The Law of Isolation (24 page)

He glanced at Nirel. The naked grief on his face shocked her. She’d never seen him reveal his feelings this way. She didn’t dare make any response. If he closed up again, she’d never learn the truth. So she kept her expression as open and compassionate and interested as she could.

He turned back to the fire. “I tried to raise you right. I thought that would be enough. But it wasn’t. The Lord of Justice punished me for what I had done. For abandoning him, and marrying outside the faith, and failing to teach my children his ways.”

“Ilana,” Nirel breathed.

Kabos gripped her hands. “He cursed me with a deformed child. I tried to blame your mother, but I knew it was my sin that brought his judgement upon us. I knew that I’d been wrong, that the Lord of Justice ruled the universe as he always had. But it was too late for me. I’d abandoned him, and he’d cast me out of his presence. What did it matter if my children were taken away and my marriage bond broken? It was what I deserved.”

“But I didn’t let them take me away from you, Father.” Nirel caught his eyes and tried to drive the truth of her devotion into his heart.

He blinked. Slowly, he nodded. “The one great blessing of my life,” he whispered.

She swallowed, tears threatening to choke her throat and spill from her eyes. She plowed past the rising emotion. “And now we’ve come to a place with other Du—with other Faithful. They may be hated and persecuted and confined to their quarter of the city, but there are thousands of them. We can seek them out. You can do whatever it takes to regain the Lord of Justice’s favor. You can teach me his ways. If this is your faith, the faith of my ancestors, I want it to be mine, too.”

Kabos pulled back, though Nirel wouldn’t release his hands. “You don’t know what that means. You didn’t see how they treated them. Like animals. Worse than animals; at least animals have some value. I saw them burn the shrine. The lamps, the draperies, the sacred scrolls—all of it. As if it were a festering wound that must be cauterized with fire.”

“If they can do that to our people, then I want nothing more to do with them.”

“Even your new friend?” His lips twisted into a sneer. “A moment ago you were ready to throw yourself into their society, attend their balls, marry one of their handsome young men.”

Confusion swept over Nirel. What
did
she want? It seemed so clear, so bright in her heart. She wanted to seek out others of her own kind, learn about the faith that was her heritage, give herself to it fully. But a not long ago it had seemed equally clear that she wanted to enter Kevessa’s world of wealth and refinement. “Kevessa’s different. She doesn’t hate the Faithful. She made friends with one of them; she told me.” Though only one who had left the faith…

Kabos gave a derisive laugh. “Who would she stand with, if it came to a conflict? Don’t tell me you believe she’d go against her father and her people. Gevan was as approving as the rest of them when that captain shot down a man who was only defending his family, and torched the shrine, and gave the orders to strip away the land of folk who had done nothing but seek to escape from oppression.”

Nirel didn’t want to admit that he was probably right. “It won’t come to a conflict. The Dual—the Faithful have dwelt peacefully in Ramunna for generations.”

“So they claim. Or maybe any rebellion has been suppressed so ruthlessly they can pretend it never existed.”

Nirel released his hands and climbed to her feet. “I think we should find out. You know the way to the Faithful quarter. We should go there tonight. We can seek out someone to tell us the truth about the Faithful in Ramunna.” She put her hands on her hips and stared challengingly at Kabos.

He gaped at her, taken aback. Then he shut his mouth and rose to face her. “It’s not safe for you. The city is dangerous at night.”

“I’ll be with you. Besides, you need me to translate. You haven’t learned enough Ramunnan to communicate yet.”

Kabos didn’t have an answer to that. He hesitated. Nirel was afraid he’d refuse, so she dropped her eyes and made her voice soft and meek and compliant. “Please, Father. I need to know. I need to learn who I really am.”

He breathed hard for a few minutes. At last he gave his head a sharp shake. “I’ll tell the guards Ozor wants us to go to the ship and make it ready for the move to its new berth.”

“Thank you, Father.” Nirel’s heart was racing. The idea of venturing into the nighttime city frightened her. But she’d never admit it to Kabos. “I’ll change clothes. I had the tailor make a riding skirt for me, too. We can ask for horses.”

“I’ll wait for you in the entry hall.” Kabos watched her hurry to her bedroom. As she shut her door behind her, she saw him spin on his heel and stride toward the door of their suite.

