Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) (55 page)

Nirel half rose, eyes blazing. “Stop right now and let me down! I won’t listen to you insult him!” She swayed and grabbed for a handhold.

“Sit down!” Vigorre slowed the horses until she complied, then urged them on again. “You’ll never make it in time if you have to walk the rest of the way.”

She gulped and stared at him. “It’s that bad?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to tell you, but Josiah didn’t think he’d last until sunset without healing. He’ll probably never wake up.”

Slowly she shrank in on herself, eyes brimming with tears. She turned away and raised her arms to cover her face before any could fall. She said something, but her voice was so muffled he couldn’t understand her.

He took the risk of transferring the reins to one hand and reached to gather her to his side. She slumped against him without protest, limp and trembling. “I’m so sorry. What did you say?”

She wasn’t any louder, but this time he caught the words. “I’ll never get the chance to tell him how much I love him.” She shuddered. “You think it’s bad that he beat me, but it was far worse when he stopped. Because he’d given up. Cast me out of his heart. Even though I was following Elder Davon’s orders, in obedience to the highest Ordinances, he wouldn’t accept that it was right for me to—to pursue you. He called me—” Her voice caught.

Vigorre tightened his arm, crushing her against his body. “I can guess.”

She gave a hiccuping sob. “Ever since, it’s like I’m a stranger. Like he doesn’t care at all. Even though I gave up everything to be with him, over and over…”

She buried her face in his robes and wept. Vigorre held her, silently cursing Kabos to the most horrible fates he could imagine.

They drove the rest of the way to the village in silence. When they drew up in front of the cottage, Nirel jumped down before the wheels stopped and raced inside. Vigorre took his time securing the horses to a hitching post before following her in, his steps slow and heavy.

He found her sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching Kabos’s limp hand to her chest, gazing into his sightless face. For a moment Vigorre was sure the man was dead, but then a cough, weaker than before, shook his body.

Nirel turned to him, cold determination in her eyes. “Heal him.”

Vigorre felt as if she’d shoved him off balance. “What?”

“The eagle. Tharanirre. They’re all sure she’s meant for you. I want you to bond with her, and heal him.”

“What? I—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t! You say you love me; prove it. If you call Tharanirre, she’ll hear you and come. I know it will work.” She glared at him, mouth set in a hard line.

“But Nirel—” Vigorre’s head swam. He’d never told her about his vision. It was too private, too revealing. He hadn’t wanted to admit how deeply tempted he’d been. “She’s a demon. I’ve always believed you that they’re demons! Are you telling me you were lying?”

“No!” She rose and came to glower at him, fists clenched as if she intended to punch him in the gut. “But I don’t care.”

“You’re asking me to enslave myself to a demon?” Vigorre’s voice cracked the way it had when it first started to deepen.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking.” Nirel jutted out her jaw. “It won’t hurt you. The demons haven’t harmed Elkan or Josiah or Kevessa. You’ll be fine, just like they are.” She stared into his eyes with absolute conviction. “My father is dying. You have the power to save him. If you refuse, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

For a dizzy instant, Vigorre considered it. It would be so easy to let himself believe he was doing the right thing. That he had no choice. That it wouldn’t be so bad after all. He could accept that what he saw really was the Mother. He could let her power flow into and through him the way he so desperately desired, and pretend that no harm would come of it.

No. He silenced the words of acceptance before they tumbled out. He refused to help the demons conquer Ramunna. Not even for Nirel.

“Nirel, I’m sorry. I love you, but I can’t.” He drank in the sight of her lovely, anguished face, acutely aware that he’d probably destroyed any remaining chance they had of a future together. “I think I’d better go.” He wrenched himself around and strode toward the door.

She ran after him and grabbed his arm, dragging him to a halt. “No! Come back! You were right, I was lying! They’re not demons. Elder Davon made it up, just like you saw in the window.”

As much as he wanted to believe her, he couldn’t. “You’re lying now. You’ll say anything to get me to do what you want.” He felt tired to the bone, every muscle aching. “It doesn’t matter anyway. If Tharanirre’s really from the Mother, she wouldn’t heal Kabos. Not unless he consented, and even if he woke up we both know he wouldn’t.”

