Then a look of concern passed over her features, and I knew what had occurred to her. If I was declared a birth Misfit, Jes would be stripped of his armband and privileges, and even his Certificate would be in doubt. On the other hand, if the Council judged that I had been affected by tainted water and declared me Misfit through misadventure, Jes’s status would be unaffected.
I looked at my brother. I had never known what motivated him. But perhaps he thought of more than just himself as he weaved this tissue of lies. After all, it would go easier for me, too, if the Council thought I was a Misfit only by accident.
“Talk to them,” Rosamunde urged Jes, but he shook his head. “You are no Misfit!” she cried.
“No,” Jes agreed. His eyes were sad. “Leave us,” he said to Rosamunde gently.
She burst into noisy tears. “No. I will come, too, if they take you. I could pretend—”
“Be wise,” Jes said. “We don’t know what the keeper will do, or what happens at Obernewtyn.” He paused, and I sensed the struggle taking place within him. “If things had been different …,” he began, and then stopped. He fell silent, his face troubled.
Rosamunde seemed to understand and dried her tears. Her face was wretched with unhappiness. “They might not take you,” she said. “The tainted water is to blame.”
I looked at her, and a plan came to me. I would have to be wary and delicate.
Carefully I directed my ability to manipulate thoughts into her reeling mind, seeking to create the chains of thought and action I needed, joining them carefully onto her own half-formed notions. I had not used my coercing ability so directly before, and I was curious to see how well the thoughts and decisions I had grafted would hold.
“You must go,” Jes told her. “I want you to go. Never speak of this—or us—again. It is bad enough that we have been seen together. I will not let you be dragged into this mess.”
“Oh Lud, no,” she sobbed, and ran inside.
Jes and I looked at each other, neither of us having the slightest idea what the other thought.
“Elspeth Gordie.”
I trembled at the sound of my name, though I had been waiting for it. At that last moment, there was a flare of hope that I had been wrong after all.
I waited, still trembling, as those around me drew back. The head of Kinraide went on to say that I had been affected by tainted water and was to be sent to the Councilcourt in Sutrium for sentencing. I knew then my plan had worked. I looked at Jes and caught his amazed look. He did not understand how the lie he had devised had come to be believed by the guardians. I prayed I knew him well enough to guess he would not protest or ask who had reported me. My eyes sought out Rosamunde, who would not look at me, and I hoped she would not be too badly affected by what I had willed her to do. I felt a self-loathing for having burdened her with a betrayal she would never have contemplated without my coercerthought.
Her denouncement had come too late to stop the proceedings under which I would be bonded to Obernewtyn, but it had saved Jes from any trouble and had categorized me as a very ordinary sort of Misfit. I prayed the knowledge that she had saved Jes would be enough to salve Rosamunde. I did not want her to suffer.
An awful lethargy filled me as I sat in the punishment room, where I would remain until the Council coach came for me at dawn. I could have picked the lock, for I had recently discovered that by concentrating fiercely I could exert a small amount of physical force with my mental powers. But were I to open the door, where would I go?
Maruman came to my prison window that night. I tried to explain that I was going away, but he was still under the sway of his fit, and I could not tell how much he understood.
“The mountains have called at last,” he said dreamily. “Last night I dreamed of the oldOne again. She said your destiny is there.”
“Oh, don’t,” I begged, but Maruman was merciless in his fey state.
“I smell the white in the mountains,” he told me with drifting eyes that reflected the moonlight. I found myself trembling after he had gone and wished that now, of all times, Maruman had been his grumpy, sensible self, all too ready to scoff at my fears.
I slept fitfully until I heard movement at the door. It was still not dawn, and I wondered if the carriage had arrived already. But it was Jes.
“Forgive me,” he said.
I gaped at him.
“I didn’t tell them that business about the water. I swear. I … I thought of it, to save myself, but I didn’t. I don’t know how they came to know. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I had done it,” he said wretchedly.
