The Law of Isolation (36 page)

“Mav, don’t do this. There’s no need, I promise. No one will go hungry—” Sivael’s voice broke. She whirled on Elkan. “Please, make her eat it. Tell her she has to.”

“I can’t. It’s her choice.” Elkan put a hand on Sivael’s arm and turned to Malva. “Malva, you have as much right to your share as everyone else in Elathir, no matter how soon the Mother may call you. No one is asking you to go hungry in your last days.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? There’s a famine.” Malva’s sharp eyes challenged Elkan.

Josiah flushed with guilt. He knew Elkan wouldn’t lie to her. He’d soften the truth as much as he could, but nothing could disguise the gravity of the crisis gripping Tevenar.

The areas to the south and west of Elathir had harvested some wheat. But to the northwest, despite the best efforts of Josiah, Elkan, Hanion, and the others, the blight had escaped their control and spread, both toward Korisan and back toward Elathir. Korisan had harvested almost nothing, Jevtaran and Thedan only half their normal amount. Master Dabiel had declared an emergency and met with the Council of Guildmasters to organize a fair distribution of the food they had.

It wasn’t enough. Nobody would come out and say it, but everyone knew. Even the tiny rations they were currently eating would exhaust their supplies before Springtide. Long before the new year provided a fresh harvest, people would begin to starve. The strongest would probably hang on and make it through, but many of the weak, the young, and the old would not.

Elkan’s level gaze met Malva’s. “Master Dabiel is exploring all options to supplement our food supplies. It’s possible the Mother will provide new resources before spring.”

Malva nodded. “But if not, it’s going to be very bad.”

Elkan didn’t respond, just looked soberly at her.

At length, Malva nodded again. “Put it away for when the others come.”

Sivael fell to her knees, weeping. Elkan carefully set the two halves of the roll on the bedside table.

Malva stroked Sivael’s hair. “Hush, dearest. It’s all right. It’s going to be soon, no matter what. Isn’t that right, wizard? They told me after a certain point too much goes wrong, until even the Mother’s power can’t fix it. That there’s no point in trying anymore.”

Elkan nodded. He spoke softly. “That day comes for each of us, if we’re fortunate enough to live so long.”

“It’s here for me, isn’t it?”

“Would you like us to check and see?”

“Please.”

Elkan inclined his head. Tobi stood and pressed close to him. He put one hand on the mountain cat’s head and held the other over Malva. Golden light washed from his hand and enveloped her body. For a long time it swirled and sparkled around her. Elkan’s eyes were closed, a look of intent concentration on his face. Josiah knew he was focusing on what Tobi showed him through the Mother’s senses. He watched, wondering what it must feel like. As much as he wanted Sar to give him a look, he knew better than to ask. He’d get Elkan to describe it later.

But Malva must have noticed him staring. Elkan let the light die and opened his eyes, meeting Malva’s gaze. He gave a small nod. Malva swallowed and blinked, looking away. Then, taking a deep breath, she beckoned to Josiah. “Your apprentice is about to burst with curiosity. Have you ever seen someone too old to heal, boy?”

Josiah cleared his throat and came closer. “No, ma’am.”

“Well, go ahead. You’ve got to learn sometime.”

Josiah glanced at Elkan for permission. At his master’s nod, he reached for Sar, who moved under his hand. Josiah hesitated, suddenly unsure whether he really wanted to feel this, after all. But he gulped and extended his hand. Sar sent the Mother’s power flowing through him and around Master Malva’s body.

Josiah wasn’t sure what he’d feared—perhaps the bitter, sickly, discordant taint of illness pervading all his senses more strongly than ever before. But it wasn’t like that at all. The sensations washing over him weren’t like those from a healthy person, but they weren’t unpleasant. The sounds were soft and harmonious, like music easing into a gradually diminishing volume and slowing tempo. The smells and tastes were faint, as if they were diluted by wind and water. The tactile sensations were slow and heavy, muffled as if cushioned by a layer of soft wool. The visual impressions were like a wash of watercolors tinting a finely inked drawing. Over everything was a faint shimmer, like a veil of gold or very distant chimes. He swallowed as he recognized the sensation he’d felt once before, in the presence of the Mother.

Sar let the light fade away. Josiah blinked. He turned to Elkan, who returned his wondering glance with a lopsided smile. Josiah knew his master shared the emotion that swelled in his heart, far too complex and deep to be expressed in words.

