I shivered at the memory of the wild, storm-ravaged night we had taken over Obernewtyn. Since then, I had learned to use the murderous ability that lay coiled in the depths of my mind as a weapon. But not to kill. Never again to kill.
As if he sensed the tenor of my thoughts, Matthew said, "If we hadn't stopped them, they would have gone on killing an' maimin' Misfits. It were us or them. I only wish Ariel had not escaped.... "
His voice trailed off and I knew he was blaming himself again for having failed to follow Alexi's malevolent assistant into the storm the night we took over Obernewtyn.
Matthew let out a formless exclamation of surprise, dragging me back to the present. We had reached the top of a long rise and Sutrium lay before us in the blighted light of the gathering storm.
It had grown much bigger than I remembered, spreading farther west until it joined up with settlements along the side of the Suggredoon River, and stretching east and north into straggling outlying districts and farmlands.
Behind the city lay the ocean and somewhere out there were Norse and Herder Isles. Beyond them, a poisoned world lay across vast and little-known seas.
In some ways, Sutrium was not unlike the coastal town of Aborium. We had journeyed there on the very expedition that had rescued the empath-coercer, Dragon. Whether it was my imagination or the knowledge that Sutrium was the home of the main Councilcourt, it seemed a dark and menacing place in the stormy afternoon.
Unlike Aborium, there were no watch towers. It was too big for such things to be of any use. But in any case there was no need, since there were three huge soldierguard camps on the city outskirts. One lay slightly inland on the banks of the Suggredoon, another on the other side near the ferry port, and the third to the east, among the farmlands.
How would the very first Councilmen, who had sworn not to follow in the sinful steps of the Beforetimers, view the sprawling city? I wondered. Surely all their fears that humans might tread the same doomed path of progress would be realized at the sight of it. In my mind's eye, I saw for a moment the shadowy, half-drowned city under Tor.
Thunder sounded again and, as if it were some heavenly signal, Gahltha emerged like a shadow from a thick copse of Ara trees a little down the slope. He waited, a dark shape against the pale speckled trunks and tremulous clouds of foliage, until Jaygar drew level with the wagon.
"The way to the funaga-li barud is not watched by danger," the black equine sent in his stringent mental voice. Funaga was the closest rendering of the beast thought-symbol for human. The form used by Gahltha was subtly derogatory, for though the old acid bitterness had vanished from his nature since his encounter with the Agyllians, he could never truly like humans or their works.
"It would be wise for Elspethlnnle to ride thisequine," Gahltha sent. "Only the funaga walk without shackles/burdens in thisplace."
"Wait a moment," I said, and climbed in the back to change my skirt for trews. Coming out again, I stood up on the wagon's bench seat and the black horse came alongside, allowing me to transfer smoothly to his bare back. Sensing his approval at the ease of my mounting, I felt smug. Gahltha had taught me to ride as gypsies did. There had been many times during his painful lessons that I had felt certain they were simply a sadistic way to murder me! yet I had survived, and there were few now at Obernewtyn who could match my skill. In fairness, that was because few rode as frequently. None among us rode a horse except at its invitation, since all thinking beasts were regarded as equal to humanfolk. I would as soon ask Matthew to carry me as ask one of the equines. Horses took part in expeditions at their own choosing, as beasts of burden, but only in pretense. They never carried humans otherwise, except at great need.
Gahltha was the exception.
After bringing me from the high mountains he had insisted on going back into them often; whether out of nostalgia or to remind himself of his promises, I never knew. Each time he went, he asked that I ride on his back. At first I had refused, disliking the way it increased the mystique my activities had already woven about me, but his determination had worn me down. And like him, I had come to love the headlong gallops over the whispering grasses, flattened to his back and feeling the two of us were, in those moments, a single wild spirit.
Oddly, this had caused the proud Obernewtyn equines to wonder if carrying humans must always be a sign of slavery. More than one of the beasts had suggested that a time might come when it would be useful to have Misfits who rode well. The matter was still under discussion among their kind.
