Nirel glanced at Kabos as she finished translating Semanel’s words. He was staring at Semanel with an expression of mingled wonder and longing. When Semanel followed Nirel’s gaze and met his eyes, he cleared his throat and looked down. “My grandfather told me how the sacred scrolls should be honored, as they were in his youth, but I’ve never seen it done. It’s just as I always imagined.” Nirel was astonished to see his eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I understand, my son.” Semanel came to rest his hand on Kabos’s shoulder. “Do you remember what the next Ordinance is?”
“I think—it also concerns theft? Because all the Ordinances on a certain subject are grouped together…”
“That’s right.” Semanel turned to Nirel. “We’re in the midst of the group of Ordinances which concern how those of the Faithful should treat each other. It’s followed by the group which denotes how we must treat those outside our community. Other groups concern our duties to the Lord of Justice, the proper relationships between men and women, and the proper relationships between parents and children. And one whole group describes how we must keep ourselves pure when interacting with those followers of the Lady of Mercy who wield her power. A section I suspect will have far more relevance to you, and to all of us in the coming days, than it’s had for a thousand years.” Serene as Semanel’s voice remained, Nirel suspected he was more shaken by the night’s events than he was willing to let them see.
He turned back to the hanging scroll. “‘If one of your children, over the age of three years, but not yet of age to undergo the Trials, should take that which belongs to another, you must discipline him with the rod of justice, so that he will learn that this is abhorrent in the Lord’s eyes. If after his Trials he should continue to steal, cast him out from the Faithful, for he is a thief.’”
Kabos nodded as he listened to Nirel echo the words, staring at his clasped hands. “I’ve tried to follow the Ordinances, as far as my imperfect knowledge let me. I’ve always tried.”
Nirel’s heart burned with love for him. He’d been right all along, and Josiah and the wizard and the Council in Tathorlith had been wrong. The Lord of Justice required parents to discipline their children, just as Kabos had always done. They’d been wrong to try to stop him, and to try to take her away from him. She’d been right to defend him. His punishments had been necessary to teach her right from wrong until she was old enough to see the difference for herself. He wasn’t cruel and uncaring, the way they all thought. He loved her, and was willing to face their scorn in order to guide her in the true path.
“I know, my son.” Again Semanel laid his hand on Kabos’s shoulder. “I’m glad I’ll have the chance to guide you back into the Lord’s favor. Now come, you need to return to your place in the palace so you don’t fall under suspicion.” He pushed aside the curtain and led them back into the hallway. He opened a cabinet and rummaged inside, emerging with a small leather-bound book. He studied it, frowning, and turned to Nirel. “Perhaps I shouldn’t send this with you. You won’t be able to read it, and someone might discover it.”
“No, please,” Nirel said, reaching for the book. “I have a friend who can teach me to read your letters, and I’ll teach my father. I don’t want to have to wait until we come back to learn more. We’ll be sure to hide it well.”
“All right,” Semanel said, surrendering it to her. “It’s a privilege to have such an eager student.” He beamed at her before turning to Kabos. “I’ll keep your coming private, except for the other Elders. Once you’ve completed your restoration we’ll introduce you to the rest of the community.”
Kabos nodded. “Of course.”
Semanel ushered them to the door. “Come again as soon as you’re settled in your new home. Until then, may you walk in the path of Justice.”
“Until then,” Kabos said, and Nirel echoed. They nodded to him. He nodded back and shut the door behind them. The sound of locks sliding into place echoed in the still night.
Nirel tucked the little book into the purse on her belt, where it just fit. She’d keep it with her until they left the palace. Kevessa would be eager to teach her to read Ramunnan as soon as she asked.
Could she trust her friend with the secret of what she’d learned this night? Kevessa might understand. Or she might be just as horrified as any other Ramunnan. Better not to say anything, at least for now.
Nirel untied her horse and swung awkwardly onto his back. She followed Kabos as he guided his steed through the dark streets. She didn’t remember how to get back to the gate, but she trusted him to find the way.
He was silent until they were within sight of the gate, where the same guard kept watch. Then he reined in his horse. She pulled hers to a halt beside his.
