“Honorary Councilmen appointed from among th’ locals?” Ceirwan ventured hopefully.
“No. Both came up from Sutrium.” He hesitated, and I sensed there was worse to come. “They are both sons of Radost.”
Worse than worse, I thought. Radost was the head of the Council.
“They have each been given land to go with their appointments,” Tomash went on. “This may be not so much an attempt by the Council to strengthen its control over the high country as a move by Radost to extend the territory he controls. But it seems the catalyst at least was the rumor of Miryum’s knights.”
I suppressed a burst of fury. In fairness, I knew Miryum’s deeds alone would not have caused Radost to send his sons to the high country, but they had certainly given him a good excuse. “The number of soldierguards they brought might give us a clue as to what they mean to do,” I said.
“Enoch said that both have small bands,” Tomash said. “Ten armsmen each.”
“Doesn’t sound too threatening,” I said. “But we had better keep an eye on them.”
Ceirwan made a note, then nodded to Tomash to continue.
“Radost is one of three Councilmen ruling in Sutrium. He has a daughter as well as the two sons, but our information says she is estranged. Most Councilmen have children or other blood relatives as official assistants. So far, there is no Council representation set up in Arandelft or Rangorn. They are administered by the representatives from Kinraide. And we don’t know the name of the Councilman or the assistants on Norseland. Everyone else is named on the chart. Here”—he unrolled another sheet showing a map of the Land covered in blue and red circles—“these blue circles indicate each Councilman’s personal farm holdings. The red circles are Councilfarms.”
We pored over chart and map with interest. It was the first time I had seen clearly how the Council divided up the Land, and I was amazed that almost all farm and grazing land belonged to individual Councilmen or to the Council as a body.
Tomash laid aside the map and returned to his chart. “Now, beside each Councilman are the names of rebel leaders in the same area. I’ve also noted whether the rebels there tend to align with Malik in Guanette or Bodera in Sutrium. There have been some interesting developments in the west coast bloc among Radek in Morganna, Cassell in Halfmoon Bay, and Serba in Port Oran—”
“Wait,” I said. “I thought Madellin ran the Port Oran rebel group.”
Tomash nodded. “He did, but he has taken ill. Serba is his daughter. She assumed his place and has become very popular. In fact, it looks as if she might achieve what her father desired and unite the west coast bloc at last.”
“Radek and Cassell agree?”
“I don’t know about Radek, but she’s to bond with Cassell,” Tomash said.
“Madellin probably proposed th’ bondin’ as a way of unitin’ th’ bloc finally,” Ceirwan murmured.
I was not so sure. Cassell had struck me as a clever, strong-willed man. “Perhaps the idea was Cassell’s.”
“They might be in love,” Aras said rather shyly.
Ceirwan smiled at her. “So they might. What a terrible lot of cynics we are nowt to think of that first.”
“All of our information about the west coast is sketchy at best,” Tomash said. “I will try to fill the gaps.”
“You have done a wonderful job,” I said warmly. “This is invaluable. We will present it to the next guildmerge and let it do the rounds of the guilds to see if anyone has anything else to offer before you make a fair copy.”
Tomash nodded and sat down.
“Wila?” Ceirwan sent. “Ye have a report due about th’ Herder Faction?”
The woman rose. “I’m afraid I have not been so successful as Tomash,” she said diffidently. “I have some information, but I am expecting more. I would like to defer presenting my report until the next meeting.”
I nodded. I had scarcely expected much, for the Herders were notoriously secretive. Rising, I made my own report of the beastmerge; then Ceirwan dealt quickly with the few minor matters remaining. We ended the meeting just as the nightmeal bell rang.
“Have you seen Maruman about?” I asked Ceirwan. Usually, the old cat joined me during guild meetings.
“Isn’t he asleep in your turret room?” Ceirwan asked.
“Excuse me, Guildmistress,” Sarn said. “I saw him in the Healer hall just before I came here.”
“The Healer hall? Now what was he doing there?” I muttered.
