Vigorre shrugged. “I don’t think it matters. It’s going to happen sooner or later.”
“But if Master Elkan acts too soon, he might fail. He’ll need an overwhelming consensus to oust a sitting Guildmaster.” Avnal leaned earnestly forward to emphasize his point.
“If he waits too long, people are going to forget that he won the war.” Braon waved around the room. “I keep hearing people talk about how he wants to deny us everything Ramunna could do for us. Waiting will lose him support, not gain it.”
“Hmm.” Kevessa looked back and forth between them. “Master Orine is firmly on his side. What about your masters?”
“Master Todira was the first one he approached.” Braon waved his fork toward the round tables at the front of the dining hall. “I think he asked her to be the one to make the formal request for a new election.”
Avnal shook his head. “Master Ronit doesn’t like the way he changed positions so drastically. Last fall he insisted we had a moral obligation to take the Mother’s power to Ramunna. Now he’s equally insistent we need to cut off all contact with them. Which does he really believe? And how can we trust him as Guildmaster if he changes his mind so easily?”
“Hardly easily,” Josiah said from Vigorre’s other side. “The things that happened in Ramunna and during the war made him realize that protecting Tevenar and the Wizards’ Guild is more important than anything else.”
“Even if that means leaving the rest of the world without the Mother’s power? I keep hearing about how bad it is in Ramunna. I don’t like the idea of leaving people sick and dying when we could help them.” Avnal looked stubborn.
“And I don’t like the idea of fighting Marvanna for the Matriarch,” Braon retorted.
“But that’s probably the best way to keep Tevenar safe, from both Ramunna and Marvanna. I’d much rather have the Matriarch as an ally than an enemy.”
“Except the Mother probably wouldn’t let us use her power that way. Coral was reluctant enough to kill people when we were defending Tevenar.”
All the wizards looked grave at that. Vigorre shivered. He, at least, was committed to being aboard an Armada ship when they attacked the Marvannans occupying Ramunna. Would Nirre work with him to sink ships and slaughter enemy soldiers in order to regain their homeland? He thought so. The Tevenarans’ familiars had helped them take Elathir back, with all the deaths that involved.
The bigger question was, did he want her to? The skirmish in the Matriarch’s bedchamber had been horrible enough, and they hadn’t directly taken anyone’s life with the Mother’s power.
He shivered, remembering Tesi’s misery and her heartfelt declaration that she would never violate the beliefs that forbade her to take a life. How would she react if he became a killer?
Josiah shook his head. “We need to find a better way. Neither cutting off all contact with Ravanetha nor helping the Matriarch fight is a good solution.” He grimaced. “Any ideas?” He addressed his words to all of them, but his eyes sought Kevessa’s.
For once she didn’t evade them. “Persuade Marvanna to give up Ramunna without a fight. The Matriarch would be so grateful she’d do anything for you.” She laughed ruefully. “Unfortunately, I think it would be slightly easier to persuade all the Dualists and Purifiers to bond with familiars.”
Everyone joined her laughter, including Josiah, but when it faded, thoughtfulness remained in his eyes. “That might not be as crazy as it sounds. I wonder if—”
Vigorre stiffened, the rest of Josiah’s words drowned out by the roaring in his ears. The door into the dining hall swung open and Elkan entered, Tesi at his side. Vigorre drank in the sight of her. She was thinner than she had been, to the point of gauntness, and her skin had an unhealthy pallor, but she couldn’t have been more beautiful. He scrambled to his feet and strode across the hall.
The way her face lit up made all the weeks of separation worthwhile. She took a few quick steps to meet him. He stopped, folded his hands into the last position she’d taught him, and bowed. Then he swept her into his arms. “Dear Mother, Tesi, it’s good to see you. I’ve been so worried.”
She clung to him, shaking. “Vigorre,” she whispered. “I feared—”
“Master Elkan.” Hanion’s voice was cold. “I suppose you have an explanation for why you abandoned a patient in the middle of a healing, ignored established procedure, and disrupted the orderly functioning of the Hall. I’m sure everyone would like to hear it.”