He looked at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I hope… I hope I’ve done right, bringing you here.”
“Of course you have, Father,” Nirel asserted stoutly.
He shook his head. “Maybe my sins are too great. Maybe I’ve angered the Lord of Justice by seeking to regain favor I don’t deserve.”
“Elder Semanel didn’t think so. He knows better than we do.”
“I hope you’re right.” He was silent for another moment. When he spoke, it was almost too soft for Nirel to hear. “As long as he doesn’t strike down another of my children for my wrongs.”
He wheeled his horse and headed for the gate. Nirel sat frozen for a moment before she urged her horse to follow.
Was Kabos right, and Ilana’s deformity a punishment meted out by the Lord of Justice because he’d fallen away from the Faith? Why would the embodiment of perfect justice harm an innocent child for something her father had done? How could a Faith that sang to her soul with its beauty also chill her bones with its harshness?
But Ilana was fine. The wizards’ power had healed her.
The same power the Faithful considered irredeemably corrupt…
Nirel shook her head. She put her hand on her purse, feeling the hard shape of the book within. Maybe it would contain answers to her questions. Or maybe Elder Semanel could explain it to her in a fashion she could understand. Until then, she’d just have to trust that the path her heart was leading her down was the right one.
Fifteen
T
he window over Master Dabiel’s hand cleared until only a thin rim of gold twinkled around the edge of the circle. Josiah leaned forward so he could see better. The image within was dark, nearly washed out by the slanting beams of sunlight pouring through the courtroom’s high windows. But he could make out a circle of figures seated on the ground, touched by silver moonlight. The view shifted to show each face in turn. Braon, Seriti, Kalti—and there he was, walking toward the others. He’d seen his own face through windows before, but it was always a disorienting experience. Was he really so gangly-looking, with such an awkward gait, and did his knees and elbows always stick out at such funny angles? Did the curly mop of his hair always fall in such a messy tangle over his eyes?
The window shifted to focus on Mathir. His image glanced over his shoulder and nodded as the image of Josiah joined the circle of apprentices. “Good. I think you’re the last one coming. We were just talking about the patients who’re going to be in trouble by the time we get back. We’ve all got one or two. How about you?”
Mathir looked and sounded just as Josiah remembered. He’d thought his own voice had begun to sound deeper and more mature recently, but it came from the window as high and squeaky as a child’s. “Yeah. A boy with diabetes. Braon, you and Master Todira work with him, too, don’t you? Azien?”
Josiah looked over to where the real Mathir sat, on the far side of the arc of chairs. Within the window Braon answered. Mathir slumped in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes intent on the window belied his indifferent posture.
Beside Josiah, Elkan stared into the window, his expression carefully blank. Josiah swallowed. He couldn’t quite remember the exact words he’d said that night, but he knew that the only time he’d mentioned Master Jomin’s desperation about Azien to Mathir had been during this conversation. What if he had given Mathir the idea to ask for bribes? Maybe what he’d said could be misinterpreted that way, even though he’d never intended it. Maybe instead of proving his innocence, this precise record of the past would condemn him.
His image in the window spoke. “He’s not going to make it without us. His parents were terrified. His father was so desperate he tried to offer us money to get us to help him, but Elkan wouldn’t even listen.”
The image froze for an instant while Master Dabiel glanced around the arc of participants in the trial and at the witnesses seated in the chairs facing them. As many members of the Council of Guildmasters as could be assembled on such short notice were present observing. Her gaze came to rest on Sar, who stood next to Josiah’s chair. The donkey gave a little bob of his head. Master Dabiel’s hand on Buttons’ broad forehead twitched, and the window sprang into life again.
It swept in to a close view of Mathir’s face. Josiah saw Mathir’s teeth flash white in the moonlight as they caught at his lower lip. He studied his friend’s expression. Troubled, certainly, perhaps a hint of secrets veiled behind his dark eyes. But no spark of inspiration, no flash of excitement. Mathir’s voice was neutral, almost flat. Was there a note of studied casualness there? “Any others?”