Twelve

“G
et up, Josiah.” Elkan shook his shoulder roughly. “The evening meal is ready.”

Josiah blinked. He tried to clear the fuzz from his vision and his thoughts. Healthy green wheat surrounded him. “What happened?”

“You ran out of energy in the middle of the row. Tobi and I finished it for you.” Elkan extended a hand to Josiah and helped haul him to his feet. Beside them, Sar heaved himself up and shook dirt and bits of straw from his back with a shudder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… We would have finished, as soon as we rested.”

“You did your best.” Elkan scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead and led Josiah down the row toward the edge of the field. “This is a great deal to ask of apprentices. You and Mathir both have done far more than would normally be asked of wizards your age. We don’t expect you to have as much endurance as those of us who’ve served longer. It will come in time. Pushing yourself to the end of your strength like this will help build up your stamina.”

Josiah looked away to hide the flush that came to his cheeks. He avoided the accusing look he knew would be in Sar’s eyes. Five days of secret healing had taken their toll. This wasn’t the first time the other wizards had been forced to finish a task he or Mathir hadn’t been able to complete.

The local farmers provided the usual generous meal. Josiah focused his attention on his food, avoiding the sympathetic or annoyed glances the older wizards shot his way. Master Hanion strode up to the circle, trailed by Mathir. Hanion heaped his plate full and went to sit by Elkan without looking at his apprentice. Mathir brought his plate and came to sit beside Josiah. He looked even more gaunt-cheeked and hollow-eyed than the rest of wizards. Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were starving already, not stuffing themselves until their stomachs groaned every morning, noon, and evening.

Hanion and Elkan huddled over the map, muttering in low voices. Josiah kept sneaking glances at them, trying to hear what they were saying, but it was no use. He knew, though. Every day they fell a little farther behind the schedule Master Dabiel had set. At first each field they came to had been slightly less affected by the blight than the last, but two days ago that pattern had reversed. Today they’d encountered worse infections than any since leaving the city.

They were far from Elathir now, and the fields were more widely separated, but there were still a significant number of farms that shipped their grain downriver to the city. They’d hoped to overtake the blight before it reached the more extensive plantings around Korisan. If it spread there, even with all of Korisan’s wizards helping they might not be able to salvage enough of a harvest to prevent famine. Now that outcome appeared more and more likely.

Elkan’s voice rose loud enough for Josiah to hear. “We can’t! It will spread back the way we came. All our work will be undone.”

Hanion matched his volume, his voice strident. “What choice do we have? If it reaches Korisan nothing will stop it from going on to Jevtaran and Thedan.”

“I’m afraid we’re already too late to prevent that.” Elkan slumped and reached for Tobi, scratching with jerky movements behind her ears. “The best we can hope for is to cover every field so it doesn’t slip behind us. We can’t let it reinfect the areas we’ve already healed.”

“The fields around Elathir won’t be enough to feed all of Tevenar. And the other cities don’t have the number of wizards it would take to reach all their fields in time. I still say our best strategy is to press upriver as swiftly as we can and get ahead of it.”

“And I say we should follow Master Dabiel’s plan and cover our entire sector. Word has gone ahead to Korisan; they’ll be on the watch for it.”

“You’ve been to their Hall. You know how small it is.” Hanion glared at Elkan, but when the younger wizard showed no signs of backing down, he picked up his plate and began eating with quick, determined bites.

Josiah thought of his family. Korisan was his home, where he was born and had lived until a year and a half ago. Would the energy he’d spent healing Azien and the others mean that his parents and sisters and brothers would go hungry?

He couldn’t think about that. He had to believe he’d made the right choice. He forced himself to keep taking mouthful after mouthful, though he was stuffed already. Every bite would be used to fuel the Mother’s power.

Finally he could hold no more. He took his plate back to the farmer, thanked him, and headed toward the horses. They would ride out for their last field of the evening as soon as the others finished. Maybe he could sneak a nap before then. He looked for a patch of grass far enough out of the way he wouldn’t get stepped on, but close enough he would rouse when the rest of them came to mount.

Mathir caught up to him and tugged on his sleeve. “Josiah, we’ve got to talk.”

Josiah sighed and plopped down on the bit of ground he had selected. It felt reasonably dry; hopefully his breeches wouldn’t get too damp. “What?”