They both looked at Malva. She understood, too, Josiah saw, maybe not in the same way as the two wizards, but enough that her eyes meeting theirs were rich with secret knowledge.

Sivael didn’t, though. She regarded Malva with all the force of her love and fear graven on her face.

Malva grinned at Josiah. “There you go, boy. Now you know.” She reached for Sivael and gripped her hand. “It’s all right, Siv. I promise. There’s nothing to fear.”

Sivael’s voice was rough. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“And I don’t want to leave, my love. It was the best day of my life when I stood up with you.” She turned to Elkan. “I was already a journeyman when we met, but she was still an apprentice. We had to wait two years before she made journeyman and we could wed.” Her eyes went distant, remembering, and her voice warmed with pride. “Three times the Cooks’ Guild entrusted a ward to us, and the Candlers’ Guild once. Such good days those were, with the house full of children. They’re all grown now, and wed, and their children as well, for the most part. Seventy-six years Siv and I have been together. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long.”

Sivael smoothed the hair back from Malva’s forehead and cupped her cheek. “Not long enough.”

“It’s just the beginning.” Malva turned to Elkan. She reached one hand for his, keeping Sivael’s tight in the other. “You’ve seen the Mother, haven’t you?” She turned to include Josiah in her question. “Both of you?”

Elkan stroked Tobi’s head, then reached for Josiah’s hand. “Yes, and spoken with her.”

Josiah nodded, remembering that moment, and the Mother’s infinitely wise gaze. He felt Sar’s breath warm on the back of his neck. Elkan prompted him with a tilt of his head, and Josiah reached to take Sivael’s hand in his, completing the circle.

Malva’s eyes bored into Elkan’s. “So you’re sure… She’ll be there, waiting for me.”

“Yes.” Elkan’s voice was quiet, but very certain.

Malva sighed, and smiled crookedly at Sivael. “See, Siv? It will be all right. Just a little while, and we’ll be together again.”

Sivael smiled back at her through her tears. “Soon, I hope.”

“There’s no rush. I’ll wait. Treasure the time you have with Tinirel, and Ebon, and the rest.” Malva blinked and released Elkan’s hand to rub her eyes. She sank back into the pillows. Her voice came much softer, and a bit strained. “I think you’d better send for them. I’d like the chance to say good-bye.” She closed her eyes, her breath roughening and slowing.

Sivael shot a panicked glance at Elkan, but he shook his head. “There will be time. Let her rest, so she’ll have the strength to speak to them when they come.”

Sivael smiled shakily and released Josiah’s hand. She stroked Malva’s cheek, then pulled away and led the wizards from the room.

Josiah hung back as Sivael talked to Elkan, making arrangements for another wizard to visit the next day. He remained silent until it was time to murmur farewell to Master Sivael and follow Elkan out.

They walked through the streets for a while without speaking, toward the bridge that spanned the Tarath. Eventually Elkan looked over at Josiah. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” It was hard for Josiah to put his feelings into words, but Elkan was always good at understanding this sort of thing, no matter how awkwardly Josiah said it. “That was… intense.”

“It was.” Elkan was quiet for a few more steps. “Any questions?”

Josiah shrugged. After a moment he asked, “How long?”

“Sometime during the night, I’d guess. You felt how close the Mother’s presence was.”

Josiah gulped and nodded. He twisted his fingers in Sar’s mane and looked at his feet. He thought of Master Malva’s body with all the life gone out of it, gradually growing cold and stiff, as Master Sivael lay beside her in the bed with her arms wrapped around the corpse that had been her wife.

He shuddered and glanced at Elkan. His master walked with a relaxed stride, his hand resting lightly on Tobi’s head, his eyes focused somewhere beyond the horizon. He breathed deeply, as if the brisk autumn air smelled especially good. Suddenly it struck Josiah what was so odd. “It didn’t bother you.”

Elkan raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Usually, when we have a patient we can’t help, you get all, um—” Josiah flushed, but he couldn’t stop now that he’d started. “—upset. Unhappy. Like you hate that you couldn’t do more. But not this time. Even though Master Malva is going to die, and you can’t stop it any more than you could stop—” Josiah gulped. “Why is this different?”

Elkan tilted his head. “Hmm.” He considered for a moment. “I guess it’s because… this is the way the Mother planned it. That we grow old, and die, in her time. That we go home to her when our life here is complete. Death isn’t terrible, Josiah. Not in its right place.” He gave a little laugh. “Not ever, really. It always leads back to the Mother.”

