The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) (44 page)

Adrel went to the large chair by the fire and gathered Yazel into his arms. He carried the old woman to the table and settled her in the chair next to his.

Josiah watched them while he shoveled the plentiful, tasty food into his mouth. Adrel served Yazel with patient attentiveness. He scooped the best morsels from each platter onto her plate, and cut the softest bits of meat into bite-sized pieces. Yazel could manage her own fork, though awkwardly, but when a bit of saliva drooled unnoticed from the slack side of her mouth, Adrel wiped it away with his napkin. When she dropped her fork, tired, while her plate was still half full, he coaxed her to accept a few more bites from his.

Josiah glanced around. No one else took any notice. He waited for a break in the conversation. Gales of laughter greeted the end of a story of a prank Elkan had played on Hanan when she was newly apprenticed to Tiah. As everyone applied themselves anew to their food, Josiah leaned over to Elkan and spoke softly. “Why’s your grandmother like that? Did something happen to her?”

Quiet as his voice was, an unpredictable hush fell in the middle of his words, so that they were clearly audible. Adrel looked at him bleakly. “Yes, Elkan, why don’t you tell him what happened?”

Elkan bit his lip. “I don’t think now’s a good time.”

Adrel’s voice was cold. “Certainly it is. Mother won’t mind. Will you, Mother?” But he didn’t turn to Yazel for confirmation, instead keeping his eyes fixed on Elkan. “The boy’s curious. The rest of us know the story; no reason he shouldn’t, too.”

Elkan glanced around the table for support, but no one met his eyes. Josiah squirmed, face hot with embarrassment. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said quickly. “It’s none of my business, really.”

Shaking his head, Elkan set down his fork and ran his hand through his hair. “When I was six, Yazel had a seizure of the brain. You remember the heart seizure Master Norlan had? This is similar, caused by a blockage of blood flow, but in the brain. We don’t understand them very well; sometimes they’re mild and sometimes severe, with unpredictable effects. Often they’re fatal. Yazel’s affected her speech and the right side of her body, as you see. But not your mind, right, Grammi? You’re still smarter than all the rest of us put together.” Elkan gave his grandmother a valiant grin.

Yazel replied, her distorted words a tart retort of some kind, for nervous giggles ran around the room.

“That’s all, really. We’ve cared for her ever since. We’re so glad we didn’t lose you, Grammi.”

Tiah smiled and opened her mouth to change the subject, but Adrel interrupted. “That’s not quite all, though, is it, Elkan? Tell him why she remains this way, instead of being healed.”

Elkan faced his father. “I’ve told you, Father, a wizard could only have helped her within the first day or so after it happened. After that, parts of her brain had died from lack of blood. And the Mother’s power can’t bring back what’s dead.”

“So you say. But the fact remains there was no wizard here, even though it was the time of year when one should have been passing through. We waited, confident that when the wizard came, they could help her.” Adrel’s voice was quiet but intense. It roughened as he spoke. “We waited, and waited. But no wizard came, not that spring, nor that summer. They sent a messenger, telling us no one would be coming that year. Same thing the year after. Finally, the year after that, a wizard passed through and was able to look at her. But by then it was far too late, of course.”

Elkan put down his cup. “That was the year after the hurricane, Father. Thirty-one wizards and familiars were lost the previous summer. The Guildmaster did the best she could, but nowhere in Tevenar had the wizards they needed, not for a long time after. People were dying in Elathir, and Korisan, and Thedan.” His voice rose; he swallowed and forced it quieter, turning to Josiah. “Father’s held an unreasonable grudge against wizards ever since. And of course it didn’t help when I was called.”

Josiah shrank down in his chair, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Adrel glared at Elkan. “How was I supposed to feel when the same wizards who did nothing to help my mother wanted to take my eldest son, my apprentice? I wish I’d never let that messenger through the door. You chose to turn your back on all you knew, everyone who loved you, and join those useless charlatans.”

“So the same thing wouldn’t happen to others! How would it be, if no one answered the Mother’s call? You should know better than anyone—” Elkan half rose from his chair, then sank back. He looked down at his plate. “I’m sorry, Father. I should know by now that I’m never going to change your mind.”

