Meira thoughtfully finished her bite. “Maybe they’ve got a point. She’s so obsessed with Ramunna there’s little chance she’ll turn the weapons on us. If the Miners’ Guild ramps up production of iron, the smiths could easily produce several dozen weapons in the next couple of months. That’s a significant amount of wealth for Tevenar.”
“Gold’s only as valuable as what it can buy. To really benefit from the exchange we’d have to trade with Ramunna in the future. I’m sure that’s what she wants.”
“Maybe we should.” She held up her stump to halt his protest. “No, listen. You’re never going to return us to the same isolation as before, no matter how hard you try. That vein’s played out. Why not arrange things so Tevenar profits from contact with the rest of the world?”
Everyone else was telling him the same thing. He shouldn’t be surprised Meira had joined the chorus. None of them seemed to understand the danger he saw so clearly. “The more we interact with them, the sooner they’ll be back with swords. Verinna might not turn the weapons we make for her against us this year or next, but they’re not going to wear out. Ten or twenty years from now we’ll be fighting this war all over again.”
“Not if everyone knows it will turn out the same way. We have the same weapons they do now, and we’ll always have the Mother’s power. No one will start a war they know they’ll lose.”
He scraped the last drops of soup from the bottom of his bowl. Maybe she was right. Maybe they all were. Maybe he was being as stubborn and blind as Hanion. Isolation had perished when Ozor’s ship passed the boundary stones and couldn’t be resurrected. He thought he was putting a new guardian in its place, but maybe all he was doing was propping up a corpse.
He looked up to find Meira watching him. “If the smiths agree, she’ll have to approach me for more blasting powder. What should I tell her?”
“That’s your decision.” The Council, awestruck by what Meira’s weapons had accomplished during the battle, had approved creation of the Blasters’ Guild nearly unanimously. Only the Miners’ Guild had dissented. “The Wizards’ Guild has no say in what other guilds choose to produce and sell.”
She flashed him a teasing grin. Under the table, her foot brushed his. “Good answer.”
“But if you’re asking for my advice, I don’t think it matters. With what she has left on her ships and has already bought from us, she’s got enough to last until she gets back to her sources in Ramunna, even with dozens of new weapons. Take her money if she offers it.” He gathered his empty bowl and cup and rose. “Would you like me to bring you anything?”
“More water would be nice.” She set down her spoon and caught his hand as he reached for her cup. She brought it to her face and pressed her cheek into his palm. “Let’s skip the gathering tonight. I’d rather get to bed early.”
He cupped her jaw tenderly, heart aching. “Whatever you want.”
She released him with a playful twinkle and went back to her soup. Elkan took the dirty dishes across the dining hall to the collection point and joined the line for the water casks.
Tomorrow was Restday. Neither he nor Meira had talked about what they were going to do. When the appropriate point in the service came, would they rise from their seats and declare their commitment to each other before the world? Or would they sit quietly until the moment had passed, keeping their relationship private and temporary?
As he turned the tap and water gurgled into Meira’s cup, Elkan forced himself to face the truth. He didn’t want to stand up with her.
The past two days and nights had been sweeter than anything he could have imagined. Meira had settled into his room as naturally as if it had always been her home. The modest chamber he’d only ever regarded as a place to sleep had become a haven of light and joy. The long delicious hours in each other’s arms, the cozy rhythm of parting for work and coming together for meals and sleep—he would gladly have signed up for a lifetime of those, if he’d thought it would last.
But it wouldn’t. It never did.
He’d accepted her back into his heart and bed because he was powerless to resist her, but this time he was going to be prepared to let her go. This time he wouldn’t be stunned with shock and riven with agony, because unlike ever before, he knew it was coming. This time he wouldn’t let himself forget that love was precious but fleeting, a few moments of happiness to be savored before the inevitable end.
If they stood up together tomorrow, it would only make things more difficult when the break came. They’d have to negotiate a legal settlement with the help of an advisor. He’d been through that before and had no desire to repeat the experience. Even if this time they were both in agreement, it would still be a needless complication. Much easier to forgo the formal bond. Then they could part simply and amicably whenever they chose.
