The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  Which left only her own desires as her guide. How far would she let them lead her today?

  She scooped Nina onto her shoulder and headed downstairs. She expected to find Josiah waiting at the fountain for her, but he wasn’t there yet. She took a seat on one of the benches and enjoyed watching the leaping water while she waited.

  Movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention to the door of the Hall. She savored the opportunity to look at Josiah before he spotted her. He’d lost a lot of the boyish gangliness he’d had in Ramunna. His muscles had filled out and he moved with much greater assurance, as if in the intervening months he’d grown comfortable with his newly mature body.

  His eyes fell on her and his face lit up. She smiled at the trace of endearing awkwardness left in his stride as he hurried down the steps and across the square. Sar trotted out from the shade of the building to join him.

  He’d nearly reached her when a female voice called, “Josiah!”

  He turned, surprised, to greet the woman that strolled to meet him. “Ledah? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Something in the way they looked at each made Kevessa’s stomach flip. Nina, who’s that?

  The squirrel rose to her hind legs, balancing herself with a paw on Kevessa’s ear, and peered at the woman. I don’t recognize her.

  Not one of his wizard friends, then. She hesitated, caught between competing impulses to rush over and make it clear to this stranger that Josiah was not available, and to slip away to avoid an embarrassing scene.

  The second option evaporated when Josiah beckoned to her. “Hey, Kevessa, come meet my friend Ledah.”

  She rose and walked with as much dignity as she could muster to join them. “Hello.”

  “Ledah, this is Kevessa. She was the very first Ramunnan wizard. Remember I told you about her?”

  Ledah looked Kevessa up and down before extending her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  Kevessa clasped her hand in the Tevenaran fashion. “Likewise.” She returned the evaluation. What she saw made her heart sink. Ledah’s graceful curves and lovely face would surely entice any man.

  Josiah seemed oblivious to the tension between the two women. “What are you doing in Elathir? I thought you planned to stay in Korisan.”

  She shrugged. “One of the fighters who stayed behind invited me to come with him and visit his home, now that it’s safe. I figured it was my only chance to see the city, not to mention meet some Ramunnans. I hear they’re all going to be leaving soon.”

  “If Elkan gets his way.”

  “What about you, Kevessa? Will you be going home?” Ledah’s tone was casual, but her eyes were a little too sharp for Kevessa to believe her question arose from idle curiosity.

  “I don’t know yet. Master Elkan wants all the wizards to stay here, but I would prefer to serve the Mother in my homeland.” Kevessa used all the tricks she knew to project chilly hauteur.

  “While I was in Ramunna I worked with Kevessa’s father and a Girodan healer to develop a new treatment for diabetes. I’d love to go back and do more with them if I can.” Josiah put his hand on Kevessa’s arm. His voice warmed. “Gevan invented a device that lets you observe things too small to see. Elkan thinks we can use it to find cures for all sorts of things that don’t require the Mother’s power, as well as ways to use the Mother’s power more efficiently. There’s so many people in Ramunna, we need to figure out how only a few wizards can help all of them.”

  Ledah nodded slowly. “That sounds like something you’d like.” She laughed. “Does he go on and on to you about whatever problem he’s working on? I swear he never stops thinking. I mean, one time right in the middle of—” The way she broke off, coloring slightly, was very convincing, but Kevessa was quite sure it was an act. “Well, never mind. Better you than me.”

  Josiah laughed, a little uncomfortably. “It’s been great talking to you, but we’d better be on our way. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

  “Any time.” Ledah waved and sauntered away.

  Kevessa waited until she turned a corner out of sight. “Who is she?”

  “I told you, a friend from Korisan.”

  The trace of guilt under the baffled innocence he tried to project told her everything she needed to know. All the ways he’d changed suddenly made terrible sense. “You were together, weren’t you?”

  “Um…” Josiah’s eyes shifted to the side.