Adrel didn’t answer, just gave him a look of such mingled grief and bitterness Josiah caught his breath. He turned to Yazel. “Come, Mother, if you’re finished. Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.” With great tenderness he scooped her into his arms and bore her across the room and up the stairs.

Elkan watched them go; everyone else looked uncomfortably at their hands or off into space. Once they disappeared, Tiah waved at the still full plates. “Go on, eat up. I worked too hard to let all this go to waste.”

Gradually people complied, and after a few false starts, the buzz of conversation once more encircled the table. Elkan leaned toward Josiah. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. No, it’s all right, you had no idea it was such a touchy subject. I should have told you beforehand. I couldn’t expect you not to be curious.”

Josiah nodded mutely and resumed eating, if only mechanically. He knew it was his fault, whatever Elkan said, for jumping in with prying questions about a private family matter. Yet another instance when he’d failed to think before acting. He tried, he really did, but somehow he never realized what he was doing until it was too late.

Twenty-Four

J
osiah sprawled in the sunlight watching the children play. The adults were busy in the house, preparing for the evening gathering. This time all the aunts and uncles were invited, along with neighbors and friends from the surrounding countryside and the village. The weather had turned fair, chilly enough that Josiah was glad of Tobi’s warmth as he snuggled against her, but sunny, with only a gentle breeze. That morning Josiah had taken Tobi for a romp in a patch of woods by the stream, but in the afternoon Elkan’s harried sisters had requisitioned his services. Josiah had engaged Lemel, his younger sister Jova, and Bethiav in a rowdy game of Bandits and Watchers. They’d chased him around the house and barn, shrieking in delight.

Josiah had tired of the game before the children did. He’d let them catch him; Lemel had tackled him around the knees and brought him to the ground, and the two girls had bounced on his chest and belly. Then Bethiav had said she was thirsty, so they’d all trooped over to the well and shared drinks from the dipper. Josiah had steered the children to a large pile of dirt beside the barn, and soon all three were climbing and digging, giving Josiah a chance to relax.

“Baby, baby, baby!” The jeers grabbed Josiah’s attention. He scrambled to his feet and hurried over. Lemel was laughing and pointing at Bethiav. She stood sobbing, her breeches dripping.

“Leave her alone. That’s mean.” Bethiav had been having fun. She’d joined in the play, even though she was still wary of Josiah. Now she shrank from his attempts to herd her back toward the house. He really didn’t want to have to pick her up and get pee all over himself. Finally she let him take her hand and lead her to the door.

Sairna sighed and dusted flour-covered hands on her apron. “It’s all right, Bethiav. We’ll go change you.” She smiled apologetically at Josiah. “She’s been using the privy for a year now, but the last few weeks she keeps having accidents. It’s probably the new baby; Hanan says Lemel did the same thing when Jova was born. I should start carrying a change of clothes with us again, but I keep hoping she’ll stop. Bring the others, too; I’ve got some honey cakes they can have.”

They all trooped over to Sairna’s house. Even with dry breeches, Bethiav kept crying. She clung to her mother, stubbornly resisting Josiah’s efforts to woo her. Sairna passed around the nut-studded honey cakes. Bethiav ate hers eagerly, finally allowing Josiah to take her from Sairna’s arms.

Sairna regarded her, head cocked. “She’s been so moody lately. Usually she’s such a sweet-natured little girl, but for a month or so now any little thing will set her off. Everyone tells me it’s normal, with the new baby coming, but I wonder…”

“You should have Elkan look at her,” Josiah suggested.

Sairna shook off her concern. “No, I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m a worrier. I always have been; he’ll tell you. Ask him about the time I was sure my pet rabbit was dying because she was pulling all her hair out. A week later she had kits. Bethiav’s fine.”

Josiah’s first impulse was to run and tell Elkan anyway, but he caught himself. If Bethiav’s mother didn’t think there was a problem, he should mind his own business and stay out of it.

Sairna packed a change of clothes. It was a good thing, because Josiah had to take Bethiav to have her wet breeches changed again before the meal was ready, even though he tried to remember to take her to the privy frequently.

No sooner were they back at their play, deep into a game of hide-and-find, than Bethiav tugged at his sleeve. “Water, please.”

“Maybe if you didn’t drink so much, you wouldn’t wet your pants.” Josiah regretted his words immediately, for her dark eyes welled up with tears and her lower lip trembled. “All right, all right. Can we at least find Lemel and Jova first? No, stop crying. They can stay hiding, I guess.”