Whenever Meira chose. Elkan could no more leave her than he could leave the Wizards’ Guild. But the pattern was too obvious for him to ignore. The next time the woman he loved rejected him, he wouldn’t be surprised.
The peace that settled on his heart was cold and bleak, but far preferable to turmoil. He returned to his place and set Meira’s cup before her, meeting her welcoming smile with a curve of his lips that didn’t reach any farther. He sat down and took a deep breath. “Meira, about tomorrow—”
The door of the dining hall crashed open, and a voice rang through the room. “Praise the Mother! What a miraculous victory!”
Elkan twisted around, his stomach plummeting. Hanion strode across the hall, grabbed his hands, and pulled him to his feet. “Well done, Master Elkan! I confess I doubted whether you could do it, but you proved me wrong. Thank the Mother I trusted your judgement.”
The Guildmaster’s eyes fixed on Elkan’s. So that was the story he’d chosen. And he expected Elkan to play along with his fiction.
Very well. It certainly wouldn’t do the people of Tevenar any good to know the truth. He returned Hanion’s handclasp, even letting the Guildmaster pull him into an embrace. Mavke yapped and frisked around their feet.
When Hanion released him, Tobi pressed against his side. You’re going to let the old pooper-scooper get away with this?
He didn’t actively oppose me. I told him his silence would be enough. There’s no point raising a fuss now.
Her mind was sharp with her opinion of that, but she didn’t reply in words, so he ignored her. More people were pouring into the room. Everywhere voices rang out in happy greetings. “Korisan is safe? No Ramunnans made it there?”
“Nary a one. We idled away the days until the messenger arrived with news of your victory. Your father and his fighters would have preferred to see some action, but the rest of us were happy enough to avoid it.”
Elkan’s stomach lurched. “My father?”
“Edniel left him in charge of Korisan’s defense. Didn’t she tell you?”
“I don’t think she mentioned it.” Smash it, he was going to have words with the watcher guildmaster. Once again Adrel had missed seeing the Mother’s power in action. He’d continue to deny its worth as he always had.
To be fair, Edniel couldn’t have known what was at stake when she picked him. Elkan had to admit she’d made a good choice. Adrel certainly wouldn’t have let Hanion browbeat him into surrendering to the Ramunnans if the situation had arisen.
“He’s here somewhere, along with a few other members of your family. Maybe they stopped in the plaza to get something to eat. We pushed the pace this afternoon. Everyone was eager to get back to their homes and be reunited with their loved ones.”
“Wait. You brought the evacuees from Elathir with you?”
“I could hardly tell them no. You made it clear in your message that the danger was over.”
Elkan quit trying to resist and let his hand rise to rake through his hair. “I wish you’d waited a few days. The city is overcrowded as it is, with all our fighters, the Ramunnans, and now the Faithful. And we’re still cleaning up after the battle. Food is scarce because t
he normal supplies are disrupted and Verinna and Davon have been buying up every scrap they can find. Several of the water and sewer lines were broken and repairs aren’t complete yet. The Hall is understaffed because I’ve got every wizard I can spare out helping the construction crews. And today I had to divert some to help the watchers because there’s been more looting than they could deal with alone. We’re not ready for families with children and the elderly to come back.”
Hanion patted his back with fatherly concern. “I had no idea things were so bad. But don’t worry. I’m eager to take charge again. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to shift the burden onto my shoulders and get back to healing.”
“Yes. Of course. Thank you.” Elkan clenched his fists. If he could trust Hanion to lead Tevenar competently he really would be glad to turn over the task. But he didn’t. And Hanion’s words made it clear he wasn’t going to take advice from his rival or allow Elkan any significant leadership role in the coming days.
It was almost enough to make him consider calling for a new election. Dabiel had wanted him to be Guildmaster. He’d never equal her mastery of the role, but blast it, he could do the job better than Hanion.
