The Rebellion

by Isobelle Carmody

  “It’s sheer madness to think of us going to Sador,” Garth declared. “It would be an immense undertaking, and we would be leaving behind everything we have fought for. Have you even spoken to the Sadorians about the possibility?”

  “No decision has been made yet about what we will do, and when it is, we will all be making it. I just want us to have all courses covered when we do decide. Now, I want you to figure out roughly how long it might take to reach Sador in laden wagons. Alad’s people will need some sort of time frame to work out supplies.”

  Jak stirred in his seat beside Garth. “If we do go to Sador, it will mean moving while the rebellion is in progress. That could be difficult.”

  “Truespoken,” I said.

  “Between Radost’s sons, the Herders in Guanette, and the presence of Malik’s people, gannin’ to th’ coast road with a line of wagons will be difficult even without a rebellion,” Ceirwan pointed out.

  “What about beasts?” Alad demanded, scowling. “Ordinary Landfolk and Councilmen alike are notorious for sequestering beasts from halfbreeds, claiming they must have been stolen. Since a good many of the animals that live with us are runaways, a strong case could be made against us.”

  Angina said, “Maybe it would be best to evacuate smaller groups, some with wagons and some without, taking different routes. If we travel at night, we might manage to escape notice altogether.”

  “We could make sure no one remembers any of us going by,” Miryum said.

  “I think we will not need to worry about Councilmen or soldierguards or rebels stopping us from leaving,” Aras said rather shyly, for this was her first guildmerge. “Isn’t it more likely that they will all take their forces to the lowlands for the rebellion?”

  “You’re right, of course,” Gevan grunted thoughtfully. “The rebellion will certainly start in the lowlands, and that will give us a free run up here for some time.”

  “Maybe they won’t care about us going anyway,” Miky said. “They want us to, after all.”

  “Malik wants us dead,” Miryum said flatly. “He wants us wiped out as abominations against nature. If it’s known we’re leaving the Land, he will come after us.”

  There was a silence across which her harsh words skipped like a stone.

  “What about Rushton?” Zarak asked. Of course he would ask what no one else dared.

  I felt their eyes on me and fought to remain cool. “He has been delayed, obviously. We cannot wait until he comes to decide how to act. He would not want it. Until we hear from Jakoby or Brydda, we will not waste time speculating. Leave worrying about what will come to the futuretellers, who will be doing their own delving for information.”

  I glanced at Maryon and Dell, who nodded as one.

  The guildmerge broke up soon after that. Many of us lingered, but Garth and his people left in a huddle, their expressions serious. I had no doubt they were already worrying about how to continue their work if we were forced to leave Obernewtyn.

  “Couldn’t we try again to reach some sort of agreement with the rebels once the rebellion is over?” Miky asked me. “I do not want to leave Obernewtyn.”

  “Nor I, and with luck, it might not come to that,” I said. “But I doubt Malik will agree to leave us in peace. Miryum is right about his hatred of us.”

  Alad said, “Maybe Malik won’t rule the rebels. After all, the Sadorians said they had been having second thoughts about him after the ruthlessness he showed in the Battlegames. Perhaps other rebels won’t wish to appoint him to lead in the end.”

  I was aware that Alad’s thoughts were more on the beasts than on the rebels. And he was right to be troubled. So many would be unfit for the hardship of moving, particularly on the grueling, treacherous road to Sador, and once there, some would find it difficult to adapt to the arid land. Yet those that could not travel with us would inevitably become prey to wild animals or die of exposure, unless they were gathered up and sold or returned to former masters. If we were to move higher in the valley, most could follow, but what cave would hold all of us and food enough for the wintertime?

  I touched Alad’s arm. “We must not make the mistake of thinking it is our place to decide how to care for the beasts who have made their home with us. You will let Avra know what has been foreseen, and doubtless she will call a beastmerge. Ask her if you can attend, and let me know what happens. And ask her to send representatives to our next guildmerge.”

