Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) (31 page)

Tobi focused her light on the right tube, and Nina followed. Sensations eased into Kevessa’s awareness. A warm spark glowed against the palm of her hand, a waft of cinnamon and a hint of vanilla teased the back of her throat, a chime like a tiny bell rang in her ears, and a miniature deep red bubble floated in the midst of the golden glow.

“Ah. Yes,” Master Elkan murmured. “Two, maybe three days old. I wonder what Gevan’s lens would show, if we opened a window?” He was quiet for a few minutes. As he’d taught her, Kevessa paid close attention to each sense in turn. Everything she perceived agreed with his assessment. “All is in order. Normal, healthy, thriving.” Again he fell silent.

Kevessa understood his hesitation. A healthy body was so beautiful, every aspect exquisitely balanced, myriad intricate systems dancing in perfect time, singing in perfect harmony. No influence, even the holy touch of the Mother’s power, could improve on perfection. And it would be terribly easy to accidentally throw things off and introduce the dissonant, rancid, aching sensations of illness and injury she’d become so familiar with over the past few days.

She was glad she wasn’t the one who had to decide whether to proceed. At length Master Elkan sighed. “Hold very still. We’re going to begin.”

The change was impossibly delicate at first, just the barest quickening of tempo. The golden light intensified, and the warm spark pulsed a little hotter. Time flowed smoothly faster. Kevessa sat back and admired Tobi and Master Elkan’s work. Nina made approving chitters. The beauty of the Mother’s design was enhanced by the addition of her power. The tiny red bubble swelled and floated along its path, sound and scent and taste strengthening in concert. Only once over the course of the next two hours did the elegant progression falter, when a cough broke Master Elkan’s concentration for an instant. But it immediately resumed with no harm done that Kevessa could perceive.

The red bubble settled into the purple folds that lined the uterus. They enveloped it with a sigh and a musky scent of welcome. The bubble sent out eager crimson roots that sank deep into the honey-flavored depths.

Gently, gently, accelerated time slowed back to its native rhythm. The golden light of the Mother’s power softened and faded. Kevessa sat back in her chair, breathing hard. Watching had been draining enough. She could only imagine how Master Elkan and Tobi felt.

They seemed all right, with the contented tiredness of work well done. Master Elkan broke into a broad smile. “All finished. We moved it through about a week of development. The child is firmly implanted in your womb and back to growing at regular speed. Everything looks normal and healthy. We should be able to tell within a few days whether your body is going to have a rejection reaction. If it does, we’ll keep it under control.”

The Matriarch pressed her hands to her belly, eyes alight with wonder. “I’m pregnant?”

“You are.” Master Elkan returned her smile.

Her voice sharpened. “Is it a girl?”

He patted her hand reassuringly. “We won’t be able to tell for some time. Around nine weeks—ordinary time—at the earliest. Maybe three with continued acceleration.”

She leaned forward and clasped her hands. “You’ll be able to repeat this? How often? How soon can my heir be born?”

Master Elkan tilted his head to the side, considering. “As the child grows, it will require more nutrients. You’ll have to eat more even than a normal pregnant woman, and we’ll need to be careful not to push it past what’s available. I’d say a brief session every two or three days should be safe. As much as double the usual pace, or a little more. So four, four and a half months.”

“That’s… wonderful. Amazing.” Kevessa hadn’t thought it possible for the Matriarch to be struck speechless, but Master Elkan had done it. For a long moment she was silent, staring into space.

At last she shifted her gaze to Master Elkan’s face. “Anything you desire—ask and it’s yours. If it’s within my power to grant.”

His fingers dug into the loose folds of Tobi’s skin. “I want a building to outfit as a permanent Mother’s Hall. Near the middle of the city, close to the residential districts. Big, at least as big as the main Temple.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

“I want ten percent of the taxes you collect dedicated to the support of the Mother’s Hall and Ramunna’s wizards. Written into law, so it can never be rescinded, even if a future Matriarch becomes displeased with the wizards.”

She leaned back, a smile playing across her face. “You drive a hard bargain.”

He inclined his head, but didn’t avert his gaze. “Well?”

“I think that might be possible.
If
my pregnancy continues to go well. I’ll draft the decree now. I’ll sign it and make it permanent the day my daughter is born, healthy and whole.”