“It’s better that they think I am only a dreamer and not a birth Misfit,” I said earnestly, hoping he would not confess his anguish to poor Rosamunde, who might reveal her part in my denunciation.
“It shames me that when they read your name out I thought only of myself,” he said in a muffled voice.
He seemed to feel he had betrayed me simply because the thought had occurred to him, and I sensed his rigid nature would crumble completely if I allowed him to break down.
“Soon you will have your Certificate. You will be able to petition for me,” I said softly.
“But Obernewtyn does not release those it takes,” he whispered.
Hastily I took his hand. “Oh, Jes,” I said. “You saw the keeper. Did she look so awful? I’m not frightened. And I would have hated the Councilfarms,” I added with a smile.
Wanly he smiled back.
There was a movement outside, and a voice called that the carriage was ready. I looked at Jes in sudden concern, fearing what would happen if he was caught with me. But seeing my alarm, he shook his head, saying the Herder himself had given permission for Jes to say prayers for my soul. I noticed he still wore the armband, but I said nothing.
He leaned forward suddenly, his eyes fierce. “I will come and get you one day. I promise.”
But you are only sixteen, I thought, with two more long years until you can apply for your Certificate. Instinct told me this would be our last goodbye. Impulsively, I flung my arms around him. “Dear Jes, it really is best this way,” I said. “Except for our parting, I am honestly glad it is done with.”
“Time now,” said the guardian. Jes nodded. Suddenly aware that he was being watched, he said the last few chants of a prayer.
“Goodbye,” I whispered.
He did not wait to see me bundled into the dark coach, and I was glad for it.
I sat back into the stiff upholstery and wondered what destiny waited for me at Obernewtyn.
6
THERE WERE FEW people around to see me arrive at the Councilcourt in Sutrium. Even at the busiest hour, few tarried near those somber buildings. The white slate steps led up to the open double doors, and for the second time in my life, I ascended them, led by a soldierguard. The smell of wood polish made me vividly recollect my last visit. But back then, Jes had been with me, squeezing my hand.
“Sit and wait till you are called,” said the soldierguard, peering into my face as if to ascertain whether I was capable of understanding. I nodded dully, and he went away.
A man and a boy came through the front door. There was something unusual about them, but I felt too numb at first to try working out what it was. Then it came to me. They were very tanned, as if they had spent their whole life outdoors.
The man followed a soldierguard through a door, while the boy looked around to find I was sitting on the only bench. He sat beside me.
“Hullo,” he said.
I stared at him, astonished that he would speak to a complete stranger. And here of all places. “Who are you?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.
He looked amused, and his eyes crinkled in a nice sort of way. “Do I look like a spy?” he laughed. “My name is Daffyd. My uncle is petitioning the council for a permit to trade in the mountains.”
“The mountains,” I echoed.
“Well, not exactly the mountains. After all, whom would we trade with? I meant the high count
ry,” he explained. He smiled again, and despite everything, I found myself smiling back. “Why are you here?” he asked.
“I’m a Misfit, or soon to be judged so,” I said bluntly. “I am to be sent to Obernewtyn.”
He didn’t recoil. He only said, “Well, if you are like me, you will find the mountains beautiful. I don’t have much patience for places like Sutrium,” he added disparagingly.
Impulsively I tried to read him, but like Jes, he had a natural shield.
“Aren’t you afraid to be seen talking to a Misfit?” I asked at last.
“Where I come from, they say Misfits are people who have been punished by Lud. I don’t see how that is anything to fear. In truth it seems to me there are worse things than being a Misfit.”
“Oh yes?” I asked sarcastically. “What could be worse?”
“These people, for one. This Luddamned Council,” he said in a low, intense voice. I stared, for what he was saying was sedition. He was either mad or insanely careless.
Seeing my expression, he only shrugged. “These fools believe everyone who doesn’t think and act as they do is evil. As for Obernewtyn, you need not fear it. It is merely a large mansion with farms. Not those labor camps the Council calls a farm. Real farms, with animals and crops and sowing and reaping. You might like it,” he said reassuringly.
