The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  He nodded, his lips tightening. “Could the wizards?”

  She smiled. “I do believe they could.” She turned to Gevan. “Don’t you love how the high and mighty are at the mercy of their bodies just like the rest of us? Except they think they can cheat and make the Mother take back the fate she’s dealt them. The Matriarch, the Autarch, they’re all alike. Run to the wizards for a miracle, never mind if your Keepers tell you they’re demons. That doesn’t matter as long as you get what you want. How many Marvannans die of tumors every day? You never sought a wizard’s help for any of them.” She laughed. “Not that it matters. The wizards are far beyond your reach.”

  Gevan edged away, not wanting to be caught in the Autarch’s wrath when it exploded against her. But the Marvannan was back to the small, tight, smile. He regarded Nalini in silence for long enough that the echo of her words died and her bravado dimmed, though she didn’t back down. Finally his smile widened a fraction and he inclined his head. “Not for long.”

  He turned on his heel and strode back to his horse. He mounted and barked a short command. The two lines of mounted soldiers converged around him and they rode forward, ignoring the three figures in the street before them. Nalini would have stood her ground, but Gevan and Eifel dragged her to the side barely in time to avoid being trampled.

  Gevan shook her. “What kind of stupid stunt was that? He can have us all killed if he wants! What happened to keeping a low profile?”

  She scowled at him. “He knew who I was before he came. You, too, I suspect. It’s too late to avoid his notice. The only hope we’ve got is to make him believe he needs us.”

  “A fine job you did of that!” Gevan lowered his voice. “You should have told him you could cure him. Once he was on the table, a slip of your scalpel, a few extra drops of sweet vitriol, and Marvanna would be leaderless.”

  She rolled her eyes. “How long do you think I’d live after that? He’d probably station guards with blades drawn to cut my throat if I so much as nicked a vein. Besides, his son’s been itching to take the throne for years. That’s probably why he spends so much time away from the capital. Figures if he keeps junior busy running things he won’t have time for assassination attempts. Marvanna will barely blink when the old man keels over.” She looked at where the Autarch was stiffly dismounting from his horse at the end of the dock, his soldiers falling into formation around him. “Which won’t be long, unless he does manage to get hold of a wizard.”

  Gevan couldn’t disagree with her assessment. “Elkan and Josiah are going to be in trouble if they’re on that ship.”

  “They’re not. They’ll have made Ozor leave them in Tevenar even if the Armada’s reduced the whole place to rubble.” She scowled. “But I suspect that’s not all the Autarch wants with Ozor.”

  After a moment of consideration, she strode toward the dock. Gevan hurried behind her, Eifel at his heels. “Where do you think you’re going? Ozor can fend for himself.”

  “That’s why I need to be there. If Ozor tries to cut a deal, I need to stand up for my interests. You’d be wise to do the same.”

  Again Gevan had to concede she had a point. Ozor would cheerfully betray them if he thought it was to his advantage.

  Eifel panted as Nalini’s steps quickened. “Ozor’s going to be pleased by how much progress you’ve made with the insulin business. The Autarch won’t threaten that, will he?”

  “Not unless he sees a way to gain by it.” Nalini stopped as the rearmost of the Autarch’s soldiers turned and extended his spear to bar her way. “Let us through.”

  The man didn’t budge. Gevan stepped up beside Nalini. “Please. Ozor’s command of the Ramunnan language is still imperfect.” That was a blatant lie, but it was the best he could come up with quickly. “I can translate if necessary.”

  The soldier scowled. “The Autarch needs no—”

  “Let them approach,” the Autarch ordered in a lazy drawl. “It will be a while before the ship docks. We can continue our conversation.”

  The soldier snapped his spear up and urged his horse back a step. “Yes, sir.”

  The other soldiers also moved their mounts back. Gevan led the way between them, acutely conscious of the dozens of spears and swords held casually ready. He fell in beside the Autarch on the dock and followed his gaze across the water. The two Marvannan vessels were hanging back as Ozor’s ship approached the shore. It had the worn look typical of the end of a long voyage, but he could see no damage that would indicate it had been involved in a battle. “Thank you, sir.”