  Miryum approached as we left the chamber. “I have been wondering if the rebellion might only be part of the strife Maryon has foreseen, Elspeth,” she said. “If the rebels win, and the others refuse to take Malik as their leader afterward, I doubt he will tamely accept their decision. They would resist any attempt of his to dominate them all the more, because they have only just thrown off one yoke.… What I am trying to say is that there could well be war between rebels, after the rebellion.”

  “It did occur to me Malik might try to force himself on the rebels as their leader, but I had not thought of their resisting,” I said. “It may even be that Brydda called Rushton down to Sutrium not to take part in the rebellion but to aid in a civil war that might follow.”

  Miryum shrugged. “Either way, he refused.”

  “I just wish we knew exactly what went on at that meeting,” I muttered.

  Later that night, Miryum came to my chamber to tell me that her knights were ready to ride if I would give them leave. She looked fiercely determined in the orange fire glow.

  “What does Gevan say?”

  “He says that the knights are now commanded by the Master of Obernewtyn.”

  “Very well. Did Gevan have any idea when the magi will be ready to leave?”

  “A threeday. We can be back before then even if we wait until morning to leave, but going now will give us a few more hours.” Miryum went on to say the knights would ride as a group rather than in pairs and would claim to be a band of mercenaries hired by a Councilman. “Of course, we will not name him, and we will create enough unease coercively to stop anyone inquiring too much.”

  “What of Straaka?”

  Frustration showed in the stocky coercer’s eyes, but she merely answered that the Sadorian had insisted upon riding with them. “I told him that his appearance would draw too much attention. He said he would ride into the towns separate from us but that he must be close to protect me.” Irritation flitted across her face. “It is useless to tell him that I do not need protecting.”

  I said mildly that he would learn that soon enough. “But I wouldn’t worry about him standing out. There are enough Sadorians in the Land these days for him not to look out of place. The Council welcomes the Sadorians for the sake of the spice trade, so it is unlikely anyone will start trouble.”

  Miryum conceded grudgingly. “We also plan to look for Rushton, if you are agreed,” she said.

  My heart lurched, but I only suggested that if they had to ask questions, they should not align themselves with Rushton, in case he had been arrested.

  “I thought of that. We mean to say that we are searching for the jack who seduced our master’s daughter, and then describe him.…”

  “Seduced?!”

  Miryum shrugged. “Most folk will have a bit of a laugh at the thought of a common jack dallying with a Councilman’s lass. We thought it would be safer that way for Rushton, in case he rides up after we have been through. And it will explain why the Councilman would hire mercenaries rather than simply calling in soldierguards.”

  She was right, though I disliked the idea of spreading such a scurrilous rumor and suspected this was her mild revenge over the business with Straaka. “You might as well go tonight, then,” I said. “But be careful, Miryum. The last thing we want is to find we have set into motion the very strife Maryon has foreseen. It seems to me that is a very real danger when you act upon futuretellings.”

  “We will be careful,” she promised. She strode to the door, then hesitated and looked over her shoulder. “I would take it as a fav
or if you would let Linnet sit in on any meeting that takes place in my absence.”

  I lifted my eyebrows, for it was known that the coercer Linnet was considered by the knights to be Miryum’s second. But it was too late now to be worrying about the knights splitting away from the coercers.

  After she had gone, I stared into the fire, feeling drained. Angina had gone straight to Dragon after guildmerge, so there was nothing to stop me from climbing into my bed and sleeping, but I was too unsettled. Besides, Maruman had curled up in my lap, and I did not want to disturb him.

  I had not had the chance to tell him yet about Maryon’s visions, for though he had awakened to eat, he had been groggy and hard to reach. He would hate to leave Obernewtyn. Much as I was loath to admit it, he was getting old and sleeping rough griped his bones and ached his scars.

  Pondering the cat’s ills, I eventually drowsed off in my seat.

  I dreamed of walking alone along a road. I did not know where I was, but I had a feeling of urgency. I noticed someone a little way ahead perched on a rock. My footsteps slowed to a stop as I recognized Ariel. He gave me a dazzling smile.

  “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 information.” 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?”