“Have you been there?” I asked.
His eyes were suddenly evasive, and though I did not press him, his unexpected reluctance angered me. “I might escape,” I told him coldly, more for effect than because I meant it.
But he gave me a measured look. “If ever you do run away, you might seek out the Druid in the highlands. I have heard he lives still in hiding. He has no love for Misfits, but you need not tell him—”
He broke off his words at the sound of footsteps, and we both looked up to see his uncle reenter the room. “Come, Daffyd,” the older man said, his eyes skidding over me.
Daffyd rose at once. He said nothing to me, but as they moved to the door, he smiled over his shoulder.
I watched them go thoughtfully. Henry Druid had been a Herder, forced to flee with some of his followers after defying a Council directive to burn his precious collection of Oldtime books. That had been long years past, and rumor was that he had died. Yet this boy implied otherwise.
I shrugged. The boy had surely been defective. He had been careless in talking to me at all.
A soldierguard stepped from one of the doors and waved impatiently for me to enter. I went slowly, playing the part of a dull wit.
The trial room was quite small. At the very front was a Councilman seated at a high bench, facing the rest of the room. Beside him at a lower table were two Herders. The rows of seats facing the front were occupied only by a few lounging soldierguards in their telltale yellow cloaks. The seats were theoretically meant for interested members of the community, but I could not imagine anyone would be curious enough to risk being associated with whoever was on trial. No one paid the slightest bit of attention as I was prodded to the front by the soldierguard on duty. I looked up at the Councilman, wondering bitterly what would happen to the daughter of such a person if she were judged Misfit.
“Well, now,” said the Councilman in a brisk voice. His eyes passed over me with disinterest, reminding me that I was less than nothing to him. “I understand this is a routine affair with no defense,” he said to a tall man in black who rose and nodded languidly.
The Councilman turned his attention to me. “You are Elspeth Gordie?”
I nodded.
“Very well. You have been accused of being a Misfit by Madam Vega of Obernewtyn. If so judged, you will be unfit ever to receive a Normalcy Certificate or to become part of the community of true humans. Corsak, you will speak for Stephen Seraphim, the Master of Obernewtyn?”
The man in black did not look at me as he spoke. “This orphan has been exposed as a Misfit by the Obernewtyn head keeper. She was also denounced by another orphan, who claims that she fell in tainted water and has from that time had unnatural dreams and fainting fits. This would normally mark her a Misfit by mischance, but there are several other points. May I expand?”
The Councilman nodded.
“In her first home, the girl was accused of giving an evil eye. Naturally we do not place too much credibility on these reports, but they do point to the possibility that she had Misfit tendencies even before this tainted water infected her.” As he continued outlining various reports made about me in various homes, both by other orphans and by guardians, I began to feel truly frightened. I had never imagined my record would hold so much evidence to suggest I was a birth Misfit. It was suddenly clear to me that I would never have been issued a Normalcy Certificate.
Suddenly the Councilman cut him off. “I do not see how any of this gossip is as significant as the fact that the girl came into contact with tainted water. Surely that is the cause of any mutancy. And is it not still true that your master has no interest in those made Misfit by mischance?”
“That is so, Councilman,” Corsak said carefully. “But that evidence was not available at the time Madam Vega made her initial claim.”
“And your master. Does he still feel there is some hope of a cure for Misfits?”
“Obernewtyn concentrates all its efforts on healing,” the man in black answered somewhat defensively.
One of the Herders stood. “Misfits are not sick. They have allowed themselves to become habitations for demons.”
Sirrah Corsak bowed. “My master feels it is the sickness that allows the invasion of demons, and that a young mind might be healed so that the demons could be driven out.”
The Herder glanced at his companion, an older priest who also rose. He wore a gold-edged armband that denoted him the senior of the pair. “Driving away demons is Herder work,” he said.
