The Keeping Place

by Isobelle Carmody

  I felt my mouth drop open. “A Misfit traitor?”

  “I hate to think any of our sort would help our enemies, but it makes a sort of sense.”

  Little as I liked contemplating it, he was right.

  “I told Brydda, and he’s going to try to get some of those demon bands for his key men and women to wear, just in case. But if the Council already know what we’ve got brewing for tonight, there’ll be no helping us.”

  “I doubt they know that,” I sent. “Not one of the futuretellers has foreseen the rebellion failing.”

  “Truespoken. Anyway, Radost doesn’t know the rebellion begins tonight. He has a demon band, but he doesn’t really believe in it, so he doesn’t always keep it on or properly fastened. He knows the rebels plan to rise soon, but he has no idea when.”

  I frowned. “Maybe we should try backtracking the source of the information he does have.”

  “We’ve tried, but it didn’t make sense. Some of the information that ruined one rebel operation supposedly came to Radost from Kana of Halfmoon Bay, who supposedly got it from Rorah of Morganna. But when I checked with the farseekers there, both Rorah and Kana think the same information came from Radost. It’s as if whoever is feeding them intelligence wants to stay hidden.”

  “Maybe it’s the Herders,” I mused. “Far more likely they’d be using a Misfit, given their interest in them, and this sly secrecy smells like them, too. And they must be worried about what will happen to them if the Land falls from Council hands.”

  “Speaking of the Faction, today I tried scrying out the Sutrium cloister to discover something about this ceremony they have been having. The walls around it seem to be tainted like those demon bands, so it’s impossible to farseek through them. But at midday there was a huge parade as the priests escorted some important visitors from Herder Isle back to the ships. I managed to get into the minds of some priests, but anyone with rank was wearing one of those demon bands.”

  “Hmph. Did you get any idea what the ceremony is for?”

  “It’s their annual banding ceremony. Brydda says they don’t usually draw so many priests from all over the Land, and normally only one of the inner cadre comes from Herder Isle to officiate. He reckons it’s bigger because someone has been promoted to the inner cadre. That only happens when someone dies and his place becomes vacant.”

  “You didn’t get any inkling that they know what is brewing among the rebels?”

  “Everyone I probed was thinking only of who had been raised a band and who had been demoted.”

  “If Brydda’s not bothered, I guess that’s good enough,” I sent. “Tell him I will farsend as soon as the decoy operation is complete. Ceirwan will stay here with Freya so that I can go through him to reach you in Sutrium.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Zarak sent.

  Thanking Khuria, I withdrew gently to Wila, asking her how matters stood with Brocade’s people.

  “Pretty much the same as the others. Brocade means to take Jude’s and Alum’s holdings before he tackles the cloister. We’ll move on the two farms after dark, because they’ll be relaxing and unlikely to leap up and start waving a knife or bludgeon around.”

  “I’m gratified to hear that Brocade is trying to avoid blood,” I sent.

  “Don’t be. He just doesn’t want to risk his own neck. He’s a coward, and he’d much rather run things from a pile of cushions in his own holding, but he can see that he has to make some sort of masterly display if he wants to be taken seriously as a leader.”

  “You seem to have matters well in hand. Can you link with Tomash?”

  Mindful of her fatigue, I did not communicate longer than necessary to assure myself that Tomash and the other two sent to Kinraide had been well received by Elii. Unlike most of the rebels, he treated the Misfits assigned to him as trusted allies rather than loathed tools. Elii had mustered his own people, and as soon as it grew dark enough, they intended to make their way up to the Weirwood. There they would rendezvous with the Berrioc group to storm the soldierguard encampment after we had lured the majority of its forces away. By the time Malik rode down with the soldierguards as his prisoners, the barracks should have been transformed into a prison, which some of Elii’s people would oversee until the rebellion ended.

  I broke contact first with Tomash and then with Wila, to the older woman’s clear relief.

  “She is doing well considering she finds it hard to hold a dual link,” Aras said as I came back to myself.

