The Seeker

by Isobelle Carmody

  “Can you get out?” he asked as soon as he appeared at the window.

  “I can open the lock, but I will have to wait until everyone goes to sleep. I want you to go back to the cart and get the others out of the city.”

  “Why have they locked you up?” Darga asked.

  “I don’t know, but I think it was because I asked for Brydda Llewellyn.” I wondered what Rushton would do in such a situation.

  “He would not risk you,” Darga sent.

  I stared. “What do you mean?” I shook my head. “Look, there’s no time for this. You have to get the others out of the city before the gates are closed for the night.”

  An hour later, I could wait no longer. The door lock was a simple device, and I tampered with the mechanism so it would seem to be broken. Then I wrapped a towel round my hair and stuck my head out into the hall. The man outside started in astonishment at the sight of me. “How—?”

  I interrupted him. “I’ve rung the bell three times, and no one comes. I was promised some water for a wash,” I complained. Amazement gave way to confusion and then indecision. He had obviously been told to guard the door, but I was not acting like a prisoner. My querulous demand for water and the towel on my hair had confused him, and I sensed him wondering if he had somehow got his instructions muddled.

  “Go on, then, tell her,” I snapped, and shut the door.

  I listened to his footsteps receding. Then I threw off the towel and slipped out into the hallway. I had barely taken two steps before I heard voices coming. I dared not go back to the room. Turning, I hurried in the other direction, trying every door I passed. A locked door had to mean the room was occupied.

  My heart leaped as I recognized the manageress’s voice. “What do you mean the door was unlocked? I locked it.”

  The last door was also locked, but I had no choice. If there was someone in the room, I would have to coerce them. I bent my mind to the lock, but before I could do anything, the door opened and a young, bearded man looked out. We stared at one another in surprise; then the voice of the manageress came clearly down the hall.

  “Find her! She can’t have gone far. She has a limp. Search all the rooms on this level.”

  Without saying a word, the man reached out and pulled me through the door, shutting it quickly. He made a sign for me to be quiet, and we listened intently. I heard the manageress shriek in rage at finding me gone.

  The young man turned to look at me. He was not much older than Rushton, and his skin was the clear smooth brown of a seaman. He wore trousers, but his wet face and bare chest told me I had caught him in the middle of a wash.

  “You are the girl who asked after Brydda Llewellyn?” he asked in a low voice.

  I nodded, dazed that he should know.

  There was a loud knock on the next door, and I looked at him in a panic.

  In two strides he crossed the floor and flung open the lid of a big trunk. “Get in.”

  There was a knock at his door. I climbed in the trunk and heard him turning the key slowly.

  “Why did you take so long to answer?” It was the manageress. I held my breath in terror.

  “I was washing. What’s going on?” he asked crossly.

  “Ah … well, we have had a girl staying, as a favor to her father, who is a seaman. She is subject to manias and brainstorms. For her own safety, she was locked in, but she has got away.”

  “Is she dangerous?” asked my rescuer seriously. Despite my fear, I grinned at his convincingly anxious tone.

  She grunted.

  “Well, I heard this was a respectable place, but with all the noise and murdering madwomen running around, I am glad I am heading out to sea this night. Send someone to bring up my trunk.”

  My heart thumped in fear that she would demand to see what was in it.

  “Carry your own trunk!” she snapped rudely, slamming the door. There was silence and some movement, then I felt myself lifted. I slid to the bottom of the trunk, half-suffocated by clothes.

  “Don’t make a sound,” he hissed in a strained voice that told me he had hoisted the trunk—and me—onto his back.

  In the hall, I heard enough to chill my blood. “The Council won’t like this,” said one voice.

  “ ’Tis nowt th’ Council troubles me but th’ priests. They’re th’ ones he’s plagued,” said another voice. The two voices faded, and I realized we were climbing the stairs.

  Suddenly there was another voice. “Ho, Reuvan. Where are ye goin’ at this hour?”

