The Seeker

by Isobelle Carmody

  My limp had grown worse, but there was no time to rest. Turning warily into another hall, I jumped at the sound of voices, but no one was visible.

  I could hardly believe I was creeping through a dread Herder cloister. I would not have imagined I would have the courage, but Jik’s fear of being taken to the Isle and my own fear of having to erase his mind spurred me on. I stopped abruptly, realizing I had found them. A brief straining, and the lock clicked. Kella and Pavo looked up, relief flooding their faces.

  “There’s no time to talk,” I said, forestalling their questions. “I’ll take you to an outer door. There is a dog there who will lead you to the stables where Avra is kept. Avra said you can get out of the stable to an exercise yard, and from there to the street. Leave at once, and get straight out of the city. You might have to bribe the gatekeeper. Head for Murmroth until the lights of Aborium dim. Camp on the beach. I’ll find you. Now let’s hurry.”

  “I will slow you down,” Pavo said faintly. I was shocked by his ravaged face. He seemed to have aged years in a few hours.

  “Help him,” I said to Kella brusquely. She looked hurt at my tone, but some of the dazed horror had faded from her eyes.

  Moving back down the hall, I was puzzled to note how awkwardly Pavo moved. Had the disease begun to affect his limbs? Then I saw a bloody streak on one ankle and understood. He had been interrogated.

  For a second, I was overwhelmed by a black tide of hate. This dissolved into fear as my senses warned that a priest was approaching. There was no door near enough to offer refuge, and the hall was long and straight with no turnings. Neither Pavo nor I was capable of running fast enough to get back inside the cell before he came round the corner.

  Desperation gave me an idea.

  “Get close to the wall and face it. Don’t move, no matter what happens,” I whispered. I blew out the candles on either side of us, throwing our hall into shadow. Flattened to the wall in the dimness, I mustered my strength and sent out a fine coercive probe. I let it mesh with the priest’s mind. The alignment was perfect, and for a time, I simply mirrored his thoughts about the power-hungry manipulations of an ambitious senior priest. Then, gently, I began to exert my own force beneath the conscious level and into the semiconscious region of the mind.

  My brother, Jes, and I had played hide-and-seek as children, and I had always won when he searched, no matter how bare the boundary we set, because I could make his mind look everywhere but directly at me. Our only hope was that this child’s trick would work on the priest.

  He came around the corner, and Kella quivered with fright. I willed her to be still as he came nearer. It would only work if we were completely motionless. Pushing the priest’s mind fractionally, I made him turn his head absentmindedly to the opposite wall where the candles were extinguished. He passed us looking steadfastly the wrong way, entirely unaware of us or my subtle coercion. I did not dare release him until he had turned the corner, then I slumped back, exhausted.

  “He didn’t see us,” Kella whispered incredulously. “How could he not?”

  “Quickly,” I snapped.

  Outside, I bade Kadarf take them to the stables and prevent their harassment by any other dogs. I did not stay to see them go. Time was running out for Jik. Nearly hobbling now, I sent my mind ahead to let the boy know I was coming.

  To my dismay, he was not alone. There were two priests in the room with him. I was too late!

  Agitation made me careless and Jik perceived me. “Elspeth?” His mind groped for mine. I was filled with remorse at the terrible duty that lay before me. I dared not let them take him without erasing all of his knowledge about Obernewtyn. No matter how brave he was, in the end they would make him talk, just as Brydda’s friend had been made to talk. But I knew I had neither the heart nor the strength for such an operation.

  I had another idea.

  Hobbling back into the garden, I called to Kadarf. He followed me back to the fence and watched me struggle to climb it. “I’m sorry you are going,” he sent.

  I waved a brief salute, then dropped to the path on the other side of the wall. Kella and Pavo were nowhere in sight. I hurried around to the ornate double gate Kadarf said was used for most coming and going among the priests, praying they would bring Jik out that way.

