The Law of Isolation (48 page)

Finally, a quick peek revealed Elkan was past the worst part. He raised his head.

He saw himself dash from the chapel. Kevessa watched through the door until the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance. Then she bent over Dabiel’s still form.

For a long time all was quiet. Occasionally the assassin would moan or curse, and once he wriggled, hunching himself a full six inches across the floor before he abandoned the attempt. Kevessa watched him, her body tense, but she didn’t move.

Eventually Dabiel stirred. Her hand came up and rubbed her eyes. A deep groan transformed to a whimper. Kevessa bit her lip and gulped, but after a moment was able to speak, her voice only a little rough. “Be still. Help is coming.”

Dabiel opened her eyes. She blinked at Kevessa, not seeming to recognize her at first, until with a sigh she nodded. “Mother bless you, child.” She reached for Kevessa’s hand, and her fingers tightened around the girl’s.

For a moment she rested. The assassin moved again, grunting. Dabiel’s head twisted around, her eyes seeking the source of the sound.

“He can’t hurt us,” Kevessa reassured her.

Dabiel’s mouth twisted in wry acknowledgement. “He’s alive?”

“Yes.” There was venom in Kevessa’s voice.

“Good.” Dabiel closed her eyes for a moment, panting a few shallow breaths. When she opened them again, she shifted her gaze away from Kevessa. To Josiah, it seemed as if she looked directly through the window at him. He realized she must have known the other wizards would watch and listen, exactly as they were doing now, and she spoke for their benefit. “He might try to kill himself again. Don’t let him. Discover who sent him, and why. Do
not
let this break our bargain with Ramunna. Tevenar must have the food they promised us.”

She stopped and breathed raggedly for a few moments. Josiah glanced up from the window. Kevessa had her eyes closed. Tears leaked from under her lids and ran down her cheeks. Elkan’s face was set in lines as grim and still as a stone carving, his eyes never wavering from the sphere floating before him.

Josiah jerked his gaze back to Dabiel as she spoke again, her voice clear and strong. “I nominate Master Elkan Farmerkin Wizard to succeed me as Guildmaster.” A ghost of a smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “I’d hoped it would be many years yet, apprentice, but…” Her shoulder moved in a tiny shrug.

Her eyes closed, and her voice faded to a barely audible murmur. “What was it you said? ‘Right here… right now… like this…’”

She trailed off with a sigh and fell silent.

Josiah could hardly breathe. He glanced at his master.

Elkan swallowed. His face was pale, and his fingers dug into the loose skin at the nape of Tobi’s neck. She pressed her head hard against his knee.

The scene within the window rolled on, inexorably. Master Dabiel didn’t move or speak again. She lay in Kevessa’s arms as her life slipped imperceptibly away. All was quiet until Elkan burst through the door and fell to his knees at Dabiel’s side, reaching for Tobi. Gold light washed over her, only to wink out as Elkan rocked back on his heels in stunned horror.

The window collapsed. Elkan sat for a while, eyes closed. Josiah and Kevessa exchanged glances, but Josiah didn’t dare disturb his master’s thoughts.

Finally Elkan stirred. He stroked Tobi’s broad forehead and climbed to his feet. “Josiah, stay with me. You too, Kevessa. I don’t think there will be any further danger, but we can’t be too careful.” He looked at the chapel and the crowd of wizards surrounding it. “They should be done healing the assassin—Tharan—by now. He’ll need to be taken to the prison, and the bodies taken back to the Hall. Or maybe they should stay here until time for the burial. It’s a holy place, and the rest of the guild will need to come out here anyway, to see for themselves what happened.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is going to turn even more of them against the Ramunnans. Support for the bargain was shaky enough before. I’m afraid it’s going to fall through, and we’ll lose our only hope to avoid famine.”

Josiah was pretty sure Elkan was only thinking aloud. But a thought occurred to him, and he couldn’t help but blurt it out. “But, master, you’re—you’re Guildmaster now.” He paused, struck by the full import of that. But he shook off his confused emotions and plowed on. “Master Dabiel said so. You can make sure a wizard goes to Ramunna.”

