The Law of Isolation (46 page)

Josiah nodded and tore into his bread. They ate together in silence, licking the crumbs from their fingers and shaking the last few from the napkin into their mouths. When they were finished Kevessa folded the napkin and tucked it back into the leather case.

Josiah jumped up. “Come on. There’s no path, but the underbrush isn’t very thick and we’ll hit the road before long.”

Kevessa pushed through the woods without difficulty, and when they reached the road she matched the quick pace he set. He wanted to be sure to get to the chapel far ahead of the group of masters who would be arriving later. It would be nerve-wracking to wait in hiding while they greeted Master Dabiel and listened to her report of the Mother’s words. But the timing would be too close to allow them to slip away before Master Dabiel emerged.

The chapel and clearing were just as he remembered them, except now the foliage was yellow and brown. He put a finger to his lips to warn Kevessa to be quiet, although the hush of the woods was so deep he didn’t think he could bear to make a noise even if he’d wanted to. No wonder Gurion Thricebound had chosen this place for solitary fasting and meditation. The Mother’s presence was so close he could almost hear her voice in the soft rustle of leaves. He hoped Master Dabiel and Buttons weren’t too ravaged by their fast to appreciate the holy atmosphere.

Josiah snuck around to the far side of the chapel, peering at the high windows, looking up into the surrounding trees. He traced lines from likely perches down to the dark rectangles. Finally he settled on a tree about fifty feet from the chapel that he thought would give them a clear view. It was a pine, tall and stately, with many branches arranged at regular intervals up its thick trunk. He was sure he’d have no problem shinnying up. But he wondered about Kevessa.

She required a boost to reach the lowest branch, which was well above Josiah’s head. But from there she ascended as easily as he did. They settled on a perch where a thick screen of needles shielded them from view.

Kevessa sat sideways on the branch and set the window-glass case in her lap. Josiah steadied the case while she opened it, pulled out the pieces, and fitted them together. She aimed it toward the chapel, shifted around for a few minutes, then grimaced and passed the glass to Josiah.

He saw the problem quickly. They had a good angle to peer through a window, but a protruding branch blocked their view. No matter how Josiah wriggled around, he couldn’t find a spot where he could both avoid the branch and see into the window.

He handed the glass back to Kevessa, scanning the rest of the tree. The next branch was well above them; the angle would be too steep. And farther down there were even more obstructing branches. Here there was just the one, sticking almost straight up from the branch they rested on.

Josiah scrambled to his feet. The branch was broad, and he had no trouble keeping his balance. Kevessa scowled at him and shook her head, but he waved away her protest. “I’ll be fine,” he whispered. “This is easy.”

He edged down the limb toward the offending branch. It was more challenging than he’d anticipated, because the wind picked up and the whole tree swayed. But he found another branch conveniently placed to give him a steadying handhold. For the last few feet he lowered himself to the branch and straddled it, scooting along until he reached the place.

He pulled his knife from his belt and hacked at the base of the branch. The blade was meant for cutting meat, not wood, but with persistence he was able to chip away a sizable divot. Periodically he pushed at the branch, judging his progress. At last it gave before the pressure. He pushed harder. Before he could let up it broke with a sharp crack and tore through the surrounding branches with a great thrashing noise.

He froze, holding his breath. The branch hung by a few twisted splinters, swaying. He was sure Master Dabiel and Buttons must have heard, but the little chapel remained silent and still.

Finally he swung himself around and scooted back along the branch. Kevessa glowered at him, but after a sheepish shrug he ignored her. By the time he scrambled to his feet and edged to their perch by the trunk, she had the glass aimed down at the chapel.

She studied the view as a smile slowly spread across her face. She lowered the glass and passed it to Josiah, annoyance replaced by conspiratorial playfulness. “It’s perfect.”

Josiah adjusted the glass and sighted through it. Sure enough, the glass brought the chapel as close as if he stood just outside the window and peered in. He could clearly see the curve of Button’s pink bulk on one side, and more than half of Master Dabiel’s kneeling form on the other, the top of her bowed head pointing at him. Behind them a bright line marked the edge of the door. He swallowed. If Master Dabiel were to look up through the window, she’d be staring right at them. Although surely they were far enough away she wouldn’t notice them among the branches.