“We can’t keep going like this. I think we’re going to have to tell them to go back.” Mathir settled to the grass beside him but kept shifting as if he couldn’t get comfortable. Nina scampered down from his shoulder and started to dig in the dirt by his feet.

“We can’t,” Josiah hissed, whipping his head around to make sure no one was within earshot. “We’re days out of Elathir. Even if other wizards have returned to the Hall by now, they wouldn’t be able to make it back before most of them were in trouble.”

“I know, but I can’t do this any more. Master Hanion’s getting suspicious. Nina drains us both dry every day, but it’s not enough.” He hunched over and put his head in his hands. “I feel like… I don’t know, like I’m going to pass out and not wake up again.”

“Nina won’t take that much. Not unless you ask her to, and it’s within the Law’s requirement for a sacrifice.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself. But I don’t think I’m as strong as she thinks I am.”

“You can do it. We have to. I’m not sending Azien back.” Josiah rubbed the rough patch on his palm where sliding wheat stalks had built up a callus. “But… if you really can’t take it any more… maybe we could confess to our masters.” Josiah hated the idea, but it seemed more and more appealing by the day. “No, wait, hear me out. They’ll be angry, but what can they do? They’ll have to help us. If everyone shares the healing, it won’t be so bad.”

“No!” Mathir’s eyes rising to meet his were wild, shifting frantically from side to side. “We can’t!”

“Come on. I know Master Hanion is strict, but believe me, Elkan will be furious too. But I can take it.”

“It’s not that. But we can’t, Josiah. We can’t let them find out.”

“All right. Have it your way. But we can’t send them back, either. We’ll just have to keep on the way we’ve been doing.” Josiah tried not to let his voice betray how much that prospect daunted him. “We’ll be in Korisan in a few days. We can send them to the Mother’s Hall there.”

“What good will that do? Their wizards will be out fighting the blight, too.” Mathir rubbed his head. “One more day. But we talk about it again tomorrow night.”

“Agreed.” Josiah looked off in the direction of the river, where it flowed out of sight beyond a rise in the ground. That’s where the party of followers would be hiding, waiting to trail after the wizards when they moved again, and sneak close after they camped for the night. He harbored a secret, guilty hope that maybe they would get lost and not be able to find them. At least for one night. But so far they’d proved dogged and unshakable, as fiercely persistent in their own way as the wizards were.

Sure enough, when he dragged himself from the tent the next morning and went in search, he found the little party camped in a hollow behind a hill. Mathir plodded behind him. Sar trailed them, Nina perched on his withers.

Most of them were still asleep, wrapped in cloaks or blankets on the ground, but a few were awake. Master Jomin was building up the fire, adding a few broken branches and stirring the embers with a stick. Josiah wasn’t surprised to see Azien leaning on his father’s knee, begging to be allowed to help. But there was another figure beside them, pulling her cloak tight around her shoulders in the morning chill. Josiah froze when he realized he didn’t recognize her.

Mathir came up beside him. “What’s the matter—” He gasped.

The girl heard him and turned, rising. Her hand flew to cup her cheek. “Mathir, I changed my mind. I had to come—”

He hurried to her and grabbed her arms. “Rolie, what are you doing here?”

“I had to come,” she repeated, her voice almost a sob. “I had to.” She peeled her fingers away from her face. Bright against the warm brown of her skin, a lopsided pinkish-white patch blotched the swell of her cheek and the curve of one nostril.

“It was just a little dot when you left,” she said, turning away from Josiah’s curious gaze. “If you don’t stop it, half my face will turn white. I won’t be able to cover it up no matter how much paint I use.”

Mathir tried to put his arms around her. “It’s not so bad.”

She shoved him away. Her sleeves pulled back from her wrists, and Josiah saw similar pale patches there. The edge of another peeked out above the neckline of her tunic. “I’ll do what you asked—”

“Shut up,” Mathir hissed between clenched teeth. He looked with a convulsive jerk of his head at Nina sitting atop Sar’s head, one paw resting lightly on an ear. Her bright eyes watched him. He spun back to Rolie and grabbed her shoulders. “Rolie, I want to help you, I promise I do, but you don’t understand. I didn’t know how it was going to be. I have to use every bit of my energy on the wheat, every day, until I pass out. These people will die if I don’t heal them, but you’ll be all right.”