"We must be nearin' th' outer gate," Matthew sent, as we reached the first shingled dwellings at the outer edge of the sprawling city. "Stay close."
Immediately I felt angry. Did he think he had been sent along as my guardian? "I do not expect any trouble," I said coldly.
"Who ever expects it?" Matthew responded, with a significant glance at the wagon where the gypsy woman slept. "A bit of care nivver hurt anyone."
He got into the back to cover the woman's face and I bit my lip to stifle a sharp retort, summoning the mental focus I would need to coerce the soldierguards at the city gates if there was any difficulty.
I reached out to take Gahltha's reins in my fingers as Matthew returned to his seat. My hands and body, like his, were stained a light gypsy tan. Brydda Llewellyn's mother, Katlyn, who had come to live at Obernewtyn, was a skilled herb lorist and she had perfected a dye that simulated gypsy skin tone, and which would not wash off easily, to aid our most common disguise. It was far safer to move about the Land as homeless gypsies than to pretend to be normal Landfolk, for they rarely traveled.
With a mental apology to Gahltha, I pulled the reins tight. They did not drag at his mouth, being a modified bridle that only looked as if it would control and direct a horse. The old bit and bridle were anathema to human and beast alike at Obernewtyn but, even so, I wondered if it would not have been wiser to use it on expeditions that would take us into the heart of Council territory, where spies would be watching for any deviations.
Well, it was too late now.
I concentrated on my attire, enhancing it slightly with coercion so that people would see a boy in the clothes. I had played the gypsy role so often I actually felt braver and more capable in my disguise than when I was myself. Gypsies had never pledged allegiance to the ruling Council. Forbidden to settle, they traveled constantly in small family troops, which was what made their guise so useful to us, but they were not liked, particularly the lighter-skinned halfbreeds. One saw very little of the darker, full-blood gypsies, for they preferred to travel away from cities and to keep their distance from Landfolk. Like the modified bridle, it was a risk to disguise ourselves as gypsies of any kind, given the prevailing attitude to them, but we had no alternative.
To my relief, despite the looming storm, or perhaps because of it, there was an early crowd at the gate; traders and farmers and the odd green-clad jack returning after a day's work trading outside the city. The number of people lined up to show papers would mean a longish wait, but less individual attention.
Approaching the end of the line, we fell in quietly behind the rest, ignoring cheeky signals from a cluster of children. Such a reception was so common for gypsies, that we would have stood out if we had reacted to it.
For the most part, the people about us were grim-faced and sour looking, and many bore the ugly marks of plague survivors. There was no chatter or end-of-day banter, only a brooding silence. People did not look into one another's eyes and the few words spoken were punctuated with wary, sliding glances.
It was a timely reminder that Sutrium was a subtle and dangerous city, filled with a treachery that must not be underestimated. The main thing was to get past the gate without any sort of fuss that would draw attention to us.
I looked up at the dark clouds, willing the storm to break. The soldierguards would scarcely glance at us if it was pouring rain on their heads.
"I will kill/trample funaga-li!" Jaygar's mental voice speared into my mind without warning. He
began to push his way through people in front of us, dragging in his wake the wagon containing the unconscious gypsy, Maruman and a helpless Matthew.
VI
I sent out a coercive mental bolt, forcing Jaygar to a halt. Then I looked around frantically, trying to see what had provoked the normally placid equine to such a dangerous outburst.
I did not need to look far.
My own fury swelled at the sight of a small pony ahead of us trembling under the weight of a load of wood. But what made my blood boil, and what had surely incensed Jaygar, was the sight of a fat youth sitting on top of the load unconcernedly eating a bun.
Even as I watched, the mare staggered sideways under the weight of her burden, and the lout cursed her unsteadiness, whacking her with casual cruelty over the head.
"Release me!" Jaygar raged. "You have no right."
