The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Why do you think my answer will be different than his?”

  She trembled, but his words weren’t an angry rebuke, simply an unemotional query. This was why she’d sought this meeting, offered her life in exchange for the opportunity to face him and make her case. There was no point in losing courage now. If he took offense at her defiance, so be it.

  She tried to make her voice as calm and rational as his. “I believe that the Elders have misinterpreted the thirtieth Ordinance of the first month. It states that it is an abomination for one of the Faithful to ‘submit himself’ to the Lady’s power. They have taken this to apply to all instances where the Lady’s power is used, no matter whether or not the person in question submitted. I maintain that this is not what the words of your Ordinance command. Only willing submission to the Lady’s power should be considered an unforgivable offense. Someone who does not or cannot choose to allow the lady’s power into their body is not guilty of breaking the Ordinance, no matter what the wizards do to them.”

  “So you do not consider yourself in violation of that Ordinance?”

  “No. Or many other people, either. My little sister, for instance. My mother asked the wizards to heal her, but Ilana was far too young to understand what they were doing, let alone refuse. Or Tharan. He served Elder Davon faithfully, but the wizards attacked him with the Lady’s power and brutally injured him, then healed him without his permission. And the woman after the fire in Ramunna, who they healed while she was unconscious. As soon as she was able, she told them to stop. Is it justice to hold them responsible for what was beyond their control?”

  Despite herself, her voice had risen to passionate heights. The Lord of Justice continued to regard her, giving no sign of being moved in any way, either to anger or agreement.

  Despair gripped Nirel’s heart. This was like trying to persuade the sun not to rise, the ocean to cease being wet, a dropped stone to float instead of fall. Who was she to challenge hundreds of generations of Elders who had enforced the Lord’s eternal and immutable law?

  She bowed her head, steeling herself to hear the words that would end her hopes and exile her from the Lord’s presence forever. At least she’d had these few precious moments kneeling at his feet, his peace enveloping her. He’d looked at her and listened to her, giving her his complete attention. His respect, even. How many people in the history of the world could claim that?

  “It is not.”

  Nirel jerked her head up, her mouth falling open.

  The Lord of Justice spoke with the same impassive calm he’d displayed so far. “Over the centuries since I first gave them, my Ordinances have come to be misinterpreted and misused. Many of them, not only the one in question. In all those centuries, never before has one of my Faithful called on me to clarify the truth. Nirel alone had the courage to demand true justice when it was denied her.”

  He stepped forward and put both hands on her shoulders. They felt warm and solid and strong. Joy coursed through Nirel as he met her eyes and she saw love and approval there. “Rise, Nirel, daughter of Kabos. From this day forward you will be my prophet. I will put my truth in your heart, and you will speak it to my Faithful.”

  He lifted her to her feet and turned her to face the gathered crowd. They watched with rapt, astonished expressions. Elder Davon tilted his head back and looked up at her, tears spilling from his shining eyes.

  The Lord of Justice tightened his fingers on her shoulders. “Listen to what the one I have chosen tells you. Her words will be to you as my own. Here in this new land, free from the bondage of the past, my people will have a new beginning. My Ordinances will govern you as they were meant to from the beginning. My favor will rest upon you, and you and your children will prosper for generations to come.”

  “We hear and obey, Lord,” Elder Davon said. The crowd echoed his words.

  Quietly, for her ears alone, the Lord of Justice said, “The task I’m giving you will not be easy, Nirel. But I am confident you will prove equal to it. Remember I am always with you, as close as a prayer, if you have need of my strength or wisdom.”

  The weight of his hands lifted from her shoulders. “Go in peace, my children.”

  The brilliance around her faded. Nirel blinked and took a deep breath. Her knees trembled and she swayed.

  Elder Davon leapt to his feet and rushed to support her. “Bring water! And food. She’s weak from her ordeal.”

  People rushed to do his bidding. He eased her onto a stool someone brought. Elder Semanel held a cup to her lips and cool water ran over her tongue. She gulped, grabbing the cup to drink faster. It was empty before she was satisfied. Someone put a piece of bread in her hand and she devoured it.

