“You see? All roads bring you to me,” he said in a caressing voice as he slid down from the rock. “Come, we’ll walk the road together. There are many things I would like to ask you.”
I shook my head, and a sense of danger gripped me.
His smile grew, and to my horror, I saw that his mouth was filled with sharp teeth. I screamed and turned to run, but something dark ran at me and knocked me down.
I woke with a thundering heart. Ceirwan entered only moments later with a laden firstmeal tray. He grumbled at the dimness as he opened the shutters. At once the room was full of sunshine and the scent of blossoms, and my night terrors began to seem foolish.
“Ye slept in th’ chair again,” Ceirwan said disapprovingly. “Truly, Maruman has more sense than ye.”
I turned to see that the old cat had indeed shifted during the night from my lap to the bed. I stood up, groaning and feeling sorry for myself.
“Did ye dream? I’ve brought th’ book up just in case,” Ceirwan said.
“I had a nightmare about Ariel,” I murmured.
“After yesterday, it’s no wonder,” Ceirwan said. “But nightmare or no, ye best put it in th’ book or Sarn’ll be chasin’ ye down.”
Resignedly, I scrawled in a few lines about the nightmare, then frowned at the words I had written. I had dreamed of Ariel far too often. What on earth could my subconscious be trying to tell me? Ceirwan set about stoking up the fire, and I laid the book aside and sniffed a pot to find he had brought a sweet ginger infusion. Pouring a cup, I asked, “Do you know if any of the beastspeakers have managed to coax Kella’s owlet to leave her?”
It did not surprise me when the guilden shook his head. It was uncanny how a tiny detail could so thoroughly thwart more important things. Kella dared not carry the bird with her to Sutrium. It would not matter while she traveled with the magi, for it would be assumed the owl was part of the performance. But once she left the troupe, the bird would draw suspicious mutters, for it was commonly believed that users of the black arts kept beasts as familiars to aid them.
“Here, I dinna suppose young Gavyn might have a chance at befriendin’ it?” Ceirwan said suddenly, straightening and rubbing the soot from his hands onto a rag.
“It might work,” I said. There had been little time to judge the exact nature of Gavyn’s Talent yet, but there was no doubt he had some special affinity with beasts, quite aside from his ability to communicate with them. “Why don’t you take him into the Healer hall and see how he fares with the owlet? Speaking of Gavyn, where are he and Seely now?”
“In th’ kitchens. I introduced them to Javo an’ some of th’ others over firstmeal. Zarak is showin’ them around th’ big house an’ grounds. I thought I’d take them down to th’ farms this afternoon. But ye need to eat. It’s bad enough that ye won’t rest properly without ye starvin’ yerself as well.”
“I hardly starve myself,” I said.
Ceirwan shook his head in exasperation as he moved toward the door.
Restless, I soon decided to go down to the kitchens. Maruman woke and sipped a bit of milk while I was dressing, saying peevishly that he might as well come with me since I would not have the courtesy to tell him if I decided to go riding off somewhere again. He leapt onto my shoulders, and I winced as he used his claws to arrange himself around the back of my neck.
I carried the tray down the halls and into the kitchen, where Javo whisked it out of my hands and greeted Maruman like a visiting prince. From the corner of my eye, I saw a young healer washing dishes with a long-suffering expression that I understood all too well. I had cleaned hundreds of greasy pots and plates when I first arrived at Obernewtyn.
Zarak and Seely were sitting by the window in the sun, but there was no sign of Gavyn. I sauntered over to them and asked Seely where the boy was.
“Gavyn went with Ceirwan just now to see the healers, lady.” She was wearing a pale green dress that suited her, and her brown hair had been brushed and lay clean and shining over her shoulders. Her heart-shaped face had a winsome quality that an unhealthy diet of fear and meager food had left pinched and overly taut.
I took a seat beside her. “You need not address me so formally, Seely,” I said as gently as I could. “I am no more a lady than you.”
