Larine pulled the hood of her wizard’s cloak around her face. Only a few fine drops of rain fell from the bands of grey clouds stretching from horizon to horizon, but they stung her cheeks like needles. The wizards and familiars walking from the Mother’s Hall to the docks leaned into the wind and trudged downhill.
Choppy waves filled the river. The handful of ships still moored at the three long piers rocked violently, slamming into the thick felt pads that cushioned the wood. Most of the fleet had fled upriver as far as their drafts would let them. The rest had sought the open water of the ocean, hoping to evade the storm or ride it out.
Larine squinted into the mist as they approached, trying to make out the ship at the seaward dock. Sailors swarmed its deck and rigging. When she recognized it, her heart plummeted. It was the big trader that made the regular run to Gemgeda, the one she’d sailed on every time she’d traveled to her hometown.
Shiar’s ship.
Of course Dabiel had chosen her former husband’s vessel. Shiar was widely acclaimed as the best captain in the Sailors’ Guild. He’d brought his ship safely through storms that could have sunk it dozens of times. Dabiel wouldn’t let their troubled personal history prevent her from choosing the ship and captain that would give their mission the greatest chance of success.
Hanion’s arms went around her shoulders. She leaned into his strength. It didn’t matter. She and Shiar had long since arrived at a carefully civil truce. They interacted only the minimum amount necessary to deal with their son, otherwise avoiding each other. This would be the same. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t even have to talk with him. She’d only be aboard his vessel for a few hours, after all.
If she went. Dabiel still hadn’t told any of them who she’d chosen. Sometime during the night, while Larine slept sandwiched between Hanion and Daisy, it had ceased to matter. If she was alive at sunset she would accept it as an unlooked-for gift. But she didn’t expect that to happen. This day was the entirety of her life, one way or the other, and she would live each moment accordingly.
A grim, silent crowd packed the streets around the docks. They knew. Larine could see it in their faces as they drew aside to let the wizards through. Word must have gotten out despite Dabiel’s admonishment. The people of Elathir had come to honor the ones who would make the ultimate sacrifice for their sakes.
Dabiel stopped at the beginning of the dock. Wizards and familiars gathered around her. The whole Hall had come. Buttons leaned against Dabiel’s leg, his black eyes surveying the crowd with wise, ancient grief.
Dabiel looked at them with almost the same expression. “Thank you,” she said simply. “Each one of you has listened to the Mother and done what she asked. I’ve never been more proud of my guild.” She lifted her head to look beyond them at the rest of the crowd. “Those who board this ship will buy our lives with their own. The approaching storm will destroy Elathir if they don’t push it away. The task will demand all their strength. All the life their bodies hold. I honor them for their courage.”
A murmur of agreement rose from the crowd. Dabiel waited until it died away, then stepped forward. Larine tensed as she walked to one of the wizards, a woman a few years older than she, and laid her hands on her shoulders. The wizard took a deep breath and bowed her head. Dabiel embraced her fiercely, then stepped aside. The woman strode onto the dock, her chin high, her bobcat familiar pacing at her side.
One by one Dabiel went to each of the chosen wizards. They were all between forty and sixty years of age, master wizards who’d served the Mother faithfully for many years. Their familiars ranged from a tiny songbird to a massive ox. Each of them looked Dabiel in the eye for a long moment before signaling their assent and returning her hug. Each of them walked past her to join the growing cluster on the dock.
Larine clung to Hanion’s hand. It crushed hers tighter with each wizard chosen. A number of times he flinched or drew in his breath. Larine couldn’t spare a glance for him. She kept her eyes fixed on Dabiel and counted, each number ringing in her head like a tolling bell. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…
Thirty. Larine’s stomach knotted and her heart thundered as Dabiel released the wizard, stepped back, and watched him pass. Then she turned, slowly and reluctantly but with the ponderous weight of inevitability, and walked to face Larine.
She couldn’t bear the anguish in Hanion’s strangled sound of protest, so she blocked it out. She met her friend’s warm brown eyes. Fear drained away and her racing heart slowed. Of course. This was how it had to be. She bowed her head in silent acceptance of her fate.
Dabiel’s arms went around her, crushingly tight. She spoke in Larine’s ear. “Exactly thirty-one people volunteered. I didn’t have to choose. But I couldn’t spare you.”
Larine returned her embrace, trying to communicate everything she felt with the pressure of her arms. “I understand.”
“I need you to lead them for me.” Dabiel pressed a folded piece of paper into Larine’s hand. “This explains what to do. Shiar knows where to take you.” She lowered her voice. “If anyone loses heart, help them find their courage. None of you can falter. The Mother asked for the bare minimum. If even one person doesn’t complete the sacrifice, it won’t be enough.”
“I understand,” Larine repeated.
“I know it’s a terrible thing to ask of you, but—someone has to be last. Will you wait, and make sure everyone else does what they must, before—” Dabiel shook her head against Larine’s shoulder, her whole body trembling.