  The busy babble fell suddenly quiet. Nirel looked up to see Nolaren shoving through the crowd. Those around her drew into a protective circle, scowling. Nolaren glared at them, then turned his rage on Elder Davon. “You’re not going to fall for her tricks, are you?”

  Davon’s voice was mild but dangerous. “The Lord of Justice appeared and spoke to us. He named Nirel his prophet. Are you so blind and stubborn you dare defy him?”

  “That wasn’t the Lord! It was a trick of the Lady’s! She cloaked herself in his image to deceive us. Would the Lord of Justice seek to turn us away from following his Ordinances as we’ve always done?”

  Nirel stared at him in horror, doubt worming into her heart. He couldn’t possibly be right. Could he? Josiah had said the Lady was able to take on the Lord’s appearance if she chose.

  But she hadn’t prayed for the Lady to come. Everything in her had yearned for the Lord of Justice. She could feel the echo of his presence still, bright and clear and pure, just as she’d always felt when she knelt in the shrine before the Ordinance scroll. His warmth and love surrounded her.

  Nolaren was wrong. The Lady might copy his face, but she could never counterfeit the full impact of his presence.

  Everyone was looking at her, anxiously awaiting her answer. Even Elder Davon’s gaze held a trace of apprehension. What she said now would either confirm the truth in their hearts or leave them forever doubting.

  She spread her hands. “Didn’t you recognize him, Nolaren? You’ve served the Lord of Justice your whole life. So have all of you. When you looked at him, didn’t you know in your heart it was our Lord?”

  For an instant he faltered, but his expression hardened again. “Everyone knows the Lady is a master of lies. Just like you are.”

  Nirel looked around. Most of the people nearby were watching Nolaren with hostile expressions, but around the edges of the crowd, where people had remained standing or only knelt after the Lord appeared, many were nodding, their eyes shadowed. “I can’t prove the truth to anyone. I knew the Lord of Justice when I saw him. I’ve seen the Lady, and she was nothing like him. If you could see him and hear him and feel him in your heart and still doubt whether it was really the Lord, nothing I say will convince you.”

  Nolaren sneered. “Fine words. Obviously you’ve succeeded in fooling Elder Davon and a great many others. But not all of us are so gullible.” He gestured to the people who were moving through the crowd to gather around him. His friends were first, but there were plenty of others, including a handful of Elders. “Tell us, ‘prophet.’ Which other Ordinances have been ‘misinterpreted’? Which will you discard next? Or rewrite to suit you better?”

  Nirel hesitated. She knew exactly what changes needed to be made. The knowledge had sprung full and certain into her mind while the Lord spoke. But she didn’t know how much the Faithful were ready to hear. She was going to have to institute reforms gradually, so they would have time to get used to the changes. Some of them were going to be pretty drastic. More than just Nolaren would balk if she described them all now.

  But maybe they could accept a relatively easy concept to start. “Well, for example, in Ancient Marvannan, which is a lot more like Tevenaran than modern Ramunnan, the word for ‘man’ is often used to m
ean a person of either sex. So some of the Ordinances which have been considered gender-specific for a long time actually apply to everyone. The qualifications for becoming an Elder don’t actually say that the person has to be male, they just use that word. The Lord always intended that both men and women serve as Elders. Aren’t there references to female Elders in our earliest documents?”

  Davon looked at her thoughtfully. “Some of the names cited are now given exclusively to girls, although most scholars believe that at the time they were used for men as well.”

  Some in the crowd looked thoughtful, but many murmured in unease. Nirel turned to them. “The Lord gave us the Ordinances to counter the curse of free will. They tell us what is right and what is wrong. They establish penalties for choosing to do wrong and rewards for choosing to do right. But they only apply to situations where a person actually has a choice. Nobody picks whether they’re born male or female. Young children have no control over what they do. That’s why so many Ordinances only take effect when a child turns three, when they begin to have some choice about their actions. When the Ordinances are applied to things that have nothing to do with the Lady’s curse, things that people can’t choose to do differently, they become a curse, not a blessing. That’s the Lady’s trick. One we’ve been deceived by for centuries.”

