Elkan put his mouth close to Josiah’s ear and breathed a barely audible whisper. “It would be best if they don’t realize we’re here. If you and Sar can freeze these five, Tobi and I can deal with the ones inside.”
Josiah nodded, not trusting his voice to stay quiet enough. He studied the five watchers, estimating the distance. He thought they were within range of his and Sar’s ability to wield the Mother’s power, but they were far enough that it would be a strain. And they’d have to slow all five to a stop simultaneously, their whole bodies and all their perceptions, if they wanted their interference to pass unnoticed. He gulped. Elkan was trusting him with a very difficult task. He hoped his master hadn’t overestimated his abilities.
Elkan nodded and put a hand on Josiah’s shoulder. Then he stepped back to allow Sar to crowd close to Josiah’s side. Josiah took a deep breath and planted his hand firmly on Sar’s back.
I’m ready.
He extended the other hand toward the watchers as far as he could reach. Every inch closer would reduce the energy they had to expend.
Hold steady.
Sar sent a massive surge of power rushing through his body and out his fingertips.
A filament of golden light, no thicker than a sewing thread, shot toward the watchers. It split into five branches. Between one breath and the next, a glowing cocoon encased each red-cloaked figure. Their faces remained unchanged, alert but unalarmed. All their little movements—shifting from foot to foot, adjusting a grip on a weapon, turning a head to murmur a remark to a companion—were stilled.
Josiah’s pulse roared in his ears. He sucked in deep breaths, feeling as if he could barely keep from drowning. He was dimly aware of Elkan’s hand on his back, guiding him forward. Sar took a step, and he stumbled along with him, fighting to keep his hand plastered to the donkey.
Their first step eased the pressure so much he had to keep himself from darting ahead, heedless of the connection with his familiar. Instead, he matched Sar’s trot across the road. They stopped immediately in front of the five watchers, Josiah’s hand inches from one’s nose. From here the effort of keeping them frozen felt easy, although Josiah was aware he was working far harder than during any but the most arduous healing.
“Hold them there. We’ll be as quick as we can.” Elkan detached a ring of keys from one watcher’s belt, unlocked the door, and slipped inside, Tobi at his heels.
Josiah’s heart pounded and his muscles ached. Sar’s ribs heaved under his hand. Their energy reserves were low; they’d both put in a full day of healing and had gotten only a couple hours of sleep. It took effort to force his thoughts into coherent words.
How long can we keep this up? Can we give Elkan enough time?
I think so. All that work on the wheat built up our endurance.
Maybe Sar was right, but Josiah could tell it wouldn’t be long before he approached the drained exhaustion he’d grown far too familiar with during that time.
The minutes seemed unbearably long. His outstretched arm trembled. He shifted position to brace it against Sar’s neck. Despite their efforts, the edges of the golden glow shrank until only a thin bright line haloed each watcher.
Couldn’t we stop slowing their arms and legs? That shouldn’t matter.
No. While the heart is slowed the extremities would suffer from lack of blood if allowed to function at normal speed. They’d feel a tingle when blood flow was restored and know something had happened.
Josiah felt dangerously close to passing out.
I don’t think I can hold much longer. Can’t we just slow their minds?
If we have no other choice. But they’d be much more likely to notice when we release them. I’ll see if I can take more of the strain.
Sar fell silent. Josiah found he could breathe a little easier.
Even so, his vision was dissolving into grey and yellow swirls when at last the warehouse door creaked open. Elkan emerged, Tobi pressed to his side. They backed against the door while the light pouring from Elkan’s hand maneuvered a dark-clad figure into the street. Tharan moved with the jerkiness characteristic of those being compelled against their will by the Mother’s power. His face twisted as he fought to resist, but the light kept him silent.
Elkan fumbled to get the keys back on the watcher’s belt while maintaining contact with Tobi and control of Tharan. Blessed relief flooded Josiah’s limbs as Tobi sent the Mother’s power over the watchers, sharing the effort of keeping them stilled.
Elkan jerked his head and they made their way back across the street. Even with the four of them working together, Josiah was gasping before they were halfway across. It was all he could do to stay conscious as Elkan sent Tharan beyond the corner of the building, where the glow constraining him would be hidden from the Watchers.
