No one in the company criticized the way Kabos chose to treat his daughter, and he made no comment to any of them. In Ozor’s band each person was responsible for himself, and his conduct was his own private affair. But it had become obvious to Nirel how different Kabos was, and she wondered why.
Ozor scanned the women, frowning. “Where’s Shonika?”
“She stayed behind.” Nirel gulped as the full force of Ozor’s displeasure focused on her. “She didn’t like the clothes they gave us. She refused to put on anything except breeches.”
For a moment more he glowered at her. Then his eyes fell to the cloth enveloping her legs, and he snorted. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He turned away, and Nirel breathed a sigh of relief.
Gevan beckoned them to follow him through the doors. The banquet hall soared above them. Large windows filled with sparkling glass let in the last reddish light of sunset. Banks of flickering candles promised continued illumination as the evening progressed. A table stretched the full length of the vast room. The Matriarch sat in an elaborately carved and gilded chair at one end. Kabos followed Gevan to a seat a few places down from her, and Nirel took the chair beside him. In addition to the company, a number of richly dressed Ramunnans were ushered in and seated at the table, interspersed among Ozor’s folk. Nirel could tell Ozor didn’t like this arrangement, but when Gevan indicated what was obviously the place of honor at the Matriarch’s right hand, he took it without argument.
When everyone had settled into their places, the Matriarch spread her hands in welcome. “Greetings to our guests from Tevenar, who have journeyed far to join us this evening. All Ramunna marvels at the news you have brought us, of the truth of the legends of a distant land where wizards still dwell. We have much to discuss, but first, let us enjoy our repast.”
Gevan translated her words. As he finished, servers poured into the room from a door on one side bearing covered silver dishes. Nirel’s mouth watered at the delightful scent. A server placed a dish in front of her and whisked the cover off, revealing a fantastical concoction of vegetables cut to resemble a bouquet of flowers, drizzled with bright sauces and garnished with greenery. Nirel observed her Ramunnan neighbor out of the corner of her eye to see which of the many implements beside her plate to use. The dish tasted just as good as it looked, tart and sweet and spicy all at once.
Many courses followed, each more delicious than the last. By the end, Nirel was reduced to sampling a bite or two of each. But the final course of pastry and cream and fruit was so good she ate it all, even though her stomach pressed painfully against the tight constraints of the unfamiliar garments.
The Matriarch carried on a pleasant conversation with Ozor, sometimes including Tereid and Kabos and occasionally even Nirel. Gevan translated. She told them about Ramunna, its history and people and landscape. She listened to whatever they would tell her about Tevenar, although none of them volunteered much. Ozor talked a great deal about their life since fleeing Elathir. Nirel mostly listened. She paid careful attention to Gevan’s translations, working hard to increase her understanding of the Ramunnan language.
The servers poured golden wine into tall glass goblets. The Matriarch sipped hers and leaned toward Ozor. “Now, let us speak of more pressing matters. I trust you find everything satisfactory? I have held nothing back in the way of food or clothing or lodging. I have treated you in every way as my honored guests. You may remain in the palace and enjoy my hospitality for as long as you wish. All I ask in return is that you fulfill your promise and provide Captain Yosiv with the information which will allow him to travel to your homeland.”
Ozor gave her a wide, genial smile. “Indeed, your welcome has been all we could wish and more. I’ll be happy to draw a map and provide directions for Captain Yosiv. If you send for pen and paper, I’ll do it now. Of course, there are a few minor details I’d like to work out first, if I may.”
The Matriarch settled back in her chair and took another sip of wine. “Go ahead.”
Ozor tapped his fingers on the table. “Generous as your gift of clothing has been, I’m afraid one member of my company is unable to adapt to the style your people prefer. They’re quite different from what she is used to. Perhaps her old clothes could be returned to her, or some arrangement made for an alternative?”
“I will send a tailor to her quarters in the morning. She may request any style of clothing she likes.”
“Thank you. Also, although your hospitality has been flawless, we don’t wish to impose on you for an extended time. Perhaps a place might be found for us to settle? Ideally, we’d like a bit of land to farm, close to the sea so we can moor our ship. I realize that’s a great deal to ask. If it’s beyond what you wish to offer, we understand. But if you can’t give us our own home, we’ll need to return to the eastern islands. I’m sure you realize that it would be too risky for us to reveal the way to Tevenar if we do, since we’d no longer have your protection if the wizards were to learn of our whereabouts.”