  More people were nodding now. Elder Semanel smiled with fond pride. Elder Davon was gazing at her with almost the same look of astonished awe he’d given the Lord of Justice.

  But Nolaren looked at her with hatred so deep it made her shiver, and those standing with him mirrored the expression. “I’ve heard enough. It’s obvious our leaders, who of all people should know better, have abandoned the true Faith and fallen under this liar’s influence. I for one refuse to follow them into corruption. I will not violate the true Ordinances or follow her bastardized versions. I owe no obedience to those who have broken faith with the Lord of Justice and given their allegiance to a false prophet. Who is with me?”

  An ugly outburst of support rose from those who clustered around him. But with a sinking heart, Nirel saw they weren’t the only ones. All around the crowd people were lifting their voices in assent.

  Davon stepped from Nirel’s side and drew himself up to his full height. “I recognize Nirel as the Lord’s true prophet. I intend to lead the Elders of the Faithful to a new understanding of the Ordinances based on the truth he has revealed to her. Anyone who cannot accept that is no longer welcome in Faithhome.”

  Nolaren laughed. “Who’s going to make us leave, old man? You?” He took an aggressive step toward Davon.

  Other Elders stepped to Davon’s side. Despite the title, a lot of them were of middle years and still physically strong. Many of the men in the crowd hurried to surround them. Some of the women hung back, but others came to stand in support of Davon and Nirel. Other men and women moved to back Nolaren and his supporters. Nirel counted at least a dozen Elders among them. She had far more Elders on her side, but she felt sick that so many could take a stand against those who until now had been their brothers.

  When the crowd had finished sorting itself out, around two-thirds stood with Nirel and Davon, only a third with Nolaren. Nolaren glowered at Nirel, but he wasn’t stupid enough to start a fight he knew he couldn’t win. “Fine, old man. We’ll leave. This is a big continent; we can build the real Faithhome somewhere else. Good luck surviving without your best farmers.” He turned to his friends and spoke rapidly, too softly for Nirel to hear what he said. After a moment they nodded and scattered. Nolaren strode away with quick, confident steps in the direction of his farm.

  Nirel stared after them in horror. “You can’t let so many leave! They’ll try to take tools with them, and animals, and supplies. Nolaren’s right, his friends are the ones who studied farming and herding. And so many Elders. I never meant for this to happen. I never asked to be a prophet. I just wanted to come home.” She fought to keep from dissolving in tears.

  Davon put his arms around her. “It’s better to let them go. We’re going to have a hard enough time with the people who believe what we’re doing comes from the Lord of Justice, without having to constantly fight those who don’t.

  Nirel shuddered. She was so tired. All she wanted was to lie down and sleep for at least a week. “It does, doesn’t it? That really was the Lord of Justice?”

  Davon’s arms tightened. “I’m sure of it, daughter.”

  She sighed. “I’m glad you believe me.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad the Lord made it impossible for me not to.” He gently urged her to her feet. “Come, daughter. Let’s go home. Lena will feed you a good meal, and then you can sleep until you’re recovered.”

  Nirel yawned until her jaw cracked. “All right. But when I wake up, I want to get right to work. I’ll tell you what the Lord wants me to do, and you can help me decide how to get started.”

  Carefully, Davon said, “Change is difficult, even when it’s right. Our people have had their whole lives turned upside down, coming here. I suggest we proceed cautiously. One reform at a time. It will probably take many years to implement everything that must be done.”

  “Of course it will.” Nirel found the prospect daunting, but also exciting. This was work she could dedicate her life to without reservation. She shot Davon a teasing glance. “I expect I’ll be far too busy for a husband and children. At least for a long time.”

  He winced. “I’m very sorry about Nolaren. I truly thought he was a good man.”