Abruptly, Seely asked if Obernewtyn was about to be invaded. “I heard people talk of it this morning.” There was an accusing note to her voice.
“You must understand that as established as we seem to be, we are no less fugitives than you and Gavyn, and as such, we have always lived with the possibility that the soldierguards could come for us.”
“Zarak said it was not soldierguards who would come,” Seely said, and Zarak farsent apologetically that he had reassured her, because she had overheard enough to be badly frightened.
“The fact is, we are not sure of anything but that trouble of some kind is coming to the mountains,” I told her firmly, assuring Zarak mentally that I was not annoyed with him for speaking frankly to the girl. “It is possible that it will be soldierguards. But given what we know, it seems more likely that our tormentors will be rebels. You understand that a rebellion is brewing in the Land and has been for some years?”
She nodded, wide-eyed. “I heard talk of it as we traveled, though I paid no mind to it then. Such talk is as common as leaves flying in the wind. Yet maybe all the talk has some center after all.”
“It does, I’m afraid,” I said.
“Why are you so worried about the rebels? Why should they care about Misfits and suchlike?”
“Rebels are also ordinary people,” I said. “How often have you seen decent common folk stand to cheer on a burning or whisper a bit of slander in the ear of the authorities to ensure someone’s child is dragged away in the night to the Councilfarms? Whether the rebels win or lose, they will feel the same way about us as always. But if they win, they will be in a position to do something about it.”
She bit her lip. “I guess it is not just the Councilmen and Herders who want Misfits killed.”
“Most ordinary folk hate Misfits as much as Herders do, because they’ve listened their whole lives to the preaching that makes us scapegoats for anything bad that happens. And unfortunately, there are powerful rebels who loathe us like poison and dream of wiping us off the face of the Land.”
“I thought you said no one knew about this place?”
“None but friends do, but we have friends among the rebels, and things have a way of leaking out.”
Without warning, Seely’s eyes filled with tears, and she seemed to shrink into herself. “I knew it was too good to be true,” she whispered. “I should never have brought Gavyn here.”
I heard her behindthought that they were prisoners now, because we dared not let them go since they knew the whereabouts of Obernewtyn.
“You need not stay if you don’t want to,” I told her gently. I did not tell her that knowledge of Obernewtyn would be erased from their minds if they chose to leave.
Seely brushed the scatter of tears from her cheeks and stared into my eyes. Evidently, whatever she saw there reassured her, for at last she said, “Well, we had no other choice truly, and we still don’t. We will stay, but if things look dark, I will take Gavyn and go.”
“No one would dream of hindering you. But I am wondering if you would think of helping us in the meantime.”
“How?” Wariness flared in her eyes.
“You’ve had quite a lot to do with the Council one way or another, and a bit of a glimpse at the Herder Faction as well. All we want from you is any information you’ve picked up.”
“But I don’t know anything,” Seely said, looking dismayed. “Nothing important. I was in the Councilcourt only twice—once when I was given to my relatives after my parents died, and once again when Gavyn was a babe.”
“Seely, you lived in the house of Councilfolk, and you lived with the mother of a Herder who visited and had long conversations with her. You will have soaked up a lot of informa
tion.” I leaned closer. “How do you think you have managed to evade the Council’s soldierguards so cleverly all this time? It’s not just Gavyn’s Talents. It’s outthinking them. Isn’t it logical to assume that you can do this because, at some level, you know a great deal about them?”
Now Seely frowned in doubt. “Maybe I heard things from time to time, but if I did, I don’t remember them….”
Zarak touched her hand. “You don’t need to remember,” he assured her. “You’ll just be asked a lot of questions, and without your meaning it, you will remember things. The coercers will help you.”
“Will it hurt?”
The lad grinned and squeezed her hand. “Not a bit. Listen, it happened to my father and me when we first came up here ages back.”
“It’s not like what Gavyn does sometimes?” she asked uneasily, the memory of pain darkening her eyes.