Josiah was very glad to hand Bethiav back over to Sairna when the preparations were complete.

Many tables were set up in the yard. Josiah enjoyed sitting with a handful of other apprentices, Elkan’s cousins and their friends. When the music and dancing started, two girls vied for his attention. They were both nice enough, but neither really caught his fancy. Instead, he found himself thinking about Nirel. Where was she now? Had the bandits made it across the mountains before the snow, or had the wizards and watchers caught up with them? Even now she might be a prisoner.

The party lasted late into the night. When Josiah finally sought his bed a number of people still sat around the fire, Elkan in their midst, talking endlessly.

The next day was Restday. Elkan called the service to order. Few people spoke, most content to sit quiet in the Mother’s presence. Bethiav sat in Sairna’s lap and whined sporadically.

Around the fire that evening, the talk was subdued. Elkan’s family seemed to have run out of things to say. Elkan sat by his grandmother, gently rubbing oil into her hands and feet. He’d spent time the day before with Sar, sending the Mother’s power through Yazel’s body, easing what they could of the ravages of age. Adrel watched him from across the circle. Since the eruption of hostility the first night, Elkan and Adrel had been unfailingly polite to each other when they were forced to interact.

Sairna stirred, looking over at her husband Gilon. Bethiav was asleep on her lap. “We need to head home and get her to bed. Elkan, it’s been a lovely visit. Once you’ve got your mastery maybe you can make it out here more often.”

“Maybe.” Elkan was noncommittal. “Oh, you wanted us to check the baby. We never did get around to that.”

“It’s all right. You’re not supposed to do wizardry on Restday, are you?”

“It will only take a moment. We’ll be gone before you’re up in the morning.” Elkan went to the door and called Sar to him.

Sairna passed Bethiav to Gilon and settled back in her chair. The Mother’s light flowed over her round belly.

Elkan smiled. “One healthy, growing baby.” A trace of tension went out of Sairna’s shoulders, and she beamed at Elkan. “Do you want to know?”

Sairna glanced at Gilon. He nodded. “Yes, tell us.”

“Well, big sister, how would you like… another little girl?”

Gilon made a wry face, but he was grinning. Sairna laughed with delight. “Bethi will be so happy.” She glanced at her sleeping daughter. “It’s too bad you won’t get to be here for the birth. I’ll send you a message.” Sairna rose and gathered her things, beckoning Gilon to join her as she moved toward the door.

Elkan embraced her. “The Mother’s blessings on you and all your family.”

“Thank you. That means so much to me. She’s richly blessed us. May her blessings be on you too, in your journey.”

Elkan and Josiah departed the next morning at their usual early hour. Tiah packed their bags full of as much food as they could carry. Elkan exchanged a long warm embrace with her, and a stiff one with his father. They set off down the road, waving good-bye. Josiah was happy he’d gotten the chance to meet Elkan’s family, but he was glad to leave.

* * *

Late the next afternoon they took a brief break by a stream. Elkan consulted his map, debating whether to camp for the night or press on to the next farm.

Rapid hoofbeats and the clatter of a wagon being driven recklessly fast made them turn and look at the road. The driver began shouting as soon as he saw them. With a start, Josiah recognized Gilon.

He reined the horses to a stop. “Elkan, thank the Mother I found you. You’ve got to come back. It’s Bethiav; she’s sick. She started throwing up this morning, then she fell asleep and we couldn’t wake her. Sairna said she knew something was wrong. I had to come find you before you got too far away. Throw your gear in the wagon, and I’ll take you back.”

Josiah gulped. Elkan nodded reassuringly at Gilon as he began unbuckling Sar’s harness. “Give me a hand, Josiah. Sar, you don’t mind walking alongside, do you? I suppose Tobi can ride, if she wants. It’s all right, Gilon, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

They dumped their packs and Sar’s into the wagon and climbed onto the driver’s bench. Gilon clucked at the horses and sent them trotting back towards the farm. Sar had to stretch his short legs to keep up, but Tobi loped beside at a comfortable pace.

Elkan assumed his usual calm, professional demeanor. “Tell me more about what happened. Bethiav seemed healthy to me. Did it come on suddenly?”