Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3) (60 page)

“So how’s the girl with the impacted tooth doing?”

“Mila? Much better, last I heard.”

“Good. If there haven’t been any complications so far, there probably won’t be.”

They walked for a while in companionable silence. Nirel found herself wishing it was possible for her to continue with Nalini to the wizards. How were they doing without her? Who was assisting Kevessa now? The new Mother’s Hall must be far more pleasant to work in than the square in the Beggars’ Quarter. Vigorre had never complained, but she knew he hated getting his robes dirty. It had been so good to work at his side. For hours at a time she could set aside the fact that she was there as a spy, watching for a chance to betray them, that the golden light was a corruption she must never allow to enter her body, and concentrate on the deeply rewarding labor of helping make sick and injured people well.

Maybe… She spoke without thinking. “Nalini, do you think you could teach me to do some of the things you do? The Faithful need healers. Why not learn to do it ourselves, some of us?” Her heart raced. Even though her usefulness as a spy was at an end, maybe this was a way she could still serve Elder Davon and the Lord of Justice.

Nalini regarded her critically. “I suppose I could give you a chance. If you’re not stupid you should be able to pick up a few things.” She rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be better than some of the five-thumbed oafs I’m trying to teach to distill insulin.”

“I’m sure I could do that,” Nirel said, though she had no idea what the process might involve.

“Come by Gevan’s workshop. That’s where I’ve got my equipment set up now, although I’m going to be moving it to the Mother’s Hall soon. We’ll see if you have any aptitude.”

Nirel’s heart fell. “I can’t. I won’t be able to leave the Quarter. The Matriarch knows I tried to commit treason. If she catches me, it will be the dungeon. Or worse.”

Nalini waved a careless hand. “Put a cloak over your face and come at night. No one will ever know.”

It would be a huge risk. But she wanted it so badly. “Tonight, maybe? After—” She broke off, closing her eyes as the grief she’d momentarily set aside came roaring back. She fought to keep her voice from breaking as she finished. “—Father’s funeral?”

“Sounds good. Say two hours after sunset?” When Nirel agreed, Nalini gave her detailed directions to Gevan’s workshop. It shouldn’t be that dangerous to venture there. It was in the upper reaches of the city, part of the University complex, far from the palace and the Beggars’ Quarter and anywhere else people might recognize her.

They drew near the gate of the city. Nirel shifted her bag, wondering if she should mention the other thing that weighed on her heart. Several times she started to speak but cut herself off before the words escaped. But finally she blurted them out. “Josiah’s been working with you, hasn’t he?”

Nalini looked at her without suspicion. “Yes. He’s not a bad student. Far too reckless and impulsive, but he comes up with some clever ideas.”

Nirel looked away, biting her lip. “Can you give him a message from me?”

“Of course.” Nalini waited expectantly.

Nirel tried to formulate what she wanted to say. Kevessa had told the wizards everything. Maybe Josiah had even watched through a window as Elder Davon coached Nirel in her slanderous lie. Maybe he’d seen her convey it to Vigorre with earnest sincerity. She might have convinced Vigorre that windows could show false images, but Josiah knew better. He knew she’d betrayed their friendship once again. She wouldn’t be surprised if he hated her.

“Tell him…” She stared blindly ahead for a long time before she went on, haltingly. “Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I never meant to hurt them. I just had to…” She trailed off. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t put the rest into words.

Nalini looked at her a while before she spoke in a gentle voice. Well, gentle for her. “Maybe you should tell him yourself. I could bring him to the workshop with me tonight. He’s always eager to experiment; no one will think anything of it. He won’t turn you over to the Matriarch, will he?”

Surely he wouldn’t, no matter how angry he was. He’d always tried to help her. She doubted it would be any easier to find the right words with him there, but the idea of seeing him one more time was deeply tempting.

She’d be able to say good-bye this time. Instead of disappearing without a word, as either she or he had always done before.

She nodded. “All right. Bring him.”