“Gavyn has a Talent that we call coercivity, and it’s a very strong and aggressive ability. Because he’s so young and completely untrained, he can misuse it. Sort of like when a very small child squeezes a puppy too tightly,” I said. “No doubt he hurt you sometimes trying to tell you things?”
She nodded vehemently. “He gives me the worst headaches sometimes, and once, in a tantrum, he hurt me so bad I fainted. I woke up to him sobbing his eyes out thinking he’d murdered me. He’s never done that since.”
“Painful for you but a good hard lesson to him not to hurt people just because he can. Well, rest assured he’ll learn to use his abilities properly here. But the coercers who will help you to remember are well trained. A couple of people from my own guild who already know a lot about Herders and the Council will question you. You probably won’t even notice the coercers in your mind.”
Zarak nodded over my shoulder, and I twisted in my seat to see Ceirwan entering the kitchen, holding Gavyn’s hand. Rasial was padding along close behind, and Kella’s owlet was firmly affixed to the lad’s shoulder. Rasial laid herself along a wall in the sunshine as Seely gawked and admired the owlet. The Farseeker guilden farsent privately to me that all Gavyn had needed to do was pet the bird.
“I suppose Kella was relieved?” I said aloud.
“Well, she was an’ she wasn’t. It was a nuisance, but I think she quite enjoyed th’ bird’s devotion to her. When it went so willin’ly to Gavyn, she felt a bit bereft.”
“It might fly off looking for her in a bit,” I said dubiously.
“Not if Gavyn wants it to stay,” Seely said with evident pride.
Just then, Maruman noticed the bird. Hissing, he dug his claws into my shoulder to stand and arch his back. The bird seemed completely oblivious to anything but Gavyn, and Maruman leapt to the ledge and yowled to be let out into the garden. At my request, Zarak man-handled the window open, and the old cat disappeared with an angry twitch of his tail.
“That was Maruman,” I said dryly.
Seely frowned. “He’s the first animal I’ve ever seen who didn’t go to Gavyn.”
“Well, he’s a moody thing at the best of times,” I said dismissively.
Gavyn turned to Ceirwan. “Can we go to the farms now?” he asked. “You said we might if I could get the owl to come with me.”
I laughed. “You should go at once. You might as well enjoy the sweet weather while it lasts.”
Zarak said he would walk down with them, since he had promised a few hours of planting to Alad, and Rasial joined them as well. Watching them all go, it came to me suddenly that we might not see another wintertime safe in the mountains. I was glad when Javo distracted me by bringing a morsel of something to taste. The square cake was dry and not very appealing, and I said so as politely as I could.
Javo laughed, the rolls of fat around his neck wobbling. “You won’t offend me by saying it tastes foul,” he boomed. “This is a meal cake for traveling. We’re trying to come up with a biscuit full of nourishment that is dry enough neither to rot nor get stale on a long journey, and compact enough to take up very little space. This is our first attempt.”
I grimaced. “Well, I’d say you wouldn’t die from living on this, but living won’t be much fun either.”
His laughter was infectious, despite all the things looming over our heads, and I grinned back at him.
As Javo returned to his work, a mental probe blundered against my mindshield without warning, rocking me back on my heels. I sat heavily, my head throbbing. “Calm down and identify yourself,” I sent sharply.
Another clumsy prod followed, but this time I recognized one of the younger Beastspeaking guilders, a girl with coercive Talent named Rori. I sent a probe, which located her in a far field where she had been planting.
“What is it?” I demanded, irritated that courtesy required that I did not simply enter her mind to learn what I wanted.
“I…we’ve found a dead bird, and it’s got a message in the tube on its leg. The others are looking for Alad, but I…we think the bird is one of those the Master of Obernewtyn took with him to the lowlands.”
I swallowed a lump of fear. “What does he say?”
“The note is not from Rushton, Guildmistress. It is about him.” Rori’s mind quivered, and my own control faltered. “It says he’ll die if…” Her mind slipped out of my grasp.