  “I’m for the sea tonight,” said my rescuer.

  “Tonight?” There was an edge of surprise in the other’s voice.

  “The Herders have given permission to my master,” Reuvan said. “But I don’t know why he can’t wait till a civil hour to set sail.”

  I wished he would get moving. The air in the trunk was beginning to foul. I felt sweat trickle down my spine.

  At last the other laughed. “Better you than me. I’ll see you.”

  “Not here you won’t,” Reuvan said easily. “It’s a damn sight too noisy, and that sharp-tongued manageress is no enticement.”

  The other man laughed, and we moved on. At long last, I felt myself being set down, and the distinctive sound of hooves scraping over cobbles told me we were in the street.

  The chest jerked, and I realized I was in a cart. It set off, and after an eternity, the latch was undone. “Stay down. It’s not safe yet,” the seaman whispered softly.

  “Why are you helping me?” I asked in a low voice.

  There was a pause. “You wanted to talk to Brydda Llewellyn, didn’t you? Well, I’m taking you to him.”

  16

  BRYDDA LLEWELLYN WAS a giant of a man, towering head and shoulders above the men around him. His face, illuminated fitfully in the guttering candlelight, was as stern and craggy as weathered rock.

  Reuvan gave me a slight push. “Brydda, here is the girl who asked for you at the inn. I caught her trying to escape the old crow’s clutches.”

  The buzz of talk from the men in the room ceased. My heart thumped unevenly under their hostile scrutiny.

  “You have taken your time in coming,” said Brydda, for all the world as if he had expected me.

  “If you were where you were supposed to be, I would have been quicker,” I said.

  An astounded silence followed my words, then the giant roared with laughter. “Well, well, so they have sent a kitten that snarls and spits. I could crush you with one hand, little sad eyes, but I don’t. Let that be a sign of my good faith. Now, what do you have to tell me?”

  I was less intimidated by his threats than reassured by his laughter, for I had seen Katlyn in it. “I come from Rangorn. I bring a message from your—”

  To my surprise, Brydda’s smile disappeared and he held up an imperious hand. “Speak no more of that for a moment.” He glanced around, and silently the men filed out, giving me curious looks. Then we were alone except for Reuvan, who went to stand by the door.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Brydda said in a softer voice. “I thought you were a messenger from Sutrium. I did not think … You come from my parents? Are they well?”

  I nodded. “They are worried because you haven’t sent word to them in so long. I think they feared something had happened to you.”

  Brydda ran a massive hand through the dark, springing curls on his forehead. “So it has. I suppose they told you about me?”

  “They said you help seditioners.”

  He smiled faintly. “Well, that is as good a way as any of putting it. How did you come to meet my parents? You are not from Rangorn.”

  “We had an accident, and your parents helped us. We offered to bring a message to repay their kindness.”

  “You are with friends?” Brydda said sharply.

  I nodded, hoping Darga had got the others away. “When I left them, they were in an alley not far from the inn. I’m not sure whether they made it out of the city before nightfall.”

  Brydda star
ted, a look of concern on his face. “Quickly, Reuvan, go and take some of the others. Bring them back.” He turned to me. “What do they look like?”

  “A girl and a boy not much younger than I am, and a much younger boy,” I said. “A wheat-colored mare is pulling the cart.”

  He nodded, and Reuvan hurried away. “It is dangerous to be out in the streets at night, though less than usual because of the moon fair. Is there no one full grown among your companions?”

  Slightly indignant, I told him we were perfectly able to look after ourselves. Changing the subject, I asked why I had been locked up at the inn. “Your parents told us to mention your name. I didn’t reckon on such an unfriendly reception,” I said resentfully. Brydda only laughed and gave me a slap on the back that winded me.

  “Much has happened since I last spoke to my parents. I was betrayed by one of my men. Once I could go to and from the inn openly, an ordinary seaman, but now I am known to be the notorious seditioner they call the Black Dog. You are lucky I had friends keeping an eye out at the inn for the messenger I mistook you for. Once she comes, I will leave Aborium. I dared not send word to my parents while I am here, because I was afraid of having their connection with me exposed. But I am glad to hear they are safe.”

