The next morning, they were awake early. However, much as Nula tried to chivvy her family along, it took a good deal of time to round everyone up. The little ones in particular did not understand the urgency of the situation. Four-year-old Yusa thought all this running around was great fun. Deciding that hide and seek would be even better, he hid himself in the wash basket and Nula and Zastra wasted valuable time searching for him. When Yusa had at last been found, Zastra got Findar ready and packed her bag, looking in dismay at the disarray around her. When the bell rang to lift the curfew, Nula and her family were still not ready.
‘Where’s Boltan?’ asked Nula, her hair even more wild than usual. She had a baby on one arm and a toddler clutching her other hand. Zastra helped load the bags and the other children into the back of a rickety cart, grabbing hold of the miscreant Yusa before he could disappear again. An ancient plough horse was fetched from the stable, backing with infuriating slowness into its harness. It then refused to accept its bridle until Nula bribed it with a large pani-fruit. At long last, everything was stowed and Nula heaved herself onto the front seat. The cart tilted alarmingly to one side. Zastra looked over the side of the cart in concern. The front axle was bowing under the weight.
‘Don’t worry,’ cried Nula, ‘this dear old cart has never failed me.’ She shook the reins and the horse inched forward at a painfully slow plod. Zastra chewed her lower lip in frustration. The streets were already filled with an assortment of carts and barrows. The gaps between were crammed with pedestrians, walking or running towards the gate. The rumors of blue fever had spread fast.
‘Wait!’ cried Zastra in dismay. ‘We still don’t have Boltan.’
Nula pulled the horse to a stop. ‘Where is that boy?’ she sighed. ‘I told him…’
The cart jolted and they turned to see a grinning Boltan crash down on top of little Yusa, who screamed in protest. Boltan was carrying half a pie and his mouth smeared with something that looked suspiciously like gravy.
Nula glared at him.
‘Where did you get that?’ she said.
‘Stole it,’ he said, taking another bite.
‘That’s so naughty,’ cried Nula. ‘How many times have I told you?’
‘S’alright, I stole it from Kyrgs.’
‘Then it’s both naughty and stupid,’ said Nula. ‘If we don’t make it to the gate in time because of your stomach I’ll…’
‘Why?’ asked Boltan, mouth full of pie. ‘Wos’matter?’
Zastra and Nula exchanged looks and Nula chivvied the reluctant horse onwards.
The tide of people thickened as they approached the Eastgate. Zastra sighed. There were so many people already waiting that it would be ages before they made it to the front of the queue. Finton could order the gates to be shut at any moment. Somehow Nula nudged the cart forward, finding gaps where none seemed to exist, until, with a mixture of oaths and apologies, she had guided them to within twenty paces of the Eastgate, far sooner than Zastra had expected. Bractarian guards were attempting to bring order to the chaos, lining up the people in front of a plump, black robed woman, who was seated on a raised chair. Zastra stiffened. The robes were familiar; the same as she had seen on that terrible night on the courtyard stairs of Golmer Castle as Teona had dragged her towards her father’s offices. Was it really only seven days ago?
Mindweaver, she thought to herself, nudging Nula to draw her attention. The large woman nodded.
‘Mindmeddler,’ she said. ‘Try not to worry. They can sense fear, so I’m told.’
‘I can hide my thoughts. At least, I think I can – I’ve been shown,’ said Zastra.
Nula’s eyes widened.
‘Oh aye,’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re full of secrets, aren’t you? Well, that’ll help. I use plainer methods myself.’ Zastra was intrigued, wondering what Nula’s methods might be. Taking advantage of a gap in the crowd, Nula had again manoeuvered them forward and all of a sudden they were in front of the gate. A lieutenant gestured for Nula to dismount.
‘State your name and your reason for leaving the city,’ he said.
‘Nula, weaver of Borsha. Returning home from this stinking pit,’ she said, hands on hips. The plump woman’s eyes narrowed. Whereas others had blanched, or even fainted under the mental probing, Nula stood defiantly, a red hue across her face the only outward sign that she was at all affected.
‘Your thoughts are coarse, woman,’ said the mindweaver, throwing back her head in disgust.