Elkan flashed him a twisted, bleak smile. “It’s not that easy. A Guildmaster can only nominate a successor. The masters of the guild must vote to confirm the nomination. They’re free to reject it and elect another if they choose. That seldom happens, but this time…”

He paced a few steps toward the chapel, clenching his fists at his sides. “I suspected she was grooming me for the position, but we never spoke of it. It should have been years before we needed to. I might have been ready then, but now—” He breathed heavily for a moment. “It’s an honor I don’t deserve, and a responsibility I don’t want, and even if they give it to me, how can the Mother expect me to lead wizards twice my age, with years of experience, when I haven’t even been a master a full year yet? Smash it, master, why’d you
do
this to me?” He bowed his head, pressing a fist to his forehead.

Josiah stared at Elkan, wide-eyed. Kevessa looked at him, eyes shadowed with concern. He could only shake his head, unable to offer her any reassurance. He’d always depended on Elkan for support, for strength, for comfort. On the rare occasions he’d faltered, Master Dabiel had been there to uplift them both, secure in her faith that the Mother would work out whatever crisis threatened, holding them all safe, cupped in the palms of her hands. But now Master Dabiel was gone, their firm anchor broken free, setting them adrift.

He nearly sobbed when Sar pressed close to his side. He twined his fingers in the donkey’s spiky mane as he’d often seen Elkan do, appreciating the solidity of the tough, wiry strands digging into his skin.
It will be all right, won’t it, Sar? Elkan can do it, he can lead the guild, he can make them agree to send a wizard to Ramunna still. Can’t he?

Sar hesitated.
I’m sure Elkan is worthy of the trust the Guildmaster placed in him. But even if he should succeed… Dabiel didn’t complete the fast. The Mother didn’t appear to speak her will. The Law that confines familiars within the boundary stones remains. We can’t go to Ramunna.

Twenty-Two

G
evan jumped to his feet and raised his voice over the shouts threatening to drown him out. “I had nothing to do with this man’s crime! I didn’t know what he planned. I would have turned him over to your justice if I had. He’s a traitor to Ramunna as well as Tevenar!”

But it was useless. Hanion made no effort to silence the crowd roaring in anger at Gevan. Gevan glared at Tharan, who sat, bound, across the arc of chairs, then turned with equal fury to the acting Guildmaster.

As far as he understood from what they’d explained to him about the ridiculous tangle of laws and traditions Tevenar called a government, upon the death of a Wizard Guildmaster, the most senior wizard still bonded to a familiar should assume the role of acting Guildmaster until a council of all active masters in the guild assembled to vote on a new one. So how had Hanion, who couldn’t be much more than sixty-five, managed to take the title? Apparently, every wizard in Elathir with more seniority had declined for one reason or another. True, some of them were frail, and Gevan could see that the strain of taking charge of the Wizards’ Guild in such a turbulent time would be too heavy a burden. But he suspected many were simply afraid of the responsibility. And he couldn’t shake a sneaking suspicion that Hanion had influenced others, maybe by persuasion and force of personality, but maybe with bribes or threats.

What was undeniable was that Hanion had emerged as the leader of the faction of wizards that laid the blame for Master Dabiel’s death squarely at the feet of the Ramunnans. All of them, not just the Purifier saboteur who’d fooled Gevan along with everyone else, including the Matriarch. He cursed himself again for not seeing through Tharan’s disguise. Had he really believed that a few avowals of interest in Gevan’s experiments proved anything about the man’s true loyalties?

Of course, Tharan hadn’t yet admitted he’d acted on behalf of the Purifiers. He hadn’t made any response at all to the extensive questioning conducted by the wizards, the local police force, and Gevan himself. He merely sat there, eyes dull, face blank. Occasionally he shrugged.

Gevan badly wanted to smash a fist into the traitor’s gut. That would loosen his tongue. The questioners in the Matriarch’s dungeons would have efficiently extracted the truth. But the folk here were so opposed to the concept of a little judicious torture they hadn’t grasped what he was saying when he’d tried to delicately hint at the possibility. When he’d finally come straight out and suggested it, they reacted as if he’d suddenly been stricken by some horrible disfiguring disease.

Hypocrites, all of them. They’d been quick enough to break his bones when it suited their purpose. It wasn’t as if any damage would be permanent, not with their ability to heal. Why else had they bothered to keep the assassin alive, if not to discover the information locked behind those stubbornly dull eyes?

In the front row of the crowd thronging the courtroom, Elkan rose to his feet. He looked as tired as Gevan felt, visibly aged from the confident youth of a few days ago. Beside him, his giant cat blinked sleepy eyes at the assembly.

