to agree. Ranks of mounted soldiers with long spears and glittering armor guided their horses to places on either side of the street. Down the corridor thus formed rode a man who could only be the Autarch, his massive chestnut stallion placing each hoof with deliberate care. Gevan studied him. Even apart from his splendid trappings, Tane Voreen was impressive. His shoulders were broad and he had the lean, muscled build of a soldier, not the softness Gevan expected of a courtier. His face was long and gaunt, with prominent cheekbones. His dark eyes raked his surroundings, missing nothing. They paused for a moment on the raw yellow wood of the workshop, conspicuous among the weathered gray of the older buildings. Nalini had hired workers from the city to build it, blithely pledging Ozor’s credit. It filled the gap where the Dualist shrine had stood before Ramunnan soldiers burned it down.

  Nalini stepped forward, shoulders back, chin high. She addressed the Autarch with the directness of an equal. “Welcome to Little Tevenar. My name is Nalini Oba. What business brings you here?”

  The Autarch inclined his head slightly. “You’re the healer from Giroda I’ve heard so much about?” His Ramunnan was clear and crisp, with only a slight Marvannan accent.

  “I’m a healer from Giroda.” Nalini narrowed her eyes. “Do you seek my services?”

  “Perhaps.” The Autarch swung down from his horse. He moved smoothly, but with a precision that suggested to Gevan he was exercising iron control over his body. “Yours, or that of the wizards I’ve heard also dwell here.”

  She made a deprecative gesture. “You’re too late. They fled with the Matriarch. They’re probably halfway to Tevenar by now. The original, not our pale imitation.”

  Gevan had cursed the Matriarch when the terse message had arrived, informing him that she’d taken Kevessa and the others with her into exile. Now he blessed her for taking his daughter far away from this dangerous man.

  The Autarch raised his eyebrows. “I was informed that some left w
ith one Ozor Sailorkin Trader when his ship departed this dock. My vessels intercepted his ship upon its return and are escorting him here. I have questions for him.”

  Gevan spun around and scanned the ocean. Three sets of sails dotted the green swells, one smaller and familiar in the center, two larger and foreign on either side. He clenched his fists. Had Ozor gotten Elkan and Josiah to Tevenar ahead of the Armada? Or had they come too late, and he was bringing them back? The wizards would be even worse off in the Autarch’s hands than they’d been as captives of the Matriarch. Marvanna’s ruler might not be entirely controlled by the Purifiers, but he, like his whole country, belonged to the fanatic sect. Undoubtedly he shared their conviction that the wizards’ familiars were demons in animal disguises.

  Nalini tilted her head and studied the Autarch. “So. It’s obvious you’re ill, probably seriously. Your complexion is dull, you’ve lost so much weight your clothes hang on you, and you move like you’ve got a hot poker in your gut. I’m guessing a wasting disease, probably a tumor. In your colon, perhaps. Or maybe your prostate; you’re the right age for it.”

  A slight smile touched the Autarch’s lips. “You’re very perceptive. My physicians have examined me and identified my prostate as the source of the trouble. They tell me it will kill me, most likely in less than a year.” He took a step forward and locked eyes with Nalini. “Is it true you can put a man to sleep and cut a tumor from his body? Could you remove mine?”

  She shrugged. “I could. But the surgery would leave you impotent and incontinent, and you’d die anyway. By the time this kind of tumor makes its presence felt, it’s sent bits of itself throughout your body. They’ll eat you from within, and I can’t get rid of them.”