After a few minutes he passed the glass back to Kevessa. “You keep it,” he whispered. “I’ve seen the Mother before. When she comes, look as long as you like.”

He would hate to miss catching a glimpse of the Mother, but Kevessa’s brilliant grin was enough to offset the prospect of that disappointment. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice almost lost in the soft breeze that stirred the pine needles around them.

She kept vigil for a long time before sighing, shifting her position on the branch, and passing the glass back to him with a little shake of her head. She rubbed her eyes as he raised the glass and began his turn watching. The minutes crept slowly by.

Pleasant as it was to be near Kevessa, Josiah was rapidly getting bored. They couldn’t talk, let alone touch, and the branch was uncomfortably rough and hard. It would be hours yet before the Mother appeared. He studied the angle of the trees’ shadows, trying to estimate how long they might have to wait. He sighed. Much too long. Perhaps they shouldn’t have arrived quite so early, after all.

They passed the glass back and forth a dozen more times. If he’d been alone, Josiah might have abandoned the project, snuck back down the tree, and gone to rejoin Sar. But Kevessa displayed no impatience, only unwavering determination to endure. He wasn’t going to give up if she didn’t.

Kevessa had the glass, and Josiah was looking toward the city, wondering if Elkan and the other masters had set out yet. They’d been quiet so long he jumped at the sound of her voice and nearly lost his balance on the branch, even though she spoke in a whisper. “Josiah? I thought you said no one would come until after the Mother appeared? Because the door is opening.”

“What?” Josiah snatched the glass and jammed it to his eye. It took an agonizingly long moment to correct the focus and find the window.

The bright crack of the door had widened to a broad stripe. Silhouetted within it was a dark figure, moving slowly and deliberately. Josiah was sure the intruder must be as inaudible to the unmoving figures of Dabiel and Buttons as to the distant watchers in the tree. A bright metallic glint flashed at the figure’s side.

“Master Dabiel!” Josiah shouted. “Watch out!” He thrust the glass into Kevessa’s hands and plunged off the branch, scrambling downward, half climbing, half falling. “Buttons! Behind you!” Rough bark tore at his hands and caught at his clothing, ripping it, but he barely noticed.

Above him, Kevessa screamed, the sharp bright sound rending the air. Josiah dropped from the last branch, landing with an impact that knocked him off his feet. He pushed up from the dirt, tripped over a root, staggered, and careened headlong toward the chapel. From it came muffled cries, sounds of struggle, and awful discordant squeals even higher pitched than Kevessa’s scream. He rounded the building, feet skidding as he made the sharp turn toward the door. It stood open. For an instant he froze, trying to take in what he saw.

Blood spattered everywhere. A huge mass of pink and black thrashed, where Buttons fought the dark-clad figure whose long knife plunged again and again into his side. Across the room, Master Dabiel hunched over, clutching her stomach, blood gushing between her fingers as she struggled to crawl toward her familiar.

Josiah hurled himself at the attacker, grabbing his shoulders and dragging him off Buttons. The man whirled, leaving his blade buried to its hilt in Button’s flesh. He grappled with Josiah, clawing hands reaching for his throat.

Buttons staggered and collapsed, blood pouring from many wounds. Josiah punched and kicked. He managed to fend off the man’s initial lunge, and one flailing fist landed a solid blow to his gut. But the man was taller and stronger than he was, and slowed only momentarily before coming after Josiah again. Josiah stumbled backwards. If he could keep the attacker’s attention fixed on him just a second or two longer, until Master Dabiel reached Buttons…

The man’s fist caught him in the jaw. Dabiel threw herself forward with a cry. Josiah reeled, his eyes refocusing as Dabiel’s hand struck Button’s side. Gold light shot from her other hand as she ripped it away from the wound in her abdomen and thrust it toward Josiah. It enveloped the man, halting his next blow inches from Josiah’s face.

Elation at their victory surged through Josiah, but was quickly swept away by concern. He rushed to Master Dabiel’s side. His stomach twisted at the sight of the gaping slash across her belly.
Sar!
He knew even as he called that the donkey was too far away to hear him, or to come in time if he did. Dabiel’s inner organs were exposed. The Mother’s power should be able to save her, but only in the next few minutes.