I did not loosen my mental hold. "I have the right to restrain any beast/funaga who endangers the rest," I sent, quoting from the expedition charter Rushton had made us draw up over long guildmerge sessions. Jaygar knew as well as I did that Avra had approved it on behalf of the Beastguild.
"Now will you obey/calm?"
The horse snorted angrily. "You would risk us/all for an unknown funaga, but not for thisbeast?"
"Risk comes from acting in stupid haste," I gritted. "Now will you obey, or must I waste more time in arguing with you?"
Chastened, Jaygar agreed, and I asked Gahltha to come up beside the mare. To my astonishment, he refused.
"I willnot let you endanger yourself," he sent. "This equine is one alone and yourlife's purpose will save/help many more than onelife."
"She is yourkind," I sent "Surely you don't set mylife above hers?"
"ProtectInnle before/above all," Gahltha sent.
"Is that what Atthis told you?" I fumed. "Well, I am not Atthis's servant/slave. I won't spend my whole life waiting to perform a single deed, Gahltha. Not for you nor for Atthis. I will do what I can now, because tomorrow might never come. Now take me up beside the mare or I will get down and walk!"
After a long moment Gahltha moved forward, but there was an offended stiffness in his bearing. I wished I had the empathy to show him what I felt. So often wo>rds said only half of what you wanted to say, even words sent direct from mind to mind. But empathy was the one power I lacked utterly.
As we drew level with the mare, I made myself calm down. I did not want to show an interest that would be remembered later. From the corner of my eye I noted the exhausted sag of her head, and the scars on her knees and fetlocks from previous falls. Taking a deep breath to quieten my outrage, I reached out a probe to examine the bindings on her load. When I detected a weakness, I began to work at it with my mind, backward and forward.
This was exhausting, because the probe had to be densely focused to produce even the slightest physical force, but anger gave me additional determination, and in a short time the tie snapped with an audible twang.
The lout on top of the load gave a bellow, as he and me wood crashed to the ground.
A second after, a streak of lightning split the sky and people looked up fearfully, ever mindful mat mis might be a firestorm. At the same time it began to rain.
The lout got to his feet, red-faced with embarrassment and began to flay the mare viciously. She was so exhausted mat she barely flinched under me onslaught.
"Get out of my way," I said insolently, pushing Gahltha forward to distract him. I blinked to clear the rain from my lashes.
"Halfbreed trash!" he yelled. "Don't tell me what to do."
"Then do something of your own will," I rejoined promptly. "Show us you can move your fat bum as fast as you flap your lips."
He stepped forward, lifting his stick to strike me, but Gahltha snorted and reared back, pawing me air. The youth cried out in fright and cowered back.
Thunder cracked again and lightning slashed above, shedding an eerie light on the motley crowd as the rain garnered force, creating a mental static mat interfered with my Talent. I concentrated hard and prayed it would not get any worse.
"What's going on back here?" demanded the gate soldierguard, striding back along the line.
"The stupid horse lost its load," the lout blustered. "Then that gypsy tried to set his horse on me. Savage brute of a thing."
"T'was the lightning affrighted him," I said, lowering my voice.
"He overloaded the mare and the ropes broke," a woman said, spurred by a coercive prompt. I did not want the soldierguard to focus his attention too specifically on me. Sooner or later, if it had not done so already, news of the incident in Guanette would reach Sutrium and I did not want anyone remembering a gypsy who came through the gate soon after, even if I was now clad as a boy.
"Look at the poor thing," another woman shouted, after a mental prod. Then she blinked and looked startled at herself.
"It's a wonder it didn't keel over in the very path," someone else growled of their own accord.
"And what if it did?" the lout demanded truculently. "It's my property. I'll kill it right now if I feel like it."
I felt Jaygar's anger like the sun on my back.
"Do that and you'll be fined," the soldierguard snapped.
"Fined?" he squawked. "I've a right to do what I want to my own horse."