  “Those soldierguards at the gate,” I said in sudden realization. “It was you they were looking for.”

  He nodded. “The Council would like to catch me, and so would the Herder Faction. But I will slip through their fingers like snow during the moon fair.”

  “Where will you go?” I said unthinkingly.

  Brydda looked at me for a long moment. “Few would expect an honest answer to such a question. But I believe I can trust you. Does it seem strange to you that a wanted man trusts his instinct over caution?” He smiled when I did not answer. “I have a kind of infallible knack for judging people.”

  “Yet you say you were betrayed …”

  He nodded grimly. “By a man I loved like a brother. But I did not misjudge him. He was tortured and made to speak, and there will be a payment for that. Come, tell me the truth. Are you not a seditioner or a runaway yourself, that my mother should tell you my secrets?”

  I stared at him in fright.

  “I told you. I have a knack at guessing. But don’t look so unnerved. It makes us allies, not enemies,” he said.

  I nodded, shaken, entertaining an odd notion about this uncanny “knack” of his. “My parents were burned by the Council as seditioners, and my brother was killed by soldierguards,” I said.

  Brydda nodded triumphantly. “I thought as much, though I think there is more to your story than that. But it is enough to know we fight the same fight. It is my aim to rid this land of the Herder Faction and its tyranny. I have many allies who think as I do, and for now we oppose the Herders in a thousand small ways. But the time is not too distant when we will challenge them openly.”

  I was filled with excitement, for his words were almost identical to Rushton’s, except Brydda seemed to think the Herder Faction worse than the Council.

  He continued. “The message I wait for is to ensure there are no Herders waiting for me in Sutrium. It is too dangerous for me here now, so I will go elsewhere and harass them anew. Sutrium. They will not expect me to be so bold.”

  Reuvan came in, grim-faced. He bent and spoke into Brydda’s ear.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Your friends are gone,” Reuvan said.

  I sighed in relief. “They will have gone outside the city when I didn’t come back. That was what we planned.”

  Brydda said, “Reuvan means they have been taken prisoner. I have allies who let me know who has been taken by the Herders and the soldierguards. It seems your friends were among today’s intake.”

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  “Rumor says the boy was a runaway Herder novice,” Brydda went on.

  “No!” I whispered in horror. “Where have they been taken? Who has them?”

  “The Herders,” Reuvan said. “They’ll have been taken to the cloister for interrogation.”

  “I have to help them,” I cried.

  Reuvan shook his head. “No one escapes the cloister cells. There are priests everywhere and killer dogs. And the place is built like a labyrinth.”

  Brydda scratched his head. “Only a madman would attempt such an impossible rescue.”

  There was a commotion at the door, and a girl entered. Weary and travel stained, she half staggered into a chair. “You are the messenger?” Brydda asked.

  The girl nodded. “Sutrium and all the other branches are safe. It seems he died before they could make him tell any more.…”

  Brydda’s shoulders slumped. “I should be glad.…”

  I did not wait to hear any more. Taking the chance offered by the momentary confusion, I slipped into the street.

  It was dark and very cold, the moon obscured by clouds. I shivered and wished I had not left my coat on the cart. I had delivered my message, I thought bitterly, but at what cost?

  When I had gone a safe distance from Brydda’s hovel, I stepped into a darkened doorway and closed my eyes, sending my mind to the other side of town. My mind played back and forth, seeking Jik’s familiar pattern. It seemed ages before I spotted a dull glimmer at the farthest edge of my reduced lowland range. I sent a farseeking probe gratefully.

  “Elspeth?” Jik’s thoughts were faint.

  “Jik, are you in the Herder cloister?” Lightning flashed, making it a strain to communicate at such a distance.

  “Yes,” he sent.

  “What about the others?”

