Her questioner inclined his head. Again, he gave no sign whether he thought Nirel’s answer good or bad, but she took heart that he required no further analysis or explanation.
More questions followed, as steadily as before. But these were deeper, requiring her not just to quote the Ordinances, but to analyze their meaning and apply them to hypothetical situations. Many concerned situations in which one Ordinance seemed to conflict with another. Nirel answered each to the best of her ability, according to the rules of precedence Elder Semanel had laid out for her.
Her voice droned in her ears. Her saliva grew thick and sticky on her tongue, but she couldn’t ask for water, or even for a moment of rest. She felt as if this interrogation would continue forever. Maybe they wouldn’t stop until she broke down crying, begging for mercy, and proved herself unworthy.
The Elder in the center of the arc, directly in front of her, spoke. “A girl of the Faithful, older than three years but not yet of an age to stand her Trials, is ordered by her father to steal a loaf of bread from a man who is not of the Faith. What should she do?”
Nirel caught her breath. Her eyes twitched sideways to Elder Semanel. Had he told the other Elders about her history? But his face remained serene. She swallowed. She couldn’t let her personal feelings change what she said, for the correct answer was clearly prescribed in what Semanel had taught her. “She must obey her father, for his word is to her as the word of the Lord of Justice. The fault for the theft falls solely upon her father. He must confess to it and do proper penance, lest the Lord of Justice punish him. The girl is blameless, and owes no penance, because the Ordinance which commands her to obey her father ranks higher than the Ordinance which forbids theft from one not of the Faith.”
“Does the answer change if the theft is from one of the Faithful?”
“No, that ordinance also ranks lower.”
“Give an example of an Ordinance which ranks higher, such that the girl must disobey her father’s command to violate it.”
Nirel took a deep breath. “The only Ordinance of higher rank is that which forbids the Faithful to be touched by the power of the Lady of Mercy. If her father were to order her to submit to a wizard’s healing, she must refuse.”
The Elder regarded her, his gaze inscrutable. “How does the answer change if she has stood and passed her Trials?”
“Then one other Ordinance takes precedence. She must obey the commands of an Elder, even if he orders her to disobey her father.”
“And if she marries?”
“Her duty to obey her husband supersedes that of obedience to her father, but falls below that of obedience to the Elders.”
“And if a woman who has stood and passed her Trials is commanded by an Elder to violate one of the lesser ordinances, for example to lie, or steal, or even to commit a murder, what must she do?”
Nirel stared at him. Nothing in Semanel’s instruction had suggested that an Elder would ever consider giving such a command. But there could only be one answer to the question as presented, for the order of precedence between the various Ordinances was clearly defined. “She must obey. The fault for the violation of the Ordinance would fall upon the Elder, and he must answer to the Lord of Justice for it. She would remain blameless.”
“And what would you do, Nirel, daughter of Kabos, if I were to order you to violate an Ordinance? If, for instance, I were to instruct you to kill the Matriarch? Would you obey?” The Elder met her shocked eyes with a cool, challenging gaze.
Nirel felt dizzy. It was the same question, but when put in such immediate and personal terms it seemed so different. She could not honestly give the same answer. She opened her mouth, took a breath, then stopped and let it out again. The silence stretched long.
Suddenly she realized the flaw in his reasoning, and blurted it out without stopping to think. “I… I would go to the other Elders. For a man who would command such a thing would have broken the first requirement to be an Elder, as given in the third Ordinance of the second month, which says ‘To be considered for the position of Elder a man must adhere without fail to all the Ordinances, being found free of fault at his yearly examination for no less than five years prior to his appointment, and continue in obedience all the days of his service.’ To command a follower to break an Ordinance would bring the blame upon himself, and so he would no longer be eligible to serve as an Elder. And if I were to follow the command of one who was not an Elder to break an Ordinance, the blame would fall on me.”
Nirel was certain she’d destroyed any chance she had of passing her Trials with that answer. Surely the Elders would consider it willful and impertinent, in direct violation of all Semanel had taught her. But she couldn’t say she would assassinate the Matriarch at the Elder’s command! Even though the question was obviously a hypothetical one, designed to strain the limits of her understanding and confuse her rational understanding with emotion.