* * *

Nirel stumbled through the funeral as if she were sleepwalking. Elder Davon was quietly supportive, Elder Semanel warmly compassionate, the other Elders solid reassuring presences. A wagon brought Kabos’s body, and the Elders laid him with silent dignity in the shrine. They gathered around him in a circle and recited the long, solemn ceremony of ancient prayers. Somehow Nirel choked out the parts spoken by the deceased’s family, her voice high and thin compared to the bass rumble of the Elders.

Afterward they wrapped him in a shroud, laid him on a litter, and took him to the tiny Faithful cemetery. As they walked Elder Davon told Nirel how the small patch of land had been dedicated to the purpose when the Faithful were first given the Dualist Quarter. Over the centuries they’d developed a system which allowed them to return each of the Faithful dead to the earth, as the Ordinances commanded. Bodies were laid side by side and end to end, a dozen deep, until one section of the cemetery was packed tight. Then a new section was opened. By the time the cycle came around to the first section, at least five years later, natural decay had scoured the bones clean. They were gathered and moved to a stone mausoleum nearby. It was three-quarters full.

Elder Davon smiled grimly. “When the time comes, we’ll fill it with oil and kindling and burn it to the ground. That way the followers of the Lady won’t be able to desecrate our ancestors’ bones after we’re gone.”

Nirel gulped and nodded.

Kabos’s body was settled into the next grave in line and carefully covered with dirt. It would please him, Nirel thought, for his remains to become part of the land he had loved. Maybe she should have let Ozor bury him next to the village fields, after all. But it was too late for that now.

After the final prayers were said, Elder Davon took her arm. “You must come home with me. I sent word to my wife to set another place at the table. Mila will be delighted to see you. She can chew now, for the first time in years. She takes great joy in eating the foods she couldn’t for so long.”

“Thank you,” Nirel stammered.

Elder Davon looked at her sharply. “What’s wrong?”

Nirel hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell him before, but now the words tumbled out. “Ozor kicked me out of the village. He said the oath of a M-m-mother-hating h-h-heathen…” To her horror sobs wracked her body.

Elder Davon gathered her close. “You have a home with me as long as you need one. Will you let me act as a father to you, now that your own is gone?”

Nirel couldn’t speak, but she nodded. Elder Davon didn’t try to stop her tears, just held her while she cried.

After a while, when her sobs finally eased, she blurted, “I’ll try not to be a bother. I’ll cook for you, and clean, and whatever else you and your wife want in return for taking me in.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said lightly. “It will be delightful to have a young one around the house again. Now that Mila’s better she’ll be leaving us soon for a husband’s home, and all her siblings are long grown and gone.”

His words should have been comforting, but instead they angered her. She wasn’t a child, and he wasn’t a member of her kinguild, obligated to raise an orphan the guild chose to entrust to him. She was of an age to be an apprentice, even if she’d never formally joined a guild. She would gladly take Davon as her master, but only men could become Elders. She didn’t see why—in Tevenar there were some roles more commonly filled by one sex or the other, but nothing was reserved or forbidden to either—but she accepted it along with all the other Ordinances. She needed to find another way to be useful to the Faithful. Her idea of learning Nalini’s skills had been little more than a whim, but the more she thought about it the more perfect it seemed.

She waited until after the evening meal to broach the subject with Elder Davon. His home was modest but lovely, cozy in a way that spoke of many happy years passing within its walls. His wife Lena was gracious, though understandably cautious about the unexpected addition to her family. Mila was rapidly losing her gaunt, sickly look. She smiled and chatted with Nirel while they ate.

She would have jumped up to help the other two women clear the dishes, but Lena frowned and motioned for her to stay seated. Nirel twisted her hands in her lap as Mila gathered her empty plate and cup. Elder Davon sipped a glass of wine, his relaxed posture showing he accepted being served as naturally as the Matriarch.

“I need to go out tonight,” Nirel blurted.

Davon looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “What’s so urgent it can’t wait? I’d think you’d welcome the chance to rest, now that you’ve completed the tasks I required of you.”

“I would, but Nalini and I walked together from the village. While we were talking I thought of something—” She poured out an explanation of the Faithful’s needs and her desire to learn how to fulfill them. At first he seemed politely skeptical, but the more she talked the more thoughtful his expression became.

