The Stone Key

by Isobelle Carmody

  “You know she hears this, don’t you? Our discussing her voice.”

  Jak smiled tiredly. “It makes you think, doesn’t it? But maybe that is the main difference between true creatures who think and the Ines program. It hears, but it does not feel. Indeed, it sometimes seems that this is what Dell wants Ines to learn. Because if it thinks, it will remain rational, but if it becomes capable of emotions, it can be swayed by less rational arguments.”

  The conversation was fascinating, and on another occasion I would happily have continued it, but Jak was swaying on his feet, and I could not stop thinking of Domick and Rushton. I moved deeper into the room to see the coercer in his glass chamber. Some of the livid purple buboes on his chest had burst and were leaking a greenish brown fluid. The sight turned my stomach.

  “He would be delirious now, if Pavo had not given him medicine to make him sleep, for the potion that stops pain is very strong,” Jak said, coming to stand beside me. “Perhaps it was fortunate for Rushton’s sake.” For the first time, the teknoguilder sounded despondent as well as deeply fatigued. I laid a sympathetic hand on his arm, startling Jak as much as myself, and I felt a brief loathing for my withdrawn nature. Had I not been so, perhaps Rushton would not have pushed me away. I mastered the brief swell of despair, for it was not I who had hurt Rushton, nor even Domick who had hurt him. The coercer had been no more than a tool wielded by Ariel, and the sweetest revenge would be to heal Rushton.

  Dameon had been right all along. Rushton did need me, and somehow I would find a way to give him back to himself.

  In the end, it was not a pleasant feast under the stars that we had that night but a very late funeral supper, for an hour later, Domick died without ever regaining consciousness. Seely came to tell me, and my hair was still damp when we laid the coercer’s poor body into the grave Brydda and Rushton dug just outside the last bit of broken wall in the ruins that faced Aborium. Pavo had encased his body in some strange pod of filaments so we could handle him without danger of infection.

  We laid a cairn of stones over the grave once it had been filled, and each of us related a memory of Domick in life, as was traditional. I told of Domick and Kella and how they had loved one another, even though their guilds had often been at loggerheads. Gevan told of a feat the coercer had once accomplished in the moon-fair games, which had not been surpassed. Blyss told a very funny story about herself being caught with Zarak and Lina in some minor misbehavior by Domick, who had been some years older than they, and their terror when he had announced that they would have to face a full guildmerge. Brydda told of Domick’s boldness and daring in the days before the rebellion. And last of all, Rushton related his first meeting with the coercer at Obernewtyn. He told of Domick’s promise to help him regain his inheritance, so long as, if he did become Master of Obernewtyn, it would always be a refuge for Misfits. The shadow I had seen in his face earlier had gone, and Rushton spoke with real sorrow of Domick as a friend he would miss. But I wondered if Rushton’s subconscious knowledge that Mika could never again be summoned had allowed him the freedom to truly grieve for Domick.

  After the speeches were done, a fire was lit in the lee of a ruined wall, for the night was chill, and we sat huddled about it wrapped in cloaks and ate a subdued meal. All of us were the better for food, and the fire had begun to send out heat enough to warm us. Gevan heated some red fement, and we drank a toast to Domick. The brew was harsh and lacked the proper spices, but it warmed me to the core. It must have done the same to the others, for Dardelan, Gevan, and Brydda all began to question me about what had happened on Herder Isle. Rushton spoke little and stared into the fire, but I knew that he was listening, for occasionally he would make some comment or ask a question. Even then, he did not look at me. Long before their questions ran out, I was weary to the bone of talk.

  Brydda asked then how many ships the Herders had in Fryddcove, but I did not know.

  “No greatships, though,” I said.

  “It matters not,” Dardelan said. “From what you have said, the Stormdancer will arrive any day in Sutrium. For that reason alone, I would ride back and cross the river at once. But I have asked Merret to arrange a meeting with Gwynedd before I leave to see what aid he will need to secure the west coast.”

