The Law of Isolation (39 page)

Gevan managed to moderate his instinctive snatch into something slightly more decorous, but the boy still flushed at the speed with which Gevan retrieved the case from his hands. “Please don’t touch this. I’ll take care of it.”

“Sorry,” the boy muttered.

The young man—Elkan, Gevan thought he remembered Master Dabiel had called him—frowned at the boy. “Josiah, why don’t you see how long it will be before the evening meal is ready? Master Gevan, there’s a bath down the hall. If there’s time, you’re welcome to take the opportunity to refresh yourself.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Gevan looked around for a safe place to store the window-glass. He was starting to step over to a small but adequate desk when a golden glow shimmered at the edge of his vision. For a moment he was confused. There was something odd about the quality of the light, unlike that of a candle or hearth fire. Then he stiffened and whirled to see.

The boy stood with one hand on the back of the donkey pressing close to his side. The other hand extended before him, palm upward. Above it, a sphere of golden light hovered, expanding as Gevan watched. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only stare.

When the sphere was as big as a man’s head, a clear space appeared in the center. It spread until the light was only a rim of sparkles around the edge of a circle. Gevan looked through the ring of gold into a busy kitchen. Cooks bustled around, carrying trays of meats and vegetables, standing at tables chopping, turning a spit over a fire where a large roast dripped onto crackling, flaring coals. Voices reached him, one cook scolding another, who kept offering apologies that the first impatiently drowned out. Abruptly the view swooped, giving him a dizzying glimpse around the large room and out through a door into a hall full of tables.

This was a real window. It bore about as much resemblance to his window-glass as a living, breathing person bore to a child’s rag doll. Gevan dropped the case onto the desk, his fingers numb. How could he have deceived himself into believing he’d recreated the Mother’s power? All he’d done was craft a cheap and feeble imitation.

“It looks like it will be at least half an hour before the roast is done cooking,” the boy reported. “He should have plenty of time.”

Elkan frowned at him. “I meant for you to run down there and see.”

“Oh. Sorry.” The boy shrugged. The window over his palm shrank rapidly into a glowing point, then disappeared.

A wordless sound of protest and disappointment escaped Gevan’s lips. Both wizards looked at him, curious. He looked down, trying to gather his scattered wits and regain his composure.

“Is something wrong?” Elkan asked.

“No. I’m sorry. It’s just… I’ve never seen… It’s real, isn’t it?” He should check for lenses, wires, mirrors, any trickery that might have been employed to produce the effect, but he couldn’t. He would, eventually, but he knew what he’d find. The boy hadn’t performed a trick for Gevan’s benefit. He hadn’t even known Gevan was watching. He’d done it for his own purpose, casually, easily, without a thought. The power had flowed at his wish just as in the most fanciful of the ancient stories. “Not a trick, not a device, just…” He spread his hands, unable to articulate the significance of what he’d seen. “Real. Magic.”
I’ve been such a fool.

“It’s real, but it’s not magic,” Elkan said. He put down the jerkin he’d extracted from a trunk and came to stand beside Gevan. “It’s the power of the Mother. No more or less miraculous than any of her works. Would you like to see more?”

Gevan’s mouth was dry. He licked his lips. “Please. If you don’t mind.”

He didn’t see Elkan signal in any way, but the huge cat flowed to its feet from where it had sprawled in a corner and padded to Elkan’s side. Elkan fondled its ears, then set his hand firmly on its head. He glanced around and extended his other hand. Gevan caught his breath as golden light poured from it. The light shot across the room and surrounded the abandoned jerkin. It floated into the air and unfolded, shaking out wrinkles and creases, until it hung as if suspended from the shoulders by invisible hands. Elkan turned his hand, and the jerkin drifted toward Gevan. It came to rest before him, haloed by the softly glimmering light that trailed into a thread connected to Elkan’s fingers.

Gevan instinctively reached toward it, but hesitated and glanced at Elkan. The wizard nodded. “Go ahead, you can touch it.” He watched Gevan thoughtfully, smiling a little, evaluating his reaction, Gevan thought. Next to him, the cat’s eyes remained focused on the hovering jerkin.