Josiah sat back as the rest of the conversation played out. He was willing to swear, from what he’d seen, that Mathir had already planned to ask for bribes before he’d spoken. His words had only given Mathir confirmation that his plan would work. But even if he was wrong, surely no one could claim that what he had said was in any way out of line. He’d only reported the truth of what he’d observed.
He watched Sar as the window showed him and the other apprentices arguing about whether their familiars would cooperate with their plans. As he recalled, nothing else was said about bribes, only about what was or was not within the Mother’s will. Wizards were free to differ on that. Even an apprentice could go against the Guildmaster’s orders if their familiar allowed them to. The familiars were considered to be the final arbiters of what the Mother’s Law did and did not allow. That’s why he’d thought he was on safe ground once Sar came around. Elkan might be furious at him, but with this evidence that he’d neither asked for nor accepted bribes, his master couldn’t consider him guilty of breaking the Law.
Buttons let the window collapse, and Master Dabiel took her hand off his head. She turned to Mathir. “Is there any other time and place we could observe to substantiate your claim that Josiah conspired with you to extort bribes?”
Mathir shrugged and slid lower in his chair.
Master Dabiel regarded him with shadowed eyes for a moment, then turned to Elkan. “Is there anything else you’d like to say in Josiah’s defense?”
“Tobi and I have scanned through the entire time from the meeting in your office, when Josiah first learned of the wheat blight, to our departure from Elathir. We found no other instances where he spoke with Mathir, or with any of the patients in question. Nor did we see him receive any money.” At his feet, Tobi flicked her ears in assent.
“Very well. Does anyone else have anything to add?”
No one spoke. “Josiah, would you like to say anything?”
He gulped and looked at all the eyes staring at him. “I… You saw what happened.” He ducked his head.
She nodded. “All the evidence has been presented. Sar, as Josiah’s familiar, you have sole discretion in this matter. What is your judgment? Should Josiah remain a member of the Wizards’ Guild?
Sar’s hooves clopped on the wooden floor as he swung around to face Josiah. One dark eye studied Josiah, just as it had in the moment before Sar first acted to form their bond. Josiah stared back.
I only wanted to serve the Mother, Sar. And help people.
I know.
Sar sighed and laid his head in Josiah’s lap.
Foolish as you can be, your heart remains true. You did not attempt to abuse your position. I have no reason to withhold the Mother’s power from you any longer.
Josiah fondled Sar’s ears with a trembling hand. It felt good to have the donkey’s voice back in his mind after the long days of silence.
Thank you.
Don’t give me any reason to in the future.
I’ll do my best.
He would. He didn’t know if that would be good enough, considering how things always seemed to work out, but he would try.
A small burst of golden light flashed around the place where Josiah’s fingers rested against Sar’s head. A quiet exhalation breathed from those watching, and the tension in the room eased a notch.
Master Dabiel smiled, though only about half of the lines on her forehead vanished. “Let the record reflect that Josiah Potterkin Wizard has been cleared of all charges of misconduct, and is hereby restored to good standing as an apprentice in the Wizards’ Guild.
Josiah sank back in his chair, shaking. He’d tried to keep faith that this would be the outcome, but it was a great relief to have it settled for good.
Elkan laid a hand briefly on his arm. Josiah flashed him a broad grin. Elkan answered with a smile, small and grave, but still pleased.
Josiah’s stomach lurched as Master Dabiel went on. “Now we will turn our attention to the charges against Mathir Herderkin Wizard. Allegations have been raised that Mathir accepted private payments in exchange for providing access to the Mother’s power, above and beyond the customary remuneration paid by the various guilds to the Wizards’ Guild to cover our services to their members. This is strictly forbidden by the Mother’s Law. In addition, he has been accused of attempting to compel a patient to perform favors of a personal nature in order to receive healing, which is also profoundly against the Law. We will proceed to observe the incidents in question.”
Mathir stared at the floor. Several of the patients sat in the arc of chairs. Master Jomin was there, his face hard and closed. Rolie, also. She had covered the pale patch on her cheek with some sort of cosmetic that blended imperfectly with the shade of her skin.