“I’m his closest family. I could consent for him.” But her voice shook as she said it.

“No, you couldn’t. And you wouldn’t. I’m sorry, Nirel, but it’s hopeless.” He reached for her hands.

She yanked them away. “Out. Get out. I hate you. I never want to see you again.”

He rubbed his face. “Maybe that’s for the best.” He stumbled toward the door.

At the threshold he paused, looking back. She’d resumed her station at Kabos’s side, clutching his hand, gazing down into his face. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. “Nirel…” Vigorre shook his head. “Good-bye.”

She didn’t look up. He shut the door gently behind him and left.

* * *

Nirel sat with Kabos for hours. Women came and went. Some of them tried to speak to her, but she ignored them. Eventually they quit bothering. When the room darkened, someone lit a lamp. At some point a bowl of soup appeared on the table next to her. When the pain of her stomach’s emptiness forced her to sip a little, it was cold.

Kabos’s breathing became more and more labored. As the night wore on, over and over he would release a long, rattling breath, then lie silent as Nirel’s heart thudded in her ears, until at last with a gasping snort he’d suck in one more lungful of air.

Until he didn’t.

Nirel waited, and waited, and waited, while the silence stretched longer and longer. She felt numb, suspended. Surely at any moment grief would crash down and crush her.

What came instead was a tremendous sense of relief.

She was free. Never again would she have to face his disappointment, his disgust, his rage. Never again would she feel the pain of his belt on her back, or the worse pain of his rejection. She wanted to jump up and dance and laugh in delight.

As swiftly as it had come the joy fled, replaced by smothering guilt. The Lord of Justice knew her heart. Surely he would shower calamity on her for the crime of rejoicing that her father was dead. He would judge her unworthy to serve him and cast her out of his presence. He’d be right to do so. No penance could ever repay such terrible sin.

Even worse, had she wished Kabos dead? At some level below conscious intent had she sought to bring about this end? Why had it never occurred to her that coming home each night after working with sick people all day might put him at risk? She’d known very well that diseases could be contagious, and that if he contracted a deadly illness he would refuse the wizards’ healing. Either she’d been unforgivably stupid not to see the danger, or some part of her had wanted this to happen.

She should go to Elder Davon and confess everything. She should tell him her faith was a fraud, and that she deserved to be cast out of the Faithful. If in his kindness he refused to believe her, she could reveal the secret that made every second she spent in the shrine a desecration, her every prayer blasphemy, her every protestation of faith a lie. After he learned that the Lady’s corrupting light had once entered and changed her body, he would have no choice.

But she wouldn’t. She needed her faith too much. She needed the community of the Faithful now more than ever. Vigorre had betrayed her secret. Elkan would show everyone how she’d lied. The Matriarch would be out for her blood. Without Elder Davon to shelter her, where would she go?

Tonight she’d lost both her father and Vigorre. She couldn’t bear to lose the only person left who loved her.

She took Kabos’s hand. Was it her imagination, or was it already cooler than living flesh? She looked down at his face. It looked peaceful. She’d never seen him look peaceful before.

“Father,” she said, her voice harsh in the hushed room. “I guess you’re standing before the Lord of Justice now. I hope he understands how hard you tried. I hope he knows that you did your best, that you never turned away from him in your heart. I hope he welcomes you, and grants you true justice at last.”

It was considered disrespectful to address the Lord of Justice with anything other than the formal words of his prescribed prayers. She tried to recall the Prayer for the Dead. Elder Semanel had taught it to her for her trials, but she’d had no occasion to use it since.

The cold, elegant words came to her. She repeated them over and over in her heart, through the remaining hours until the blackness greyed into dawn.

Lord of Justice, in your wisdom weigh his soul.

Repay evil with pain and virtue with pleasure.

Cleanse his wrongs with suffering

Until he is fit to dwell in your perfection forever.

Thirty-Three

E
lkan arrived in the dining hall halfway through the evening meal. He took the seat beside Josiah and beckoned for one of the servants to bring him a plate. Tobi settled at his feet, her haunches pressing against Josiah’s leg. Josiah reached down to scratch behind her ears and slip her a slice of meat.