Gevan took a deep breath and thrust his hand into the light. It bathed his skin with a warm, pleasant tingle. He grasped the sleeve of the jerkin, which moved easily in his hand. When he released it, it sank back down to hang relaxed.

Gevan circled the floating garment, examining it from every side. Any concern of offending his hosts with his skepticism was lost in his fascination with determining exactly how this astonishing feat was accomplished. He passed his hands over and under and around the ball of light, feeling for any strings or other support. Only air met his fingers. He even swept his hand through the tendril of light connected to Elkan’s outstretched hand without any visible effect, only a slight intensification of the warm sensation as the beam of power passed through his flesh. Back and forth around the jerkin he paced, staring, until he admitted to himself that he would see nothing beyond what was obvious.

He turned his attention to the wizard. Elkan remained calm and motionless as Gevan examined him just as intently. He walked behind the man and cat, observing the slight tenseness in Elkan’s muscles pressing his hand to the cat’s head. He pointed. “What happens if you don’t touch it?”

In response, Elkan lifted his hand way from the cat. The gold light vanished, and the jerkin fell to the floor, sleeves fluttering.

“Astonishing. So you must maintain contact in order to produce the effect?” Gevan sorted through the natural processes he was familiar with, trying to fit this into place. His lodestone could transmit its effect through a metal object in contact with it, causing it to attract other metal just as the stone did…

“Exactly.” Elkan set his hand back on the cat’s head, and once again light sprang from his hand to envelope the jerkin. It billowed up. With a twist of his hand Elkan sent it soaring toward the open wardrobe. Another tendril of light spun out and swept up a hanger, which the jerkin settled around as neatly as if manipulated by deft hands. The hanger hooked itself over the wardrobe’s bar, the door swung closed with a sharp click, and the gold light faded away. “Is that enough for now? Because if you want that bath before supper, we’ll need to finish up in here so you can get started.”

Of course it wasn’t enough. Gevan wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day and far into the night investigating this amazing new phenomenon, observing, measuring, testing, trying to come to some sort of preliminary understanding of how it worked. But with a great effort he recalled his duty. As the Matriarch’s ambassador, he wasn’t free to indulge his personal desires. “I suppose you’re right.” He held up a hand as Elkan turned back to his pack. “Wait. I do have one more question. I’ve seen that you can open windows, and move objects without touch, just as described in the ancient writings. Do you retain the third power also? That of healing?”

Gevan held his breath. Surely they must. There was no reason they would have two of the three powers, and not the other. Yet if for some inexplicable reason they didn’t, his mission here would be in vain. He’d have to return to the Matriarch with the devastating news, and lose the opportunity to learn more about the wizards and their fascinating powers.

“Of course.” Elkan’s brow creased with concern. “Do you or any of your companions have need of our services?”

“Oh, no. We’re all fine.” Much as Gevan would have liked to take Elkan up on his offer so he could see their healing in action, he couldn’t remember any of the ship’s complement complaining of so much as a scrape or a sniffle. “But I’m glad to hear you do. That has immense bearing on my mission here. Though you’ll understand I can’t speak of it yet.”

“Of course. Whatever your need, I’m sure Master Dabiel will do her best to accommodate you.” He turned back to continue unpacking.

Just as Elkan bent to extract another garment from the trunk, there was a rap at the door, and a girl poked her head in. “Master Elkan? Master Dabiel said, if our guests are settled, she’d like to speak with you, please.”

Elkan straightened, dropped the pair of breeches with a sigh, and ran a hand through his long hair. “Josiah, could you finish here and show Master Gevan to the bath?” He eyed the boy with a frown, started to say something else, then closed his mouth.

“Yes, master.” Josiah hurried over to take the breeches and folded them without looking up.

Elkan nodded to Gevan. “Feel free to send Josiah for me if there’s anything else you need. I’ll come back to accompany you to the dining hall.”

“Until then.” Gevan walked with Elkan to the door and shut it behind the cat, careful not to catch the tip of its tail.

To tell the truth, Gevan was relieved to see the wizard go. He had so much to think about; he’d be glad of a little privacy to gather his thoughts and prepare for the upcoming audience. He must use exactly the right words when he presented his request. Now that he knew the truth about the wizard’s powers, he must refine the arguments he’d worked on during the long voyage. It wouldn’t be easy to convince the Guildmaster to send a wizard to Ramunna. To succeed, he’d have to exercise all his powers of persuasion.

