The Law of Isolation (19 page)

Kalti and Seriti tittered. Mathir blushed. “It’s not like that. We’re only friends.”

Kalti snorted. “Uh-huh. Just make sure you don’t end up with any little ‘friends’ running around.”

“I told you, it’s not—” Mathir gave up in the face of the other’s knowing chuckles. “I’ve got to get out of here if I’m going to finish before morning. Master Hanion’s in bed, but if he wakes up and starts looking for me, cover for me.” He blushed again. “Tell him about Rolie if you have to.”

Josiah almost regretted that Mathir’s master was unlikely to wake. “We will. Go on.” He shooed Mathir away, waved at him, and headed back to the Hall. The others followed.

The fourth volume of the Histories put Josiah to sleep before he read three pages. Well before dawn Sar woke him with an insistent muzzle blowing in his ear. He threw a few belongings into a pack and went down to the dining hall where the other wizards were gathering.

Last night’s solemn mood was replaced by one of resolve. As soon as all the wizards in a group appeared and got a quick bite of porridge, they headed out. The Herders’ Guild had provided horses; they milled about with their handlers in the plaza outside the main doors of the Hall.

Mathir appeared shortly after Josiah, bleary-eyed, but no more so than everyone else. Elkan was already there, but Master Hanion didn’t come down until a good ten minutes later. A few more journeymen straggled into their group. Elkan checked off the last name on his list. “That’s everyone. Let’s go.”

They trooped out to the plaza. Mathir swung onto his horse with all the confidence of his Herderkin heritage. Josiah was more cautious. He’d ridden Sar once or twice, but that was the extent of his experience. Luckily the herders had taken that into account and provided him with a docile beast, who went where he was directed without argument. Elkan appeared comfortable astride a tall black steed, even though the horse pranced nervously when Tobi insisted on following close at his heels. Josiah was glad that Sar seemed to have a calming effect on his own mount as he trotted comfortably alongside. Most of the other familiars perched on their wizards’ shoulders or on their horses’ withers. Mavke, Master Hanion’s bulldog, rode in a makeshift litter atop their horse’s rump.

Elkan led the way, keeping the horses moving at a fast pace with few breaks. The sun was still low in the sky when they reached the first farm.

Josiah swung down and surveyed the broad rolling field. Even without the Mother’s power he could see how sick the plants were. They were ragged and scrawny, leaves a pale greenish-yellow blotched with black.

Elkan laid out the plan. “We’ll start at the east side, by the river. Each of you take a row. When you get to the end, start on the next available row. Work fast, but be thorough. Be sure to get every bit of the blight. Give the plant a bit of a boost in growth, too, but don’t go overboard.” He reached for Tobi and the nearest wheat stalk to demonstrate. The Mother’s light was nearly washed out by the brightening morning sun, but the plant greened and grew robust under his touch.

Josiah took his assigned row with Sar. He ran a hand along the stem of the first plant. The black speckles of the blight shed a dusty grey powder over his fingers. He shuddered and planted his hand firmly on Sar’s back. The donkey poured the Mother’s power through him, and the blight shrank away as the plant strengthened.

They fell into a rhythm. Josiah stepped forward, grabbed a plant, and Sar sent a burst of power shooting over it. They had to be careful not to miss a single one, or the blight would reinfect the crop. The grey powder on his hands sparked with trace bits of life, so they blasted it until it was dead and unresponsive.

Each individual plant took only a moment and a trivial bit of energy, but there were so many of them. It took at least ten minutes to get to the end of the first row. Josiah shifted down to the next row without a wizard and started back.

A few rows later, he caught up to Mathir as they both trudged to a new row. “Race you?” he offered.

“You’re on!” Mathir brightened, and Nina rasped a challenge at Sar. He put his ears back and brayed at her.

Josiah grinned and jumped for the first wheat stalk. He pulled ahead of Mathir for a few minutes, but pushed too hard and lost his rhythm. Mathir caught up and passed him as he slowed and gasped for breath. Sar nosed him and he bent to his task with renewed effort. They reached the end of their rows in tandem, too close to determine a winner, so they carried the race to a new pair of rows. Other wizards joined them, or paired off for races of their own. Time sped by. Before Josiah knew it he reached the end of a row and found himself with nowhere to go. Each of the rows between him and the field’s edge held a wizard hurrying with glad steps to the end.