“I will.” Larine refused to picture what that would mean. No matter how horrible, she could face it for Dabiel’s sake. “We won’t let you down. I promise.”
Dabiel choked back a sob. “I know you won’t.” Her hug drove the breath from Larine’s lungs.
For a moment she feared her friend wouldn’t be able to let go, but eventually Dabiel’s arms went limp and Larine pulled gently away. She put a hand on Daisy’s head as she turned toward the dock. The dog maintained a solemn attitude, but her thoughts meeting Larine’s were bright and eager.
She was about to make a wry comment to her familiar when a commotion arose behind her. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she recognized one of the raised voices. “Blast it, let me go!” Larine twisted to see a stocky youth tear free from the older man holding him back. He pushed through the crowd toward her, shoving people aside heedlessly. “Mother!”
She reached for him, but he ignored her outstretched hands and grabbed her upper arms. “Smash it, Mother, what do you think you’re doing?” He shook her violently, his face contorted with rage and fear.
Daisy pressed against Larine’s leg and sent a wave of the Mother’s power to surround him and pry his fingers loose. Larine cupped his face and tried to make contact with his frantic eyes. “Ozor, stop. I know you’re upset, you have every right to be, but you’ve got to control yourself.”
He fought to break free, but Daisy kept a tight hold on him and Larine refused to look away. Finally sanity seeped back into his gaze and he stilled. “Mother, please. Tell me you’re not getting on that ship.”
She caressed his cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to.”
He’d grown taller than her, but his face and voice were those of the frightened child she’d comforted when he woke from a nightmare. “But you’re not going to—what she said. You’re coming back.”
If it had been anything less at stake than his life and the lives of everyone else in Elathir, she would have relented. But it wasn’t, so she forced her heart to become steel and stone. “No, Ozor. I’m not.”
He stared at her for a long horrified moment, then lunged to grab her again. Daisy held him back. His voice rose. “Father! Master! Someone! You’ve got to stop her!”
Dabiel hovered nearby, hand raised to come to Larine’s aid, but she waved her away. “Ozor, listen to me. This is my choice. I volunteered. Unless enough wizards and familiars burn ourselves out to push the storm up the coast, it’s going to hit Elathir. The city will be destroyed. Thousands of people will die. You might be one of them. I can’t let that happen.”
He sagged in his bonds, furiously dashing tears from his eyes. “Let someone else do it. Why does it have to be you? It’s not fair.”
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed his face to her shoulder. “I know it’s not, sweetheart. I hate this as much as you do. Believe me, I don’t want to die. But someone has to do it, and the Mother gave me the job.” She stroked his hair, then pulled back to hold him at arm’s length, surveying his strong body with pride. “Look at you. You’re a fourth-year apprentice. Practically an adult. You’ve got Master Foriah to teach you everything you need to know to be a good trader. And you’ve got your father to look after you. You’ll be fine without me.”
Ozor shook his head, his eyes burning. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t do this. You’d tell the Mother no. You’d tell the Guildmaster to go burn herself out, if it’s so important. You wouldn’t let them make you kill yourself.”
Larine clenched her fists, willing him to understand. “No one’s making me do anything. Dabiel would have been the first to volunteer, but the Mother—”
Heavy boots thudded on the dock behind her. “Ozor, don’t speak to your mother that way.”
Ozor jerked to face Shiar, desperate hope in his eyes. “Father, you can stop her. Forbid her to board your ship. Refuse to sail if she’s aboard.”
Shiar stationed himself beside their son and put a hand on his shoulder. “I must do as the Guildmaster commands.” He shot Dabiel a look of dislike.
“With the full support of the Sailors’ Guild,” Dabiel said, gesturing to a man near the front of the crowd.
Fordan, the guildmaster of the Sailors’ Guild, came to stand beside her and nodded. “When the Guildmaster asked me to recommend my best captain, I didn’t hesitate to name you, Shiar. I know you’ll do our guild proud.”
Shiar inclined his head. “I’ll try.” He turned back to Ozor. “Your mother’s made up her mind, son. I don’t like it either, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Ozor clenched his fists. His lower lip trembled. “Please…” he whispered.
Larine had never realized emotions could cause actual, physical pain, but the stabbing agony in her chest truly felt as if her heart were shattering into pieces. She lurched to Ozor and put her arms around him. For a moment he remained stiff, but then he sagged against her. She forced words from her numb throat and lips. “I love you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. May the Mother be with you, and watch over you, and bless you—” Her voice broke, a sob escaping despite everything she could do to stop it. She swallowed hard, took his face between her hands, and kissed his forehead. “Good-bye.” She tore herself away, grabbed for Daisy, and stumbled down the dock, not daring to look back.
Her fellow wizards surrounded her, offering commiseration with silent looks and touches. Behind her Ozor’s voice rose, high and fierce with passionate conviction, turning her bones to ice and her gut to lead. “I hate you! I’m glad you’re going to die! I hate the Wizards’ Guild, and the Guildmaster, and the Mother! Smash and burn and blast you all!”