Finally stuffed as full as he could bear, Josiah sat beside Mathir while Master Hanion and Elkan bent together over their lists and maps. He might just possibly feel human again in the morning, after a long, deep sleep. Maybe the farmers would put them up in their houses. Although he didn’t really care if they had to curl up right here on the ground, as long as he didn’t have to move very much.
Mathir groaned. “And I thought a busy day of healing at the Hall was bad. Nobody told me it was going to be like this, back when they brought the message that the Mother had named me.”
Josiah sighed in commiseration. “Maybe agreeing to be bonded wasn’t such a great idea, after all. I did see Elkan this worn out once before, though.”
“I guess after the flood last spring Master Hanion was nearly this far gone.” Mathir studied his master. The older man was as weary looking as the rest of them, but showed more signs of recovery than Josiah felt. “That was kind of late to change my mind, though.” He reached out to caress Nina, who was devouring the last of her pile of nuts.
“Yeah.” Josiah’s choice had been made even more quickly, in circumstances that left him very little alternative. But he couldn’t really regret it, no matter how bad he felt right now. They’d accomplished a lot in their long day’s work.
Something occurred him. He’d almost forgotten the arrangements that had been made last night. “Hey, Mathir, you know those people we talked about? Where do you think they are?”
Mathir moaned. “Oh, dear Mother. That’s right. I told them not to come near until after dark.” He rubbed hard at his temples. “You’ve got to get Sar to help us. I’ll never be able to do it alone.”
Josiah glanced over at the donkey. “I’ll try.” He assessed the energy that had slowly accumulated during the meal. “We can manage. It’s not that many of them. I don’t see why Elkan wouldn’t consider—” He broke off as his master and Mathir’s rose and approached them.
“All right, boys. Let’s clean up a bit here before we get going.” Master Hanion gestured to the discarded plates and utensils scattered on the ground.
Josiah groaned as he scrambled to his feet and started to gather up the items. “Are we going to be spending the night in one of the farmhouses, then?” He thought longingly of a soft straw or feather mattress. Even a pallet on the floor like he’d shared with Elkan many times on their journey would be welcome.
Elkan gave him a crooked little smile. “No, we’ll be camping. But we’ve got one more field to go before we do.”
Josiah nearly dropped the plate he’d just picked up. He stared at Elkan. “No. No, no, no, no, no. You can’t be serious.”
Elkan tapped the map he held. “It’s a small one, less than an hour’s ride away. We can get started before sunset, and it shouldn’t take us more than a couple hours. Actually, Master Dabiel hoped we’d be able to get to one more beyond that, but there’s no way. We’ll just have to catch it in the morning and hope it doesn’t push us too far behind schedule.”
Mathir rounded on Master Hanion. “But master, every one of us is worn out! You can’t expect us to—”
“You have plenty of energy to shout at me,” he said. He gave his apprentice a stern glare. “The food and rest have restored us enough for another effort before we stop for the night.”
Elkan gestured toward the horses. “Finish up and get mounted. We’ll be leaving as soon as we can get everyone moving.” He gave Josiah a firm pat on the shoulder and Sar a quick fondle of his ears before he moved on to the cluster of journeymen and their familiars a few feet away. “Daza, Idina, Avion, let’s head out.”
They were no more eager than Josiah and Mathir, but eventually all the wizards struggled onto their horses. Tobi was the only one who seemed unaffected by their day of toil. She bounded along beside Elkan’s mount, as bright-eyed and springy-legged as ever, as if her brief nap had fully restored her. The other familiars showed the same weariness as their partners. Even Nina wasn’t chattering. She curled in a ball in Mathir’s arms, her nose tucked into her belly and her fuzzy tail wrapped around until she seemed no more than a ball of fluff.
The sun balanced on the horizon, a huge flattened red ball Josiah could look at without blinking, when they arrived at the last field. “Small” was an overly hopeful description, Josiah saw, for though it wasn’t as big as the others they’d dealt with, it still covered many acres. No farmers met them here, nor was there any farmhouse in evidence, but the herders led the horses to a band of trees lining a winding stream. They began to unload tents from the pack animals and set them up. At least the wizards wouldn’t have to make their own camp, as Josiah had often helped Elkan do after a long day of travel.