"I don't give a damn what you do to the beast. Just so long as its corpse don't clutter up the way. Now get this mess out of the road. Load it to one side and be quick about it."
Muttering and cursing, the lout dragged on the mare's bridle to shift her onto the grass verge and began to move the wood. She stared out unseeingly, eyes like dusty pebbles.
"Greetings, little sistermind," I sent.
She blinked and turned her dull gaze to me.
"This funaga is cruel to you."
"All yourkind are so. Your blood is curdled with cruelty." Her mental voice was infused with a dreamy kind of hopelessness. She didn't seem surprised to have a human talking to her. Perhaps she thought she was hallucinating.
"Not all funaga are thisway," I sent, but the mare was silent with disbelief or lethargy. I sighed, thinking this was not the moment to convert her. "If you hate this funaga, why not runfree?"
"Funaga are everywhere. The wind spawns them. If not this one, another would own me," she sent without bitterness. "When I take the longsleep, I will runfree."
Beastspeaking was often difficult to understand, because sometimes animals used words differently than we did. Equines called sleep the shortsleep and death the long-sleep, believing the two states to be related. I shook the wetness from my face and licked my lips. The rain tasted sweet and cold.
"If there were a barud for freerunning in thiswaking, would you dare to run? Could you escape?"
"There is no such place," the mare sent flatly.
"Littlesistermind, I tell you such a place does exist, and if you go there you may runfree and nevermore wear the coldmetal in your lips."
"A barud with no funaga? That is as likely as skyfire without its roar." The flash of cynicism told me all of the spirit had not been beaten out of her.
"There are funaga," I admitted. "But these have the power to speak with beastminds, as I do. And none of them thinks of owning or making or hurting. They think of equines as brother/sisterminds."
She showed her disbelief again. I asked Gahltha and Jaygar to speak to her mind and convince her. Only when the black horse came close and showed her the false bit, did she believe and then she listened carefully as he described a route which would bring her to Obernewtyn.
The lout glared at me. "Get that black demon away from my horse, halfbreed."
I shrugged and drew Gahltha away at once, resigned to the knowledge that he would remember me when the mare disappeared. I sent to her, warning her to be careful she was not followed when she escaped from her human masters. "Runsafe, little sistermind and perhaps we will meet again in thiswaking."
"I am called Faraf," the mare sent. "And I swear this will be so. Nevermore shall I curs
e the funaga as one, for I know now that some burn with the heartfire."
My eyes pricked with sudden startled tears, for the mare had paid me a great compliment. Beastlegend told of a heart which burns eternally with the souls of all beasts who die and are yet to be bom. This shared heart symbolizes the harmony between beasts, no matter what their physical form, nor how they prey on one another, and included Talented and unTalented beasts. Life and death are seen as part of an infinite cycle.
Beasts exclude humanity from this cycle of harmony, for they believe humans are not bom of the heartfire, and therefore have no true soul. Some beasts claimed this was the reason for humankind's terror of death and their desire to dominate.
In implying that I shared the heartfire of beasts, the little mare was naming me her equal, and the bearer of a true soul.
I felt my spirits lift, for the rescue of the gypsy and the exchange with the mare reminded me that no matter what Atthis or Maryon or Gahltha thought, I was the mistress of my own life.
"Are you?" mocked an inner voice. "What of the prophecies?'
We had drawn almost level with the gate now. In front of us, the soldierguards were checking the soggy papers of a jack.
"Ye'll be lucky to find buyers for that lot," one of the soldierguards told the green-clad trader. "No one's got much coin these days, an' them that has wants exotics from Sador or lavish trinkets from the Twentyfamilies. Even with the Herders sayin' it's all Lud-curst."
I was surprised at the accent, for most soldierguards came from lowlander stock. It suggested that the Coercer guildmaster had been right in saying there had been an increase in recruitment. I wondered what sort of trader a Twentyfamilies was. I did not know what the word meant, but I was sure I had heard it before, and recently.
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