‘Mebbee,’ replied Nula, ‘as yours might be if you had to find a way to feed all these littluns.’
As if on command, the younger children all started wailing and rawping.
‘I remember this lot,’ the lieutenant said, ‘they came through a few days ago. Local villagers, we don’t have to worry about them.’
The mindweaver nodded almost imperceptibly and the lieutenant waved them through.
‘Move along, move along,’ he shouted, and the cart with the still bawling children rolled forward. Zastra exhaled, releasing the tight grip she had taken of the side of the cart. They were nearly free. Just in front of the gate they were stopped by another bank of guards demanding taxes.
‘I will not!’ Nula exclaimed. ‘I’ve earned that money and you can keep your grubby little hands off.’
‘Ten percent tax on all monies and goods entering or leaving the city. Orders of the Prefect. Quiet yourself woman.’
Nula continued to protest and the babies redoubled their wailing.
Zastra wondered why Nula didn’t just pay up, and eventually the large woman handed over a few coins from a pitifully small store and they were released.
‘Did she read your mind?’ she asked Nula in a low voice, once the gate was far enough behind them. ‘How did you get away with it?’
‘A little trick I’ve discovered. Concentrate on a big, juicy thought, preferably something a little on the raunchy side – a little buttoned up prude like that, that’s all they’ll see, and they’ll not want to probe any deeper.’ Nula chuckled. ‘I’ve certainly given her something to think about. Ha!’ She remained in a state of high amusement for quite some time. Zastra didn’t fully understand how Nula had fooled the mindweaver, but she didn’t care, as long as they were free of Riverford. She glanced back at the receding walls of the city with a shudder. Nula caught her look.
‘S’alright my dear. If they’d suspected anything they’d have come after us already. I reckon we’ll be safe, at least for now.’
‘It’s a horrid place,’ said Zastra, shivering. ‘I hope I never have to go back.’
‘Oh, it ain’t so bad,’ said Nula. ‘Not that I’d choose to live there, mind. I much prefer the open country and village life, but my sister likes all the bustle and variety. Of course at the moment, everything is upside and about, but it’ll soon sort itself out. These things always do. I just hope they’re wrong about the blue fever. I do worry for Merle.’
Zastra turned to her large companion.
‘Nula, how come there are so many poor people? Why aren’t there enough homes for everyone? Surely people will rise up against the evil of Thorlberd, to stop such things.’
‘Thorlberd is not responsible for the poor and homeless of Riverford. They’ve been there as long as I can remember. It’s a terrible shame, but nothing has ever been done about it. It’s not an uncommon sight in other big towns either. You’ve a good deal to learn young Hedrik, I reckon.’
Zastra was stung and upset equally, although Nula’s words were not spoken unkindly. To think there had been such suffering and poverty under her father’s rule. And even worse, that nothing had been done about it.
‘Surely Leodra did not know. He would have done something,’ she protested.
‘Mebbee, mebbee not,’ replied Nula. ‘There’s a good many poor people scattered about these lands with no chance to make a living because their leases were given away after one poor harvest. The laws of the land favor the rich and don’t give the poor much chance. And the
Marls and Grand Marls and such like have always taken the best horses and the best food for themselves. Sometimes it makes me so angry. There’s other things, too – take firedust, for instance; that’s precious to someone like me. A fire-ring and a sack of firedust are a big help in the cold winters to light fires and keep them hot. But the rich buy up most of it, pushing the prices so high that us poor folk can’t afford it. And what do they do with it? Make it into fire-fountains for entertainment. Imagine – fire-fountains, what a waste. Meanwhile some poor family can’t afford to keep their house warm of a winter.’
Nula’s bitter diatribe was halted by the wailing of her youngest child. By the time she had attended to the baby, her thread of thought had been lost. Zastra was relieved. Although Nula’s anger had not been directed towards her, she felt a strange feeling of shame. She had always taken great delight in fire-fountain displays. She had no idea that they caused so much resentment.