The Elder’s eyes narrowed. He tilted his head and considered Nirel. She quailed beneath his gaze but didn’t lower her eyes.
Slowly the Elder’s lips twisted. Nirel didn’t think it was quite a smile, but it wasn’t disapproving. “Clever, Nirel. You’re right, inasmuch as your instruction so far has equipped you to understand. But what you don’t know is that there are other Ordinances which Elders must follow. Ordinances which place the welfare of the Faithful as a whole above even the highest of the common Ordinances. Considering that, suppose that when you went to the other Elders, all agreed that what I asked you to do was necessary for the good of the Faithful and in accord with these higher Ordinances, so that my position of authority as Elder remained unchallenged.”
He paused, looking at her. Nirel’s throat was dry. She knew she should affirm that she would obey. It was the only acceptable answer. But she knew herself, and she knew that in the circumstances he’d described, she wouldn’t. Blind obedience wasn’t in her nature, no matter what the authority. The Trial of her spirit had revealed the truth. She wasn’t worthy to be accepted among the Faithful.
She took a deep breath, searching for the right words to say as much. But before she could open her mouth, the Elder leaned forward a fraction, his voice softening. “Suppose also that, although I have no obligation to explain the reasoning behind my orders, I nevertheless shared sufficient information with you to convince you that what I required was indeed vital to the future of the Faithful. That if you were not to carry out this action, your people would be doomed to destruction, and the Lord of Justice would no longer be honored by any in the world he created. Suppose you truly believed that. Then would you obey?”
Nirel stared at him. Why was he doing this? To agree now, after her silence before, would be to admit that she would act not from obedience, but from her own judgement of right and wrong. It must be a trick, designed to expose the truth.
Very well. She’d already decided she wouldn’t lie. Better for them to reject her now, than for them to trust her and for her to fail them in the end. “Yes, Elder. Then I would obey.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes boring into hers. “I believe you would.”
He climbed to his feet, only a little stiffly, though his face was lined with wrinkles and the hair peeking from under his hood was white. “Rise, Nirel, daughter of Kabos.”
Nirel stood, her legs shaky after kneeling for so long. Around her, the others rose as well. The Elder stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “I, Elder Davon, leader of Ramunna’s Faithful, judge that you have successfully completed the Trials of body, mind and spirit. In the name of the Lord of Justice, I welcome you to the fellowship of the Faithful.”
He dropped his hands and stepped back. One by one the other Elders came forward and repeated his gesture, murmuring words of welcome. Nirel stood dazed, able only to nod in response.
Last of them, Elder Semanel put his hands on her shoulders for a quick moment before pulling her into an embrace. “You were magnificent,” he murmured in her ear. “Seldom have I seen a candidate perform so well. I think I caught one slight error in wording in your recitation of one of the Ordinances. And your analysis of Elder Tenan’s question failed to take into account a few subtleties that I don’t think we ever got to. Other than that, you were flawless. I’m so proud of you, my dear.”
Nirel pulled away, her heart warmed by his praise, but more confused than ever. “But I—Elder Davon’s question…”
He smiled wryly at her. “You told the truth. You didn’t give the easy and false answer, though you feared it might cost you everything. You’d already passed at that point; nothing you might have said would have changed that. Davon always uses the last question to push a successful candidate to the limit at their weakest point, so he can know what he has to work with. And you showed him you will be valuable indeed in our work.” A shadow flickered across his features. “He’ll use you, child. We’ve held many discussions about what you and your father can do for us. I told them you’d prove fit for even the most audacious of his ideas. I don’t think any of them believed me. But you’ve proven yourself now, and I know he won’t hesitate to go ahead with his plans. I just hope…”
He shook himself. “Come. There’s food in the outer room for you to break your fast. Afterwards Elder Davon will give you your first assignment.”
Nirel grinned at him. Now that the shock had worn off, joy swelled in her heart. She’d passed her Trials. She was a full member of the Faithful. Elder Davon was pleased with her and would trust her with tasks to further the welfare of their people. And the thought of food was wonderful. She laughed. “As long as he doesn’t actually want me to kill the Matriarch, I’m eager to do whatever he asks.”