  The ward dismissed her own now weary team with lavish praise, and they went off at her behest to eat and rest. I ate a bit of bread and cheese smeared with a tart chutney Katlyn had sent; then Ceirwan suggested sensibly that we all try to get some sleep, given that we were unlikely to get much of a break once everything began.

  I felt too overwrought to sleep, and it was still too light, but I lay down on a blanket anyway and pulled my coat over me. The sooner the rebellion was under way, the sooner I could devote myself entirely to finding Rushton.

  Thinking of him filled me with a bitter loneliness, for despite Maryon’s certainty that Rushton lived, not once had she mentioned seeing him return.

  25

  I DROWSED AS the daylight faded, memories of Rushton, Dragon, Dameon, and Matthew mingling until it seemed they had become muddled together in my head. I must have drifted off, for when Ceirwan shook me, I sat up in startled fright.

  “I’m sorry, but I thought ye would want to know: Duria farsent that Malik an’ his people are musterin’ fer th’ ride to th’ White Valley.” The guilden was carrying a small lantern, for it was now full dark. His pupils in its light were huge with excitement or fear, or maybe some of both.

  Despite my surety that nothing much could go wrong, I felt a sick sort of agitation course through my veins at the knowledge that, for better or worse, the rebellion had begun.

  “I presume they took over the cloisters in Darthnor and Guanette without any difficulty,” I said huskily.

  “Duria said it were less trouble than their fondest hope, because th’ cloisters were both empty.”

  I stopped in the midst of pulling on a boot and stared up at the guilden in astonishment. “How do you mean, empty?”

  “I mean empty as in abandoned. Every one of the priests an’ all their underlings had gone down to some ceremony in Sutrium, apparently. There were only a couple of half-witted servants left behind. And it was almost as smooth fer th’ rebels to take over th’ Councilmen’s holdings, because thanks to Gevan an’ Duria, they were able to time th’ attacks fer when th’ households were in th’ middle of nightmeal. I guess we can be sure Radost knows nothin’ of what is comin’, else he would have let his sons know to be alert.”

  “Maybe,” I murmured, thinking that Radost was the sort who would jettison his sons in a moment if it suited him. “What of Bergold’s sister?”

  “She was out on some errand when they took th’ holdin’. One rebel has been left in waitin’ to take her when she returns to her brother’s house.”

  “She went on an errand that would keep her away an entire night?”

  “Bergold claims his sister is nowt given to explainin’ herself, but she often visits th’ sick. Apparently, some woman living out a way from th’ town was near to givin’ birth.”

  Dismissing thoughts of Radost’s enigmatic daughter, I asked if there had been any injuries.

  “Nowt other than th’ odd scraped knee or banged elbow, an’ them from stumblin’ round in th’ dark rather than from fightin’. Duria said Malik an’ Lydi are crowin’ with delight an’ brimming with confidence, for they see their success as an omen for th’ rebellion.”

  Ceirwan looked so delighted himself that I kept my misgivings to myself and finished donning my boots and coat. It was chilly and the air smelled damp. Wrapping a scarf about my throat, I went over to the fire where a few of the others stood about looking wide-eyed and edgy. The rest were still sleeping in the tents or wrapped up in their blankets. Freya handed me a mug
of something hot, and though it tasted bitter, it warmed me. Sitting on an upended log, I stared into the fire and farsought Wila.

  “Alum’s holding fell easily enough, but there has been some fighting at Jude’s place and it’s not over yet,” she reported. “Two of the rebels have been killed and one of Jude’s people, though that was more an accident than anything. I don’t think it will be too much longer before the rebels round them up.”

  “Just so long as no one gets out to give the alarm in Sutrium,” I said, thinking morosely that the three dead were unlikely to be the last. “What of the cloister?”