  I waited, sitting cross legged in the shadows beneath a bush to give my feet a rest. It was some minutes before I saw any sign of life. One of the guards brought a large cart out and harnessed up a white horse. Then a group of priests came out, carrying boxes and parcels. Peering from my hiding place, I saw Jik between them, looking small and frightened. My heart ached for him, but I turned my mind resolutely to the horse. My only hope was to create some sort of diversion to give Jik the chance to run.

  Suddenly a hand touched my arm. Whirling, I stifled a scream of fright as I looked into Brydda Llewellyn’s face.

  “How …,” I began, only to be interrupted by the sound of horses and a carriage.

  Frantically, I tried to collect my thoughts, but I was too slow. With a cry of despair, I saw the carriage draw away and knew I had failed. I had a brief glimpse of Jik sitting upright among the grim-faced priest masters.

  Then he was gone.

  17

  I STARED DOWN the empty street, knowing I had failed Jik—and all of Obernewtyn.

  “Quickly,” Brydda said. “We will have to move fast if we are to catch them.”

  He half dragged me across the street and around a corner where a grinning Reuvan sat behind the reins of a carriage embossed boldly with the gleaming Herder seal.

  “Courtesy of the Herder Faction,” he said with a mock bow.

  Dazed, I let myself be lifted in. The cart lurched as Brydda climbed in behind me. Reuvan shook the reins, urging the horse on to a wild pace.

  “You are hurt?” Brydda shouted over the clatter of hooves on the cobbles. He nodded at my feet.

  “Old wounds,” I shouted back. “You followed me?”

  Brydda shook his head. “You were gone before I realized, before we could talk of ways and means to rescue your friends. But I knew where you had gone.”

  “You said helping them was impossible,” I protested.

  Brydda shook his head. “I said only a madman would attempt such a rescue. I forgot you did not know me well enough to realize that I am just such a man.”

  I was struck dumb at his words.

  “Besides,” Brydda said, “you had not meant to come to Aborium, except to deliver my parents’ message. Therefore, I am the direct cause of your troubles and honor-bound to help you. And if the Herders are so keen to have your friend, I am just as eager to stop them.” He grinned. “We were waiting to see you arrive, never dreaming you had already magicked yourself inside.…” He hesitated, obviously curious, but I said nothing. “A lad and a girl came out stealthily leading a horse. They fit the description you gave, so we stopped them. It took us a minute to convince them we were trying to help, and then they told us you were inside. I sent one of my people to show them a safe way out of the city. I wanted them to take the cart, but I have never seen a pair more attached to a horse.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you …,” I began, but Brydda held up a hand.

  “No need for thanks among allies. Now, the Herders will be going to the wharf. The girl said they want to question the boy.…” For a moment, his face really did look like stone, and I understood that Brydda Llewellyn would be a savage enemy. “There’s no time for subtle planning. I meant to leave town tonight anyway, so it does not matter if the Herders think I freed the boy. It will madden them trying to understand the connection. Was he really a Herder novice?”

  I nodded. “What can we do? There are five priests in that cart,” I said as Reuvan suddenly reined the horse to a slow walk. I could smell the sea and the sour odor of old seaweed.

  “We’re nearly to the wharf,” Reuvan said over his shoulder.

  “Go softly, then,” Brydda said. “We can handle five between us, six count
ing the shipmaster.”

  I nodded, praying they would succeed, for I knew I couldn’t wipe Jik’s mind clean of his dangerous knowledge.

  The clatter of stones ceased as the wheels ran onto board. We had reached the wharf.

  The waning moon broke through the clouds but shed a wan light, and all was darkness. The smells of oil and spices mingled with that of sea and fish scales. Moored vessels bobbed in the dark, gurgling water, bumping occasionally into their mooring posts with a dull thud.

  “The Herders cast off from there,” Brydda whispered, pointing to the very end of the wharf. Lanterns swung from either end of a long, slim boat moored there. Illuminated fitfully in the gritty, shifting light was the carriage that had brought Jik. It was empty, and there was no sign of him. Priests were moving between the ship and the carriage, transferring boxes to the vessel.

  “Why do they travel at night?” I whispered as Brydda signaled for Reuvan to draw the carriage into a shadowed corner.