“Of course,” said the Obernewtyn representative. “If a mind were to be healed, the subject would immediately be delivered to the Herder Faction.”
“Yet where are your successes, Sirrah Corsak?” asked the first Herder aggressively. “Why should we keep sending Misfits to you, when none are healed?”
The Obernewtyn man cast an appealing look at the Councilman. “You are well paid for them,” he said.
“That is not the point,” snapped the Councilman. He nodded at the two Herders, who again sat down.
The man in black looked nervous. “I beg pardon, Councilman,” he said. “It is true that Obernewtyn uses these Misfits for labor, but my master diligently seeks a cure as well.”
The Councilman eyed him coolly. “So you have said, and so Madam Vega and your master have scribed. Even so, perhaps it is time for us to visit Obernewtyn and evaluate for ourselves what is done with the Misfits we send there.”
His eyes flicked back to me. “Do you admit to being a Misfit?” he asked in a bored tone.
I cringed and gave him what I hoped was a convincingly vacant leer. The Councilman sighed as if it were as much as he had expected, then asked if anyone knew whether I was able to speak. No one answered, and the Councilman scowled impatiently.
“Very well, I pronounce her Misfit by mischance. But you may take her, Corsak. Make arrangements to name her in the records when you make the bond over. And we look forward to an invitation to visit Obernewtyn and to see these healing efforts you have described with such eloquence,” he added meaningfully.
Corsak nodded and indicated for me to follow him.
The Councilman forestalled him coldly. “If you please. Is the scribe here?”
“Yes!” said a cheerful voice.
“Ensure this reaches the people. Misfits are a particularly foul and insidious threat to our community. They often pass as normal for many years, since their defects are not obvious to the eye. We know this because of the efforts of our good and diligent Herders.” The two Herders inclined their heads modestly. “They have lately informed me that their researches have revealed that Misfits are Lud’s way of punishing our laxity. How is it, Lu
d asks us, that Misfits are permitted to roam and breed among us for so long? The answer is that we have failed in our duty of watchfulness. This attitude threatens to hurl us back into the Age of Chaos, and worse. Therefore, it is the order and decree of this Councilcourt that penalties for aiding and concealing Misfits and any other defective humans or beasts will increase. Each man must watch his neighbor.…”
He went on to explain the various new rulings and penalties, and I shuddered at the effect this would have on the community. Each time the Council sought to tighten its control, a new wave of denunciations and burnings occurred. Oddly enough, I fancied a look of surprise had crossed the face of the younger priest at the mention of Herder researches.
7
IT TOOK SOME time to reach the outskirts of Sutrium. I had forgotten the city was so big. The streets were completely deserted, and it was well into the morning before we reached the end of the town’s sprawling outer limits, but toward midday, the city fell rapidly behind.
I had lived in urban orphan homes now for many years, but the curved road parting the soft folded hills and gullies brought back clear memories of my childhood in Rangorn, far from the towns and the ever-present menace of the Council. I realized I had not lied to Jes when I told him I was almost glad. There was an odd sort of peace in having got the thing done at last. I thought of Madam Vega and reflected that Obernewtyn was bound to be less terrible than the stories.
It was not hard to forget fear and to surrender myself to the peaceful solitude of the carriage. The morning burgeoned into a sun-filled day, and between naps I watched the country unfold.
To the east of the road, we passed the villages of Saithwold and Sawlney, and beyond them to the north were soft woodlands, where from the window I could see the downs sloping gently to Arandelft, set deep in the forest. To the west of the road were the vast hazy moors of Glenelg.
The road curved down to pass on the farthermost outskirts of Arandelft, where slate-gray buildings were framed by cultivated fields flanked by bloodberry trees. More than twenty leagues away and closing the horizon was the Gelfort Range—the mountains Tor, Aren Craggie, and Emeralfel. They marked the border of the highlands, and as if to underline this, the road began gradually to incline upward.
The Seeker Page 4