  The Autarch nodded, not taking his eyes from the ship. “My sources have told me about you as well. Professor Gevan Navorre. Formerly a scholar at the heretical University, where you sought to duplicate the ancient wizards’ powers. Inventor of the window-glass, which is revolutionizing naval warfare. More recently the Matriarch’s ambassador to Tevenar. Hailed as a hero when you brought her two wizards, then hunted as a traitor when those wizards were accused of being Marvannan agents.”

  “They weren’t. But you know that.”

  “I would be proud to claim the scheme she attributes to me, but alas, I had no part in it. The first news I had of the wizards’ continued existence was when my sources reported their arrival at the Matriarch’s court.” His fingers tightened on his horse’s reins. “You’ve witnessed their power first hand? It is indeed the same as that of the ancients?”

  Gevan sighed. “Yes. It’s undeniable. I was deeply skeptical at first, but they convinced me.”

  “Everyone who’s seen them work says the same.” The Autarch turned to Gevan. “Since the first reports reached Marvanna, the Keepers have filled my ears with tales of demons. For obvious reasons, I’d prefer to believe they’re wrong. I’ve adhered to the pure worship of the Mother all my life, but demons were never a part of it until now. Have you seen any evidence to suggest what they claim is true?”

  Gevan chose his words carefully. “Your sources seem well informed. I expect they told you about my daughter.”

  “That she joined the wizards and was possessed by one of their creatures? Yes.”

  “She swears she spoke to the Mother and received powers from her. I believe she’s telling the truth.” At least, he believed she was telling the truth of her experience. Whether her vision had been a genuine manifestation of the deity or merely a hallucination, he still wasn’t sure.

  “If you use your considerable skills to help me, Professor Navorre, I can protect your daughter. Surely you have little love for the woman who falsely accused you of treason and sought to have you and your daughter killed.”

  Gevan gave a bitter laugh. “So I should commit treason in truth?”

  “The war is over, Professor. Ramunna is now a province of Marvanna, and I’m your rightful ruler. It’s not treason to acknowledge the new reality and act accordingly.”

  “The Matriarch would beg to differ.”

  “Verinna Fovarre no longer holds that office. Malka Fovarre acknowledges my overlordship. She’ll be signing the official unification documents at her coronation in three days.”

  Gevan pursed his lips. It was true that Verinna had squandered whatever personal loyalty he’d once had for her. But he was still loyal to his country. Marvanna might have taken possession of Ramunna by force, but Malka had no legitimate claim to the Matriarchy while Verinna lived, and thus any documents she might sign were worthless.

  But it was also true that at the moment, power rested in the hands of the Autarch. “If I did agree to help you, what would you ask me to do?”

  “The same thing Verinna did,” he answered promptly. “Be my liaison to the wizards. They know and trust you. Help me negotiate a new treaty with Tevenar. As soon as Malka is crowned I’m traveling there. I’d like to take you with me.”

  Gevan swallowed. He hadn’t anticipated that. Then he frowned. “But you don’t know the way. I can’t show you; I’ve been to Tevenar, but I’m no sailor.” His shoulders sagged. “I suppose you got the informat
ion from Captain Yosiv.”

  “Unfortunately Yosiv destroyed all records of his voyage before we seized his ship, as did the other two captains. None of them has responded to persuasion thus far. But the solution to that problem is at hand.” He gestured at Ozor’s ship, which had nearly reached the dock. Teried and several others Gevan recognized clung to the rail, poised to leap across and make the ship fast.

  Gevan’s heart sank. He supposed it was inevitable that the Marvannans would learn the route to Tevenar eventually. But the wizards needed all the time they could get to deal with the Armada and the arrival of the Matriarch and the Faithful before the Marvannans, too, descended on them. They weren’t going to get it. He was sure Ozor would deal with the Autarch if the price was high enough.

  Ozor came to the rail. As soon as the ship touched the dock, he stepped across and strode to confront the Autarch. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  The Autarch inclined his head slightly. “Ozor Sailorkin Trader, I am Tane Voreen, Autarch of Marvanna. Ramunna is now under my rule. I understand the former Matriarch granted you possession of this village in exchange for detailed maps showing the way to Tevenar. I’m willing to allow you to keep your authority here, on the condition you provide me with the same information.”

