Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) Read online

  Josiah glanced at his master. Elkan stood at the prow of the ship, wearing his brown wizard’s cloak, one hand on the rail, the other resting on Tobi’s head. The mountain cat loomed at his side with all the dignity and menace she could project when she wanted, although Josiah knew she was as playful and lazy as a housecat. Beside them Kevessa’s father Gevan, dressed in the silk and velvet of Ramunnan high fashion, leaned close to murmur last minute advice.

  The ship bumped against the pier. Sailors threw ropes to dockworkers who made them fast. Much sooner than Josiah expected the ramp was extended from the ship to the dock and Gevan gestured for them to follow him ashore.

  Josiah swallowed. Ready to meet the Matriarch, Sar?

  The donkey flicked an ear. She’s a person like any other, one of the Mother’s children. There’s no reason to be intimidated.

  That was easy for Sar to say. But it did help to remember that for all the ceremony that surrounded her, the Matriarch was essentially the same as Master Dabiel, the former Guildmaster of the Wizards' Guild and leader of Tevenar, who Josiah had been close to before her death, or Master Hanion, the current holder of that position. In fact, if things had fallen out differently, Elkan might have been elected Guildmaster, and though Josiah greatly respected his master, he certainly wouldn’t ever be intimidated by him. Taking courage from the thought, Josiah followed Gevan and Elkan across the ramp.

  The solid dock seemed to sway beneath his feet. He clutched Sar for balance. Either his familiar was less affected by their two months aboard ship, or his four legs kept him steady nevertheless, because Sar was his usual sturdy self. Josiah moved out of Kevessa’s way and planted his feet just behind and to the right of Elkan. Everyone’s eyes devoured the two wizards, none more so than the Matriarch’s, whose gaze was dark and intense in her heavily painted face.

  Gevan swept her an elaborate Ramunnan bow, with a dramatic flourish of his plumed hat. Next to him, Kevessa sank into a deep curtsey. He’d instructed Elkan and Josiah that as ambassadors of a foreign power they should use the forms native to their home, so Elkan inclined his head as he would have done to the Guildmaster, and Josiah followed suit.

  “Matriarch, allow me to present Master Elkan Farmerkin Wizard and his apprentice Josiah Potterkin Wizard, descendants of the wizards of ancient Miarban, who wield the Mother’s power just as their ancestors did.” Gevan gestured at them. He spoke in Ramunnan, which after two months of earnest study Josiah was able to understand pretty well.

  The Matriarch stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Elkan. “Show me,” she demanded. “I want to see you use the Mother’s power.”

  “Gladly, your majesty,” Elkan replied. Gevan had warned them to expect something like this. Elkan put one hand on Tobi’s head and held out the other. Gold light spilled from his palm. It surrounded Gevan’s plumed hat, pulled it from his hands, and sent it to hover in front of the Matriarch.

  A gasp of wonder rose from the watching crowd, followed by a surge of excited voices. The Matriarch moved her hands into the golden glow, which Josiah knew would feel like a wash of tingling warmth over her skin. She blinked, and Josiah thought her breath quickened a bit, but she gave no other sign. As she grasped the hat, Elkan and Tobi let the light of the Mother’s power fade.

  The Matriarch stared at the hat before handing it back to Gevan. “Very good.” Her voice was clipped and harsh. “You can produce windows, also?”

  “Of course, your majesty.” A point of light bloomed over Elkan’s open palm and swelled into a large sphere. The shimmering light cleared from the center outward and an image appeared within. It showed the dock a short time earlier, as the Matriarch and her retinue arrived and took their places.

  A sigh rippled through the crowd. The Matriarch watched for only a moment before she nodded and waved a dismissive hand. The window shrank to a bright dot and vanished.

  The Matriarch tucked her hands inside the flowing fabric of her sleeves, but not before Josiah saw them clench into fists. Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. “And healing. You wield the power of healing as well?”

  “Yes, your majesty,” Elkan answered, his voice calm and easy. “I understand you suffer a particular difficulty for which you desire the Mother’s aid. I’ll be happy to meet with you in private to evaluate your condition and discuss what can be done. Ambassador Gevan has assured us that in return you’ll provide food to sustain the people of Tevenar through the famine that threatens our land.”