  “Now there’s an odd thing,” Wila sent. “There was not a soul inside other than two beaten prisoners locked in cells. One was unable to speak, and the other had only just been taken and knew nothing more than that he had been left days without food or water. He thought it was part of their torture, poor devil. We were expecting that at least a few priests would have been left behind, but I suppose the whole order went off to this ceremony in Sutrium without caring if their prisoners lived or died while they were away.” She sounded disgusted.

  I wondered if the priests would leave their cloister completely uninhabited, unless they had no intention of returning to it. “Can you link with Khuria?”

  “I will, but I might have to cut you off suddenly, for Brocade is on the verge of having us ride down to Sutrium.”

  This reminded me that we would be completely cut off from the rest of the Land after Wila rode out.

  “Truespoken,” Wila sent, catching my thoughts. “I wish I could say I’d stay behind to act as a relay, but Brocade insists we ride with him. He says it’s our duty, and I feel that since we’ve given our word to stay with his group, he’s right.” When I made no further response, Wila sent out a probe for Khuria, but to her surprise, it would not locate.

  “Maybe they have already ridden out to Sutrium,” she said.

  “Try Tomash.”

  This time her probe found its mark, and I slid along her link to the young farseeker.

  “Is something wrong?” he demanded anxiously.

  “Naught, I hope,” I sent. “But tell me, has Elii taken over the Kinraide cloister yet?”

  “He has, but it was not much of a task after all our worry and planning. It seems all the priests went down to Sutrium days ago. There were only three or four servants looking after the place, and they knew nothing except that their masters had bade them tend their work carefully or they’d be whipped.”

  “These servants were under the impression that their masters would return?”

  “You might well ask. I thought it mighty queer that none of the priests had remained to watch over the place, but when I said so, the elder of the servants said it was not the first time all the cloisters had been emptied for a banding ceremony.”

  “It’s almost too much of a coincidence,” I muttered aloud, though I was somewhat mollified by Tomash’s information. Besides, I still could not see how gathering their members in Sutrium would serve the Faction during the rebellion.

  I felt an urgent tug from Wila and bid Tomash be careful before withdrawing to the older woman’s mind.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt, but we’re about to ride. Jude’s people have been rounded up.”

  I bade her ride safe, and withdrew.

  Gradually, the others began to wake and gravitate to the fire, but Ceirwan shook his head when he was asked if it was time to ride yet.

  “It sounds mad to say it,” Lina said, “but sitting here waiting to ride is fearsome dull.”

  “It’s an odd thing, but it always feels like that on the edge of danger,” one of the other beastspeakers mused. “It’s like you can only take so much fear before there’s just no more room for it, and you stop being afraid.”

  “I don’t see there’s so much to fear,” Lina responded. She looked over to me, her eyes glimmering with reflected flames, and asked if I had been in touch with Zarak.

  I told her I hadn’t and explained that we would not be able to contact him or anyone below the Gelfort Range since Wila had ridden out of Sawlney with Brocade’s rebels.

  “Someone ought to gan down to take her place,” Ceirwan observed.

  I smiled slightly. “We’d still be out of contact once we ride into the White Valley.”

  “Not fer long,” Ceirwan said. “I could go. Freya could keep me company.”

  In a short time, the guilden and the enhancer had made up a bundle of supplies, folded one of the tents, and ridden out, planning to establish themselves in the forest around Arandelft, not far from the road. This would enable Ceirwan to farseek to Sutrium directly, and I was strong enough to make the farseeking leap to him once I was clear of the Gelfort Range.

  We set about packing up the Rises camp and stowing the tents away, and then Miryum sent that it was time to move. Extinguishing the fire, we mounted up and retraced our steps to the main road.

  A thin moon appeared as we rode warily toward the encampment, our ears and minds straining to ensure we did not run into anyone unawares. Clouds in the sky moved high and fast, and Emeralfel loomed intermittently above the treetops to the west, its weathered face split with deep crevices.

  I prayed the night would remain overcast, for even a sliver moon could cast enough brightness to illuminate pale skin or a buckle at the wrong moment.

