Ashling

by Isobelle Carmody

  He hesitated. "I think it would be best for the time being to let the rebels believe you are truly gypsies. If they knew the truth, they would want to know the whereabouts of your stronghold. It would not occur to them to ask about a gypsy stronghold because of the non-settlement agreement." He frowned. "Speaking of gypsies, what happened to yours?"

  "I took her back to her people."

  He misunderstood my shortness. "I told you they would not be grateful."

  I shrugged. "What am I supposed to do at this meeting?"

  "Answer their questions as best you can and remember that the aim is to make them think of you as a Talented human rather than a Misfit," Brydda said promptly. "When the question of your abilities arises, I would speak of far-seeking as the power to communicate over long distances with others who possess the same power. Say nothing of mindreading or coercing unTalents. You might explain beastspeaking since that is unlikely to frighten them and they have already heard mention of it. And empathy since it is fairly harmless, but I would not mention futuretelling at all. And don't let yourself be pressured into demonstrations."

  "You want me to impress them without scaring them?"

  "In a sense," Brydda agreed with all seriousness. "The main thing is that you establish yourself as normal and human in their eyes."

  "But you'll be there, won't you?" I asked, puzzled that he was giving me instructions as if he would be absent from the meeting.

  "Of course," Brydda said. "But if I appear too much on your side they will feel threatened. It would cause them to see me as a rival and ultimately that would endanger the rebellion. Certainly, it would not serve you. That is why I chose to have the meeting in Rangorn—it is neutral territory because no rebel leader controls it."

  I frowned. "Why would your rebels need neutral territory when they are allies?"

  "An ally is not a friend. At best, these are reluctant allies. You must remember that these rebel chiefs are working toward smashing the established order."

  "Yes?" I said blankly.

  "Well, think about it. What happens when the current power structure of Herder Faction, Council and soldier-guards is obliterated? Who will run things?"

  "You mean, they're worried about which of them will be in charge when it's all over?" I asked incredulously.

  "It is something that must be considered," Brydda said. "This is not a fairytale where everyone lives happily ever after. Following the rebellion there will be chaos and, in the midst of it, a struggle to decide who will have power over whom in the Land. Many of those who rule the various rebel groups are prepared for that and are determined to come out on top. For that reason there is great rivalry between the most powerful rebels. Indeed, some of the rebel group leaders hate one another more than they hate the Council or the soldierguards!"

  "But that is stupid," I said.

  He smiled sadly. "Stupid, yes, but it seems it is the nature of humankind, to want control of one another. Why do you think I prefer the company of horses? Of course, in some ways, the rivalry is my fault. Before I brought them all together with the notion of revolution, there was no competition because no one imagined it would be possible to get rid of the Council. No one thought further than simple survival. Now, of course, they think of afterward. ..."

  "Is that what the man you have joined wants? The Sutrium leader?"

  "Bodera? No. There would be no point. And his son, Dardelan, is too young to be regarded by the rest as any sort of competition. That is what gives Bodera his neutrality and his best advantage." Brydda fixed me with a hard look. "It is because of this that I have been able to set the rebellion in motion. As to this meeting with you, make no mistake, they come more to keep an eye on one another than to give you a hearing. But they will hear you."

  With a faint chill of apprehension, I thought of Rush-ton's certainty that the future of the Talented Misfits would one day lie in the hands of the rebels. And what if those rebels were like Tardis or Malik?

  As if he read my thoughts, Brydda said, "I have not heard yet from Malik. Bodera predicts he will send his refusal at the last moment to be difficult."

  "Your Bodera sounds like a wise man," I said. "I would like to meet him."

  The big rebel smiled with affection. "Truly he is worth meeting, but the rotting sickness has distorted his features dreadfully and he dislikes being looked at. You will meet bis son, Dardelan, though and he is very like his father. He will attend the meeting in Bodera's stead."

  "To remind the other rebels that he, and not you, is his father's chosen successor?"