  “Of course,” the Matriarch said dismissively. “Whatever the two of you agreed.” But she stared at Elkan, making no move to escort them to the palace. Josiah saw her teeth catch her red-stained lower lip.

  Suddenly she whirled and pointed at one of the blue-clad guards. “You! Give me your blade and kneel before me!”

  The young man obeyed, drawing one of the long slender knives Gevan had said were called swords and offering it hilt first as he knelt. The Matriarch grasped it with both hands, hesitated no more than a fraction of a second, and drove it into the guard’s chest.

  Screams echoed from the crowd. Gevan cursed and yanked Kevessa back from the spurting blood. Josiah couldn’t move, he was so shocked. The young man slumped to the ground.

  Elkan’s jaw fell. He shot the Matriarch an unbelieving stare. Then he clamped his mouth shut and dropped to his knees before the guard, reaching for Tobi. Golden light poured from his hand to surround the place the sword pierced the guard’s chest. “Josiah,” he grated between clenched teeth. “I need your help.”

  Josiah scrambled forward, Sar close beside him. He grabbed Sar’s neck, and the donkey sent a rush of power through him. Josiah’s senses exploded with the screaming wrongness of the man’s injury. The stink of hot metal, the taste of blood, the screech of fingernails dragging across rock, the feel of a line of fire piercing his chest, and the vision of a black rod skewering the soft yellow clouds of lungs and breaching the swirling blue pulses of the guard’s heart. As he watched, the rhythmic sapphire whirls broke up into frantic grey eddies.

  “You draw the sword out. Slowly! We’ll heal the damage.” Elkan shifted to put both hands on the man’s chest, framing the sword’s entry point. Tobi pressed her cheek to his to keep them in contact.

  “We’ve got it.” Sar wrapped the Mother’s light firmly around the blade. Josiah sorted out his enhanced senses and traced its path. It had entered the left side of the man’s chest, slid between two ribs, traveled through his left lung, and penetrated a good two inches into his heart, through the muscular wall of the lower left chamber and into the space within. “Ready?”

  “Go.” The light from Elkan’s hands cradled the damaged heart.

  Now, Sar. Josiah watched the sword withdraw, a tiny fraction of an inch at a time. The Mother’s power flowing from Tobi through Elkan pushed the violated tissues into a fury of rapid healing. Sar stopped with the tip of the sword halfway out of the wall of the ventricle so the inner portion could seal closed. The sword itself had plugged the opening, keeping most of the man’s blood contained. If it hadn’t, even the Mother’s power might not have been fast enough to seal the wound and spur the production of enough new blood before he bled to death.

  Once the sword was clear of the heart and a steady beat was restored, they could go a little faster. They’d caught the lung before it collapsed, so it was relatively easy to urge the man’s body to repair the damage. The bones were only scratched, so the slow and draining process of forcing new bone to grow wasn’t necessary.

  As Sar pulled the sword free of the man’s ribs and skin, Josiah caught it. The donkey let the Mother’s light wink out. Elkan and Tobi concentrated a few more minutes, repairing the last of the damage, before Elkan sank back on his heels and Tobi settled to a crouch. After a quick last sweep with the Mother’s power, they let it fade. Elkan ran a hand through his hair.

  Elkan helped the dazed young guard sit up, then rose and gave the man a hand to pull him to his feet. The guard shook his head and rubbed his chest. Blood soaked
his blue uniform tunic around the small slit left by the narrow blade. Josiah handed him his sword back. The man stared at it for a moment before wiping it on his breeches and sheathing it with jerky movements. “Thank you,” he whispered, turning first to Josiah, then to Elkan. Stronger, he said, “You saved my life. Thank you.”

  Elkan smiled warmly at him. “Our joy is in the service.”

  The man bowed to him. Turning to the Matriarch, he saluted. “Your majesty.”

  “Return to your place,” she ordered him. He obeyed, his step only a little shaky.

  Elkan’s smile faded, replaced by an icy expression as he turned to confront the Matriarch. “What in the Mother’s name was that?” he demanded, taking a step forward and glowering at her.

  Tall as he was, she was only an inch or so shorter. She met his furious gaze with serene calm. “I had to know,” she said. “Now I see your healing powers are everything I hoped.” Her earlier tension had vanished. To Josiah it seemed that she radiated joy.