When she finally ran out of words, he slowly nodded. “You make a strong case. I supposed that after our departure we would continue to deal with illness and injury as we always have, but it would be a great blessing from the Lord of Justice if some of our own were to learn the foreigner’s skills. You certainly have the intelligence and determination to do so. Though I dislike the idea of you wandering the night streets alone.” He raised a hand to cut off Nirel’s objection. “Yes, I know you’ve done so frequently before, often at my bidding. But you were under the Matriarch’s protection then, not being hunted for treason.”

Nirel leaned forward, desperate to convince him. “I thought if I wore a cloak and my boots, pulled my hair back under a hat and carried some books, I could pass for a University student. That way I could stay out until the late curfew.”

He squinted at her and tilted his head. “In dim light it might work. Luckily it’s chilly tonight; your figure is far too feminine to be disguised by anything less than a voluminous cloak. I think I might even have one of the hats students wear around somewhere, from when my middle son was a student.”

He rummaged in a back room, emerging with a floppy velvet hat that concealed Nirel’s face nicely when she pulled it down to shade her eyes. Mila had a dark cloak she could borrow, and her Tevenaran boots looked suitably masculine. Davon produced a stack of scholarly-looking books from his personal library, along with a leather strap to bundle them, which he entrusted to her with stern admonishments not to let them come to harm.

He saw her off from his door. She strode through the dark streets, confident of her disguise. Enough Faithful young men attended the University that she attracted no attention in the streets or at the gate. Students had special permission to remain outside the Quarter in the evenings, so they could study at the library or with their professors. When she reached the University grounds she spotted several similarly clad young men hurrying between the buildings. She was careful to give them a wide berth.

The building Nalini had described was located in a quiet area of the campus. She climbed the stairs and knocked on the proper door, hoping desperately she’d remembered Nalini’s directions correctly and wasn’t about to rouse a stranger from sleep.

But it was Gevan who opened the door. He blinked for a moment at her disguise until she pushed her hat back and his eyes widened. “Welcome,” he said in Tevenaran. “Nalini warned me to expect you. She should be arriving shortly.”

Nirel went in and set aside her cloak and hat as he shut the door. She hadn’t seen much of Gevan since he got back from Tevenar, but she still thought of him warmly as her first friend in Ramunna. “Your accent is much better.”

“It should be, after so much conversation with native speakers.” Gevan sighed. “Alas, neither Elkan nor Josiah has had time to instruct me since we arrived. I fear I still slip into archaic constructions on occasion.”

“You do sound rather as if you’re reading from one of the older Histories.” Nirel crossed the bare sitting room to a door that stood open, revealing a large, cluttered room beyond. “I could help you with language while you show me what you and Nalini and Josiah have been up to.”

Gevan agreed. He eagerly demonstrated his enlarging glass to Nirel. She didn’t have to pretend to be impressed. The tiny animals in pond water were particularly fascinating. She watched them as Gevan described how he had implemented Josiah’s suggestion and added a mirror to direct lantern light through the samples he placed on small squares of clear glass.

She was just getting good at tweaking the sample smoothly in the opposite direction she wanted the view to move when she heard footsteps. Before she could react, Josiah’s voice said in her ear, “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

She pulled back, blinking to focus on his face after the dazzle of the brightly lit sample. “Um, yeah.” She looked away and swallowed. “Hello.” Her voice sounded odd in her ears. “I guess you must be pretty angry at me.”

He rolled his eyes. “You could say that.”

“You’re not going to turn me in to the Matriarch, are you?”

“Nalini wouldn’t tell me where you were or bring me with her until I promised not to. But I wouldn’t have anyway. You ought to know that.”

“Yeah.” She rose and walked to a workbench against the far wall where Nalini was lighting a brazier.

Josiah followed her. “I just don’t understand why you did it. Why tell Vigorre a story to make him think the Purifiers were right about the familiars being demons, when you know very well they’re not?”

“They might as well be!” Nirel clenched her fists and turned away from him.

He circled her to catch her eye again. “Vigorre said you’d joined the Dualists—”