As they left Riverford increasingly far behind them, Zastra began to breathe more easily. The children in the back of the cart began to balk against the enforced inactivity. A few of them jumped off to run and play by the side of the slowly moving vehicle. Every so often, Nula would call to them to make sure they didn’t stray too far away. Zastra remained seated by Nula, listening closely to the accents and expressions of the children. Findar’s safety could depend on how well she disguised herself and it seemed that she was not doing very well. In spite of her worries, the day passed pleasantly. Only the occasional sally of the Riverford migaradon intruded on the happy mood, but the huge winged creature flew high in the sky and did not appear to be concerned with their little group. Night was drawing in as Nula directed the cart off the road, stopping by the side of a small stream.
‘We’ll stay here tonight,’ she announced. ‘You are welcome to join us. We’ve some halsa nut paste and a nice selection of root veg for a stew.’ Stepping off the cart, she pulled Boltan down with her.
‘Not you,’ she snapped. ‘Thieves do not deserve honest food.’ While Boltan protested, Zastra helped some of the older children gather firewood. After a hot supper of tasty vegetable stew for everyone except a very sulky Boltan, they all huddled together in the cart and slept.
The next day, they continued on, passing through several villages. Nula directed affable nods and greetings to many of the folk as she passed. She seemed to be on friendly terms with a great many people. However, at present there was little cheer in the faces of the villagers. Thorlberd’s soldiers had taken command of all the larger houses and Nula muttered a few oaths under her breath as they rumbled by.
‘The nerve. Turfing good people out of their own homes and setting themselves up. They better not try it in Borsha, that’s for sure.’
A few leagues further on, Nula looked sideways at Zastra, who was bouncing Findar on her lap, much to the little boy’s delight.
‘We’ll reach Borsha late this afternoon. If you want, you and the littlun can rest with us tonight. There’s not much room, but you are welcome to snuggle down if you can find a spot.’
Zastra sighed.
‘You are very kind,’ she said, ‘but you’ve already done more than enough. I don’t want to get you into trouble. Perhaps you could drop us off a few miles short of Borsha? We’ll make our own way from there.’ Nula nodded, and they continued along in the hot sun, the cart horse flicking away insects with his tail. Zastra was happy to be putting further distance between herself and Riverford. It was another long, lazy day, mercifully uneventful. Even the children became tired at last and tumbled into the back of the cart and slept.
As the sun began to sink toward the horizon, Nula nudged Zastra, who was dozing beside her.
‘Here’s a good spot. We can’t be overlooked by anyone. North lies the Evergreen Forest and the way to the sea lies to the south. I’ll let you off here if that is still your wish, although again I say you are welcome to stay the night with us.’
Zastra was not to be dissuaded from her resolution. She had not forgotten the punishment offered by the Prefect of Riverford for those harbouring fugitives. She lugged her backpack over her shoulder. Adjusting the sling for Findar, she waved goodbye to Nula and her family, waiting until they were out of sight before heading north. The Evergreen Forest was on her map, extending far into the east. She felt they would be safer there under the cover of the trees. At least then they would be hidden from the prying eyes of the migaradons. She had no desire to stay on the exposed main road, especially with Thorlberd’s soldiers in every village. As she reached the summit of a small hill, she looked back to the road. She could just make out Nula’s cart, creeping slowly into the distance. She gazed at it wistfully for a moment and then turned and headed in the direction of the thin smudge of green that lay against the horizon. She walked as fast as she could, but it was night by the time she reached the edge of the forest. The tiny glimmer of remaining light was quickly extinguished as the trees gathered over them, blanketing them in black night. Zastra felt blindly outwards, until her hand reached rough bark and she sank down at the foot of a tree.
A deep despair fell over her. For the first time she felt truly alone. The thoughts and emotions she had been pushing down since the night of their escape from Golmer Castle would not now be stilled. The darkness gave them strength. Her parents cruelly murdered, Kastara left behind, abandoned, and herself, lost and friendless, blundering around just waiting to be discovered. There was no hope, no reason to go on. Guilt, fear and loss took their turn to assail her and she had no strength to resist. It was as if her blood was draining out of her, drop by drop, and she didn’t care. Her mental block, hitherto constantly maintained, shivered and died. She was defenceless. Dimly, she was half aware of Findar, crying, but she could not rouse herself to attend to him. It was the longest, darkest night of her life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brutila smiled coldly at her reflection as she put on a fresh pair of soft grey gloves. The dungeons had been dirty and foul but her visit had been worth it. There had even been some pleasure to be had. Some of the old council members held a ridiculous loyalty to Leodra and his offspring. She’d had to take an extra dose of cintara bark to increase her powers and now she had the answers she needed.