  Brydda nodded. "The rebel leaders are a suspicious lot and it will not hurt to reassure them."

  "Who else will come?"

  "Tardis will send an emissary. That is not good, but it is better than nothing at all. There are few responses from the upper lowlands Seditioner groups because Malik has a strong following in the region and he has yet to respond. They will vote as he does, and only after he does.

  "Malik sees Tardis as his most serious rival because the Murmroth group is the largest next to his own. The west-coast bloc is made up of three separate rebel groups from Port Oran, Halfmoon Bay and Morganna, each with their own leader. About half the time they work together well. They have been struggling for some time to amalgamate into a single group. The trouble is that none of the three leaders wants to step down for the other. They spend too much time locking horns in their own little power struggle, each trying to convince the other two to allow them to lead the triptych. They have promised to send representation but, if one comes, I daresay all will come: Radek, Madalin and Cassell. None will want the others to gain an advantage over them. The bloc has the numbers to rival Malik or Tardis, but much of their force is spent in internal divisions.

  "Naturally the other major groups encourage the discord for they have a vested interest in keeping the situation as it is, though for the sake of the rebellion it would be best if one leader takes over."

  On one level I listened with fascination to the internal machinery of the rebel network, but on another I was conscious that Brydda was talking as much to take my mind away from thinking of Matthew as anything else.

  "Elii of Kinraide is a strong leader but his numbers are small.... " Brydda was saying.

  I stared at him, wondering if this could possibly be the same Elii who had guided me and other orphans from the Kinraide orphan home to harvest whitestick. Then again, Elii was not an uncommon name.

  "... as well as Bram and Jakoby of Sador."

  "Sadorians!" I was startled out of my lethargic drift.

  He nodded.

  "I don't understand," I stuttered. "What do the Sadorians care about our struggles? The Council has no jurisdiction over them."

  "Not yet it doesn't," Brydda said darkly.

  Abruptly all the gossip I had heard of me distant region coalesced in my mind. "They support the rebellion because they don't want to be absorbed by the Land and ruled by the Council!"

  "Exactly. It is inevitable that this will happen if the Council's might is not curtailed, and the Sadorians are too intelligent not to see it. I approached them, but..."

  "You went to Sador?" I interrupted.

  The rebel nodded, smiling reminiscently. "It is a strange place—nothing at all like the Land. There they worship the earth, and human life is seen as short and unimportant. Ever since me road opened to Sador, me Sadorians have had to endure Faction missionaries. Interestingly, like the gypsies, they are nomadic.

  "Bram and Jakoby are simply two of the wisest of the tribal leaders. There is little strife among the tribes mainly, or so it seems to me, because they do not own the desert they call Sador. They shift about constantly so there are no boundary disputes or territorial struggles. And when there are disputes, I believe they have devised some sort of ritual to mediate."

  "How did you get them into the rebel alliance?"

  "I simply pointed out to them that if they do not want to be forced to fight for their land, they must help us fight the
Council." He shrugged. "But I think they had already made up their minds. They are a very practical people."

  "I wonder what they will make of me?"

  Brydda's expression was unexpectedly wry. "I doubt they will come. I have asked them more out of courtesy than anything else. At present we are allies only in principle—not in practice. But we will see."

  For a moment his eyes were distant and distracted. Then he sighed and suggested I try farseeking Matthew again.

  The probe returned without locating him.

  Three times before midmeal, and then three more times in the afternoon that long gray day, I farsought Matthew, each time to no avail. Rain fell intermittently and Reuvan came with progressive reports as the rebels scoured the tainted areas I had named, but found no trace of Matthew or the others. Brydda remained with me, talking when I was not trying to farseek. By dark, I felt exhausted and strangely hot.

  Drawing up a mental probe for the eighth time, I shaped it to fit Matthew's mind with difficulty. When I sent it out, the probe felt heavy and unwieldy. It did not surprise me that such an uninspired search did not find him.