“Agreed.” He took a deep breath. “I want a further three percent of taxes devoted to finding ways to heal without the Mother’s power. I want Professor Gevan placed in charge of its distribution. I want half of this year’s amount paid immediately so he can begin his research right away.”

The Matriarch laughed. “I seem to remember that when you first arrived you swore you wanted nothing in return for helping me. Of course I knew you were lying. Everyone wants something. But I never guessed just how greedy you would prove.”

Master Elkan’s face was stony. “It’s not for me.”

“Of course not.” Her smile was deeply cynical. “I’ll give you a quarter now, so Professor Gevan’s research can begin. Further payments will be released periodically, as long as you continue to please me. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.” Master Elkan rose and bowed to the Matriarch. Kevessa leaped to her feet and curtsied. “If you’ll excuse us. It’s been a long and tiring day. The Mother thanks you for the generosity that will make it possible for her servants to better carry out her will.”

“The Mother is welcome.” The Matriarch dismissed them with a sweeping gesture.

As Kevessa followed Master Elkan and Tobi out of the room, she glanced back. The Matriarch had both hands pressed hard to her belly. Her head was bowed, her eyes closed, and her lips moved in what could only be a silent prayer.

Nineteen

V
igorre assisted Kevessa up the steps of the carriage and climbed in after her. He dropped into the rear facing seat, doing his best to appear comfortably relaxed. She couldn’t be allowed to see the tension that hummed through his every nerve.

When he’d received her note the night before, he’d immediately sent to Keeper Yoran to see how her request might affect their plans. Yoran had sent a terse note in reply, ordering him to do as she’d asked. He hadn’t explained his reasoning, but Vigorre suspected that having one fewer wizard on the dock as the ships cast off would serve his purpose. His superior had been pleased that Vigorre’s habit of fetching Nirel from her home gave him an unremarkable excuse to be absent. His cover would remain safe without him having to actively oppose his fellow Purifiers.

Kevessa settled across from him and smiled as the carriage lurched into motion. “It’s so nice to have a few minutes to chat and catch up. We’ve been together every day, but it’s been so busy I don’t think we’ve exchanged ten words.”

It wasn’t hard to settle into the easy companionability they used to share. “You’re right. I’m glad you figured out a way to fix that.”

She’d always been one of his favorites among the children of the aristocracy he’d grown up with. She was smarter than most, and she’d always seemed to understand his ambition to become a Keeper like his father, even when others of their circle had mocked him for the intensity of his desire. He’d toyed with the idea of requesting her when it was time for his parents to arrange his betrothal, but that had always seemed a part of the distant future. Now the future he used to imagine was warped beyond recognition.

Kevessa stroked Nina, who lay in her lap, bright eyes watching Vigorre. “Tell me how your family’s doing. How old are the twins now, five? And I hear you’ve got another little sibling on the way.”

“In the spring.” She listened with every sign of interest and enjoyment as he described how Nathenarre constantly obsessed about everything concerning her first child, while Father tried not to show the nonchalance that came from having been through it twelve times before. The conversation drifted to news of their mutual friends and acquaintances. There had been several scandals while Kevessa was away, and she was eager to hear all the shocking details.

But when the carriage left the market, busy with early morning customers, and neared the gates into the Dualist Quarter, she sobered. “Do you mind if we close the windows? And can you ask your coachman to slow down?”

“All right.” He stuck his head out to instruct the driver, then rolled the covers down over the windows and fastened them, though the high clouds showed no sign of rain. He dropped back into his seat. “What’s going on?”

“Look.” She put one hand on Nina and held the other out, palm up. A spark of gold bloomed on her palm and grew into a glowing sphere bigger than Vigorre’s head.

He swallowed. He’d gotten used to seeing the demons use their power, but it still unnerved him. And he’d had little opportunity to observe the wizards use windows. “What are you looking for?”

“The assassin who killed Master Dabiel, in Tevenar. I’ve traced him back to this point, but I was too far away to follow him further. Father thinks he was sent by the Purifiers, but I think it was the Dualists. I’m hoping to find evidence that will convince him and the others. Everyone’s been so busy worrying about the Purifiers’ schemes they’ve completely ignored the Dualists, and they hate us just as much. Maybe more.”