Vigorre dragged Tesi back from where the two masters confronted each other and shielded her with his body. Tobi glared at Hanion from Elkan’s side. Mavke fixed his eyes on Elkan from beside Hanion’s ankle. Neither of them showed their teeth, but both of them looked like they might at any moment.
Elkan’s voice was as calm and reasonable as if they were discussing the weather. “I’m familiar with Verinna’s case, so I felt Tobi and I could best handle any difficulty she might be experiencing. I apologize for reacting so abruptly, but it was only a mild inconvenience for the patient I had to leave, and you know that even a few minutes can make a huge difference with certain pregnancy complications. Fortunately Verinna hadn’t suffered a placental abruption or an eclamptic seizure, but her blood pressure was dangerously low, and Tesi and Mimi were unprepared to do more than stabilize her until help arrived.”
Vigorre sucked in his breath at the hostile look Hanion shot Tesi. “Another of your Ramunnan apprentices, I take it.”
“Tesi is Girodan, and the Mother chose her after I left, but yes.”
“I suppose you’ll insist I assign her a master. At this rate there won’t be any available for our own apprentices come Springtide.”
“I can think of at least a dozen masters who currently have no apprentice, and a number of others with seventh-years about to make journeymen.”
Hanion waved away his rebuke. “How many of them are willing to take on a foreigner who’ll probably desert them long before her training is complete? But that’s not the issue here.” He took a step forward, drawing himself up to his full height. He wasn’t quite as tall as Elkan, but much more solidly built. “What concerns me is your lack of respect. Ever since the masters of this guild chose me to succeed Guildmaster Dabiel, you have defied me again and again. It’s well known that you traveled to Ramunna against my wishes. But are people aware that you launched the attack on Elathir after I expressly ordered you not to?”
The silence that had fallen over the dining hall was broken by a few indrawn breaths, but apparently that wasn’t as dramatic a reaction as Hanion had hoped for. He swept a disdainful glance over the assembled wizards. “Yes, we won that battle, but have you forgotten how costly it was? Ask Emron and Lek and Tashiev; they’ll remind you.”
Dark mutters answered his words. Tesi turned to Vigorre, confused.
“Wizards who lost their familiars in the battle,” he told her in an undertone.
Hanion turned back to Elkan. “I won’t tolerate your defiance any longer. No guild can have two guildmasters. Either publicly acknowledge my authority and swear before the Mother to obey me hereafter—or leave the Wizards’ Guild.”
This time the reaction was everything Hanion could have wanted. Horrified gasps and angry outbursts exploded all over the hall. Vigorre clutched Tesi’s hand, his heart pounding.
Elkan stared at Hanion. He reached for Tobi and clenched a fold of loose skin at the nape of her neck. The mountain cat’s lips peeled back, exposing her long fangs. Elkan took a deep breath, then another. He raised his hand, and the whole hall instantly hushed, everyone straining forward to hear his response.
Elkan’s voice was quiet, but tight with constrained anger. “I won’t do either of those things, Hanion.” He looked toward the round masters’ tables at the front of the hall.
A woman Vigorre recognized as Master Todira stood up. Her familiar, an owl, swooped across the hall and landed on her shoulder. In a ringing voice she declared, “I call for a new election. Let the masters of the Wizards�
�� Guild choose who will lead them, Hanion or Elkan. All who agree, stand with me.”
More than half of the masters rose immediately. Another quarter followed more slowly. Those standing looked at the ones still sitting. A few stragglers joined them, but a good number remained stubbornly seated.
Tesi sagged against Vigorre. “Master Elkan has won.”
“Not yet.” Elkan looked cautiously pleased, Hanion unsurprised and determined. “From what I’ve heard, a majority is enough to call the election, but they’ll have to reach a consensus on the winner. Not unanimous, necessarily, but close to it.” Vigorre swallowed. “Hanion still has a lot of supporters. I think he purposely forced Elkan to act sooner than he planned.”