  The talk shifted then, as Jak and Dell and Orys began asking questions about the rout at the Suggredoon, eliciting detail that none of us had heard. Dardelan told how Iriny had been sent by her brother with a story about my adventures on Herder Isle, which had convinced him that it was the perfect time to move against the west coast. He spoke to the Council of Chieftains and to Rushton, who had come to Sutrium after the Hedra at Saithwold had been captured. They knew from Iriny that Domick’s plague carried no danger, so they decided to try an enormous ruse to draw the soldierguards across the river. Linnet was now controlling the riverbank with the help of a small team of coercers, using the Hedra and soldierguards to maintain the illusion that nothing had changed. In the meantime, Kader, Merret, and a group of those who had ridden from Halfmoon Bay had gone straight to Aborium from the river to join Gwynedd. He knew what had been happening, because Merret had been drawing on Kader to farseek information to Alun. It was astonishing to realize that the bulk of people on the west coast could have no notion of the tumultuous events that had been happening. They had been rescued from a deadly plague, and now the rebels had taken the Suggredoon, breaking the yearlong stalemate. There was no doubt that there was fighting ahead, for the soldierguards and the Faction would soon know that this was their last stronghold and would fight to maintain it. Nevertheless, my heart told me that the back of the oppressors had been broken.

  I became aware of the sound of hoofbeats and farsent Pellis in the watchtower, who told me excitedly that he could see a group of riders coming from the main road.

  “Perhaps it is Gwynedd,” Dardelan said.

  Dell shook her head. “No one, except Misfits, knows that we dwell here, and we always arrange in advance to meet outside the ruins. Since no arrangement has been made, it must be one of us.”

  I shaped a general probe that found Merret.

  “Well timed, Guildmistress,” she sent cheerfully. “I have some of Gwynedd’s people riding with me. They want to speak to Dardelan and Rushton. Where are you, and who is with you?”

  “We are all here just beyond the ruins on the Murmroth side,” I said. “We have just buried Domick.”

  “I am sorry,” Merret responded softly.

  Soon the riders were skirting the ruins and dismounting. I was interested to note how many of them wore their hair in the Norseland style with the sides plaited and bound at the ends with various tokens of silver and bronze. Since it was unlikely that they were all Norselanders, I guessed they paid homage to Gwynedd by adopting his style of headdress. They had stopped their horses a little distance away, and all of them remained with the horses save two who came with Merret to the fire: a tall, long-faced woman and a man so like her that he had to be her brother.

  “This is Vesit and his sister, Kalt,” said Merret. Then she introduced the pair to those of us who came from beyond the river, saying our names. It was obvious they knew the west coast Misfits.

  They bowed low to Rushton and Dardelan and then to me.

  “My father sends me to you with a message, High Chieftain Dardelan,” said the young man at last in a stilted voice. “He bids me ask if you will ride with us at once to Aborium. A safe place has been prepared for the meeting, and the gate guard has been coerced by Merret so you will be in no danger.” He turned to Rushton. “Master, my father asks that you also attend.”

  “We had intended to ride to Aborium tomorrow,” Dardelan said pleasantly.

  “My father asks that you will come now.”

  “What is going on here?” I farsent to Merret. “Who is this ‘son,’ and does Gwynedd use this meeting to establish his standing in the west?”

  “It does not need establishing,” Merret sent, sounding amused. “The boy offered t
o bring Gwynedd’s request, and he is as stiff as a stick in his dignity, perhaps because he is not Gwynedd’s son but his ward. In my opinion, Gwynedd allowed him to act as envoy to get some peace.” Aloud, she addressed the others, saying, “Gwynedd’s haste to meet arises only from a desire to bring peace and order as swiftly as possible to the west coast. Given all that has happened on the other side of the river, Gwynedd believes you might know something about establishing peace in the aftermath of war.” The last was addressed to Dardelan. “Before he leaves Aborium, Gwynedd is determined to have a governing body chosen for each city.”

  “He would choose chieftains before he has won the battle?” I asked incredulously.

  “In the Land, it was not needed because each rebel simply became chieftain of the area he had risen from, but here the cities are bigger, and most of the original rebel leaders were killed on the Night of Blood,” Merret said. “The new rebel leaders are too young and green to govern their own tempers, let alone old corrupt cities full of power struggles and intrigues that will not end with the overthrow of Council or Faction. Gwynedd is determined not to see the whole west coast erupt into chaos, and this is his way of preventing it.”