The Healer hall was actually two long, narrow rooms joined at one end by a chamber with an enormous hearth. Both of the long rooms were filled with beds, and there were small sleeping chambers running off from one side.
Walking past empty beds, I noticed a healer and the Futuretell ward Dell sunk in concentration over the sickly babe born to Sarn’s daughter. Dell’s presence indicated that things were not going well. I passed quietly into the connecting room, where a group of healers were seated in front of the fire on low stools, talking softly and plaiting what I took to be some sort of herb garlands.
As I approached them, a tiny pile I had taken for another garland stirred at the foot of an empty bed, and two huge orange eyes opened to survey me. I realized it was an owlet when the diminutive creature hooted in fright.
Kader turned to greet me, smiling. “Welcome, Guildmistress. You have just missed Roland.”
“I wanted to see Kella, actually.”
“She has gone to fetch some more dried reeds. We are plaiting prize wreaths for the moon fair.” He gestured at a basket full of leafy coronets. “Shall I go and get her?”
“No. I’ll sit with Dragon until she returns.” I glanced over to Dragon’s bed and saw with shock that it was empty.
“She has been moved,” Kader said, his smile fading. He ushered me down one of the long rooms and into a smaller chamber, where a candle burned low on a table beside the sole bed. The red-gold mass of Dragon’s hair, spread over the white pillow, glowed in the dim light. I was startled to see that Maruman was nestled in it. The sight of two I loved so dearly lying together brought me close to tears.
Kader had strong empathic abilities as well as being a healer; he merely touched my arm gently and withdrew.
Kella believed Dragon’s long coma was the result of Dragon’s decision to retreat into the blocked part of her mind and resolve what was hidden there. If she had not done so, the healer argued, the block would have burst, filling her mind with poisons and rendering her defective.
If Kella was right, Dragon was inside her own mind, reliving over and over again whatever it was that had caused her to forget her past and trying to resolve it. One of us might have entered her mind and tried to help, but Dragon’s Talent was so strong that it would almost certainly have trapped any intruder inside the recurring memory until Dragon recovered.
If she recovered. The brutal truth was that she might wake in a day or a year or ten years—or she might never wake.
Sitting on a low stool by the bed, I took her limp hand in mine. It was white and the nails pale and long. I remembered how she had reached out a filthy paw to touch my clean skin the first time we had managed to communicate. I envisaged her playing with Maruman and brushing Gahltha’s coat, or gazing at Matthew with an adoration he could not return. Again I saw her fall to the ground as my augmented mindprobe smashed through her mental shield, knocking her unconscious in my desperation to keep her safe from soldierguards.
It is my fault she is like this, I thought bleakly. Yet another occasion on which the lethal killing power of my mind, even muted, had shown its malignancy.
I looked into her pale, still face and fought a blur of tears, resting my head on her hand.
“Elspeth?”
I sat up to find Kella gazing down at me concernedly, the owlet perched on her shoulder.
“I started to fall asleep,” I muttered, surreptitiously brushing tears from my cheeks.
Kella gazed down at Dragon. “I sit with her a lot,” she murmured. “
I can’t bear to see her lying here alone. I’m glad Maruman has taken to keeping her company.”
I looked at the old cat, wondering uneasily what had brought him to her bed. Dragon had no ability at all to communicate with beasts, though they were drawn to her and had given her a name of their own—mornir, which meant “brightmane.”
“Kader said you had to move her.”
“Any healing is difficult with her near,” the healer said. “When you begin to focus on your mind and shape a probe, she … well, her mind pulls at you. Like an undercurrent in a river. You feel yourself being tugged toward her.” She shrugged. “It is easy enough to resist, of course, but it’s impossible at the same time to focus properly on healing. It’s like having someone shouting numbers at you when you are trying to add up.”
“Is she getting worse?”
“I don’t know,” Kella said. “She could be getting worse, or maybe this is a prelude to her getting better.”