Elkan dug into his food. Josiah swallowed a mouthful and leaned toward him. “How did it go?”

“As I hoped. We showed Keeper Emirre how Nirel and Davon planned their deception. And Kevessa explained how Yoran forced her and Nina to fake their performance. He was relieved to discover it was all trickery. He’s convinced now that the Purifiers’ document isn’t authentic.” He paused to take a bite of herbed vegetables. “Actually, I’m inclined to think it is. At least, it corresponds closely enough to a passage in the first History that I suspect it really was written by Jashon Elero. But I certainly didn’t tell Emirre that!” He grinned at Josiah.

Josiah chuckled. Thank the Mother Elkan was in a good mood. He took the opportunity to broach the topic of his own busy afternoon. “By the way, master, you won’t believe who showed up right after you left…”

Elkan sobered as he listened to Josiah’s account, but he seemed approving. He frowned when he heard about Kabos’s condition, but Josiah could tell his displeasure wasn’t for the way he’d handled the situation. His frown deepened when Josiah told him about Nirel’s disappearance, and he reached to fondle Tobi’s ears.

When Josiah quit talking, Elkan shook his head. “You did well. I know it’s frustrating to deal with the Faithful, but we have no choice but to get used to it.”

“I know. It’s just—I mean, I never liked Kabos, but it’s awful to think of him dying when we could have saved him. But Sar wouldn’t budge.” He shivered. “Do you think he might pull through on his own?”

“I doubt it. From what you describe, it sounds like the measles caused an inflammation of his brain, and the records say that’s almost always fatal without the Mother’s power.”

Josiah sighed and fiddled with a piece of bread, tearing off little bits and scattering them across his plate. “I figured something like that.” He shrugged, trying to lighten his voice. “I’m not in trouble for healing on Restday, am I? Everyone else could have waited until tomorrow.”

“If Sar let it slide, I will.” Elkan gave him a wry smile. “I can hardly hold you strictly to that part of the Law today, when I’ve already agreed to break it for a far less urgent reason.”

“That’s right.” Josiah glanced at the head of the table, where the Matriarch was carrying on an animated conversation with several of her courtiers. “I’d almost forgotten.”

“She won’t.” Elkan pointed to his plate. “Better hurry up and finish. She won’t keep us waiting this time.”

Sure enough, minutes after the sweet course was served, the Matriarch rose and gestured imperiously for them to follow. Josiah grabbed the small frosted cake and devoured it as they trailed her to the sitting room. The usual complement of guards and servants took their places as the Matriarch settled onto the couch.

She beamed at them, though there was an undercurrent of tension in her manner. “You’ll be able to determine the child’s sex today?”

“If all goes well.” Elkan gestured at Josiah. “You take the first turn.”

Josiah put his hand on Sar’s back and settled in to work. The acceleration went smoothly; the child glowed and hummed and pulsed just like always. He couldn’t help checking the appropriate part of its body every now and then. But as far as he could tell, when the time came for him to turn over the acceleration to Elkan and Tobi, the development there still hadn’t taken one path or the other. He wished he had Gevan’s enlarging glass with him. He bet a window viewed under it would reveal changes that were still too small to see. He’d suggest it to Elkan if they reached the limit of safe acceleration before the child’s sex became apparent.

But a good quarter hour before they were due to finish, a frown creased Elkan’s brow. Josiah’s breath caught, and the Matriarch jerked upright. “What is it? Tell me!”

“I’m not sure yet, your majesty.” Elkan stroked Tobi’s back. “Give us a bit longer to be certain.”

Josiah knew, though. He was sympathetic to the Matriarch’s disappointment, but for his own sake he was pleased. After this child was born they’d have to stay in Ramunna through at least one more pregnancy. That would be months extra he’d get to work with Gevan and Nalini in the workshop. Who knew what amazing discoveries they might make in that time?

Elkan and Tobi kept the Mother’s power shining on the Matriarch for at least ten minutes longer than usual. When they finally let it fade, Elkan’s face wore the composed, gentle expression he always used when giving a patient unwelcome news. “I’m sorry, your majesty. We’ve reached the point where it’s quite clear. This child is a boy.”