“On three,” Elkan whispered. He bobbed his head. “One, two—”
Together, Sar and Tobi released the watchers. Josiah slumped over and braced his hands on his thighs, trying to keep his panting quiet. When he could focus again, he saw that the five watchers were back to normal, their occasional movements a sharp contrast to their previous unnatural stillness. As far as he could tell they were oblivious to what had happened.
Elkan moved down the street. Josiah stumbled after him on legs that fell like blocks of iron. He couldn’t understand how his master had the strength to maintain control of Tharan while walking briskly toward the river.
As they turned onto the main road, Elkan slowed to let Josiah catch up. He didn’t have a hand free to put on Josiah’s shoulder as he usually did when he was pleased with his apprentice, but his voice held all the warmth Josiah could wish for. “That was very smoothly done. I’m sure none of them will realize anything is amiss until they discover Tharan’s gone in the morning. There were only two inside, so you two had the bulk of the work. I wish I could let you rest, but we’ve got to get aboard that ship and away as fast as possible. You can sleep all the way to Ramunna if you need to.”
“We’re fine,” Josiah insisted, straightening his sagging shoulders and doing his best to make his voice cheerful.
Sar flicked an ear at him, then perked them both toward Elkan.
Fresh as a pair of daisies.
Elkan grinned wryly at them. Josiah was sure he knew Sar well enough to see the irony in the donkey’s gesture. He settled his hand more firmly on Tobi’s neck and increased his pace, propelling Tharan before him. Josiah gritted his teeth and trotted behind them across the long span of the bridge. The docks were only a short distance downstream on the other side.
They took a shortcut along a narrow alley and joined the main road that led past the shipyards. Josiah hoped his brother wouldn’t worry too much when he learned of Josiah’s flight. He wished he’d had time to write a note to him, and to their parents in Korisan, to reassure them that he’d be safe. At least they’d know he was with Elkan.
They made the last turn. The docks came into sight ahead, a forest of swaying masts silvered by moonlight. The
Verinna’s
three towered above all the others. Josiah quickened his pace.
Halfway down the dock Gevan hurried to meet them, bearing a torch. He eyed Tharan, his lips pinched, but turned to Elkan without any other reaction to the assassin’s presence. “Captain Yosiv says we can sail as soon as they’re done.” He jerked his head toward a wagon parked at the end of the dock beside the ship. Several apprentices stood in the bed, tossing sheaves of hay up to sailors on the deck. Gevan frowned at Josiah with almost as much disapproval as he’d shown toward Tharan. “Let’s get you aboard.”
Elkan nodded acknowledgment. Gevan gestured toward the plank bridging the gap between dock and deck.
A triumphant voice called from behind them. “There they are, master!”
Josiah whirled. A tall figure strode down the dock, gold trim around the edges of his cloak glittering in the torchlight, stocky bulldog at his heels. Beside him a shorter figure trotted, blurting breathless accusations. “See! I told you it had to be them. Master Zonon said the hay was for a donkey.” He glared at Josiah as they came to a halt a few feet away. “Let’s see how you like it when
your
bond is broken.”
Josiah stared at him stupidly. “Mathir? What—”
Master Hanion waved them both silent. He ignored Josiah, instead fixing his attention on Elkan.
“I’m not surprised you disregarded my decision, Elkan,” he said. His eyes went to Tharan, motionless in his glowing bonds. “But I never guessed you’d try to free Dabiel’s murderer.”
“I’m not freeing him, Hanion.” Elkan stood calm, appearing relaxed, but Josiah was close enough to sense the tension in his stance. Josiah’s heart pounded. He edged closer to Elkan. “I’m taking responsibility for him.”
Hanion gave a humorless, incredulous laugh. “You don’t have that authority.”
Elkan nodded at the gold light pouring from his hand to surround Tharan. “The Mother allows me to. Tobi had no difficulty granting my request, nor Sar assisting. I believe it’s her will that Tharan remain alive until we can learn the truth about him. Just as I believe it’s her will that I travel to Ramunna.” He turned his head slightly, his eyes remaining on Hanion. “Josiah, Sar, would you please take Tharan for a moment?”
The thought of expending even more energy sent a lump of dread sinking into the pit of Josiah’s stomach. But he nodded and reached for Sar.
Gevan shouldered between him and Elkan. “Can’t you just turn him over?” he hissed. “I told you, we don’t need him. What matters is that we get out of here before Hanion stops us.”