He would have been happy to haul water or gather firewood rather than face more endless lines of blighted wheat. The sight of black speckles and yellowed foliage gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Before long it grew too dark to see them anymore, but the sickness was still evident through the Mother’s sight, grating against his heart with its wrongness. The relief of sweeping it into health was all too quickly replaced by more blight, and more, over and over again.
The first row and a half wasn’t too bad, but after that Josiah became as miserable as he’d been during the worst of the afternoon. His muscles screamed, and his mouth grew so dry even frequent drinks from his water skin didn’t help. His eyelids scraped across his eyes with every blink. At length he struggled to find the strength to draw his next breath. His heart thudded in his ears until he thought how much easier it would be if it didn’t have to keep fighting to push blood through his body. And still Sar drove him on, another step, another plant, another row.
By the end he was clinging to Sar’s neck, whether to keep from falling or to keep the donkey from falling, he wasn’t sure. Each stalk of wheat became a mountain to scale, inch by weary inch up a nearly vertical slope. He felt only a tiny quiver of relief as the last plant slowly, slowly crept back to life, for they still had to cross an endless expanse of at least a dozen feet to reach the tents.
Elkan huddled on a short length of log, arms around Tobi. She pressed tight against him and trembled. He pointed each of the wizards to a tent as they straggled in. Josiah stopped and stared at him for several minutes before he could formulate a coherent sentence. “You should go to bed, too. One of the herders…” He couldn’t remember the rest, but it didn’t matter, for Elkan was shaking his head.
“I’ll come as soon as everyone’s in. We’re over there.” He waved a shaking hand to the farthest tent.
Smash Elkan’s blighted sense of responsibility. Josiah wasn’t going to wait. His master could put everyone else before himself if he wanted, but he could at least have thought of Josiah before assigning himself and his apprentice the worst spot. The extra few steps stretched like miles before Josiah could finally let go of Sar’s neck, slide to the ground, and crawl through the tent flap to the blessed pallet of blankets waiting for him.
He woke, stiff and cold, before dawn. Elkan slept beside him, blankets piled high. But as sore and battered as Josiah felt, he wasn’t sleepy anymore. He was thirsty and wildly hungry, and he urgently needed to visit the latrine trench the herders had helpfully dug well downstream from the camp. He crawled out of the tent and headed to the little stream.
The cold water on his face and in his mouth felt wonderful, and the relief after his visit to the trench even more so. The smell of frying sausages almost completed his restoration to a sense of well-being. Only the anticipation of another long day of work as exhausting as the one before dampened his spirits.
“Josiah!” Mathir’s voice was frantic. “Over here!”
Josiah followed the sound deeper into the trees along the stream until he spotted his friend. Mathir grabbed his arm and dragged him further along. “They came, Josiah. All of them. You’ve got to get Sar to help. I can’t take care of them all, not and face another day like yesterday.”
“Where’s Nina?”
“Back at the tent. She doesn’t know yet.”
“Good.” Josiah fretted. How could they get their familiars’ cooperation without getting in trouble for their role in bringing these people here?
They emerged into a clearing. A cluster of people huddled around a tiny fire. Josiah saw Azien and his parents, as well as a number of other frail, or sickly, or otherwise desperate people. They looked at Josiah and Mathir with frightened, pleading eyes.
Master Jomin spoke for all of them. “Wizard Josiah, please, we’ve come all this way, just as your friend told us to. He promised you would take care of us. Azien needs his treatment.”
Azien squirmed out of Master Ilcha’s arms and ran to Josiah. He put up his arms and Josiah obediently hoisted him overhead and swung him down. It had only been a day since his last attention from a wizard; he was still his usual rambunctious self. But Josiah remembered the fretfulness and lethargy he’d watched overtake Bethiav, not knowing what it meant. He could picture all too clearly the same malaise creeping over Azien.
He took a deep breath. “All right. We’re going to get our familiars. Whatever you do, you can’t let them find out Mathir told you to come. Say you followed us on your own.”
“We understand, wizard. We won’t say a word.” Master Ilcha reached to embrace Azien when he ran back to her. The others murmured agreement.