I think you should, Tobi said, in the most sober tone Elkan had ever heard her use.
He swallowed. The Histories recounted a few such power struggles in other guilds, but it had never happened in the Wizards’ Guild. I could be wrong. He might handle things just fine now that the worst is over.
Maybe. But don’t wait until it’s too late.
He tried to think of something conciliatory to say. Before he could, Meira gasped and grabbed his arm. “There’s Zagan.” She set out across the dining hall, dragging him with her.
He made a helpless gesture. Hanion smiled tolerantly and waved him off. Elkan moved to Meira’s side, helping clear a way through the crowd with firm words and an occasional hand on arm or shoulder. Meira hid it well, but she’d missed her son desperately. Thank the Mother their separation was at an end.
They finally got close enough to see the boys clinging to Zagan’s hands. “Ravid!” Meira called.
Ravid jerked his head up, eyes big and body taut. When he spotted Meira, his face broke into a brilliant smile. “Mama!” he cried, lunging against Zagan’s restraining hand. With a grin the cook let him go, and he dashed through the forest of legs straight for his mother.
She knelt and stretched her arms out to him, her eyes shining and her smile tremulous. He threw himself into her embrace and clung to her neck with strangling strength. She laughed and tugged his grip looser. “I have to breathe, nugget.”
He pulled back. “You went away,” he said, righteously indignant as only a child could be.
“I know, nugget. I’m sorry.” She hugged him hard. “But we’re together now.”
He let himself be mollified, his body relaxing and a smile returning to his face. “I rode a horse,” he boasted. “Dobon was scared, but I wasn’t.”
“Of course you weren’t.” Meira released him and sat back on her heels. “I bet you’re hungry. Let’s go get some food.” She straightened, reaching for his hand.
Elkan realized what was going to happen an instant before it did, far too late to stop it. He grabbed for Meira’s arm, but Ravid got there first. His eager hand grasped the stump Meira had unthinkingly offered him.
He glanced at it, his brows drawing together in a puzzled frown. Meira froze. Her breath was ragged in Elkan’s ears. The noise of the crowded dining hall faded into the distance.
For a long moment Ravid stared. He jerked his eyes to Meira’s face, then back to her maimed arm. His lower lip trembled.
“It’s all right, nugget,” she said, her voice strained despite her valiant effort to keep it calm and reassuring. “Mama’s fine.”
His face crumpled and his mouth opened to emit a wail. He scrambled backward and turned to throw himself into Zagan’s arms.
The cook enveloped him in a comforting embrace. He looked questioningly at Meira, not quite able to conceal his own horror. “What happened?”
Her body yearned toward Ravid, but she held back, rubbing her stump with hard, jerky movements. “The Ramunnans shot shells full of blasting powder at us. I got too close to one.” She took a step closer. “Ravid, please, it’s all right. Come here, you’ll see.”
He screamed louder and buried his face in Zagan’s shoulder. Meira rocked back as if she’d been struck. She turned to Elkan, shaking. “Dear Mother, what have I done? I never meant to shock him like that. What if—”
Elkan folded her in his arms. “It’s all right,” he said, hoping he sounded more convincing than she had. Her pain stabbed through his gut, hurting far more than the Ramunnan sword had. But smash it, this time he was going to control his reaction and give her the support she needed. “We’ll get through this.”
She clung to him. He took a deep breath and looked around. The crowded, noisy hall was no place to deal with a scared, distressed child. Everyone was busy greeting the new arrivals, oblivious to the little drama playing out in their midst. “Zagan, let’s take him somewhere quieter. Meira, come with me.” Tobi, let Josiah know I need him.
His familiar swiped his hand with her rough tongue and loped toward the apprentice tables, snarling and baring her teeth whenever the crowd was slow to give way. Elkan hustled Meira and Zagan toward the door. He took Dobon’s hand so Zagan could give his full attention to Ravid. The older boy was watching everything with wide eyes, but responded to Elkan’s encouraging smile with a wan smile and a tighter grip.