The Matriarch’s eyes narrowed as she listened to Gevan’s translation. She took another sip from her glass and swished it around her mouth before swallowing. “I believe I can grant your request. Although it might take several weeks, even months, for such a place to be found. You’re welcome to remain in the palace until then, but Captain Yosiv cannot wait.”
Ozor inclined his head. “Your written guarantee will be sufficient. And since we don’t want to burden you with continued demands on your resources, a small stake to purchase seed and animals and other necessities would be most welcome. Perhaps—” He named a sum. It was high, but not so high the Matriarch would reject it. Nirel had translated long discussions between Ozor and Captain Yosiv to arrive at the figure.
The Matriarch’s eyes widened. She laughed. “You bargain like a Dualist. If you trade as cleverly with your goods as you do with your information, you’ll be an asset to my realm. Yes, I agree to your terms.” She beckoned to a server. He cleared the end of the table, while another brought a stack of snowy white sheets of paper, an inkwell and a pen. “Gevan, write down our bargain so that we both may sign it. Then you may draw your map, Lord Ozor.”
Nirel wanted to listen to them haggle over the exact wording of the document. She leaned closer, craning around Kabos. But there was something strange about her father’s manner. He sat straighter than usual, his jaw clenched so hard Nirel could see the muscles standing out in his temples. He stared at the Matriarch with an odd combination of hunger and fear.
What in the world? Nirel put her hand on his arm and whispered, “Father? Is something wrong?”
“Hush.” He wouldn’t look at her.
“But Father—”
“I said, hush!” Kabos hands were clenched into fists on the table in front of him.
Nirel flinched. She’d crossed some unknown line. When he used that tone, punishment followed.
Kabos closed his eyes for a moment. He peeled his fists open and flattened his fingers on the table. His voice was soft and strained. “I’ll explain later.”
Nirel stared at him. He’d never offered to explain anything to her before, certainly not when she’d made him angry. She wanted to question him further, but didn’t dare. She meekly nodded and folded her hands in her lap.
Kabos stared fixedly at Gevan’s pen as it scratched words on the paper. Ozor and the Matriarch argued over several points, but finally, when they each took the pen and signed it, the agreement was essentially what Ozor had asked for. Gevan sat back in his chair as Ozor took a new sheet of paper and began to sketch a detailed map of the archipelago south of Tevenar.
Kabos leaned forward and cleared his throat softly to get Gevan’s attention. “Pardon me. The Matriarch said something earlier. You translated it, but I didn’t understand. She told Ozor he bargained like a Dualist. To what was she referring?”
“What, you don’t have Dualists in Tevenar?” Gevan shook his head ruefully. “You’re very fortunate. The Matriarch suffers them because they’re great bargainers and traders. It’s said a Dualist could sell salt to a sailor and he’d swear he got the best of the deal. The taxes they pay are high enough to let her overlook their heretical beliefs.”
“Beliefs?” Kabos kept his voice neutral. Nirel wasn’t surprised Gevan didn’t notice anything unusual, but she knew her father. His question held far more than the casual curiosity he was trying to feign.
“I know very little about them. Supposedly, they deny the Mother is the sole creator and ruler of the universe. They claim the existence of another power, which they worship. I’ve heard they consider the Mother evil. Can you believe it?” Gevan’s eyes suddenly narrowed. He leaned forward. “You do follow the Mother in Tevenar, don’t you? The ancient wizards who fled there maintained their faith?”
Nirel heard the strain in Kabos’s voice, though Gevan seemed not to notice. “Indeed, the wizards revere her as the source of all their powers.”