  “They are a secretive lot, and night suits their fell purposes. Most ships go out at dawn or just before. Folk know the Herders come here at night, and that is enough to discourage anyone else. People who seem too interested in Herder business have a way of disappearing. There’s the boy.”

  Jik was standing between two priests, half obscured by their flapping gray cloaks. His hands were bound behind him, and his shoulders slumped hopelessly.

  “Jik,” I sent.

  His head jerked in surprise, but he subsided when one of the priests gave him a hard look.

  “Careful,” I warned, and sensed him make an effort to maintain his dejected pose.

  “Elspeth,” he sent in a powerful wave of gladness that twisted my heart.

  “We are at the other end of the wharf, in the shadows. We’re going to help you.”

  I broke contact, feeling Brydda’s hand on my arm. “It’s no good. There are at least seven priests down there. And there is the shipmaster. Two of us might barely overcome the lot, and I’d take the risk but for the dogs. They are trained by the priests to tear a man’s throat out on command,” Brydda said.

  I blinked at him, trying to reconcile the savage picture his words evoked with Kadarf’s simple kindness. “But you said … we’ve got to get him away from them. I … I …” I stopped, gulping back tears.

  “It’s not possible, lass. You see that, don’t you?” Brydda asked.

  “You don’t understand. He … he can tell them about us, and about you and your parents.”

  Brydda shook his head. “That’s bad, but there is no way to help the boy or silence him. Getting ourselves killed trying won’t help anyone.”

  I threw caution to the wind. I felt I had no choice.

  “Brydda, I am a Misfit,” I said. “I can stop those dogs from attacking. You think—everybody does—that Misfits are only true dreamers and defectives. Useless. But there are other kinds, too. Misfits like me and my friends. I can make those dogs do what I want, and I can talk to Jik from here, inside his head. If you can handle the men, I can deal with the dogs.”

  I could hardly believe myself revealing so much. Reuvan was staring at me as if I had gone mad.

  “I’ll prove it,” I said desperately. “Watch Jik. I’ll make him look toward us and nod.” I sent a message to Jik, asking him to respond as obviously as he could without alerting his guardians. He turned his head slowly and nodded with a subtle wink. Reuvan hissed in astonishment.

  “You can hold the dogs?” Brydda asked.

  I nodded, hoping they would be as easy to convince as Kadarf. “Help me save Jik. Please.”

  After a long tense moment, Brydda grinned. “Well, I’m probably finally going mad, but we’ll have a go at it. Seven men—we can handle that many between us, eh, Reuvan?”

  “Seven men, yes. But those dogs …,” he said doubtfully.

  Brydda clapped him on the back. “Come, man, you heard the girl. Those dogs will be all bark and no bite.”

  Reuvan looked at me warily, as if I myself might bite, but such was the strength of Brydda’s personality that he nodded.

  “Good lad. Now, Elspeth, tell the boy to run for it as soon as he gets the chance. Don’t wait for us. As soon as you have him, get out of the city as fast as you can. There is a gate back near the cloister. Go out that gate and no other. Wait with your friends, and I’ll find you.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll worry about me. Make sure you do as I said.”

  I reached out and touched his arm. “It was a glad day when I first heard the name of Brydda Llewellyn,” I said.

  He smiled. “Life is an adventure, is it not?”

  They melted into the shadows and began making their way toward the Herder vessel.

  I groped about until I found the mind of the shipmaster. He was in the hold, organizing the loading of the cargo. I pinched a nerve experimentally and he groaned and doubled over. I grinned, catching his thought that he must have eaten a bad fish stew.

  I tweaked the nerve again, more firmly, and this time he groaned loudly enough to be heard by the priests on the wharf. They looked at one another. One stepped onto the deck and climbed down into the hold.