She made her way to Thorlberd’s offices, where she found him seated with his son. The new Grand Marl looked up as she entered.
‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘It appears that Zastra received training from Master Dobery in the art of resisting mindweaving. This may explain how she was able to escape without being detected.’
‘How did you find this out?’ asked Thorlberd. Brutila curled her lip slightly.
‘The remaining members of the council were most helpful.’
‘I hope you have not been resorting to cintara bark,’ said Thorlberd. ‘I know the power it gives you, even over other mindweavers, but remember the dangers. We agreed it should only be used during our uprising and sparingly at that, in order to give us a tactical advantage.’
‘I need no lectures,’ retorted the woman. ‘I am fully in control.’
Rastran piped up.
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Zastra was able to resist me when I tried to teach her a lesson with my mindweaving, the vicious little…’
Thorlberd turned on him.
‘Why did you not say something sooner, boy?’
‘I…I… you said I wasn’t to use mindweaving before the day we took our rightful place as rulers, Father,’ he stammered. ‘I didn’t want to get in trouble.’
‘This knowledge could help us find them,’ said Thorlberd angrily. ‘You need to start thinking bigger, Rastran. Thinking strategically. How many times do I need to tell you this?’
Thorlberd shook his head in disgust and turned his attention back to Brutila.
‘It still does not explain how Zastra and the twins got past the gatehouse guards.’
‘I’ve questioned all the guards personally and do not believe Zastra could have sneaked out v
ia the gate. There must be some other exit from the castle that we don’t know about. One of the older members of Leodra’s council was aware of rumours of some underground tunnel, but knew nothing specific.’
‘What is your plan?’
‘We need to try and think like Zastra. Where would she go? What would she do? For instance, does she have any friends outside the castle she might go to?’
‘I know!’ cried Rastran excitedly. ‘Her friend Bedrun has also disappeared. I know because I was going to teach her a lesson. Her and my cousin, daring to laugh at me. One of Bedrun’s mothers lives in Highcastle village. I bet that’s where they went.’
‘I’ll follow this up at once,’ said Brutila, her scar twitching with annoyance.
Thorlberd turned to his son and clouted him round the ear.
‘If you’d told us this sooner boy we might have them by now. I should not have to tell you how important this is.’
Rastran folded his arms and dropped his shoulders in a sulky, defensive pose. He gave a loud sniff.
‘What?’ asked Brutila with a sardonic grin. ‘Ruling Golmeira not as much fun as you thought?’
Brutila rode into Highcastle village unaccompanied. She had no fear for her personal safety. Upright and taut in the saddle, she exuded menace. The villagers shied away from her instinctively as she rode past. The captain of the troop that controlled the village took her to Bodel’s house. Finding it locked, Brutila ordered the guards to batter down the door. They burst into the house but found it empty.
‘Find out if anyone knows where they’ve gone,’ snapped Brutila. She prowled around the house, looking for any clue, anything that might tell her were Zastra was. A thin layer of dust spoke of several days of emptiness. Brutila shook her head in disgust at the incompetent flekks that she had to work with. No one should have been allowed to move during the current period of transition and yet clearly the house had been abandoned. The captain had a lot to answer for. She opened up the back door and scanned the garden. Her eyes narrowed and she sprang forward. A small patch of earth had a slightly darker shade than that which surrounded it. Brutila began to dig with her gloved hands, yelling for a guard to help her. Scrabbling furiously, she uncovered the tip of a garment, and with a yell of triumph she pulled it out. It was a finely embroidered nightgown, caked in mud. The dirt could not disguise the golden seal of Leodra’s eagle alongside the hawk of Golmeira.
Realm of Mindweavers: Book one: Tales of Golmeira Page 15