  Elkan didn’t back down. “To deliberately injure someone just so you can witness his healing is a gross violation of the Mother’s will. We can’t work with you if this is the sort of thing we can expect.”

  The Matriarch made a dismissive gesture. “My men know they may be called on to give their lives for me at any moment. They’re proud to serve me thus. But never fear. Now that I know your powers are genuine there will be no need to repeat the demonstration.”

  Elkan stared at her a moment more, then turned to rake his eyes over the guards surrounding her. They returned his gaze with haughty arrogance. The one they’d healed bobbed his head earnestly before returning to attention.

  Elkan clenched his fists and turned to Gevan. “Nothing in our agreement allows for such blatant disregard of the Mother’s law. We can’t condone it. If we witness further such incidents—particularly if our presence provokes them—we’ll have to return to Tevenar. Whether or not our mission here has been accomplished.”

  Gevan shifted his feet nervously and looked to the Matriarch for confirmation of his words. “That’s understood.”

  The Matriarch nodded imperiously. “Come. Carriages are waiting to take us to the palace. A feast of welcome will be held in your honor tonight.” She lowered her voice. “Between now and then I’ll meet privately with Master Elkan.”

  Elkan hesitated, then nodded. He stepped back beside Josiah. “That will be acceptable.”

  Gevan moved close to the Matriarch and lowered his voice. “Your majesty, those who oppose the return of wizards to Ravanetha have threatened me and my daughter. The wizards’ familiars” —he nodded toward Tobi and Sar—“without whom they cannot wield the Mother’s power, may be in particular danger. The Purifiers consider such animals to be demons. They may try to kill them, both because they consider them evil and in order to prevent your majesty from conceiving the heir that will put an end to their hopes of gaining power in Ramunna. For this reason I ask that you assign guards to protect the wizards and their animals, and my daughter and myself also.”

  Josiah put his arms around Sar’s neck. Gevan had warned them about the danger from the Purifiers, but Josiah hadn’t really taken it seriously. Now, though… If their ally could act with such casual ruthlessness, what could they expect from their enemies?

  The Matriarch nodded. “I will do so. Captain!” A guard in a more elaborate uniform than the rest stepped forward. “Let it be as Ambassador Gevan asks. Guard them day and night against the Purifiers and all other threats.”

  “Yes, your majesty.” The guard captain saluted and turned to give orders to his men.

  The Matriarch swept down the dock toward a group of carriages that waited on shore. Gevan gestured for the Tevenarans to accompany her. Her guards and the rest of her retinue followed them.

  As they walked, the Matriarch’s sharp gaze fell on Nina where she nestled in Kevessa’s arms. “You’ve acquired a pet, Lady Kevessa?”

  Josiah heart jumped, but Kevessa showed only pleasure that the Matriarch had noticed her. “Yes, your majesty,” she said, holding Nina up. The jeweled collar Kevessa had fashioned from one of her bracelets glinted at Nina’s throat, with the leash she’d braided from silk embroidery thread leading to Kevessa’s wrist. If Josiah didn’t know, he’d never guess Nina could slip out of the contraption easily. “A gift from the people of Tevenar. Isn’t she darling?”

  Nina blinked charmingly at the Matriarch and chittered before ducking with feigned shyness back into Kevessa’s arms.

  “Indeed, a most winning creature,” the Matriarch said. She turned and climbed into the grand carriage waiting for her as a guard led their party to the one behind. Clearly she’d dismissed Nina from her thoughts.

  Josiah breathed easier. Kevessa had assured him the pretty trappings would put Nina firmly in the category of pampered pet, like the small fluffy dogs or sleek cats many of Ramunna’s aristocrats took with them wherever they went. Apparently she’d been right. Although Josiah still thought it should be obvious to any halfway intelligent observer that three wizards and their familiars had journeyed from Tevenar, not two.

  Gevan put his arm around Kevessa’s shoulders and squeezed. Her father had insisted that Kevessa’s wizardry be kept secret as further protection against the Purifiers. Their threats had forced him to bring her with him to Tevenar. If they discovered she was bonded to one of the animals they considered demons, both she and Nina would be in even greater danger. Nina was a lot less able to defend herself than Sar or Tobi. It wasn’t possible to conceal the other familiars’ roles, but Josiah was glad Kevessa and Nina at least wouldn’t be targets of the Purifier’s hostility.