  “I’m on my own in a cell. Kella and Pavo are here somewhere. Avra is in the stable,” Jik sent. I was filled with loneliness and apprehension but realized Jik was empathising his own emotions to me.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “One of the priests recognized me from Darthnor. I tried to tell them Kella and Pavo didn’t know about me, but I don’t think they believed me. They want to know how I got here and how I made it look like I died. They want to know where I’ve been and if I had help. I’m scared. I think they mean to take me out to Herder Isle.” Jik’s terror spilled over into my own mind, and for a moment, I saw his nightmarish vision of the interrogation methods awaiting him.

  “I won’t let that happen. I’m coming,” I sent, but the contact had begun to fade.

  I found myself slumped in the doorway, gritty water seeping through the knees of my trousers. Sweat was freezing on my cheeks, and my teeth were chattering violently.

  I had meant to try farseeking Darga as well, but that would have to wait. I needed to reach the cloisters as fast as I could and get Jik away from there. Get him away, or erase his mind, a darker voice reminded me. I shuddered and walked faster.

  I was limping badly by the time I reached the area of the city nearest the cloister, certain that all Kella’s good work on the scars had been undone. It was not hard to tell which building was the cloister. Set apart from the other buildings, it had its own high wall. Branches of trees and leaves visible at the top told me there was a garden inside. I made my way carefully around the perimeter, looking for a weak point. There were two small gates, barred and guarded, and one larger gate, open but heavily guarded. The contact with Jik had left me too depleted to coerce a guard, let alone more than one. Somehow I had to get in without being seen. I decided I would have to climb over the wall.

  Leaning against it to gather my energy for the climb, I realized a dog was pacing on the other side. He had sensed me and was about to bark. I sent a quick greeting, and his urge to bark diffused into curiosity.

  “Who/what are you?” It was a dog named Kadarf.

  “I am a funaga. I mean no harm. I want to come over the fence and visit a friend,” I sent. Fighting a wave of nausea, I gave his mind a coercive push. I climbed the fence with the help of a spindly tree growing by the wall. Sitting on the top, I could see the Herder cloister through the trees, a dark, squarish building
with few windows and no visible doors.

  At the foot of the wall, a muscular, brindled dog watched me slither awkwardly to the ground. He bore a strong resemblance to Darga, and I remembered how the townspeople had eyed him warily.

  I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind for Jik. When I farsought him, he almost overwhelmed me with a wave of emphathised terror.

  “Elspeth!” Jik sent. “They’re taking me to the Herder Isle tonight!”

  “I’m right outside. Now, how long before they come?”

  Jik made a concentrated effort to control his panic. “In … in an hour, they said. But that was a while ago. Is Darga with you?”

  I sent a gentle negative. “I was delayed at the inn and sent him back to the cart, but you must have already been taken. He’s a smart dog. Remember when he disappeared in the Druid camp? He’ll turn up.”

  I left Jik for a moment to locate the others. Kella and Pavo were in a cell together, and I let Kella know I was coming. Avra was in a stable near the perimeter of the grounds.

  She responded with relief to my probe, and I realized she had been afraid we would abandon her. Quickly, she outlined the arrangement of the stables. I told her Kella and Pavo would come to get her shortly.

  Returning to Jik, I was glad to find him calmer. “I’ve found Kella and Pavo. I’m going to free them first, because they’re on the top level, and they can free Avra,” I sent.

  “If the Herders come for me …,” Jik sent fearfully.

  “I’ll get back in time,” I sent.

  “Promise you won’t let them take me to the Isle,” Jik urged.

  “I promise,” I sent.

  I looked down at Kadarf and probed him to locate a lesser house door. Following me, Kadarf stretched himself outside the door to wait.

  Inside was a short hall branching in two directions. I took the left way, leading to Kella and Pavo, noting the other way would bring me to stairs leading down to Jik’s level. Passing numerous closed doors, a slight farsense probe was all I needed to warn me if anyone was coming.