“Then why do we fight so hard against it?” Josiah scowled. He thought of the energy he and Elkan and every other wizard had poured into healing the wheat, to prevent the deaths Elkan was now shrugging off as if they didn’t matter.

“Because life is precious. It’s the Mother’s gift, and once it’s gone, we can’t get it back. Death is always there, always waiting, and it’s forever, but life is only ours for a little while… The Mother put it in our hearts to love life, even when we know death is nothing to fear. That makes it worth fighting for.”

“Hmm.” Josiah thought for a while. He stroked Sar, who walked beside him, the donkey’s thoughts wordless but warmly supportive. He shivered. “It bothers
me
. Knowing that she’s going to die. Being right there, talking about it… Master Sivael’s pain, and fear… And Master Malva was afraid, too, although she tried not to be. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it alone. What you did, comforting them, helping them believe…”

Elkan put an arm around his shoulders. “You’ll learn in time. The more experience you have with the Mother, the more you learn to trust her for yourself, the more you’ll be able to share that with others.” He grinned wryly. “I still have plenty to learn in that regard myself.”

Josiah snorted. It was annoying how Elkan could be so self-deprecating, when he was obviously nearly as wise as Master Dabiel.

The small street they were following came to the main road. Elkan gestured toward the bridge. “Take Sar back to the Mother’s Hall so both of you can eat. I’m going to take Tobi out to hunt for a while. I’ll be back in time for our afternoon shift.”

“All right.” The famine hadn’t been so hard on the familiars, because many of them could eat things humans couldn’t. There was plenty of hay for Sar and the other hoofed animals, and grazing if that ran short. The cats and hawks could fend for themselves among Elathir’s population of rats and mice. But the wolves and dogs had to compete with the humans for what meat there was. The herders were butchering far more than usual this year, but they had to keep enough breeding stock to reestablish the herds in the spring. So the familiars who could hunt went out with their wizards as often as possible. Tobi had brought back venison for the evening stew several times. “Just be sure you get your midday meal, too.”

“I’ll forage something, or grab a bite when I get back.” Elkan’s smile was pleasant, but closed to any further discussion. Josiah had gotten in the habit of making sure Elkan looked after himself, because his master was prone to ignore the section of the Law that commanded wizards to take care of their own needs. Elkan put up with Josiah’s solicitousness, but only so far.

Josiah made a face after Elkan turned his back and headed toward the nearest patch of woods, Tobi bounding ahead. Josiah found that the easiest part of the Law to follow. He wouldn’t neglect eating if he had any other choice.

Back at the Mother’s Hall, though, the meal was scanty, only a small slice of bread, a slightly larger one of cheese, and half of an apple. Master Dabiel had decreed that the Wizards’ Guild would take the same share of the available food as everyone else, even though using the Mother’s power burned energy in a way other sorts of work didn’t. Josiah wolfed his down in minutes. He sat at the table with the other apprentices, listening to them chatter, trying not to eye their plates and wonder if they were going to finish their portions. Ever since Mathir’s bond had been broken he’d felt ill at ease around the other apprentices. They knew he’d been cleared of any wrongdoing, but he still got the feeling they held him responsible for what had happened.

He jumped up.
Sar, I’m going to the roof.

Sar didn’t look up from where he was methodically eating his way through a net of hay.
I’ll meet you in the Hall at the start of our shift.

When the donkey finished eating, he’d undoubtedly snatch a nap. But Josiah was far too restless to sleep.

Up on the broad, flat roof, Josiah searched the crevices of the low wall around the edge. Sometimes sea birds built nests and laid eggs there. It was too late in the year to have much hope of finding any. But just last week he’d discovered a nest with three eggs in it. The master cook who ran the Hall’s kitchen had thanked him, and the soup that night had been a little richer than the usual thin broth.

Maybe after he and Sar finished their afternoon session in the Hall, he’d go down to the river and throw a line in for a while. He’d check the pecan trees for any late nuts, as well. At least they’d gotten a good number of them this year. They were stored in the cellar with the rest of the meager stores, rationed out a bit at a time so they’d last through the winter that had barely begun. All the apprentices had taken it as their special responsibility to supplement the wizards’ diet however they could. Their contributions were always welcome, and frequently provided a substantial addition.