  “I know you did.”

  “I promise not to arrange another betrothal for you unless you ask me to.” He narrowed his eyes. “Assuming you leave fathers the authority to choose their daughters’ husbands.”

  “Who cares more about his daughter’s future than her father?” She flexed her shoulders, feeling the scars on her back. “You’ll always have a say. Just not the only one.”

  Yes, the changes that must be made would take a long time. But she wouldn’t stop until she’d accomplished them all.

  Sixty-Five

  Josiah surveyed the empty room he’d called home since he first came to the Mother’s Hall. He’d spent the morning packing his personal belongings. Now they were on their way to be loaded aboard the Verinna. Captain Yosiv had scheduled their departure for midafternoon, when the wind and tide would be most favorable. A month from now, after Springtide, one of the newly bonded fourth-year apprentices would move into the room he’d vacated.

  He closed the door and made his slow, painful way to the stairs, leaning on his cane. As soon as he’d finally gotten on his feet, he’d moved out of Elkan and Meira’s guest room and back into the Hall. Elkan had offered to give him a room on a lower floor, but Josiah had refused. He doggedly struggled up and down the many flights every day. The Mother’s power had helped speed the regrowth of his muscles, but only long, patient hours of exercise had strengthened them to the point where his body was more or less functional again.

  He ignored the dull ache that permeated his body, a constant lingering reminder of the fire that had nearly burned him out. Usually he could relegate it to the back of his consciousness so it didn’t hamper him much, but when he was tired or stressed, and sometimes for no reason he could determine, it flared into sharp agony, incapacitating him until it faded again. Elkan and Tobi hadn’t been able to find any physical cause for the pain that the Mother’s power could heal. They thought it might diminish over time, but could offer no guarantees. Josiah had resigned himself to enduring it. It was a small enough price to pay for his life.

  With the support of the railing he negotiated the long way down. He emerged into the main Hall as everyone was leaving cubicles and courtrooms and heading toward the dining hall for the midday meal. Josiah quickened his step to the fastest shuffle he could manage. The cooks had promised a special farewell feast for the wizards who would be traveling to Ramunna.

  He was halfway across when Ravid ran up, Tobi padding at his heels. “Look what Ma
ster Dumiel made me!” He thrust a carved wooden mountain cat into Josiah’s hand. Josiah dutifully admired the toy. It was roughly whittled, but the master woodworker had expertly captured the lithe curve of Tobi’s back and the tension of her muscles as she crouched, ready to spring.

  “He let me hold his knife and showed me how to make a cut,” Ravid boasted. “Next time he’s going to teach me to sand it, after Tobi and Papa make his fingers stop hurting.”

  Elkan fell in beside them. “Ravid loves all our regulars, but I think Dumiel is his favorite. Or maybe Master Roran; he always bakes him cookies. Of course, sometimes Master Garia lets him ride one of her horses, so his affections can be fickle.” He ruffled Ravid’s hair. “Everyone asked me to wish you a good voyage. They were disappointed you weren’t able to come around one last time, but they understood why.”

  Josiah nodded jerkily. The relaxed morning stroll around Elathir to visit all their regular patients he’d taken so often with Elkan would be a torturous day-long ordeal now. Just walking down to the docks was going to be difficult enough.

  He was saved from having to reply by Meira’s arrival. Elkan gave her a quick embrace, then drew back to study her with a frown. “How are you feeling? Has the nausea come back?”

  “Everything’s been fine since I had a little to eat. I was able to get in a good morning’s work.” She tapped his shoulder with her hook and grinned at Josiah. “It frustrates him terribly that there’s so little the Mother’s power can do for morning sickness.”

  “I’ve arranged for Thia to come by every morning while I’m gone. Don’t hesitate to ask her for anything you need.”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” She brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “Although there is one thing you can do that will make me feel better.”

  “What?”

  “Promise you’ll drink plenty of water. Everyone assures me that Dabiel always drank, even her first time. She ate a little, too, although I know I’ll never persuade you to do that.”