“That was always the claim, wasn’t it? That the Mother granted her chosen people magical powers.” Gevan gave a skeptical snort. “The Dualists will work themselves into a tizzy if Yosiv brings a real wizard back. They celebrate the loss of the wizards’ powers as their deity’s greatest victory.” He tilted his head to one side. “I wonder if they played some part in it? That could explain how the knowledge was lost. Some sort of sabotage, destroying devices, obliterating records—if the keys to the powers were closely held secrets, that could account for what the chronicles describe. Evidence could easily have been lost in the chaos following the fall of the Marvannan Empire…”
Gevan stared into the distance, eyes unfocused. Nirel got the feeling he’d forgotten Kabos altogether. He trailed off into silence, but occasionally his lips moved, or his face twisted into an expression of frustration or sudden understanding. Nirel watched him, fascinated by the play of thoughts across his features. Kabos turned away, focusing on Ozor’s pen as he inscribed notations on the map.
After a few minutes, Gevan blinked. His eyes snapped back to Kabos. “I beg your pardon. I was momentarily lost in thought. Tell me, have you ever seen a wizard at work? Can you describe exactly what they do?”
Kabos put his glass down. He didn’t quite meet Gevan’s eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.” He pushed his chair back and rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I must tend to a private need.”
“Of course. One of the servants will show you the way.” Gevan frowned after Kabos as he stumbled away.
Nirel cleared her throat. “Excuse me, sir?”
Gevan turned to her, polite but distracted. “Yes?”
“I’ve seen a wizard use his powers. Would you like me to tell you about it?”
Suddenly she had Gevan’s full attention. “Yes, please. In as much detail as you can remember.”
Nirel thought back to that night. “When my baby sister was born, she had something wrong with her mouth. The wizard called it a cleft. Her top lip was messed up, and the roof of her mouth and her nose, too. ”
Gevan’s keen eyes studied her. “I’ve seen such.”
“Our farm was high in the mountains. A wizard came through a couple of times a year. Father never wanted anything to do with them, but Mother insisted he let her ask for help for Ilana.” Nirel bit her lip. She’d cowered in a corner the night Ilana was born, while Kabos bellowed at Sathea, accusing her of all sorts of foul things he must have known couldn’t possibly be true. But no reason could touch his rage. He was certain Ilana’s defect was a punishment inflicted on their family in retribution for some great wrongdoing. Nothing Sathea said could change his mind. He’d beaten her with a fury quite unlike his usual icy precision. Then he’d switched Nirel and Yarin, even though neither of them had disobeyed in any way. Nirel had burned with anger at the injustice, but there was nothing she could do but submit.
Something had changed that night. Kabos withdrew from the family, spending more and more time out in the fields or up in the mountains. When the wizard came, Kabos didn’t protest when Sathea asked him to heal Ilana, though he’d always refused to let the wizards interfere with his family’s private business in the past. It was as if he’d cut his wife and children out of his heart. The trial in Tathorlith that ended her parents’ marriage had only made official what was already true.
But none of that was any concern of Gevan’s. Nirel glanced away until she was sure no trace of her turbulent emotions showed in her face. She turned back to meet Gevan’s intent gaze. “The wizard’s name was Elkan. His familiar was a donkey. He brought the donkey into the house and sat by the hearth with Ilana in his lap. He put his hand over her, and light came out of it. Golden, like sunlight or candlelight.”
Gevan’s brows drew together. “A donkey? Did it do anything?”
“Not that I saw. The wizard put his hand on him at first, then sort of leaned against him after a while. Anyway, Ilana’s face started to change. It took a long time, about an hour, I think, but eventually it looked almost normal. I couldn’t see very well, because I was across the room taking care of my little brother.” And talking to Josiah. She didn’t want to think about him. “The wizard was very tired when he finished. The donkey, too. The light went away, and Ilana was better. You could still see a little scar on her lip, but she could nurse and everything just fine. I guess by now she’s probably talking; the wizard said she’d be able to.”
Would she ever see Ilana again? Probably not. Or Yarin, or Mother, either. She’d left them behind, far across the ocean. She hadn’t wanted to, but Mother had forced her to choose. She couldn’t abandon Father, not when he was in trouble because the wizard had seen him giving her the punishment she deserved. She understood him, even if no one else did. She loved him and wanted to be with him. If Mother had been able to understand that, she wouldn’t have had to run away.
Gevan looked at her sharply; she got the feeling he was finally seeing
her
, and not just a source of information about the wizards. “Your mother and siblings aren’t with you?”
“No. My mother and father—their bond was broken. I went with Father. Mother is still back in Tathorlith, I guess.”