Vigorre swallowed and nodded. Anything that diverted the wizards’ attention from the Purifiers was a good thing. And Keeper Yoran would be interested in anything Vigorre could learn about the Dualist’s activities. The last thing they wanted was for an ill-timed strike by the heretical sect to disrupt their carefully orchestrated plans.

The sphere cleared to reveal a nondescript man backing through dark streets toward the gates. Kevessa watched intently as he raised a hand to acknowledge the guard and backed through. “I knew it! Now where did he come from?”

She traced his path backward through the narrow streets. Soon her face screwed into a grimace. “Vigorre, can we go down that way? It’s hard to keep it open when we’re too far away.”

He was nearly as interested now as she was. He called instructions to the coachman and settled down to study the window with Kevessa.

The man wove a circuitous path, but eventually he slipped backward through a door, unremarkable in the midst of many identical buildings. Vigorre directed the coachman to halt as Kevessa sent the viewpoint of the window inside. The sphere brightened with the soft yellow glow of lamps. The man backed into a round space shrouded with heavy, brightly colored tapestries and knelt beside a robed figure. Kevessa sucked in a breath, then sent the window zooming rapidly back through time, until it reached the point just before the robed figure came in.

The picture started moving in the correct direction. Vigorre heard the hushed sounds of the assassin’s breathing. He sat back on his heels and stared up at a white scroll with embroidered black writing. The robed figure pushed through the draperies and sank to his knees beside the waiting man. He bowed his head and remained silent for several long moments.

At last he raised his head and put back his hood. Vigorre stiffened. “That’s Elder Davon.” He represented the Dualists on the rare occasions their public presence was tolerated.

“So his orders came from the very top,” Kevessa breathed. She pressed her lips together as Elder Davon spoke.

“Tharan, son of Redin, the Lord of Justice is greatly pleased with your obedience. He will shower blessings upon you and your family in return for your courageous service.”

Tharan bowed his head. “I’m honored he chose me for this task.”

“No one suspects you?”

“Professor Gevan suspects everyone, but he’s looking for Purifier agents, not Faithful. I’ve convinced him I’m not one of them.”

Davon smiled. “I doubt that was difficult.”

Tharan’s return smile was strained. “The Matriarch trusts me implicitly. For years I’ve falsified records to conceal her bribes and threats, her lies and corruption and assassinations, and never let slip the slightest hint.” His face wrinkled in distaste. “She’s sure I’ll serve her discreetly in this, too. This morning she informed me that if Professor Gevan fails to persuade any of the Lady’s servants to accompany him, her soldiers will seize one by force and keep him in chains during the return voyage. I’m to fabricate an account of a criminal act that justifies the arrest for the official record.” He shook his head with a violent jerk. “At least I’ll never have to tell that particular lie for her.”

“Remember, my son, you remain blameless for anything you do at my direction. Your obligation to obey me supersedes every lesser Ordinance. And I act in obedience to the highest Ordinances, for the good of all the Faithful.”

“I know, Elder. And yet…” He shuddered and looked down. “You’re sure there’s no other way? ‘If one among you raises his hand to another in malice and slays him, whether the victim be of the Faithful or the unbelievers, you must put him to death, for he has become an abomination to the Lord of Justice.’”

“I’m sure, my son.” Elder Davon’s voice was gentle. “I command you, in the Name of the Lord of Justice, to slay anyone you must in order to prevent a wizard from coming to Ramunna. If I err in interpreting the Ordinances, and the Lord judges my command a transgression, let the blame and the punishment fall on me, not you.”

Tharan nodded, though tension remained in his shoulders. “I understand, Elder. I’ll obey.”

“I know you will, my son.” Davon hesitated, then drew a small vial from inside his robes. “This is not a command, but an offer. You go among those who wield the power of the Lady of Mercy, the first Faithful in many generations to do so. If it invades your body, even I cannot take the blame from you, for the highest ordinance of all forbids it. The Lord of Justice will cast you from his presence for all eternity.” He extended the bottle. “If you choose, if there’s no other way to avoid them forcing their power on you, you may use this to escape. I absolve you and your family from the penalties for suicide.”