  Opening my eyes, I seemed to see the flames on the hearth through a gray haze and even shaking my head required a tremendous effort of will. I felt dizzy and it seemed to me that I must be too close to the fire, but that I had no energy to pull myself away.

  "Elspeth?" Brydda said from a long way off.

  The room began to sway and dim and there was the sound of voices, but it was too hard to understand what they were saying. I closed my eyes and it seemed the flames were inside my skin. For a terrifying moment, I thought I was burning at the stake.

  "Damn you! Where is it?" cried a disembodied voice.

  "Elspeth!"

  I dragged my eyes open and looked up to see Brydda's bearded face hovering above mine. The world rocked and there was a thumping sound. It took a moment for me to understand that the rebel was carrying me down the hall in his massive arms.

  "Must... keep trying ..." I said, struggling feebly, though I could not for the life of me recall what was so urgent.

  "... fever..." Kella's voice drifted past my ears.

  "Sleep," Brydda said with gentle insistence. "Sleep ..."

  I dreamed again of the dark tunnel. This time I was being pursued. Something huge and savage was pounding along the tunnel after me, closing the gap between us with impossible speed.

  "Begone!" Gahltha sent, leaping out of the darkness behind me. I whirled, as he reared in the runnel, blocking the way. But in the dream there was something different about him. Before I could make myself understand what it was, I found myself again on the threshold of the flaming doors. Incredibly, the Teknoguildmaster was beside me.

  "It's amazing, isn't it," Garth demanded, "what can be concealed when it is right in the open?" He looked at me. "Of course, you realize what it means?"

  I shook my head.

  "It means that you are really a gypsy." His words seemed to come from a long way off. "The gypsies keep the signs," someone whispered. I knew the voice and tried to sit up. "Atthis! Why don't you speak to me?" Hands pushed at me and I fought against them. "Atthis?"

  "Sleep," said a familiar voice. "Sleep and heal." "Who?" I croaked. "Sleep..."

  I woke, groggy and lethargic. Staggering to the bathing room, I plunged myself entirely into a barrel of icy water. The cold took my bream away and I washed swiftly, aching and gasping, before getting out and rubbing myself hard enough to make my skin tingle.

  Only as I dressed, did I let myself think of the nightmarish events of the previous days and acknowledge that my memories were not nightmares; that Dragon really was in a coma, that Matthew had really vanished. And Maruman.

  I looked back at my bed and wondered what had become of him. It had been days since I had seen him last.

  In the kitchen Kella was nursing a cup of spiced milk. There were dark shadows under her eyes when she looked up, but the amazement in her expression startled me.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "You ... you're all right?" she stammered.

  I stared at her, bemused. "Of course I am. Why shouldn't I be?"

  "Last night you had a terrible fever, you were delirious and pouring with perspiration. Brydda carried you to bed. After everything that has happened I was afraid..." She shook her head. "I can't believe you look so well!"

  "It must have appeared worse than it was—or I'm tougher than I look," I said. "Where is Brydda now?"

  "He left before first light." The healer frowned and answered my unvoiced question. "None of his people has found any trace of Matthew."

  Depression fell over me like a blanket. "And Dragon?" I stared into the fire as I spoke, and tried to keep my voice even.

  "No change," Kella said in a low voice.

  She poured some milk and sat it near my hand, but I pushed it away. She shoved it firmly back. To my surprise the warm creamy liquid tasted delicious.

  "Have you seen Maruman?" I said.

  "No. I suppose he has gone exploring. You know how he is. Almost as bad as a teknoguilder."

  "I just hope you're right. I'm going to try again for Matthew." I closed my eyes and shaped a probe, letting it fly with a prayer. I cast it far, right to the edge of the Suggredoon and the sea rim, but there was no response.

  I could have wept.

  I opened my eyes and saw my own despair writ large on the healer's face.

  "What are we going to do?" she asked in a frightened voice. "Brydda says you must leave Sutrium in a few days to meet with the rebels. Will you go if Matthew has not been found?"

