The Rebellion

by Isobelle Carmody

  “Not any land such as ye will walk upon in wakin’ life,” Maryon answered. “ ’Tis a dreamscape.” She flicked me a darkly knowing look. “Ceirwan did nowt say what ye wanted it fer. We have many ‘scapes coverin’ different periods. But I had th’ feelin’ ye might want this one, which covers dreams experienced by members of my guild from wintertime to last week. An’ to answer yer question, I have slept restively over that period, as has everyone in my guild. We dream vividly as ever, but it is growin’ more difficult to futuretell, an’ there are more ancestral memory dreams.”

  “At Obernewtyn, people are dreaming more, particularly of the past, and are sleeping badly,” I concluded flatly. I let my eyes rove over them all, seeing they were now intrigued enough to have forgotten that I had dragged them from other matters. “Away from Obernewtyn, however, we sleep well and dream little.” I brought my gaze to Maryon. “Would I be right in saying that if you compared an older dreamscape to this one, there would be a substantial increase in dreams?”

  “We have only just begun to monitor everyone’s dreams, but that is certainly true fer th’ Futuretellin’ guild. Assumin’ this is so, th’ amount of dreamin’ at Obernewtyn has increased dramatically.” She swayed over the dreamscape and touched a slender finger to an inky blot. “This signifies dreams that we would generally call nightmares. There has been a marked increase in them as well.”

  I pointed to a red blotch overlapping the black. “What does this represent?”

  Maryon held my gaze as she answered. “It is a recurrin’ nightmare.”

  “By recurring, you mean …”

  “In this case, it means a nightmare experienced by many people. We noted it only because recurrent nightmares usually plague a single dreamer. If a number of people share the same nightmare, ‘tis generally a warnin’ of an event that will affect many—like a firestorm, or a roof fallin’ in. But this particular nightmare does nowt concern anythin’ like that. It centers on a great flyin’ reptile that swoops or manifests suddenly in some threatenin’ manner, then vanishes.”

  “Wait a minute,” Alad said. “Maryon, are you saying other people have dreamed of a great red flying beast?”

  Gevan gaped at him. “You? A couple of my people dreamed of a savage red-winged beast, but I thought it was because of the masks we have been making for our plays.…” He frowned at Maryon. “I think you might have told us about this.”

  “To what end? Until recently, I knew only that my guild were dreamin’ of th’ same beast. But knowing we are all dreamin’ the same thing doesna help in learnin’ what it means.”

  “Still …,” Gevan began, but Roland rose with an unusual look of mingled embarrassment and worry.

  “Perhaps it is I who should have spoken sooner,” he said. He glanced at me in apology, and I nodded for him to continue. “I had no idea others were dreaming of this creature. I thought it was only healers. Because of the proximity …”

  “Proximity to what?” Gevan demanded.

  “To her …” Roland sighed. “To Dragon.”

  “Dragon? Little Dragon?” the coercer said. “Are you telling me we are all dreaming of a monster created by a comatose girl?”

  “If I am understandin’ correctly, Roland is saying that the beast is Dragon,” Maryon said. “And we are nowt so much dreamin’ of her as bein’ invaded by her.”

  Roland inclined his head gravely. “We believe the beast is the shape her mind, or part of her mind, has assumed. As I said, we had no idea anyone else was encountering her, and there seemed no point in upsetting everyone by speaking of it. You see, at first we thought it was her reaching out to us—asking for help. But very soon we learned that the flying beast does not know it is Dragon”

  “I should have guessed,” I said sorrowfully. “I have dreamed several times of it. Maruman sometimes wanders in my dreams, and he saw it, too. He said it lived behind a fortress with no gates.”

  Roland looked interested. “I don’t know about any fortress, but it is highly likely that it represents the barrier that divides her madness from her sane mind.”

  “If this beast is part of Dragon, why can’t we reach her through it?” Miky asked.

  “Don’t you think we’ve tried, lass?” Roland asked wearily. “It’s no use. The beast is mad. It can’t be reasoned with, and when we tried, it fled or swooped at us.”

  “It is dangerous,” Maryon said. “And if I do not miss my guess, it is getting stronger.”

  Roland nodded morosely. “I’m afraid that’s true. As the beast gains strength, so Dragon must be losing the battle she fights behind her fortress wall.”

  “Maryon, what do you mean by saying it’s dangerous?” Alad asked.

  “She means dangerous to Dragon, surely,” Angina murmured.

  “I mean to her an’ to us,” the futureteller said.

  The others all spoke at once then, objecting to the idea that Dragon’s manifestation as a mythical beast in our dreams could do more than disturb our sleep. Maryon cast a brooding glance at me, then spoke coldly and clearly. “Th’ delvin’s of my guild are difficult an’ dangerous in themselves, but th’ disturbances we have encountered, which seem to be a direct result of this dream dragon’s presence, would be fatal if we had nowt all but ceased our activities. In addition, you, Roland, have just been sayin’ that th’ dragon is interferin’ with your healers’ work. Isn’t that a real danger? I think it will not be long before this beast disrupts th’ coercers’ activities an’ possibly th’ empaths as well, which means we would have trouble defendin’ ourselves or keepin’ a watch.”

  “I can see that,” Roland said impatiently. “I was under the impression you were trying to say the dragon could harm us in our dreams.”

  “Maruman seemed to think so. If he hadn’t been in my dream when the dragon attacked …”

  “Attacked!” Roland barked. “The beast has not attacked anyone in my guild. The worst it did was shriek at us or swoop.…”

  “Dragon wouldn’t attack ye, Elspeth,” Ceirwan objected. “She loves ye.”