Dabiel shook her head. She’d collapsed half on top of Button’s inert form. Josiah knew the pig was still alive, because gold light continued to spill from Dabiel’s fingers and hold their attacker immobile. “Tie him. Can’t hold much longer—”

“Yes, Guildmaster,” he choked out, half a sob. He fumbled with the belt knife he’d forgotten in the fight and hacked long strips from the edge of his tunic as he rushed back to the man. The attacker struggled against the gold light surrounding him, breaking briefly free when it wavered, only to freeze again when it strengthened. Josiah tackled him around the waist and knocked him to the ground, the warm wash of the Mother’s power bathing him and assisting his efforts. He sat on the man’s back and grabbed his arms, yanking them together and binding them with a strip of his tunic, then shifted to straddle his legs.

“I’ve got him!” he cried. The light sputtered and went out. The man heaved and kicked. Josiah struggled to get a loop of cloth around his ankles.

Suddenly, slender arms wrapped around the man’s legs, holding them still just long enough to allow Josiah to knot the fabric and pull it tight. Kevessa backed away as the man flopped and thrashed. But with hands and feet bound, he couldn’t do much. Josiah grabbed him by the waistband of his breeches and dragged him to the wall beside the door. Then he dashed to Master Dabiel’s side.

Kevessa’s arms were around Master Dabiel, supporting her. Dabiel pressed both hands flat into Buttons’ side, her eyes clenched shut, an expression of intense concentration on her face. As Josiah watched, she frowned, and swallowed, and her lips parted to draw in a shallow breath. Slowly her face crumpled. “No,” she whispered. Her voice rose to a shout. “No!” Her hands clenched into fists and pounded the pig’s unresponsive flesh.

Josiah fell to his knees beside her. “Master Dabiel? Is Buttons…”

Dabiel went limp, laying her cheek against Buttons’ bristly hide. Tears leaked from her closed eyes. “He’s alive. Barely.”

“Elkan’s coming, Master Dabiel. And the other masters. They’ll be here soon—” Josiah glanced wildly at the sunlight slanting through the windows, trying to figure out how long it would be before they arrived. Too long, he feared.

Dabiel nodded. She spoke with exhausted, bleak acceptance. “He thinks if he burns himself out he can heal me enough.”

Josiah stared at her, horrified. Button’s sides swelled as he drew in a deep breath, gathering himself for one final effort.

Kevessa cried out. Josiah jerked around to see the captive wrench his arms free of their bonds, shove himself to his knees, and plunge a hand into his breeches pocket. Josiah scrambled to his feet and lurched toward him, spreading his arms wide in a desperate attempt to intercept any weapon the man might fling.

Instead, the man pulled out a small vial, ripped the wax stopper free with his teeth, and gulped the contents. He threw the vial aside and glowered at Josiah, his face a contorted mask of hatred. “You won’t take me alive,” he snarled.

“Tharan?” Kevessa’s voice was high and unbelieving.

The man hurled himself forward and tackled Josiah’s legs, knocking him down. Josiah’s head hit the floor with a crack. For a moment he was too dazed to react as the man loomed over him, a strip of Josiah’s tunic fluttering in his hands. Josiah recovered and tried to roll away, but the fabric went around his neck, and suddenly he was strangling, clawing helplessly at his throat as the man pulled the cloth tight.

Gold light burst over him in a brilliant wave. The garrote broke, and the man’s weight lifted off him. Josiah pushed himself to hands and knees, gasping for air. The man’s body hit the wall with a thud. Josiah grabbed the length of fabric and knotted it back together. He’d be more careful this time, and take however long he needed to be sure the attacker’s bonds were secure, even though he was acutely aware that with every passing second Button’s life was burning away.

The man doubled over and vomited. Josiah jerked back, narrowly avoiding the noxious flood. The gold light dragged the man away from the mess and pressed him flat to the floor. His eyes rolled back in his head. The light flashed blindingly bright, all four of the man’s limbs convulsed, and sharp cracks echoed through the room.

The light went out. For a moment Josiah’s eyes were too dazzled to see. He blinked as the afterimage of the flash gradually faded.

The man stirred and tried to rise. He cried out, hoarse and agonized.

“If you lie still, the pain shouldn’t be too bad.” Master Dabiel’s voice was weak, with a flat, dull quality that stabbed Josiah’s heart.