The main hall was less crowded, but held enough people to make the huge echoing space unsuitable for their need. Elkan guided the others toward the door that led to the Guildmaster’s office. Hanion couldn’t have reclaimed it yet. Surely he wouldn’t begrudge Elkan using it for this purpose.
Josiah dashed up in Tobi’s wake. “What do you need, master?”
“Go get bowls of soup for Zagan and Dobon and Ravid and bring them to the Guildmaster’s office. They’ve been on the road all day and are tired and hungry.”
“Yes, sir.” His apprentice rushed off again.
Ravid was still crying as he got them all shepherded into the blessedly quiet room. Zagan sank onto one of the couches and patted Ravid rhythmically on the back. Meira huddled on the other, arms wrapped around her torso, eyes fixed on her son. Elkan dug in the desk drawers for something to keep Dobon occupied. A slate and pencil and a challenge to write his letters did the trick. He went to sit beside Meira as Ravid’s sobs gradually subsided.
She clutched his hand. “What should I do?”
“Just give him time and space.” Children’s emotions were intense, but they came and went quickly. Elkan was gambling that Ravid would adapt to his mother’s injury far faster than either of them had. “Don’t try to make him come to you, but let him if he wants to.”
She nodded and swallowed. Elkan gently drew her right arm out from where it was tucked tightly under her left. “Don’t hide it. Let him get used to it gradually.”
For a moment he thought she was going to refuse, but she gave in and let her forearm lie limp at her side where he put it. He wanted to kiss and fondle it and remind her how little difference it had made to their intimacies, but that would have been highly inappropriate in front of Zagan and the children. He contented himself with a tender but brief caress. She leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
Ravid stopped crying. After a moment he squirmed in Zagan’s grasp. The cook loosened his arms. Ravid shot a quick glance at his mother, but stayed snuggled in Zagan’s lap.
Without Elkan asking, Tobi padded up to them. Zagan said, “You remember Tobi, don’t you, Ravid?”
Ravid cracked a hesitant smile. “Kitty,” he said, and reached to fondle Tobi’s ears. She patiently put up with his petting as it became more enthusiastic, even when it progressed to grabbing and tugging.
Elkan was about to intervene when Josiah showed up with a tray laden with bowls of soup and cups of wa
ter. Zagan accepted a bowl gratefully. “It’s been a long time since the midday meal.”
“You eat. I’ll feed Ravid,” Elkan told him. He sat down cross-legged beside the low table between the two couches and extended a hand to Ravid. “Hungry?”
Ravid looked at him cautiously, but slid from Zagan’s lap and came to stand beside him. He snatched the spoon from Elkan’s fingers. “I do it.”
His relationship with Meira’s son was more important than the cleanliness of Hanion’s office. “All right.”
Ravid dug into the soup, a hearty split pea puree with barley and a few bits of ham. Elkan wiped up the splatters that soon covered the table, floor, and couch, but they left green smears on the upholstery. After a while Ravid consented to let him take the spoon and ladle the soup into his mouth, with considerably less mess. A few minutes later he dropped into Elkan’s lap and leaned against his chest, opening his mouth like a hungry baby bird every time the spoon came near.
Ravid’s warm trusting weight felt as natural and right as the Mother’s power flowing through his body. It would be the easiest thing in the world to love this little boy with the same overwhelming devotion he felt for his mother. From the corner of his eye he could see Meira regarding them, her head tilted to one side, her lips curved in a little smile. She must be imagining him as Ravid’s stepfather, daily engaging in just this sort of practical, cozy care, sharing with her the joys and burdens of supporting him as he grew to adulthood. He wanted that future so badly it tasted like sweet wine in the back of his throat. The knowledge he could never have it soured the wine into vinegar.
The bowl was nearly empty when Ravid pushed the spoon away. He grabbed the cup of water and drank thirstily, spilling only a little down the front of his tunic. He dropped the cup—Elkan steadied it before it tipped over—and slid out of Elkan’s lap. With purposeful steps he walked over to Meira and pointed at her stump. “Where’s your hand?”
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