  Taking advantage of their preoccupation, Brydda and Reuvan attacked with wild cries, brandishing knives. One of the priests standing on the edge of the vessel fell overboard in fright. Another Herder, with stronger nerves, reached down to unloose the dogs he had on leash. Quickly, I beastspoke to the dogs, asking for help. I had no strength left to coerce more than very slightly, but they agreed to help. I saw that the dogs had no love for their masters, for all their savage training. As soon as they were loose, they began to bark wildly and snarl, jumping and running in circles. The look on the Herders’ faces would have been funny if there had not been so much at stake.

  Then Reuvan jumped onto the deck, delivering a stout blow to the emerging priest and slamming the hold shut. That left five. One of the priests held on to Jik while the others divided into pairs to attack Brydda and Reuvan. Brydda was more than a match for two men. A blow from his fist and the first priest crumpled at his feet like a wet cloth. The other had drawn a knife and tried to sink it in Brydda’s belly, but the big man was agile for his size and whirled on his toes like a dancer before dealing a blow with the haft of his sword. He stepped over the unconscious priests and turned around.

  Reuvan had dispatched one of his attackers and was busy with the other. Brydda turned menacingly to the priest holding Jik. Calmer than his brothers, he drew a long knife from the folds of his cloak and let go of Jik’s arm.

  “Run!” I sent.

  He lurched forward, stumbling, hampered by his bound hands. Panting, he fell as he reached the cart.

  “Quick, get in,” I whispered. His nose was bleeding and his breath came in sobs, but he clambered awkwardly into the cart and fell across my feet. I gathered up the reins. I hated to leave Brydda, but he had struck me as a man used to having his orders obeyed.

  I beastspoke the surprised horse, and we rode away from the wharf.

  I was afraid someone would spot us crossing the dark city in the Herder cart and slung a bag over the side to obscure the insignia. As we drew up to the gate, my heart was thundering. But the gatekeeper barely looked at me before letting us through. There was not a soldierguard in sight.

  Incredulous, we found ourselves outside the city.

  Sheer relief made us both hoot and laugh like madmen the moment we were out of hearing. I laughed till my stomach hurt and tears rolled down my face.

  “Who were those men?” Jik asked when the laughter had died away.

  “The big one was Brydda Llewellyn,” I said, and tried to untie his wrists, but they were too tight. They would have to be cut off.

  I beastspoke the horse again, telling her where we wanted to go and promising freedom once we got there. She was a beautiful creature. I was interested to learn that she thought of her masters as jahrahn, the cold ones. She appeared unconcerned at the strange events of th
e night and even at leaving the walled city.

  It seemed the Herders often rode out at night beyond the city limits to meet with funaga on the seashore. Sometimes they brought men and women and children, bound as Jik was. These were always left behind. Slavers, I thought bleakly.

  I thought I saw a faint flicker of fire in the distance. Closer, we could see it was a shore camp, but we were almost on it before a figure jumped up and Kella’s voice rang out gladly.

  After the first excited greetings, Kella introduced me to a tall blond youth called Idris, who cut Jik’s bonds and left us to unharness the horse. Jik and I warmed our hands and explained Brydda’s role in our escape.

  Pavo looked pale and fraught. His feet were freshly bandaged, but he refused to talk about what had been done to him, save that his tormentors had made no real attempt at questioning him—they’d only meant to assert their dominance.

  Our talk reminded Kella of my feet, and she insisted on examining them.

  My shoes and stockings had to be soaked and cut away from the wounds. I was dizzy with pain before a grim-faced Kella had finished her ministrations. Then she looked up, not with the reproof I had expected but with tears in her eyes.

  “I don’t know how you walked so far on them, yet … if you had not …” She stopped abruptly and hurried down to the sea to wash her instruments.

  I looked at the others with faint embarrassment. “Anyone would have done the same.”

  Pavo smiled wanly. “ ‘Would do’ and ‘have done’ are two different things.”

  I felt my face redden and was glad of the darkness. To turn attention from myself, I asked Idris how he had come to know Brydda.

  The boy said his father and two sisters had been taken by the Herders. One night, he and his mother had returned from a visit to find their house a charred ruin. Neighbors said the Herders had come and taken the husband and daughters away, but the priests claimed Idris’s mother was mad with grief and that her husband and children must have burned to death in the fires.