The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) (20 page)

Disappointed, Josiah nodded and headed for the door. As he went out, he caught a glimpse of the golden ball taking shape above Elkan’s upturned hand.

The trough in the shed was large, and it took Josiah many trips to the well to fill it. The sun was high now, and he was soon sweating. Turning to the hay, he wrestled down several large, awkward sheaves, until he judged it would be enough.

The goats were scattered about the farm and had no desire to cooperate with Josiah. He spotted a mother goat, udder heavy with milk, twin kids capering nearby, and tried to herd her gently toward the shed. She evaded his efforts with ease. He fetched a length of rope and tried to put it around her neck. She escaped. He chased her round and round the farm, until finally he was able to throw himself on her back and force the loop over her head. He threw all his strength into dragging her. She dug in all four hooves; he jerked and tugged; her kids bleated pitifully. When finally they reached the shed and he tied her up, Josiah was exhausted. He looked in despair at the rest of the scattered goats, spotting at least four others with milk.

A derisive snort sounded. Nirel brushed past him. She went out among the goats, whistling and clucking, and in a few moments all of them clustered around her. She separated the milk goats and sent them ahead of her in a neatly bunched group down to the shed.

One by one, she tied them. Josiah joined her, careful not to get in her way.

Still without saying a word, Nirel turned back to the cottage. Josiah bit his lip. “Nirel…” he began uncertainly.

She whirled on him. “Shut up.” Turning her back, she marched to the cottage and vanished inside.

After a hastily scrounged midday meal, the unlikely party set out. Elkan led the way, Sar beside him, prodding Kabos ahead of them. The farmer had settled into sullen resignation. His hands were still bound, but Elkan and Sar remained alert, ready to thwart any attempt at escape. The two women followed behind, babies on their backs, taking turns holding Yarin’s hand and helping him past rough spots in the trail. When the toddler tired, Sar consented to bear him, and he perched atop the donkey’s load.

Nirel herded the goats, a forbidding scowl warning off anyone who tried to speak to her. Josiah led Thistle, trudging under the greatly increased weight of his pack. Kabos refused to carry a pack, and Elkan felt it wiser to refrain from forcing him. The women were burdened with the children, and wizard and familiar must remain maneuverable enough to deal with their prisoner, so a large portion of the family’s gear and supplies had fallen to Josiah to carry. Thistle bore the rest. She resented this turn of events and took every opportunity to express her displeasure with contrary behavior. Josiah constantly fought to keep her from turning aside after every patch of grass or green bush they passed.

Elkan pressed on into the evening, but finally called a halt at sunset. Josiah had to do most of the work of setting up camp. By the time he pitched both tents and gathered sufficient firewood, Sathea and Nirel had finished milking the goats, and Elkan had secured Kabos. Feet again bound, the farmer sat on a rock near the fire and watched the activity around him with a sullen glower. Every now and then Sathea would glance at him, then look away and bury herself in her work.

They finally settled down to an evening meal of bread and goat’s milk. Elkan unbound Kabos’ hands and watched him closely as the farmer wordlessly accepted what he was given and ate. Afterward, the women and children crowded into Meira’s tent. Josiah headed for Elkan’s tent, wanting nothing more than to sink into exhausted sleep. He was still sure he’d done the right thing, but he’d certainly never pictured the awkward and messy consequences that would follow the proof of Kabos’ guilt. Just a couple more days on the road, he consoled himself. Surely they’d make it to Tathorlith the day after tomorrow, even as slowly as they must now travel.

“Josiah, get the blankets.” Elkan’s voice was weary and dull. “Sar says it might drizzle tonight, but that can’t be helped. Make yourself a pallet under the trees and one for me here by the tent.”

“What? Why?” Josiah had never wanted his soft bed at home nearly as much as he yearned for the hard ground inside the tent now.

“Think about it, Josiah. As our prisoner, Kabos is our responsibility. We’re duty-bound to treat him as well as we’re able. If he sleeps in the tent I can unbind him. It’s not safe for you to share the tent with him. Sar and I will split the watch so each of us can get a little sleep.”

Josiah bit back a protest. It was no more than Kabos deserved to be forced to sleep outside in the rain all night, but he knew Elkan would never agree.

Instead, he crawled into the tent and set about gathering the blankets. He defiantly left only one thin blanket for their prisoner’s use. Arms full of cloth, he emerged, dumped half his burden beside the tent opening, and headed off toward the trees.