Elkan shook his head. Sar sent the Mother’s power through Josiah to surround Tharan. “He won’t stop us.” Tobi released her hold on the assassin, transferring full control to Sar. Josiah swallowed a groan as what little strength he’d recovered flowed out of him.
Mathir was speaking to Hanion urgently, too low for Josiah to hear. Hanion shook his head and pointed toward the hay wagon. “You were right to alert me, and I thank you. But you need to get back to the work your master gave you.”
Mathir scowled and stomped toward the wagon. He shot Josiah a bitter look as he passed. Josiah looked away. He’d hoped Mathir would have gotten over his grudge by now. Why should he be mad at Josiah, anyway? His broken bond hadn’t been Josiah’s fault.
Hanion watched with narrowed eyes as his former apprentice climbed onto the wagon and began heaving sheaves of hay. Then he shifted his attention back to Elkan “So you’re defying your Guildmaster because you’ve decided you know the Mother’s will better than anyone else?”
Elkan didn’t falter before his withering glare or the disdain in his tone. He stepped toward Hanion, away from Tobi. He spread his hands in front of him where it would be clear he was making no attempt to touch his familiar. “The Law doesn’t require me to obey you. I respect your position, but every wizard must listen to the Mother’s voice for himself and make his own decisions about how to follow where she leads. It’s not the Guildmaster’s place to interfere with that. You lead us, not control us.”
Hanion snorted. “Would you say the same if it were you wearing this cloak?”
“I would.” Gevan made a muffled sound, but Elkan ignored him. “Now, please. In the Mother’s name, I ask you to let us board that ship.” Elkan looked at Hanion steadily. Josiah held his breath.
Hanion took a firmer stance. He pressed his leg, where the cuff of his breeches was rolled up to expose his ankle, firmly against Mavke’s side. “No.” His hands came up, fingers pointed at Elkan and Josiah.
Josiah cowered back, pressing harder into Sar’s side. He didn’t know if he would be able to expend any additional effort without collapsing, but they had to do something.
Sar, you’ve got to stop him, he’s going to attack us.
He pictured gold light flooding to surround Hanion.
No.
Simultaneous with the donkey’s voice in his mind, Josiah heard Elkan’s voice in his ears. “Mavke, I seek only to follow the Mother’s will. If you stop me, I won’t resist. I’ll accept that she doesn’t want me to leave. But unless she speaks to you and allows you to oppose me, you know it would be a misuse of her power for one wizard to act against another.”
The bulldog held Elkan’s gaze for a moment. Then he turned to Hanion. He whined, deep in his throat.
Hanion stared at his familiar. “Of course I’d never ask you to misuse the Mother’s power! We’re not going to hurt them. There’s no reason you shouldn’t—”
He broke off, listening to words Josiah couldn’t hear. Josiah clutched Sar’s mane. His legs were starting to shake.
But I’ve seen you use the Mother’s power against another wizard. You stopped Mathir—
Mathir was in clear violation of the Law. Hanion isn’t. Whether Mavke can grant Hanion’s request is between him and the Mother.
Hanion dropped to his knees, gazing into Mavke’s eyes, his lips moving silently. Mavke cowered before him, squirming, his tail beating frantically. He whined again, such a miserable sound that Josiah winced in sympathy.
The bulldog sank to a crouch. Slowly he dipped his head, lips peeling back to reveal sharp ivory teeth. His jaws cracked open, and he lowered his mouth to his paw.
Hanion jerked back as if burned. “Stop! I take it back. I’m not asking anymore. You can’t—” He stared at Mavke, fear naked on his face.
Mavke collapsed into a sprawl, closing his eyes. He panted, tongue lolling out, sides heaving. A drop of blood welled from one of the pads on his paw. After a moment, he whimpered, raised eager eyes to Hanion, and licked the blood away.
Hanion stroked Mavke, tentatively at first, then more firmly, almost frantic. The Guildmaster seemed oblivious to anything else. Gevan looked back and forth between Elkan and Hanion, brow furrowed into a deep crease. Josiah leaned on Sar and watched, mouth open.
At length Hanion looked up at them. His voice was gruff. “You’ve proven your point.”
Elkan extended a hand to him. Hanion scowled at it for a moment, then grasped it and allowed Elkan to pull him to his feet.
Elkan gestured for Josiah and Gevan to precede him onto the ship. He kept Hanion’s hand clasped in his. “It would mean a great deal to me to go with the blessing of the Wizards’ Guild.”