Hanion ignored him for as long as he could, but eventually the crowd ran out of energy and the noise faded. Hanion shot his colleague an annoyed glance. “You wish to speak, Master Elkan?”

“Excuse me for interrupting, Guildmaster, but I’m curious to know whether you’ve found any evidence to support your assertion that Ambassador Gevan colluded with Tharan. If you have, I’m eager to see it. Tobi and I have searched every moment since the Ramunnan ship came close enough to observe without finding any such evidence.” He looked at Hanion with every indication of respectful attentiveness.

Gevan snorted to himself. Elkan played the game well. If he hadn’t known, he would never have guessed from the young man’s manner that Hanion was the most vocal opponent of Elkan’s confirmation as Guildmaster.

Secretly, Gevan agreed with Hanion. Mature as he might be for his years, Elkan was far too young for such responsibility. But Gevan had no choice but to hope for his election. Whatever faint chance remained of the expedition accomplishing its purpose rested solely in Elkan’s hands. Those who wished to keep the bargain Dabiel had made had rallied behind him. Among the guildmasters of the other guilds that faction held a sizable majority, for though they were as horrified as everyone else by Dabiel’s murder, they weren’t quite as emotionally affected by her death. But among the wizards, Gevan feared Elkan’s party was badly outnumbered. The election would be held as soon as all the masters who’d been summoned from the smaller cities around Tevenar arrived. If Hanion was chosen Guildmaster instead of Elkan, Gevan would return to Ramunna empty-handed.

He must do everything in his power to prevent that. He was convinced the wizards could do what the Matriarch wanted. It was more urgent than ever that he bring one to her so she could conceive an heir. The Purifiers had murdered an old woman to accomplish their goals; they wouldn’t hesitate to murder a young girl. Kevessa would never be safe until power in Ramunna was secured and the Purifiers driven out.

Hanion frowned coldly at Elkan. “Of course they wouldn’t speak of their plot once they were within range of a window. It was all worked out in advance. But this man brought the assassin here. He played on our hopes and fears to make us vulnerable. Do you really think it was a coincidence that he helped arrange for Master Dabiel and Buttons to be alone and weak from fasting, unable to effectively defend themselves?’

The crowd reacted noisily to that. Elkan waited until they quieted. “I agree that what you suggest is possible. But unless we send a wizard and familiar to trace their entire voyage, we can’t prove it.”

Hanion glared at him. “You know we can’t do that.”

Elkan inclined his head. “No, we can’t.” He paused, and his voice, when he went on, was slightly strained. “The penalty for the murders of a wizard and a familiar is death. But the Mother won’t allow us to use her power to carry out that sentence without absolute proof. We have that proof against Tharan. But not against Ambassador Gevan.”

A nervous murmur ran through the crowd. Gevan swallowed. He wasn’t surprised they planned to execute Tharan, but he’d never suspected they might threaten him with the same fate. Not that they’d dare. The Matriarch’s wrath would descend on Tevenar in fire and sword if they did her the grave insult of killing her ambassador.

Hanion must have been shaken, too, for he momentarily lost his poise. “I didn’t mean to suggest that the Ambassador be sentenced.” He leaned forward, and his voice recovered its confidence. “Only that he and his people be expelled from Tevenar.”

“That’s a matter for the Council of Guildmasters, not the Wizard’s Court. I respectfully request that this trial be confined to the question of Tharan’s innocence or guilt and the consequences of his actions.” Elkan sat down.

Hanion scowled at him. Gevan expected him to berate Elkan, or at least dismiss his suggestion. But apparently the foreigners’ odd customs granted the younger man the right to make the demand, for Hanion turned back to Tharan with a jerk. “Does anyone else have evidence to present?”

Gevan found the whole elaborate procedure ridiculous. Everyone present had seen Tharan commit the murders through the wizards’ windows. In Ramunna, he’d have been strung up within an hour of his crime with that kind of evidence, not coddled in prison for a week. But let the Tevenarans go through whatever dance they wanted, as long as it came to the same thing in the end.

No one spoke. Hanion looked at Elkan, his eyes narrowed, but the young wizard was silent. Hanion cleared his throat. “After review of the evidence, this court finds Tharan Menarre guilty of the murders of Guildmaster Dabiel Dyerkin Wizard and the Mother-touched familiar Buttons. The Law states that anyone who commits such a murder must have their life given over to the Mother. Does anyone object to that penalty being carried out?”