  Ozor eyed him and the ranks of soldiers behind him. He narrowed his eyes. “Will you grant me license to trade throughout Ramunna, Marvanna, and Giroda?”

  “With the Dualists gone, we need all the good traders we can get. From what my sources tell me, your skill will bring you a large amount of profit, and me a large amount of taxes. I’m happy to grant you that license.”

  Ozor’s eyes widened, but he nodded sharply. “I own exclusive rights to produce and distribute insulin, the only treatment for diabetes. You’ll respect my claim and defend it against anyone who tries to infringe?”

  “I was under the impression that Nalini and Gevan were responsible for manufacturing and selling the new medicine.”

  “They’re my business partners. I left them in charge while I was gone.” He turned to Nalini. “I want a full report.”

  “You’ll get it. I’ve been following your plan.” She gave him a lazy grin. “We’re ahead of schedule.”

  “Good.” Ozor snapped back to glare at the Autarch. “Well?”

  “I’m willing to agree to that, provided you turn over the information immediately and it proves valid. And that you maintain regular production of the insulin. Several prominent Marvannan families have informed me that their children depend on it for their lives.”

  “All right.” Ozor snorted. “I wish I could see Elkan’s face when you show up. Withdraw your soldiers so my people can start unloading our cargo, and I’ll draw you a map.”

  “Agreed.” The Autarch barked an order to his men, who immediately began an orderly retreat through the village. “I’ll wait at the crossroads until you deliver it.”

  Eifel hurried forward and gave one of the sailors a quick embrace. The two of them set to work organizing the rest of the crew to bring crates and sacks up from the hold.

  Ozor fell in between Gevan and Nalini. “Sounds like you two have been doing good work. What was that about the Dualists?”

  Gevan grimaced. “They’re gone. Every last one of them, from graybeards to infants, along with all their ships. They took off the night the Marvannans invaded. When Malka arrived she started handing out property in the Quarter to any aristocrat who’d renounce Verinna and swear loyalty to her. She had plenty of takers. They’ve already started tearing down the wall.”

  “Good riddance.” Ozor grinned. “That puts us in a prime position, doesn’t it? I spent a few weeks in the archipelago, stocking up on mahogany and teak, nuts and dried fruit, even some orchids and a few parrots. There’s going to be a serious shortage of luxury goods, so I’ll get top prices. Not to mention how much I’ll be able to charge for silk and spices the next time I sail to Giroda. And all of Marvanna opened up! Glass from Vitae, ivory from Beraza… I couldn’t have asked for anything better.” He laughed.

  Nalini smiled in return. “Come with me to the new workshop. There’s paper and pens you can use to make your map. And you can see how much we’ve gotten done while you’ve been gone. I think you’ll be pleased. We’re producing a thousand doses of insulin a day, with plans to double that. And Gevan’s working on identifying the most effective anti-infection medicines. Soon we’ll be doing a brisk business in those as well.”

  Gevan trailed them back to the workshop. If Verinna returned with the remnants of the Armada, as her message had indicated she planned, would Ramunna welcome her? Or was it already too far under Marvanna’s control to go back? The Autarch was shrewd and ruthless, and he had little to lose. Whatever he planned for Tevenar, Gevan doubted it would be good for the wizards.

  Which meant he had to accept the Autarch’s offer. He might be able to persuade the wizards to cooperate with the Marvannan in exchange for their lives. Failing that, at least he’d be on hand to protect Kevessa from the many dangers converging on Elathir.

  Twenty-Eight

  Josiah slipped out the door of Master Fira’s shop and eased it shut. He hated having to leave Ledah’s warm bed and sneak back through the chill pre-dawn darkness to his lonely pallet. But he couldn’t let anyone find out he was spending almost every night here. He was getting much less sleep than the Law required. Sar scolded him every time his eyelids drooped or his energy flagged in the middle of a healing. If Elkan found out, he might forbid him to visit Ledah, and Josiah wasn’t going to risk that.