  Kevessa felt cold all over, despite the midday heat. “While I was thinking about you, missing you, wishing you were with me, you were happily enjoying another woman’s attentions. Did you think about me at all while I was out of your sight?”

  “Of course I did. But we never promised each other anything. You said maybe, someday. Was I supposed to never look at anyone else based on that?”

  His words weren’t unreasonable, but that didn’t stop the shafts of ice stabbing through her heart. “Do you love her?”

  “No! It was just a short-term thing. We ended it when I left for the battle.”

  Kevessa silently counted the days. The sum was far too small. “What were you thinking, introducing us? Do you know how humiliating that was?”

  His brows drew together and he spread his hands. “What? I told you, it’s over. She’s just a friend now. Why shouldn’t I introduce you?”

  Kevessa clenched her jaw. “If you don’t understand, I’m not going to explain. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I find I’m no longer in the mood for a picnic.” She swept past him toward the Hall, blinking hard to clear the blur from her eyes enough to see where she was going. She only had to hold herself together until she reached the privacy of her room.

  He ran to catch her and grabbed her arm. “Wait. Listen.”

  She yanked herself from his grasp. “Why should I? There’s nothing you can say to change things. You’ve already admitted the truth.”

  He didn’t try to touch her again, but he stepped between her and her goal. “I guess I understand why you’re upset. But I didn’t do anything wrong. I never made any commitment to you to break.”

  She opened her mouth, but he kept talking. “I met Ledah years ago, long before I met you. She’s the first girl I ever kissed. Look at this.” He tilted his chin up and touched a thin pale scar that ran across half his throat. “I nearly died. Sar got to me in time, but the Mother’s power doesn’t help with the feelings. Ledah comforted me. She helped me live again. I don’t regret that. I never will.” He breathed hard.

  Kevessa stared at him, her mind and heart reeling.

  Josiah stepped aside, gesturing toward the Hall. “You’re right, I don’t think going on with our picnic today would be a good idea. But the way I feel about you hasn’t changed. I still want to court you. If after you think it over you decide you still want me to, even with what you know, all you have to do is tell me. I hope you do.”

  Kevessa balled her fists at her side. “Is there anyone else I should know about?”

  “No.” He hesitated for a moment, drawing in his breath, then let it out and shook his head. “No.”

  Kevessa recognized his evasion, but heavy weariness gripped her so deeply she had no energy to pursue it. She trudged past him toward the Hall. This time he let her go.

  Nina pressed hard against her neck, pouring wordless comfort into her mind. It helped. A little.

  Climbing the steps felt like climbing a mountain. At the door, she paused and glanced back. Josiah was kneeling, his arms around Sar’s neck, his face buried in the donkey’s fur.

  She pushed through the door and let it fall shut behind her.

  Forty-Six

  Nirel hunched over a desk in a back room of the Farmers’ Guild headquarters, squinting in the fading light at the document she was translating. Elder Davon had paid an exorbitant amount for the right to examine the book which contained the guild’s secrets, and even more to be allowed to make notes on its contents. The guildmaster had only agreed, after much persuasion, on the condition they be written in
Ramunnan, not Tevenaran. As the only one of the Faithful fluent in the written forms of both languages, the task had fallen to Nirel.

  She raced to finish jotting down the most important points. Her handwriting had deteriorated as the hours passed. Whatever she didn’t get to tonight, the Faithful would have to do without. They were sailing first thing in the morning. The ships’ water casks were full and the holds held enough food to last a month. Yesterday Davon had issued a blanket dispensation to allow Nirel and the Faithful loading the ships to work through Restday, in violation of the seventh Ordinance of the first month. He’d paid most of their remaining gold to persuade their Tevenaran suppliers to forgo their day off.

  Right now Elder Davon was at the Matriarch’s tent, delivering the decision he and the rest of the elders had come to after long debate. Verinna’s offer had proven too valuable to refuse. After the Faithful located a suitable place for their new home and transferred people and goods ashore, all but a handful of the ships would return to be fitted with weapons and added to the Armada.