If he wanted to succeed. He’d have to think about that, as well.

Maybe he could get rid of the boy, too. He waved him away from the nearly empty trunk. “Here, just let me get a change of clothes. I’ll take care of the rest later.”

“Yes, sir.” Josiah seemed willing enough to be relieved of the work. For a few minutes he hung back, watching Gevan in silence, but stifled curiosity was plain to read on his face. Gevan smiled to himself and estimated how long the boy would be able to keep silent. He made it a full minute longer than Gevan would have been able to at his age.

“Excuse me sir, but what’s it like where you come from?” He took a few steps toward Gevan.

Gevan gestured for him to hold out an arm, and Josiah complied. Across it Gevan draped the richest of the jerkins the Matriarch had given him. “Not that different from here. My home city, Ramunna, is bigger than this one. The buildings are mostly brick, not stone. And it usually doesn’t get quite this cold. Is this weather typical?”

“I guess. We’ll probably have snow a few times before spring.” The boy reached for the donkey beside him. Gevan stiffened, but the boy only scratched the base of the creature’s long, alertly pointed ears. “Ramunna—is that the same as Ramun?”

“Yes, it was called Ramun in the time of the ancients.”

Josiah nodded. “You said that travelers from Tevenar had come there. Do you know—were they led by a man named Ozor?”

Gevan paused as he sorted through his footwear. There was more than simple curiosity in the boy’s tone. It was always possible that he was trying to extract information to report to his elders. They might have thought Gevan would be more likely to let crucial details slip to an apparently harmless youth. He phrased his response carefully. “Why do you ask?”

Josiah shifted from foot to foot. “It’s my fault Ozor got away. He’s a murderer and a thief, you know. I was supposed to stop his ship, but I didn’t want…” He shrugged. “Ozor doesn’t like wizards. Whatever he told you about us, he probably lied.”

Gevan did his best to conceal his reaction, but he was sure the boy’s sharp eyes picked up the stutter in his movement as he reached for a pair of jeweled silk court slippers. Ozor had warned them that the wizards considered his people fugitives. Gevan couldn’t imagine what circumstances might have led to this boy being entrusted with their captivity. But he couldn’t ask without giving away the source of his knowledge. He thought of a dozen different responses, but eventually discarded them all. “I see.”

Josiah took a step nearer him. “Was Nirel with them? Is she all right? What about Gan? They’re my friends.” When Gevan didn’t respond, Josiah rushed on. “I worry about them all the time. What if something happened to them, out there where no wizards could help them? Is it awful, where you come from, with no wizards to heal you? It must be like it was in Elathir last summer, when we were all gone, except all the time. Do people just die when they get sick or hurt? How can you stand it, watching them, knowing there’s nothing you can do?” His hand reached out, then dropped impotently to his side.

A sudden vision of his wife’s face swam before Gevan’s eyes, grey with the pallor that had drained her strength before she died, too weak to do more than reach with much the same helpless gesture toward the baby in his arms. Could this boy and his barnyard pet have done more to help Nanirra than all the physicians of Ramunna? Was his innocent distress a show designed to win Gevan’s sympathy and draw out his secrets? Or was it an honest reaction from a child who had grown up in a world where people didn’t just die, where helplessness was a rare exception, not the constant dull reality of life?

His voice was gruff. “I’m sure your friends are fine.” He must warn Kevessa not to speak of Nirel. Although what harm could it do if the wizards were to discover that Ozor and his company were the source of Gevan’s information? They already suspected. And whatever animosity they might harbor toward the outlaws, Ozor and his people were safe under the Matriarch’s protection. Gevan gathered the last few items he would need. “Would you show me to the bath, now, please?”

Josiah studied him for a moment more before turning toward the door. “Sure. Come on.”

The bath was a delightful surprise. Although not quite as elaborate as the water rooms of the ancient Marvannan wizards he’d read about, it was larger and better appointed than even the facilities in the Matriarch’s palace. There was ample water, both hot and cold, and a large pool for rinsing. He spent longer than he should have, enjoying the luxury. By the time Elkan arrived to escort him to the dining hall, he felt immensely refreshed.