  It was easier since he’d moved to the camp. He’d pitched his tiny tent on the outskirts, where he could come and go without anyone noticing. The walk was longer than to the Hall, but he didn’t have to worry about waking every apprentice in the barracks if he made a noise.

  A low crescent moon heralded the approaching sunrise. Its pale light gleamed on the three shiny new weapons that had joined the first outside the smithy. He stopped to stroke their smooth curves and caress the sharp spiral grooves inside their dark mouths.

  It had been a week since the first test shot had traveled far beyond the range of the Mother’s power. He still felt the jubilation of trying with all his and Sar’s combined strength to force the tendril of golden light to where Elkan and Meira stood by the weapon, and falling several hundred feet short. He hadn’t been able to stop grinning as he carefully paced the distance back to get a more exact measurement. Everyone had cheered, Meira had heaped excited praise on him, but it was Elkan’s quiet smile and warm hand on his shoulder he’d valued most.

  Another week and the rest of the weapons would be forged. The mill was grinding hundreds of pounds of blasting powder every day. The smiths who’d poured into Korisan from all over Tevenar were producing countless iron balls for ammunition. Meira’s crews were spending hours on end training to smoothly and efficiently fire the new weapons. The wizards, archers, foot and mounted fighters had honed their skills until Josiah was sure they matched or even exceeded Ramunna’s jaded professional soldiers. Elkan had been exchanging dozens of messengers with Savir, planning strategy. By midsummer they’d be ready to march on Elathir and kick the Armada out of Tevenar for good.

  Sar stood by Josiah’s tent, head drooping and one back hoof cocked up as he slept. Josiah moved as quietly as he could so he wouldn’t wake the donkey.

  As he crouched to untie the tent flap, he heard a dull thud followed by a muffled curse. He frowned. The word was in Ramunnan.

  Probably it was nothing. Maybe one of the prisoners had tripped over something on the way to the privy. The area around the long, low shed was littered with debris from the hasty construction. The guards would make sure nothing was amiss and no one was hurt.

  Josiah straightened and peered in the direction the sound had come from. Now that the building was complete, fewer guards were keeping watch over the prisoners. If there was trouble, they might need a wizard’s help.

  A shadow moved against the pale wood
of the prison. Josiah caught his breath. He snuck closer, pausing behind a clump of bushes and scanning the area. As he watched, a dim shape crawled from a dark crack low in the back wall of the shed and ran, crouched over, across the empty field and into the trees at its edge. A few seconds later, another followed.

  Josiah swallowed hard. Sar, wake up! The prisoners are escaping!

  Where were the guards? There were supposed to be a dozen at the front entrance, and another twenty patrolling around the building. Josiah didn’t see any.

  The grass rustled and Sar pressed into his side. The donkey raised his head, eyes gleaming in the moonlight and nostrils flared wide. I smell blood.

  Josiah swallowed. He studied the dark woods beyond the prison, but could make out nothing in the deep shadows under the trees. He didn’t dare risk a window lest the Ramunnans see the glow and realize they’d been spotted. How many are out already?

  Too many for us to stop alone. We need to wake the other wizards.

  Grimly, Josiah agreed.

  Sar went to the familiars who lingered outside while Josiah hurried from one tent to another, urgently whispering the news. Some of the wizards woke confused and required precious seconds of explanation, but most of them swiftly comprehended the problem and hurried to respond.

  More than three dozen wizard and familiar pairs clustered in the shadow of the bushes when Josiah returned. The prisoners were still sneaking from the building one at a time, apparently unaware their escape had been discovered. Master Ferin, a Watcherkin wizard whose familiar was a ferret named Pounce, whispered orders. She assigned Josiah and Sar to the group that would attempt to cut off the prisoners before they reached the road.

  Josiah jogged through the night with the rest, Sar trotting at his side. The road appeared deserted as they approached the place where it entered the forest, but as they got closer Josiah spotted torches flickering between the tree trunks. Blast it, they were too late. How many of the prisoners were on their way to Elathir already? If even one made it through, Commander Benarre would learn they possessed blasting powder and weapons. Their chance to surprise him would be lost.