When it was clear no one else was going to rise, Hanion nodded. “The guild has spoken. I’ll send messengers to summon the masters from the other Halls. We’ll meet as soon as they arrive. Does that satisfy you?”
“Yes.” Elkan nodded to his supporters, and they sank into their seats.
“One more thing.” Hanion crouched and scooped up Mavke. He rose, cuddling the bulldog, who licked his face. “I will respect the guild’s decision, but I will not serve under you. If the guild chooses you as Guildmaster, I’ll ask Mavke to break our bond.”
Stunned silence met his words. Mavke yanked back, staring at Hanion in horrified astonishment. Hanion swallowed hard, but continued. “In the Mother’s name, I swear it. Will you pledge the same?”
Elkan stared at him, stricken. His hand on Tobi’s neck tightened until the knuckles were white. His other hand rose to rake through his hair.
For a moment Vigorre was confused, but then his stomach lurched as he understood Hanion’s ploy. Surely no wizard would cast a vote that would result in a broken bond if they had any other option.
If Elkan agreed, the choice would again be even. If he didn’t…
From the despairing look Elkan gave Todira and his other supporters, he’d reached the same conclusion. But he closed his eyes and bowed his head. “No,” he whispered.
He crouched and put his arms around Tobi’s neck. A little louder, voice heavy with bleak certainty, he said, “If the guild chooses you, I will swear obedience to you in the Mother’s name. I will leave Tevenar entirely if you require it. But unless she commands Tobi to break our bond, I will continue to serve the Mother.”
Forty-Eight
Elkan emerged onto the flat roof of the Mother’s Hall. The air was marginally cooler up here than down below. He sucked in deep breaths, trying to clear his thoughts.
Overhead the stars were emerging as the sky faded from deep blue to black. The moon was big and orange on the eastern horizon. He walked to the parapet and looked across the scattered yellow lights of the city toward the sea. Tobi leaned against his hip, her wordless thoughts warmly supportive.
He couldn’t have said anything else. Even knowing that refusal to match Hanion’s vow might very well cost him the election, he had been physically unable to assent.
The Mother had called him, blast it! Serving her was his life. Even his love for Meira hadn’t been enough to tear him away. He wasn’t about to risk his bond to gain a position he’d be perfectly happy to leave to another if there were anyone else capable of filling it adequately.
He’d never dreamed Hanion was so determined to defeat him he’d stake his very wizardry on the outcome. What more proof did the guild need that the man was unfit to lead them? The Mother must have seen something in him when he was a boy of thirteen that had prompted her to name him to her service. Four times he’d stood before her and accepted a bond with a familiar. But now he’d come to value power and status so much he’d rather sacrifice the sacred ability to heal and help and show truth than humble himself beneath another wizard.
Poor Mavke. The dog had done nothing to deserve this. He’d patiently suffered through the long separation from the bondmate who was now ready to reject him. The Mother should allow him to break his bond with Hanion so he could partner with Sika or some other wizard who’d value his devotion.
In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered why the Mother hadn’t yet told Mavke to do just that. It would settle the immediate conflict: only a bonded wizard was eligible to serve as Guildmaster. Hanion was clearly acting against her will. Maybe he only had to wait until she solved his problem for him.
Hanion hasn’t broken the Law. Whether or not he’s willing to serve and under what circumstances is a matter for his free will. He’s done nothing to warrant a broken bond.
Elkan squeezed his eyes shut. Of course Tobi was right. He just wanted an easy way out. He didn’t want to admit that he’d put his own happiness above Tevenar’s future. If Hanion won the election, and the Matriarch manipulated him so that Tevenar fell under her control, and all the evils he’d witnessed in Ramunna came to these shores, it would be because Elkan hadn’t been willing to relinquish the thing he valued most. If events played out as he’d described to Meira, and the Mother was forced to once again withdraw her power from the world, this time forever, untold millions would suffer for his selfishness.
Despairing, he braced his hands on the wall and hung his head. I should have said yes, shouldn’t I? I wouldn’t have ever had to really do it. The masters would have chosen me if I’d made the same promise Hanion did.