Semanel didn’t laugh in return, just looked at her steadily. “I don’t think that’s what he has in mind.”
The way he looked at her made Nirel feel uncomfortable. She turned away. Across the room, Elder Davon was gazing at her with an intent, speculative expression.
A little desperate, Nirel whirled on Kabos. “Father, did you hear? Elder Semanel says there’s food for us. I’m so hungry. I know you must be, too. He fasted with me, even though he didn’t have to,” she told Semanel.
He smiled at Kabos. “Your love for each other is an inspiration to me.”
Kabos ducked his head, not meeting either Semanel’s eyes or Nirel’s. “I do what I can.” After a moment’s hesitation, he mumbled, “I never doubted you would pass, Nirel.” His voice was rough. “You are truly Faithful.”
Nirel looked down. The welts on her back were long healed, but she felt them burning. “Thank you, Father.” She forced her voice into cheerful brightness. “Let’s go eat.” She headed for the flap in the draperies where the Elders were exiting, not looking to see if he followed her.
Twenty-One
J
osiah set his plate on the table he usually shared with his friends and snuck a look at the high table. Gevan was there with the rest of the foreigners. Elkan and several other masters sat with them. Master Dabiel’s seat was empty, as it had been since she’d gone into seclusion to seek an audience with the Mother two days ago. The only other empty seat was the one next to Gevan where Kevessa usually sat.
Josiah sat down and dug into his meal. It was as sparse as ever, but now that seemed a sensible management of the available resources, not a desperate, futile stopgap. Before their carefully hoarded stores ran out, ships full of Ramunna’s bounty would put into the docks and all of Elathir would feast. As soon as Master Dabiel returned with news that the Mother had agreed to rescind the Law of Isolation, Gevan’s ship would set out, carrying a wizard whose services the Matriarch would richly reward.
And carrying Kevessa back to her home. Josiah was glad a way had been found to relieve the dreaded famine, but he was in no hurry to see the ship depart.
Braon came to sit with him, Seriti, and a few of the others, but Kalti was still absent. Josiah fumed inside, even though he tried to keep up his usual cheerful banter with his friends. Of all the wizards in Elathir, why had Master Dabiel assigned Master Hadara and Kalti as Kevessa’s hosts? Seriti or any of the other female apprentices would have been willing to introduce him to her. But Kalti hadn’t even given him a chance to ask. She’d been all over Elathir with Kevessa the day before yesterday, and yesterday had escorted her around the Mother’s Hall, showing her every aspect of the wizards’ work. If Josiah ever got a chance to speak with her, there’d be nothing left for him to show her that she wasn’t already bored with.
He’d chosen his seat so he could watch Kevessa’s place without having to turn his head. Why wasn’t she here yet? Maybe Kalti had managed to get her lost, or in some sort of trouble. For all Kevessa’s poise, she was still a stranger here.
He was trying to figure out how to ask Braon and Seriti if they’d seen Kalti without being too obvious when a quiet voice spoke in his ear. “Would you mind if I sit here today?”
He jerked around to see Kevessa holding a plate and nodding at the empty seat beside him. Next to her, Kalti scowled, but there was nothing she could do. His suddenly racing heart barely let him draw enough breath to speak. “Um, uh, sure. If you want to. That would be fine.”
He cursed his inarticulateness as Kevessa seated herself. There was barely room for her big awkward skirt under the table, but she tucked it underneath with a practiced motion. The stiff fabric pressed against Josiah’s legs.
Kalti went around the table, making introductions. “And this is Josiah Potterkin… Wizard. There’s an interesting story about how he came to the guild. He wasn’t supposed to be a wizard at all. He was an apprentice fuller, but he got in trouble and ended up as Elkan’s assistant. It was going to be temporary, but then there was an emergency and he had to bond with Sar.” Kalti gave him a bright smile that did nothing to conceal her malice. Josiah glowered at her. “The donkey over there, next to Amia.”
Kevessa gave no sign of noticing the barbed undercurrent of Kalti’s words. She smiled at Josiah. “It is possible, then, to become a wizard even if one is not named by the Mother at the age of thirteen, as Kalti tells me is the usual procedure?”