Hope must have shown in my eyes, for she went on. “You should not make too much of it, Elspeth, because she has been like this before. There is a strong pull, and then her mind just suddenly goes passive again. I think she gets like this when she is close to resolving her memories, but something goes wrong and she has to start all over again.”
I noticed Maruman beginning to twitch.
“Chasing mice in his dreams, I suppose,” Kella said fondly. “No doubt he is faster in them than in real life these days. He’s not supposed to kill anything within the grounds, but I know he hunts mice when he thinks no one notices. I do not think he catches many, though.”
But in his dreams, Maruman is not slow nor old nor even really a cat, I thought. I shaped a probe to dip into his dreaming mind, but there was a muted cry of pain from the other end of the hall.
“The child is failing,” Kella murmured. “I fear we are losing him.”
“Poor little baby,” I said, and sat back down.
Kella sat beside me. “Sometimes it seems that life is nothing but struggle and sorrow, and yet we spend our time remembering moments in which we experienced joy and believing they are what life is meant to be.”
“You are thinking of Domick,” I said, giving up any attempt at subtlety, since I was so bad at it.
“I never stop thinking of him,” Kella admitted dully. “I accept he no longer wants or needs me as a woman. When I was with him, I thought that meant I had become unlovable. But you were right in bringing me away, for I now see his loss of love is no true judgment on me—it is a symptom of his sickening spirit. Because I loved him, I failed him as a healer. But I would not fail now. I have been thinking of it more and more, and I might as well tell you I have spoken to Roland about going to Sutrium again.”
I wanted to argue, but I could not. Would I be any different if Rushton were in trouble? Kella smiled a little. “Now you look exactly as Roland did when I told him.”
I stiffened as Ceirwan farsent me to say that the pass watch warned of riders headed for Obernewtyn at a fast gallop. At least two riders were Sadorian by their attire.
“What is it?” Kella asked.
“I have to go. Ceirwan sends that riders are coming up the pass.” Kella looked frightened, and I laughed. “Don’t worry. Ceirwan says some of them are Sadorians.”
Kella’s eyes blazed with delight. “Dameon must be home!”
5
FORTUNATELY, CEIRWAN HAD shielded his farseeking, otherwise the steps of Obernewtyn would have been crowded with people longing to welcome the Empath guildmaster home. As it was, only Gevan, Kella, Ceirwan, and I were at the front doors to greet him and his escort.
Because it was a moonless night, it took some moments to discern the Sadorian tribeswoman Jakoby and her daughter, Bruna. They dismounted and bowed low, palms against their chests, while the teknoguilder Fian leapt from his mount and hurried across, beaming with pleasure.
“It is good to see ye all. My only regret is that it’s too dark to see th’ mountains. Ye have no idea how often I have missed them these last months.”
“I am glad to see you again, Elspeth Gordie,” Jakoby said warmly.
“And I you,” I said. I had forgotten how tall she was. “I did not imagine you would accompany Dameon home yourself.”
“Where is he?” Kella asked, squinting into the darkness, where two other riders dismounted.
“Dameon did not come,” the tribeswoman answered. “I will let Fian explain, but it is Dameon’s own choosing. Is there somewhere we can water and feed the horses before we talk further?”
Gevan looked somewhat embarrassed. “Lady, I am sorry to say this, but here we do not think of horses as belonging to people; in fact, if they desire it, we must offer your beasts asylum.”
She burst out laughing. “I think you will find them willing to return to Sador.” She turned to me. “Dameon will have let you know that I am hoping to bring back a beastspeaker with us when we return to the desert lands—one who knows the fingerspeech better than the asura. There have been changes in Sador that he will not have had time to relate.”
“Asura?” Ceirwan echoed.
“That’s what they call Dameon in Sador, an’ it’s partly why he’s nowt here,” Fian offered.
“Wait,” I said. “This is not a story for a drafty front step. You have ridden far, and as you say, the beasts must be shown to the farms, where they can find food and water.”
“I will take them,” Ceirwan offered.
Jakoby thanked him and turned to the other riders, two Sadorian men. “Harad, you and Straaka will go with the horses.” She turned back to me, the beaded strands of her midnight hair clinking together.