Josiah looked back. The field glowed a healthy green, lush and vibrant, still a bit patchy in places where an occasional plant had been too far gone to save, but a wonderful contrast from the way they had found it. He wiped sweat from his forehead and went to gather around Elkan with the other wizards.

“Well done.” Elkan surveyed them with fond pride. “Keep up the good work. Pace yourselves, though. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. Mount up and head to the next field. After that we’ll take a break.”

He fell back beside Josiah as everyone headed to where the Herders were watching the horses. “How’re you holding up?”

“Just fine.”

“Good.” Elkan put a firm hand on his shoulder. “This is going to get rough before the day is over. You’re going to be drained more than you’ve ever been. Remember, Sar knows what he’s doing. He’ll push you to the edge, but not over it.”

“I know.” Josiah didn’t think it would be that bad. He wasn’t very tired, and look how much they’d already accomplished.

Elkan patted his back. “I’m sure you’re up to it.”

The next field was larger, but the blight wasn’t quite so advanced. The farmer came out to greet them as they arrived. His transparent relief and profuse thanks buoyed Josiah’s spirits. Even so, by the end he was stumbling over his own feet. He’d long since lost the ability to focus on anything but the next plant in line. When he finished a row and Sar didn’t immediately nudge him on to the next, he stood dazed for a few seconds. Eventually he gathered his wits and trudged to where the other wizards were gathering around a hearty midday meal the farmer had brought out for them.

The food revived him, and the ride to the next field gave him a chance to rest. He saw Mathir drowsing as he rode, as he’d boasted he could, head drooping on his chest. Josiah closed his eyes and soon drifted off, but woke in a rush of panic when he started to slip sideways off his mount.

The next field was huge, a network of several master and journeyman farmers’ lands they worked cooperatively. The master farmer in charge of the cooperative eyed them skeptically when they arrived. They were far enough out from the city that the folk didn’t have daily contact with wizards. She pursed her lips and studied Elkan. “I’m sure you mean well. And since Guildmaster Sabanan ordered it, I must allow you to proceed. But I’m not happy about a bunch of strangers running around my fields, trampling the soil, messing with things they don’t understand. And the animals!” She glared at Sar, who was eyeing the closest ear of wheat, only lightly marked by the blight, with a wistful expression. “We’ll be lucky if they don’t eat more than you manage to save.”

Elkan was nearly as courteous as ever, but his weariness was evident to Josiah in the way he was a bit short with her. “I understand your concerns. I’m Farmerkin myself. But if you let us get to work, I think you’ll be pleased with the results.”

The farmer huffed, but stepped back and let them pass. The wizards fell into their well-rehearsed places and started moving down the rows. Josiah concentrated on putting one heavy foot in front of the other. He grabbed each wheat stalk carefully, so Sar wouldn’t have to waste even a tiny bit of strength to heal a slice in his palm from the edge of a carelessly snatched leaf. By the time he worked his way across the endless length of the field and back, the master farmer was gone.

The field went on, and on, and on, and on. The sun beat on the back of Josiah’s neck, and sweat drenched his tunic and breeches. Sar’s flanks were dark with sweat, and his head hung lower with every row, but he kept relentlessly plodding forward, forcing Josiah to keep up. Josiah’s universe shrank until it was nothing but an endless succession of yellow stems and leaves flowing beneath his hands, flushing green, and falling behind.

His legs grew heavier and heavier. He forced them to keep moving until suddenly he couldn’t anymore.
Sar, I’ve got to stop for a minute.

No. Keep going.

Just long enough to catch my breath and get a drink.
He stopped, took his hand off Sar’s back, and fumbled with the water skin at his belt. He uncorked it and gulped the stale warm water. It tasted better than any crystal mountain stream.

Now let’s go.

One more minute.
Josiah braced his hands on his thighs and panted. He couldn’t imagine taking another step until he’d had a good long rest.

But he drew barely a dozen breaths before Sar butted him with his head, knocking him off balance and forcing him to straighten.
That’s long enough. Back to work.

Please. I’ll be ready in just a few more minutes.

Sar shoved his head under Josiah’s arm. He gasped as strength sucked out of his bones and gold light burst from his limply hanging hand to wash over the next stalk of wheat.
Sar, I’m almost out of energy. You’re going to hurt me if you don’t give me time to recover.