Elkan bent over Kabos, speaking to him in a low voice. The prisoner listened unresponsively, cold hard eyes fixed on the wizard, but when Elkan stooped to untie him, he made no move. Sar crowded close to Elkan’s side, and Elkan rested a cautious hand on his withers, but Kabos ducked into the tent without incident.

Elkan leaned heavily on the donkey. He pressed a hand to his forehead. Then he shook himself, pushed his hair back from his face, and gave Sar a firm pat. The donkey bent his head and lipped up a few stray blades of grass. Chewing thoughtfully, he positioned himself across the tent entrance. His eyes closed, and his head drooped. Elkan wrapped his cloak tight and paced around the clearing, settling into a pattern that led him in a loop around the tent.

Josiah watched him. He was reasonably warm snuggled within the blankets, and he’d found a patch of fallen pine needles that wasn’t too hard, but tired as he was, sleep eluded him. When Elkan’s circuit carried him close, Josiah said, “I could take a turn on watch. That way you and Sar could get more sleep.”

“No,” Elkan snapped. A bit more gently, he added, “It wouldn’t be safe. Just sleep. We’ve got a long way to go tomorrow.”

Eleven

B
odies crowded the room. Josiah shifted on the hard bench where he sat pressed between Elkan and the representative of the Knitters’ Guild, a heavyset woman named Jonina. The rest of the participants in the hearing ranged in an arc beyond her. Facing them, townspeople crammed the chairs reserved for spectators. Josiah squirmed beneath their avid gazes.

When they’d arrived in Tathorlith a week ago, they’d quickly become minor celebrities. It had been many months since anything of note had happened, and people were bored and hungry for scandal. The arrival of a wizard and familiar, accompanied by a bound prisoner, women and children, a herd of goats, and one weary and bedraggled apprentice, quickly set tongues wagging. Rumors, true and false, spread through the town, so that when the matter finally came to trial, far more people wished to witness the proceedings than Tathorlith’s Mother’s Hall could hold. A crowd ringed the building, the excited buzz of their voices floating in through the window.

Josiah rubbed a trickle of sweat from his neck. The morning was sunny and warm, beautiful late spring weather holding the promise of summer. Outside, down by the river that ran through the center of town or up on the wooded slopes that surrounded it, Josiah would have reveled in the warmth. But trapped here amid the press of bodies, in a room which would only grow hotter and closer as the day progressed, Josiah felt as if he might suffocate.

In the center of the arc of chairs and benches, Master Admon rose. He was the head of the town council and had hosted them in his home for the past week.

Admon waited while the babble of voices stilled. When at last he spoke, his quiet voice cut clearly through the silence. “We are gathered today to hear and make judgment in the matter of Kabos Farmerkin Farmer. I wish to welcome to Tathorlith Elkan Farmerkin Wizard, who will speak for the Mother in these proceedings.” He nodded at Elkan, who rose.

“Thank you, Master Admon, and people of Tathorlith, for your hospitality. Sardonyx and I will do our best to bear witness to the Mother’s truth.” Beside Elkan, Sar bobbed his head. He was squeezed into a cramped space between Elkan’s chair and the wall, but gave little sign of discomfort, only shifting his weight now and then with a soft stamp of a hoof.

Elkan sat down. Josiah studied him, concerned. Elkan had been exhausted when they arrived in Tathorlith, worn down from nights with little sleep and days spent constantly on alert. Kabos had cooperated without complaint until late the second night. Josiah had become complacent, and their prisoner must have thought Elkan and Sar had, too. Not long before dawn, as Sar plodded his patient circle around the camp, Kabos made his break, slipping under the far wall of the tent and creeping toward the trees. But he underestimated Sar’s sharp hearing. The donkey was at Elkan’s side in an instant, and the Mother’s golden power snatched Kabos back. Josiah had known nothing of the escape attempt until Kabos’ angry rants roused him from sleep.

After that it had been a battle of wills between Kabos and Elkan. The farmer abandoned his cooperative attitude and fought to break away dozens of times each day. He couldn’t hope to succeed, but he forced Elkan and Sar to spend their energy time and time again to keep him in line. He spoke as little as ever, but his challenging eyes taunted Elkan. Would they reach help in time, or would Kabos succeed in driving Elkan to exhaustion first?