“There is no need to send your men. The Beastspeaking guild will take good care of the beasts,” Gevan said.
“I send them only because it would pain them not to go. I will tell you more of these matters inside. I dare say we need a wash, but I would be glad to drink and eat first if you can tolerate our travel sweat.”
I said heating water for a bath would take some time in any case. “We had best go somewhere quiet, and I’ll have something brought to us. In the dining halls, one look at Fian and we would have no peace until all knew why Dameon had not come.”
“I will go and organize some food,” Kella said. “But it will not be long before the rumor is out.”
“We will have a little respite, at least, while rumor pursues fact,” I said.
Gevan and I led Fian, Bruna, and her mother through the central hall and down a passage to a small room where once I had waited to see Madam Vega after my arrival at Obernewtyn. That was now only a shadowy memory overlaid with many others.
“You said Dameon chose not to come?” I said the moment Jakoby had laid aside her dusty travel coat. I was unable to ignore the prompting of my heart any longer.
“He wrote ye a letter, Elspeth,” Fian said. “I have it for ye. But I can guess th’ gist of it is that th’ Sadorians are makin’ him an honorary tribesman, an’ he can’t come until th’ ceremonies are complete.”
“It is rarely done,” Jakoby said, suddenly sounding grave.
I did not know what to say. Apart from the honor of it, it would cement our alliance with the Sadorians. But I was bitterly disappointed.
“The ceremonies and celebrations last a month,” Jakoby said gently.
Fian rummaged in his pockets and withdrew a rolled sheet of paper. “There are two letters. One for ye, an’ t’other fer Miky an’ Angina. Have ye sent for Rushton?”
I took the letter and thrust it into my pocket with the same resolution as I pushed my disappointment to the back of my mind. “Rushton has gone to Sutrium. Brydda sent a message asking him to meet with the rebels,” I said.
The teknoguilder blinked at me in bemusement. “With th’ rebels? Why?”
“That is what I would like to know.”
“Perhaps I can guess,” Jakoby said. “There was much discussion about your people after you left, for the rebels were beginning to realize very cle
arly what sort of leader they would have if Malik took charge of the rebellion. No one said it aloud, but it was clear few liked the idea of being ruled by him after the war. Your offer, along with your superior behavior, became increasingly attractive. And Malik knew it. He may have defeated you, but maybe he showed his nature a little too explicitly, and that has gone against him.”
I never doubted that the rebels would succeed in their struggle to overthrow the Council, having witnessed firsthand the raw ferocity and single-minded drive of Malik and his followers. I had not needed the Battlegames verdict, delivered by the Sadorians, to know the rebels were gifted warriors—if the ability to wage war could ever truly be called a gift. They surely did not need us to win, but in accepting our aid, they would have gained victory more swiftly and gently.
But men like Malik did not want a gentle victory.
“We will learn soon enough what transpires with these rebels,” Bruna said firmly.
Jakoby’s eyes rested enigmatically on her daughter. “Bruna felt she must accompany me to Sutrium.”
Bruna lifted her chin a little but said nothing.
“The tribes still mean to take part in the rebellion?” I asked.
“We promised aid and broke bread with the rebels over it, and so we must aid them if they desire it, although now that the Council has lost interest in possessing Sador, we no longer have any real need to involve ourselves. The Council’s new indifference is Dameon’s doing, and that is partly why he is to be made a tribesman.” Jakoby’s golden eyes were more catlike than ever when she smiled. “It never occurred to us to allow Landfolk to see how difficult it is to harvest spice, for we did not understand that much of their desire to control Sador lay in a greed to increase its production. Dameon also told us that the Council believed there were great fertile valleys that we were concealing beyond the desert.”
Dameon had told me some of this in a letter, but not all. “What did you do?”
“We took them on a kar-avan tour,” Jakoby said, grinning. “Within days of their return, they took ship for the Land. I do not think they will be back.”
The Rebellion Page 45