  Or Maruman? I thought.

  "I have agreed to this meeting and I have no choice but to go."

  I was hoping Maruman had been drawn to his old stamping ground in Kinraide and had made up my mind to go through the village on my way to Rangorn. I would ask Sallah to check in the beastworld if anyone had seen the old cat.

  As far as Matthew was concerned, I refused to believe that he would not be found in time. He must.

  But there was something else to be broached. I looked at the healer levelly. "I want you to come with me when I go back to Obernewtyn."

  "What about Domick?"

  "We need him here for the time being," I said.

  "Why shouldn't I stay with him?" Kella's voice was defensive, truculent.

  "Your face is becoming too well known to people who dwell hereabouts. This is a good safe house and we don't want to endanger it by overusing it. Domick can keep an eye on it, but he will be staying at an inn for the time being."

  I gave her a quick look and saw that she was unconvinced. "Aside from that, I need you to look after Dragon."

  The protestations died on her lips. I did not labor the point. Sipping at my warm milk, I watched the healer over the rim of the cup.

  "It need not be forever," I said softly, when the silence had gone on for too long.

  "Can't we all stay here until Matthew is found? I can care for Dragon here," she asked. "We can't just abandon him."

  It was her last defense, and a good one, touching on my own guilts and fears. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, but let no sign of my anguish show. "I have to go to this meeting," I said.

  "Everything is going wrong," Kella announced in sudden despair.

  Hearing her voice my own thoughts produced an unexpected reactive surge of stubborn optimism. "No."

  The healer looked startled at my sudden belligerence.

  "We have to have hope. It is the least we can do. Matthew is missing, but wherever he is, he will trust that we have not given up on him. He will believe that we are searching and he will be doing his best to find a way to reach us. We Misfits are hard to kill."

  Kella smiled, a quick genuine twitch of her lips. "You are proof of that."

  I smiled back, for once feeling no discomfort about the reference to my return from the high mountains. "We have all proven it."

  Hope ignited in her eyes, and I was surprised to feel my own h
eart lift fractionally.

  "You really think everything will be all right?"

  She sounded very young when she asked this, and I smothered a resurgence of doubt. "Of course. You'll see. It's only hopeless when we've given up hope."

  "And Domick?" she asked after a minute.

  I looked at her quickly; the animation had died from her face. "You know something is wrong with him and so do I," she said. "I am not a fool. I tried to reach him. To get him to talk to me, but bit by bit he withdrew. Now we are like strangers. If I leave now ..." Her eyes shone with tears but pride kept her from shedding them.

  "Whatever is the matter with him has something to do with his spying," I said, considering my words carefully before I uttered them. "It is something he needs to work out on his own, or I am sure he would have told you what was wrong. But he still loves you."

  "Then I should not leave," Kella said quickly.

  "That is exactly what you should do!"

  I hesitated, then decided she needed some hard words to stiffen her backbone. "Why do you suppose he has been spending so much time away from the safe house if not to be alone—to get away from you? Perhaps he feels smothered by your worrying about him so much."

  I did not believe this. But Kella needed to come home, and Domick wanted her to go. Perhaps her presence was a strain he could not bear on top of everything else.

  Kella looked stricken and I wondered if I had misread her, but after a moment her face settled into determined lines. "Maybe you're right," she said at last. She was silent for a time, her brow furrowed in thought. "All right, I will come back to Obernewtyn. Domick will know where to find me when he wants me."

  "Good girl," I said, heartened by her courage, and wondering if I would have had as much in similar circumstances. "Now all we need to do to complete the day is find Matthew."

  "I know where he is," came a familiar farseeking voice.

  XXVIII

  I jumped to my feet, knocking the chair to the ground.

  Kella gaped at me in amazement. "What is it?"

  "Daffyd is in the yard below!" I cried aloud to her. "He's just farsent that he knows where Matthew is!"