We’re nowhere near the danger point. Once you get past this rough spot it will get easier.
He took a step forward, and Josiah had to follow or take his arm from around the donkey’s neck. He wasn’t sure he could remain vertical without Sar’s support. A dull ache permeated his body as Sar drew deeply on his strength. The Mother’s power flowed through him from where his palm pressed into the donkey’s sweat-soaked fur to where it flamed from the fingers of his other hand. Its heat, usually a pleasant, gentle warmth, felt like a searing path of fire burning along his nerves.

Sar, I can’t—

You can. Keep going.

He was wrong. He had to be. Sar was going to miscalculate and burn Josiah out right here in the middle of this Mother-forsaken field. Josiah pictured the donkey, head hanging and ears drooping in shame and remorse, nosing uselessly at Josiah’s lifeless body. He imagined how Elkan would come running, shouting angry recriminations at Sar for his mistake. Tobi would bound to his side and they would pour golden power over him, but it would be too late. He would be gone, accepted into the Mother’s soft arms, listening to her shower him with words of praise for his selfless sacrifice. He would forgive the heartless, ruthless taskmaster who’d driven him beyond what any human body could bear, if only he could first float for a while in the billowing golden clouds that swirled around the Mother’s feet.

He came out of his fantasies to find his legs, unnoticed, had resumed their steady steps down the row. The wheat stalks passed one by one through his hand, golden light washing them clean. He felt no less exhausted, but somehow it didn’t matter anymore. A strange giddy feeling washed over him, and he floated along on its wave. He could keep this up forever, one step and one stalk at a time. Under his arm, Sar’s neck felt solid and powerful, a strong support bearing him forward.

Dozens of rows passed this way. It didn’t seem important to keep track. The field was infinite, his task eternal. He and Sar would keep taking steps and healing wheat stalks as the world went through a thousand ages of time. The sun would burn out, and the stars fall from the sky, and the Mother herself grow old and pass away, and he and Sar would keep moving forward, one step after another. After another, and another, and another and another and another and…

“Josiah.”

He blinked. Grass pressed into his back. A face hovered in mid-air before his eyes. Elkan’s voice echoed in his ears as if from the end of a very long tunnel. “Josiah, wake up. I’ve let you rest as long as I can. But you have to eat.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up until he was sitting. The world rocked dizzily around him before settling into place. He felt as if he’d fallen beneath the stocks of the fulling mill and been beaten by their heavy hammer heads for two or three days.

Beside him, Sar rolled from his side to his chest, gathered his legs beneath him and heaved himself to his feet.
That’s what being drained to the point of burnout feels like. Any more and we’d both have gone to join the Mother. But we finished.

The edge of the wheat field swayed before him, green and healthy in the soft golden light of late afternoon. He looked around. A number of the other wizards also sprawled exhausted at the end of their last rows, their familiars beside them, either sleeping or stirring with the same leaden heaviness Josiah felt weighing him down.

“Our evening meal is waiting for us. The farmers brought it out.” Elkan looked as haggard as Josiah had ever seen him. Only in the aftermath of the mine collapse in Shalinthan had his cheekbones stood out so much in his gaunt face, or his eyes been as deeply shadowed.

“The master farmer must have been pleased with us after all.” Josiah managed to keep his voice steady, if a good deal softer and hoarser than usual.

A faint grin lifted Elkan’s tired features. “She admitted that perhaps we did a bit more good than harm.”

Josiah rolled to his hands and knees with a groan. He contemplated crawling over to the fire some of the farmers had started, but took a deep breath and pushed to his feet. He swayed, the edges of his vision darkening, but after a moment he steadied. “Where’s Tobi?”

Elkan pointed to the corner of the field, where a large tawny shape sprawled in the grass. “I left her sleeping. She recovers fast, though. She’ll be livelier than any of us by the time we finish eating.”

Elkan moved down the row of wizards, waking those who hadn’t yet roused on their own. Slowly they gathered around the fire. The food was plentiful, but the farmers had to bring more out from their scattered houses to feed the ravenous appetites of the drained wizards. It took a few bites before the hunger hit him, but after that Josiah wolfed down three bowls of stew in quick succession. He only stopped to gulp a mug of cider and devour a large loaf of bread. Even then he felt only barely satisfied, and had plenty of room left for several servings of honey-sweetened fruit pie. Sar munched away on the pile of golden wheat ears the master farmer had personally cut from the newly healthy field to pile before him.