I’m glad you didn’t. Tobi shoved her head hard into his ribs.
He wrapped his arms around her, taking comfort from her solid warmth. I am, too. But if Hanion wins because I didn’t, and Tevenar suffers…
We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen.
He appreciated her blithe confidence, but he couldn’t share it. How can any master support me, knowing they’re forcing Hanion one step closer to a broken bond?
No one is forcing old pooper-scooper to do anything. He chose to make that silly vow. He’ll choose to keep it, or not. Everyone knows that. Just keep reminding them.
Elkan breathed a little easier. If the other familiars shared Tobi’s opinion and told their wizards so, he still had a chance.
Hooves clopped across the roof. Sar came up and leaned into his side. Josiah perched on the wall beyond him and drummed his heels against the stone. Elkan tried not to think about the four-story drop at his apprentice’s back.
In a practical tone, Josiah said, “It looks like you’ve got about three-quarters of Elathir’s masters on your side. Assuming most of them are smart enough to disregard Hanion’s ultimatum, how many more do you need to sweep the rest into a consensus? How many from Korisan and the other halls will support you? And how long have we got before the vote?”
The last question was easiest, so Elkan answered it first. “Several masters left for Thedan only a few days after the battle, and more since. It will take at least a week for a message to reach them, and another week or ten days for them to travel here, depending on the weather.”
“They’re not going to be happy about turning around and coming right back after they finally got home. But at least most of them fought with us. How many masters stayed behind in Thedan when the rest came to Korisan?”
“Three, I think.”
“Plus Master Nulam from Jevtaran, and the seventeen who stayed in Korisan. Everyone else fought in the battle.”
“That doesn’t mean they’ll support me. They may be less likely to. How many people did they see die? How many of them were friends with the wizards who died or lost their familiars? How many of them were forced to kill, especially if they’d never done it before?”
Josiah waved away his objections. “But they saw you in action. They know how effective a leader you are. The only ones who won’t admit it are Hanion’s close friends. And maybe a few who don’t want to believe they might have made a mistake last time.”
Elkan thought back to that long grueling day of debate. Then it had been Hanion arguing for isolation from the rest of the world, and Elkan supporting their need to engage. He’d had such high hopes for the future. He’d pictured the Wizards’ Guil
d growing until the whole world was like Tevenar. He’d been certain the day was at hand when the Mother’s power would serve all her children. Hanion had been terrified of the dangers Tevenar would face if they accepted the Matriarch’s bargain.
Back then enough of the other master wizards had shared Hanion’s fears that they’d swung the decision in the older wizard’s favor. But in the months since, they’d learned more about the world beyond the boundary stones and had gotten used to the idea of commerce between Tevenar and other nations. They’d heard about the enormous need Elkan and Josiah had found in Ramunna and the strides they’d taken to deal with it. They’d lived for months with Ramunnans on Tevenaran soil. They’d participated in a glorious triumph over the strongest forces the outside world could throw against them. They would be far more open to the idea of plunging Tevenar into full engagement with the rest of the world.
Except now, ironically, Elkan and Hanion’s positions had reversed. Again and again when Elkan had spoken with the other masters, they’d told him that although they supported him personally and would prefer his leadership to Hanion’s, they wanted him to reconsider his insistence that isolation be restored. They’d echoed back at him the words he’d spoken so passionately during that first debate. If Hanion turned this debate to matters of policy instead of personality, would they waver in their support for Elkan, or even switch to Hanion’s side? Would he lose this election because he’d been too persuasive last time?
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was allowing his anger at the Matriarch to cloud his judgement. The Mother had clearly demonstrated by word and deed that she wanted wizards to wield her power in Ravanetha. He hadn’t changed his mind based on any evidence that she’d changed hers, only on his own conclusion that what she wanted was impossible. A conclusion reached while he was deep in the throes of grief and pain and fatigue, his judgement perhaps clouded by the losses they’d taken during the battle.
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