Josiah headed back toward camp, his mind racing. Mathir hurried alongside. “I made them promise not to tell when I talked to them. You don’t think they’ll let anything slip, do you? If Master Hanion finds out, I’m going to be in so much trouble—”
“Hush.” Josiah tried to put his thoughts in order. “Look. Take Nina out and show her. Say you ran into them when you went to the latrine. If you can convince her first, maybe Sar will go along. I’ll bring him right after.”
“All right.” Mathir cast a nervous look back when they got to the edge of camp, but squared his shoulders and headed for his tent. Josiah hung back in the trees until he saw Mathir emerge from the tent with Nina perched on his shoulder. She chattered at him, and his face had the intent, animated look that showed he was communicating with her. Josiah was pleased to see he kept his mouth firmly shut. It was easy to forget and speak out loud. Most of the time it didn’t matter, but when secrecy was important, it was good to be able to keep the conversation silent.
Josiah waited until they ducked into the trees a couple dozen yards away. Then he worked his way along the edge of the woods until he was across from his tent. Sar drowsed in the space between the tent and the trees.
Josiah devoutly hoped he wasn’t about to make a very big mistake.
Sar! Wake up, Sar!
The donkey’s head jerked up.
What?
Be quiet! I’ve got to show you something. Come with me.
Sar put his ears back.
Is someone in danger? You should wake Elkan and Tobi.
No! Please, just come with me. I’ll explain.
Josiah swallowed. He should have known Sar wouldn’t want to cooperate. He made a calculated gamble.
It’s complicated. I need your help to decide what to do. If after you see what’s going on you think we should tell the others, we will.
Sar’s gaze was still deeply skeptical, but he came to Josiah and followed him into the trees.
What have you done? This is no time for one of your schemes or pranks. We need every scrap of energy for our work.
I know. You’ll see. I swear, I didn’t do anything.
Josiah kept his thoughts as guileless and earnest as possible. It was possible to lie to your familiar, but it wasn’t easy to keep the truth from seeping around the edges of your thoughts. Half-truths were safest. He concentrated hard on the fact that he, personally, had not asked the people to come.
Sar put one ear back. He followed at Josiah’s heels with an attitude of resignation. Josiah led him past the latrine trench to the clearing where the patients waited.
Mathir was there already. Nina perched on a branch at the level of his face, gazing deep into his eyes. Josiah ignored them for the moment, gesturing at Azien where he sat in his mother’s lap and waved eagerly at the donkey.
They followed us. Master Jomin grabbed Mathir on the way back from the latrine and begged him to help Azien. They must have snuck along behind us yesterday. They’re desperate, Sar. I know we’re supposed to use our energy on the wheat, but it doesn’t have to be a choice, does it? We can do both. I’ll eat extra, and sleep while we ride. It will barely make any difference to my energy at all.
Sar just looked at him, letting him go on and on without answering, all the time gazing into his eyes with that knowing expression.
Josiah’s heart fell. This wasn’t going well. But he kept on, the tone of his thoughts getting more and more agitated.
We don’t have to do as much as we usually do. Just a tiny bit, the least we can get away with to tide them over. They need us, Sar. That’s what being a wizard is all about, isn’t it? Helping the ones who need us?
He looked at Azien. The boy broke free from his mother and ran to Josiah. He stood there trustingly, expecting Josiah to put his hand on Sar and wash him with golden light like usual. He didn’t understand that he’d die without it. He just knew the Mother’s power felt good, and when he was tired, or grumpy, or sick, it made him feel better. Josiah knelt and hugged Azien. It didn’t take much to summon tears to his eyes. He thought of Bethiav limp in her mother’s arms, dying. If Josiah had followed his heart and done what he’d known he should, she would have lived.
He looked up at Sar through wet lashes.
Please, Sar. You can take whatever you need from me. Even if it hurts me.
He’d intended to make this offer only as a final cap to his argument, to bend Sar to his will. His familiar would never agree to harm him unless many more lives than this were at stake. But he found he meant it. He blinked to send the tears rolling down his cheeks and poured all the intensity of his desire across their bond into Sar’s mind.
No.
Please, Sar—
Josiah broke off. Joyful cries rang across the clearing. He turned to see Mathir with his hand extended, light washing over a frail elderly woman.
Look, Nina agreed. She knows it’s the Mother’s will to help these people.