  “He will ask Dardelan for the aid of the rebels on the other side of the river?” Gevan asked.

  “He will ask him to take as prisoners all captured soldierguards,” Vesit said, giving Merret a cold look. “We will deal with the Hedra. Also, he will petition Obernewtyn for more coercers and empaths and farseekers.”

  “Where will Gwynedd get his leaders if he deems his rebels too young?” Dardelan now asked.

  “Our guardian has been sending out messages to worthy men and women in Aborium since Merret told us of the arrival of Guildmistress Gordie from Herder Isle and of the overthrow of the Faction there,” said Kalt, earning her a resentful look from her brother. “When Alun told us that the river had been crossed, riders were sent out to summon the hidden Council to Aborium. Gwynedd will have them vote their own leaders and Council from among their number, and then he will charge the leaders with driving the Councilmen from their cities.”

  “He did not say all of that,” Vesit snapped.

  “He did not have to, brother,” said the young woman gently. Then she asked Dardelan if he would come with them. He said gravely that he would come as soon as he had collected his belongings from the ruins. In this, I saw that he was no longer a boy, but surely it was not maturity alone that made his eyes so somber.

  “Wait,” said Rushton. “There is something here that is not being said.” He was looking at Kalt.

  But it was Dell who answered. “There is, but it is not the girl’s to tell. Indeed, I think she does not know it.”

  We all looked at the futureteller. She sighed. “Gwynedd acts as he does because a twomonth past, I foresaw a confrontation between the rebels and the Council here in the west in which Gwynedd roused the people and, moving from city to city, drove out the soldierguards. With nowhere else to turn, the soldierguards then united with the Hedra to form a deadly force under the leadership of a man who is now a simple unranked soldierguard in Aborium called Aspidak. His bloodthirstiness, once roused, would incite violence and brutalities beyond any we have so far seen, even from the Hedra, and eventually Aspidak would flee before the forces of Gwynedd and the west and lead his army over the river.” She looked at the girl, a question in her eyes.

  She nodded. “Gwynedd bade me tell you that Aspidak has been taken prisoner and a rumor established that he has gone back to Port Oran, where he was born. In truth, he is being held under guard in a cell. Our guardian means to ask the high chieftain to take him back to the other side of the river.”

  “He ought to have killed him,” Vesit stormed.

  “He could not kill a man for deeds he has not done and will now never do,” his sister chided.

  “I did not think that futuretellers gave advice,” Rushton said.

  Dell gave him a cool look. “Do not judge until you have seen what I saw, Master of Obernewtyn. It is truly wiser not to meddle, but there are times when something small can tip the world toward one fate or another. I saw that if this Aspidak did not rise to power, a catastrophe of bloodletting would be avoided, but only if Gwynedd does as he is now doing—making careful plans for the aftermath involving representatives of all the cities, avoiding general war, and striving at all costs to avoid loss of life. If that happens, then Gwynedd will become a king.”

  “King?” Gevan said, lifting his brows. “You mean that Gwynedd will crown himself king in the west?”

  “I do not know who will crown him, only that he will be king,” Dell answered. Something shuttered in the futureteller’s expression, and suddenly I was as sure as if she had whispered it to me that Dell had seen more than she had told us or Gwynedd.

  Dardelan and Brydda exchanged a glance with Rushton, and none was smiling. “I can see that the idea of becoming a king would be an attractive prospect,” Rushton said.

  “You need have no doubts about Gwynedd,” Dell said. “He is a man of great honor, and his desire is to prevent a bloody war, not to achieve kingship.”

  “Perhaps,” Rushton said. He looked at Dardelan. “I think we had better ride and see what Gwynedd has to say.” Dardelan nodded, and he and Rushton went to get their cloaks and weapons. Dell and Jak went with them, and after Merret had spoken a few soft words to her, Blyss went, too.

  “Did you know about this futuretelling?” I asked Merret quietly after sending to Seely to heat fement and offer it to Gwynedd’s wards and bidding Orys to engage them in conversation.