  A guard swung open the door of the waiting carriage. It was open to the sky, its seats upholstered in soft leather. Gevan motioned for Elkan and Josiah to take the forward-facing bench, while he and Kevessa seated themselves facing the rear. Tobi sprang into the carriage with one fluid leap and stationed herself at Elkan’s feet. Sar fell into position just behind the rear wheels. Josiah wasn’t happy about being separated from his familiar, but there was no way Sar could fit into the carriage, and Gevan refused to let Josiah walk. At least Gevan arranged for guards to surround the donkey.

  The carriage lurched into motion. The four horses pulled it along a winding course toward the Matriarch’s palace. Crowds pressed close on both sides, craning to glimpse the wizards, crying their welcome. Guards strode ahead of the carriage to push them back. As they turned from the broad dock road into narrower streets that squeezed between tall buildings, the carriage stopped for minutes at a time while the guards cleared the way.

  Josiah gazed around him in fascination. Other than their bizarre clothes, the people looked ordinary enough. But as they progressed farther up the hill they entered an area where the buildings grew more dilapidated with every block, and the onlookers became progressively thinner and more poorly dressed. Before long the buildings were ramshackle ruins and the people wore rags.

  Elkan stiffened as he looked around, his hand going to Tobi’s head. “What’s this?” he asked Gevan.

  Gevan frowned at him. “The Beggars’ Quarter. I warned you about it.”

  Elkan swallowed. “I hadn’t realized it would be this bad.”

  They pulled into a dingy open square. Masses of people beat against the wall of guards. Instead of welcoming cries, their voice rose in desperate entreaties. “Wizard! Help us! Please, wizard heal me!”

  The carriage halted, blocked by the surging crowds. Beside the carriage the guards shoved a determined wave of supplicants away, but the people fought back, reckless in their desperation. A man carrying a scrawny, sobbing child broke through and charged the carriage. A guard drew his sword and moved to block him, but the man ignored the danger and thrust the child toward Elkan. “Wizard, I beg you! Heal her!”

  “Stop!” Elkan shouted as the guard prepared to strike. “Let him come!”

  A hush fell over the crowd. The guard, with uncertain looks first at Elkan, then at his c
ommander, grabbed the man by the arm and hustled him to the carriage. Elkan swung the door open and beckoned the man up.

  Warily the man climbed inside. Josiah scooted down the seat to make room. Elkan stroked the little girl’s stringy hair and she quieted, peering at him curiously, three fingers of one hand in her mouth. Josiah guessed she was about two years old. Her arms and legs were gaunt, though her belly and cheeks were plump. Green mucous trailed from her nose. A sudden harsh cough wracked her body, and she broke into renewed wails.

  “Please, wizard,” the man said. Though lean, he looked strong and tough, but his voice broke. “She’s been sick for a week. You feel how she’s burning up. She’s going to die unless you help her.”

  Though the girl was obviously very ill, Josiah doubted that. Children were resilient. They got sick a lot, but usually recovered on their own. Only the most severe cases needed the Mother’s power.

  Elkan smiled reassuringly at the man and reached for Tobi. “Let me see what we can do.”

  Gold light spilled from his hand and enveloped the girl. She quieted. Elkan’s eyes went unfocused, and he concentrated for several minutes. His expression gradually darkened to a scowl.

  “Josiah, can Sar get close enough for you to touch? I want you to feel this.” Elkan glanced at Kevessa, but looked away. He must want to share whatever lesson this patient offered with her as well as Josiah, but that wasn’t going to be possible without revealing her secret.

  Sar pushed past the guards, who parted to let him through, and came to the door of the carriage. He reared up and braced his front hooves on the top step. His thrusting nose met Josiah’s outstretched hand. Elkan gestured for the man to take a seat and rest the girl on his lap so Josiah could reach her. The position wasn’t the most comfortable, but this shouldn’t take long.

  Sar sent the Mother’s power through Josiah into the girl. The familiar overload of information assaulted his senses. Josiah sorted it out as Elkan spoke. “See those big patches of ugly green in her lungs, with the noise like squishing mud and the rotten taste and smell?”