  Before long, I sensed that we were quite close to the outer perimeter of the encampment, though we could see nothing through the surrounding screen of trees and scrub. When we were close to the gate, I signaled everyone to dismount. We left the track and pushed through the trees to a clearing Miryum had suggested, where we could leave the tents and other equipment. We would have to gallop hard once the soldierguards were behind us and wanted nothing to hamper us, but neither did we want to abandon good equipment.

  As we divested ourselves of our gear, I sent out a probe to locate Miryum. She suggested we move as near the front gate as possible, in order to give strength to the illusion that we were riding out of the camp, having rescued our master, Henry Druid. Miryum assured me that the dogs would give no alarm until the beastspeaker with her signaled them.

  “Be careful, though, because both the watchtower above the main entrance and the gate booth are manned.”

  I wondered why it mattered, for surely the soldierguards had been instructed by their superiors to let us enter as if we had been unseen. Otherwise, how could they plan to follow us back to our camp?

  “Only some of the guards know what is to happen,” Miryum sent. “Also, since you won’t actually be going inside the encampment, it’s better they don’t see you until you’re riding away. Otherwise, the reality of your actions might break the coercive illusions we have set up in their minds.”

  She sounded so fatigued that I asked worriedly if she was capable of the ride to the highlands ambush.

  “Of the ride, yes, but not much more,” she admitted. “We’re all exhausted. We’ve had to work hard to set all this up, especially since some of th’ bastards wear those blasted demon bands. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem to have occurred to them to wear them in their sleep. And once the chase begins, it should be no more than a chase.”

  “How much longer?”

  “I want to wait until the guards change shifts on Henry Druid’s cell; otherwise we’d have to convince the current guards that they were witnessing an escape. The new guards will only have to discover the empty cell. We have set everything up to ensure a domino effect that will create the maximum fuss. No one will be in the right frame of mind to coolly question anything. I had better pay attention now. You need to be mounted and absolutely ready to ride hell-for-leather, because once we trigger this, there will be no stopping it. You’ll know when it begins, because the dogs will start barking. But wait for my signal to ride.”

  Breaking contact, I whispered to the others that we needed to get closer to the gate. We crept forward, humans first and horses following, until we could see the watchtower strung with lant
erns through a break in the trees. The actual gate beneath it was hidden behind thick brush. Holding my hand up to signal a halt, I sent a probe up to the watchtower. The guard there was worrying about staying awake, because anyone who slept on watch was whipped. Gently, I coerced him to remember the whipping of a friend that he had been forced to witness, and while he was distracted, we flitted to the patch of trees almost directly under the tower.

  Now he would not see us unless he hung over the edge and looked straight down, but we had a clear view of the gate. Two more guards stood near it, lounging against the wall and talking in low voices. Using Talent to enhance my hearing, I found that they were talking, predictably enough, about the capture of Henry Druid and the rumor that his armsmen would try to break into the camp that night.

  “All I’m asking is why they’d do it, when they know we’ll follow them back to their hideaway?” I heard one of them ask.

  “Maybe they’re desperate because he’s their leader,” the other muttered, but I could feel his mind begin to fret at the inconsistencies of Miryum’s scheme. Swiftly, I planted a modifying thought about how seldom the captains told anything to rank-and-file soldierguards, and I strung this to a suspicious conjecture that there was something vital he hadn’t been told.

  “Ah, curse it!” someone hissed behind me, and I opened my mouth to silence him when I felt a drop of water fall on my cheek and another on my hand. All at once, the foliage was full of the whisper of falling rain. I mouthed a curse myself, for the last thing we needed were rain-slick roads. Worse, rain could interfere with farseeking and coercivity.

  Suddenly, a dog began to bark furiously, and in a minute, it sounded as if twenty dogs were in a frenzy. The watchtower guard poked his head out and peered around, and the two gate guards snatched up bows and swords and rushed out into the open to shout up at him.

  “Do you see anything?”

  I felt Miryum give the man in the tower a coercive shove.