  Nirel hated the necessity, but she had to agree it was probably the right choice. Starting from scratch, without the infrastructure they’d counted on taking from the Tevenarans, was a terrifying prospect. Without the support the Matriarch offered, they would probably fail. With it, they had hope. The price she’d demanded was high, but it neither violated the Ordinances nor infringed their independence. They’d had little choice but to pay it.

  She scrawled a few more disjointed phrases, then sighed in exhausted relief when she flipped the page to find that the remainder of the thick volume was an index thoroughly cross-referencing the information she’d already recorded. She turned back to elaborate on a few points she’d condensed and add some she’d skipped as less vital. By the time the guildmaster came to check her work and return the book to its locked case, she’d have everything the Faithful would need.

  Someone knocked on the door, loud and urgent. “Nirel? Are you in there?”

  She scowled. Why was Josiah interrupting her? She’d planned to seek him out after the evening meal to bid him good-bye. Couldn’t he wait until her important work was done?

  She put down her pen, shook her cramped hand, and went to open the door. “What?”

  “Thank the Mother I found you,” Josiah said, grabbing her hand and attempting to tow her down the hall. “You said you have insulin?”

  She yanked her hand away. “Yes. So?”

  “May I have some? The Wizards’ Guild will pay you. I haven’t had a chance to make any yet, and a family just arrived at the Hall. They came all the way from Solita with their daughter. She’s in a coma, it’s too late for the Mother’s power to help, she’s going to die without an injection. Please, just a little, enough to last a few days while I distill a batch.”

  Nirel hesitated for a moment, but she couldn’t refuse his request. She’d brought so much extra insulin she had ample left to treat her patients for the rest of their journey. “All right. But I have to finish this first.”

  He waited, shifting from foot to foot, while she gathered her papers and stoppered the jar of ink. He tagged at her heels while she delivered the book to the guildmaster, showed him that all her writing was in Ramunnan, and thanked him. As soon as the door of the guildmaster’s office closed behind them, he seized her hand again. This time she let him drag her out of the building. Sar joined them, trotting beside Josiah as he hustled them through the maze of streets toward the docks.

  Nirel was quickly too breathless to speak, so she didn’t try to talk until they reached the ship. But when Josiah would have followed her across the plank, she held up her hand. “Wait here.” Elder Davon would never allow a wizard aboard. “I’ll be back with the insulin in a minute.”

  He didn’t look happy, but he nodded. Nirel hurried onto the deck, but headed to the cabin in the stern instead of the ladder. Urgent as Josiah’s need was, turning her work over to Elder Davon was even more important.

  He accepted the pages from her hand and shuffled through them. “Excellent work. Were you able to transcribe the complete book?”

  “All the important parts. I skipped a few sections I didn’t think would apply to us. There was a whole chapter detailing which diseases merited asking the wizards for help and what they could do.”

  “Not something we’ll need,” he agreed, still studying her notes.

  “May I go?” The girl might have only hours to live without intervention.

  Davon held up a hand. “Earlier today I met with the herder guildmaster to deliver final payment for the breeding stock we bought. She expressed interest in the same terms we offered the farmers concerning their guild secrets. I declined, since there isn’t sufficient time for you to translate their book before we leave. But I’ll be returning to Elathir when we deliver the ships to the Matriarch. If you accompany me and do it then, it would be of great benefit to the Faithful. I understand that the work is tedious, and I would hate to take you away from our new home so soon, but if you would consider—”

  “Of course.” Translating wasn’t her favorite work, but he was right that it had the potential to help the Faithful far more than anything else she might devote her time and effort to. They knew no more about breeding and raising animals than they did about growing crops. “I’ll be happy to.”

  “Thank you, daughter.” Davon waved a dismissal.