Elkan won, but it was a near thing. When they reached Tathorlith, he was able to do little more than stare stubbornly at Kabos as he leaned heavily on Sar. He left it to Josiah to call for the Watch and explain what had happened. Only when two large watchers took Kabos by the arms and escorted him to the town’s jail did Elkan finally relax. He managed to hold himself together long enough to see them all safely settled in Admon’s house, the goats boarded with a local herder and the women and children placed in the charge of Yovela, Admon’s wife. But he collapsed into deep sleep the moment they were shown into the guest room.

Josiah knew Elkan needed several days of rest and food to restore his strength fully. He’d missed his usual Restday break. But it had been nearly a year since a wizard last visited Tathorlith, and there was the expected backlog of cases in desperate need of the Mother’s power. Elkan and Sar roused Josiah soon after dawn the next morning, and the three of them went to work.

Not until yesterday had they gotten a respite. Josiah appreciated the day of rest from the week’s labors as he never had before. Elkan was mostly recovered now, but there was still an edge of weariness that left him snappish and short-tempered.

Admon nodded to the watchers at either side of the courtroom door. “Bring in the prisoner.”

Kabos returned the stares of the crowd as a watcher led him to his seat. He wasn’t bound, but the watcher remained stationed behind his chair. Beside him, the Farmers’ Guild representative, Master Nadav, leaned over and murmured to him. Kabos nodded curtly.

Admon shuffled through his papers until he found the one he wanted. He scanned it briefly. “Master Kabos, you stand accused of assault against your wife, Master Sathea Farmerkin Knitter, your daughter, Nirel Knitterkin, and your son, Yarin Farmerkin. As the nearest community with a Council of Guildmasters on which your guild is represented, Tathorlith has the authority to hear this matter and make judgment. You’ve had the opportunity to meet with your guild representative?”

Kabos gave Nadav a cold glance and nodded.

Nadav rose, shaking his head in exasperation. “Master Admon, I’ve spoken with Master Kabos at length, but he refuses to cooperate with me. I’ll do my best to represent his interests, but he feels we’re biased against him and won’t grant him a fair hearing.”

Admon turned to Kabos. “Master Kabos, is this true?”

The farmer wouldn’t meet his eyes. Admon shrugged. “Believe what you wish. We’ll treat you fairly nevertheless.” He glanced again at his papers. “Wizard Elkan, you may now present the evidence against the accused.”

Elkan rose, his hand on Sar’s back. “Unfortunately, we’re too far from where the events took place for the Mother’s power to show you what happened. But before we left Master Kabos’ farm, Sardonyx and I opened a window and investigated as far back as we could, approximately a year. We witnessed numerous instances of assault. As an additional witness, I asked Journeyman Meira Smithkin Miner to observe with us. She can confirm all I say.” He nodded toward Meira, halfway around the arc of participants. She looked up from Ravid, who slept in her lap, and inclined her head with a grim expression.

Admon made a note on his paper. “Very well. Please give us a complete account of all you saw.”

Josiah was close enough to see Elkan’s fingers tighten in Sar’s mane. “Yes, sir.”

He took a deep breath. “The first instance we were able to locate occurred near the beginning of last summer. While Kabos was out in the fields, a fox attacked a goat kid. Nirel discovered the injured kid and brought it home. Sathea tended its wounds, but they were severe, and near evening it died. When Kabos returned, he heard what had happened. He judged Nirel negligent in her care of the goats for allowing the attack to occur, and Sathea incompetent for allowing the kid to die. He decreed both must be punished. We witnessed him strike Sathea with a staff, and Nirel with a switch. The second incident occurred approximately one month later…”

Elkan’s quiet voice droned on, describing in neutral but damning detail what the Mother’s power had revealed. Josiah listened for a while, but gradually his righteous indignation faded and he felt only sick horror as the list of atrocities went on. He tuned out the wizard’s voice and looked around. Distress mirrored his own in the faces of the listening townspeople. Some of them glared with open hostility at Kabos, whose eyes remained fixed on the floor. Others looked with pity at Sathea and Nirel. Sathea sat, eyes closed, weary resignation on her face as she heard her life described. Her hand compulsively stroked the hair of the nursing Ilana. Nirel sat beside her, face white and hands clenched in her lap. She gazed at Elkan with loathing. Noticing Josiah looking at her, she transferred her bitter glare to him, and he flinched, looking away.