  “I knew that Dell had spoken with Gwynedd and that he was much affected by what she told him, but I did not know what was said,” the coercer answered quietly. “Yet I would trust Gwynedd with my life and Dell no less than that.”

  “You will ride back to Aborium?”

  She nodded. “Blyss and I. Will you come as well? Gwynedd would be glad of it. He wishes to speak to you of Herder Isle.”

  I shook my head. “I think he will be too busy for such a conversation, at least for the next day or so. And I need to speak with Dell, about this and other matters. But I will see you in Aborium before I ride to the river. I will speak with Gwynedd then, if he has not left for Murmroth.”

  Merret nodded and glanced over at the rest of Gwynedd’s folk, who were still hanging back with their horses. She muttered a curse. “If there were demons, they would have taken us by now!” she roared. “Come and drink some hot fement and warm yourselves before the ride back to Aborium.”

  Looking sheepish, the men came slowly across the hard earth to the patch of sand where the firelight danced. Seely offered mugs of fement to the men, and when Kalt met my eyes over the fire, I saw that she was suppressing a smile. I had a sudden urge to laugh, too, in spite of everything and as macabre as it ought to have seemed with Domick’s cairn behind her.

  One of Gwynedd’s rebels gave an exclamation and strode around the fire to me. “Can it be Elaria?” he asked incredulously.

  I gaped, for it was Gilbert, the handsome red-haired armsman whom I had met when I had been a prisoner in Henry Druid’s secret camp in the White Valley. I had not recognized him, because his hair had grown very long, and he now wore it in the Norse style, plaited at the sides and going to a great wild tangle of red curls and silver-cuffed ringlets hanging halfway down his back.

  “As you see, I am not truly a gypsy,” I said. “I am a Misfit.”

  “Not just any Misfit,” Merret said. “She is guildmistress of the farseekers at Obernewtyn. But when did you two meet? It has been long since you wore gypsy clothes, Elspeth.”

  “Elspeth!” Gilbert spoke my name with a slow relish that made me stiffen, and Merret gave me a speculative look.

  “That is my true name, and this is my true self,” I said sharply, feeling the blood rising to my cheeks.

  Gilbert ran his eyes over the trousers and soft white shirt I had found in my chamber; then he gave a low soft laugh and smiled
. “Your true self is more fair but no less lovely than your old.”

  I ignored the jest about the brown gypsy dye I had used and explained briefly to the others that we had met when the renegade Herder priest Henry Druid had taken me prisoner.

  Gilbert said softly, “I thought you died when you were swept away on that raft in the middle of the storm.” There was an intensity and intimacy in his words and expression that discomfited me.

  “I did not die, as you see,” I said with a calmness that belied my own occasional nightmare about rafting into the mountain following my escape from the Druid’s camp. Gilbert went on gazing at me, and I said, “Do you remember Daffyd, who also served Henry Druid? He told me that you had escaped to the west.”

  His brows lifted. “I remember him. He was determined to find those who had been taken and sold as slaves just before the firestorm razed the encampment. Madness, for he knew that the survivors were sold to Salamander, which meant they had been taken over the seas. I think he was in love with Henry Druid’s daughter, of course. Not cold brave Erin but her sweet twin sister Gilaine, who was mute. Daffyd’s older brother had been taken, too, and two musicians he was fond of. I have often wondered what became of him. How did you become friends with Daffyd? Surely not from that little time you were in the Druid’s camp?”

  “I had met him before,” I said, glad that he was no longer staring so fixedly at me. “But not until I came to the encampment did I discover that he was a Misfit, as were Gilaine, his brother, and the others.”

  Gilbert shook his head. “Never would I have guessed that, for he was a favorite of the old man, and his hatred of Misfits was legend.” He paused as Dardelan and the others returned, and I waited to see if Rushton would ask me to accompany them. I did not know whether to be relieved or to grieve when he did not, though common sense told me it would be better to be apart from him. In the end, Gilbert asked if I would come with them. I shook my head and said I would come in several days. He smiled and said he was sorry he could not remain to escort me.