  She hurried below. The jars of insulin were back on their shelf in her makeshift clinic. One bottle was mostly empty, only a dozen or so doses of the clear liquid left in the bottom. That should be plenty for Josiah until he could make his own. She scowled at the injecting needle and left it on the shelf. Josiah had used the Lady’s power to deliver the first experimental dose of insulin to Thanna. He could do the same now until he could get some smith to make him his own needles.

  She returned to the dock and pressed the bottle into his hands. “Here. I don’t know why you didn’t brew some up as soon as you got back to Tevenar. You should have known you’d need it eventually.”

  “I was kind of busy. The Ramunnans attacked right after we arrived.”

  “Still, that was months ago. Surely you had a few free hours you could have used.”

  He shifted and looked away. “There always seemed to be something more important.”

  “Then you’re lucky I was available to save your patient’s life.”

  “I am. Thank you.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the Hall, but turned back. “I hear you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “At sunrise.” Nirel debated whether to tell him what she’d just learned, but decided not to. When she came back, she’d probably be too busy to see him. It was better to cut the last of the ties between them cleanly.

  Josiah rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess this is good-bye, then. For good.”

  He looked at her with an odd sort of intensity. For a moment Nirel was certain he was going to kiss her. Her heart pounded in anticipation. She wanted desperately to feel his lips on hers one last time.

  But he stepped back. Quietly, with that same intensity, he said, “Nirel, if you ever need help, or a place to stay, or a friend, you can come to me. I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe and happy.”

  Conflicting emotions churned in her gut. Frustrated desire. Disappointment at his restraint. Appreciation of his generous offer. Anger at what it implied he believed about the Faithful. Despair at how close to truth his prejudice was. Dull resignation that she could never take him up on it, no matter how much she might want to.

  “It’s kind of you to say so, but I promise, your concern is misplaced. I’m safe and happy with the Faithful.”

  “I hope that’s true. And I hope it stays true.” From the skeptical slant of his eyebrows he considered it highly unlikely.

  Nirel nodded. “Farewell.”

  “Farewell. May the Moth—” He broke off, flushing. “May you have a safe journey, and may you find the perfect place for your new home.”


  “If the Lord of Justice wills it.” Nirel took one last look at him, burning his image into her memory. Then she turned and crossed the plank onto the ship.

  * * *

  Nirel leaned on the rail at the bow of the ship, scanning the shore as it crawled past. She’d spent much of her time here over the last ten days, ever since they’d passed the tower of stones that marked the southern boundary of Tevenar. Every time they rounded a bend in the coastline she studied the newly revealed land with tense anticipation. Any one of these vistas might be her first glimpse of their new home.

  Much of the time Elder Davon had watched with her. He’d commented about the merits of each cove and river outlet. For the first few days past the stones he’d dismissed even the most suitable spots as being too close to the wizards. Starting around the fifth day, however, he’d begun to consider what they saw more thoughtfully. Nowhere had earned his approval, however. At first they passed a great deal of thick jungle that would be difficult to clear and prone to insect-borne diseases. Later they saw steep rocky cliffs falling sharply into the water, with no more than narrow stretches of pebbly beach at their feet.

  One cleft in the mountains tempted him. A narrow green valley bordered both sides of a rushing, tumbling river. They anchored there for the night, and Davon took a boatload of elders and advisors to pace up and down the banks of the river, intently studying every rock and tree. In the end their verdict was negative. “Too small,” Davon told Nirel the next morning as they watched it recede in the distance. “Suitable for a modest town, but not for the capital of a nation. It would barely hold our current numbers, with no room for the growth that will come as the Lord blesses us.”

  They’d seen nowhere better in the three days since. But yesterday they’d rounded a sharp cape and followed the coast as it bent back toward the east. Here the land was level and grassy for many miles inland, the mountains they’d passed rising soft and blue in the distance. The air was a cool contrast to the oppressive heat they’d left in Tevenar, even though they were farther south. The vegetation was more similar to that of Ramunna than Tevenar, with plentiful palm trees, though the low scrubby bushes and patches of bare sandy soil interspersed with the low grass suggested a drier climate.