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached and found her again. “Rori, I want you to bring the bird up to the maze gate. I’ll meet you at the farm end.”
My legs trembled as I hurried to the maze. I felt sick with apprehension. What had happened to Rushton? And who had sent the note? Was it a warning or a threat? How long had the bird been dead, its message undelivered?
What if it was already too late?
17
CEIRWAN AND THE others were walking through the maze when I overtook them.
I farsent a brief explanation to the guilden. For the benefit of Seely, I said aloud that I was on my way to retrieve an important message, and hurried on.
By the time I reached the farm gate, young Rori was there, looking apprehensive. The Beastspeaking guildmaster stood beside her, so grim-faced that dread rose up in my throat.
“I’d say it’s two days dead,” he said, holding out the mangled bird. “It looks as if it was hit by an arrow and managed to fly back here, but the poor thing didn’t make it to the coop.”
He sent Rori off to fetch his ward. When we were standing there alone, I asked him bluntly what the message said.
“You’d best read it yourself.” He handed me a tiny roll of parchment that had been dipped in wax to stop the ink on the scribing from being washed off if it rained. I spread it out with shaking fingers and read the tiny crabbed script.
To who may care.
I have your precious Master. If Misfits do not aid the rebels in their fight against the Council, he dies.
The world spun dizzily about me. “Elspeth,” Alad cried, catching me by the arm.
“It could be some sort of h-hoax…,” I stammered.
Alad held out a black twist of hair I could not fail to recognize. “It came with the note, and the bird was Rushton’s. It might be fake, but they wouldn’t dare send it and make demands if Rushton was around to deny it. Unless…”
I shuddered at what he did not say: unless Rushton was dead.
Dead!
“Elspeth…,” Alad murmured worriedly.
I waved him back and waged a short, savage battle with my emotions for control. I won because of the knowledge that if Rushton lived, and I could not bear to think of anything else, then his life might well depend upon my being able to think clearly.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I muttered. “No one but the rebels could want us to join them, but they refused us when we offered ourselves.”
“From Rushton’s earlier note, they had changed their minds,” Alad said. He took my arm and led me firmly toward the main house. “The note says that he will be killed if we don’t help the rebels, but there is no sense of violence or anger in the words so far as I can see. It’s rather an emotion
less statement, and for all we know, it’s no more than an empty threat. Maybe they are trying to bluff us to force our hand.”
I lifted the note but could sense no thoughts adhering to it nor any trace of its writer’s personality. That was unusual in itself.
A bluff, Alad had said.
An ugly suspicion reared its head.
Brydda and his closest confidants within the rebel movement knew that Rushton was the Master of Obernewtyn. Brydda and his allies wanted us to join them in their fight against the Council. Brydda had summoned Rushton to ask for our help and had been refused.
Common sense told me that if Rushton had been kidnapped by rebels, Brydda might very well have heard about it, even if he was not the instigator.
I felt sickened by my thoughts, for even entertaining them seemed a kind of ultimate mistrust. Yet nothing else made any sense of the few facts we had.
And if it was true?
No harm might be meant to Rushton, but it would still be a betrayal. Just as Maryon had foreseen.
It was late afternoon before the guildmerge was assembled to discuss the kidnap message. I needed to decide what to do, and I could not decide alone.
Yet, in the end, all we could agree upon was that we knew too little. “We don’t have information enough to reach any final conclusions,” I said after a long and fruitless debate. “We need to know what happened in Rushton’s meeting with the rebels, and we need to know exactly when he left the coast. Someone will have to travel to Sutrium.”
“I’ll go,” Linnet offered promptly. “I can take one of the other knights with me as backup. We can search for Rushton. He’s bound to be somewhere in the city if the rebels have him. We can also question the rebels about his meeting with them.”
I stifled a mad urge to say I would go myself. “It’s one thing to probe for information, but I don’t want you to make direct contact with the rebels just in case there is some sort of treachery afoot.”
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