  “That is exactly why she would attack Elspeth,” Maryon said. “Think on it. Dragon was abandoned as a wee child. We can assume that because she was little more than a savage when Elspeth found her and brought her here after winnin’ her trust. Now Dragon is again severed from all she has come to care about. From us an’ from Elspeth.”

  “But she did the severing,” Roland objected.

  “The part of her that is still that tiny abandoned child doesna ken that. It only grieves an’ rages, an’ th’ red beast is th’ child of that rage. If Dragon can nowt reach Elspeth, whom she loves, it can only be that Elspeth has deserted her. The greater th’ love, th’ greater th’ rage.”

  I could have wept at the unfairness of it. “What can we do to help her?” I asked, my voice a dry rasp.

  “Nothing,” Roland said flatly. “That is why we did not speak of this to you. Dragon is unreachable. Knowing she is appearing in our dreams changes nothing.”

  “That is nowt true,” Maryon said. “Since th’ child’s manifestation as a dragon is affectin’ our dreams an’ indirectly our Talents, nowt to mention th’ fact that she is a danger to Elspeth, we can no longer afford to look upon her as simply a sleeper. Dragon must now be considered a problem that we must resolve.”

  I felt a surge of anger at the futureteller’s cool summation. “She has not harmed me,” I snapped.

  “Not yet,” Maryon said.

  “What do you suggest?” I demanded. “Should she be killed so that you can futuretell unhampered and I can feel safe?” They all stared at me, and I felt my face drain of blood at the awfulness of my words. “I’m sorry. That was unforgivable and unfair. I … I just can’t bear to think of her having suffered so much and now … Is it nothing that she saved Obernewtyn?”

  “I am nowt suggestin’ any hurt be done her,” Maryon said.

  “I would merely advise that she be moved away from th’ building. Mebbe she could be kept in th�
�� Teknoguild caves, since th’ teknoguilders’ work is unlikely to be affected.…”

  “Her range can easily encompass the distance back to the main house,” Roland objected.

  “What about the city under Tor?” Alad said slowly. “I’m sure Garth would jump at the chance to build a permanent safe house there. Or maybe we could take her to Enoch’s farm.”

  “There is no need to send her away just yet.” I heard the pleading note in my voice.

  “Not yet, but, Elspeth, you must be sensible about this,” the Healer guildmaster admonished.

  “With your permission,” Angina said, looking from me to Roland, “I’d like to sing to her. Maybe she will hear. Or the red-beast part of her will.”

  “I have no objection,” Roland said. “But maybe you should wait until Maruman has wakened.”

  Angina shook his head so decisively that in spite of my despair, I wondered if the soft-spoken empath was finally feeling at ease in his interim duties. He said, “I’d like to begin immediately, because if Maruman is watching her somehow in his dreams, he can tell us if the music has any impact.” He looked at me, a question in his eyes.

  I nodded. “Play. Sing to her of the princess that will be wakened by a kiss.…”

  He sent a surge of gentle comfort and left with Miky at his heel.

  I composed myself and turned to Gevan. “I would like one of your people and one of the futuretellers to sit with Dragon constantly and monitor her.”

  “I’ll have Dell set up a roster,” Maryon said, rising. I asked if she would leave the dreamscape for me to examine, and she shrugged elegantly and left it.

  “I’ll never understand that woman,” Gevan said when the door closed behind the futureteller. “Well, I must get back to my rehearsals. I am sorry about Dragon, though. Is there anything else my guild can do?”

  I forced myself to smile. “I think not.”

  Roland took my hands and said, “Do not give up hope for Dragon, Elspeth. Maybe Angina’s music will reach her. Will you come with me to see her?”

  I shook my head and asked him to send Maruman to me when he awakened. I could not bear the thought of seeing Dragon lying so vulnerable, falling deeper into madness, and that in her madness she hated me.

  “I must get back to the farms,” Alad said, his eyes compassionate. “I’ll ask Rasial to find out if animals are also dreaming of the dragon. Who knows, maybe it communicates with them better than with us funaga. After all, myth or not, it is a beast.”

  I nodded and changed the subject. “How did Straaka react when you told him Miryum would speak to him at the moon fair?”

  Alad shrugged. “The mere mention of her name renders him silent. I daresay he hopes she will ask him to bring her a mountain stone by stone for the sheer delight of doing so in her honor.”

  I frowned. “As far as he’s concerned, he must provide something to replace the horses as a betrothal gift. And Miryum is supposed to decide what, right? And there is no limit to what she can ask?”

  “Not so far as I understand. In fact, I gather he would be insulted if it wasn’t sufficiently difficult. But, Elspeth, what are you cooking up? Miryum won’t set a task for him if she does not mean to bond with him. It would be dishonorable, and her code would forbid it.”

  “If it was an impossible task, he would never complete it. And if her sense of honor is bothered by such a ruse, then she must either keep the promise she inadvertently made in accepting the horses or let him die.”

  Alad shrugged. “Tell that to her, not me.”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry for snarling at you. It’s this business with Dragon on top of everything else.”

  He relented and gave me a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow on the farms.”

  When he had gone, I sank into a chair as Ceirwan attended the fire.

  “Elspeth, ye smell of a hard ride, an’ ye look pale an’ faded,” Ceirwan said. “Why don’t ye bathe an’ relax. I’ll organize a meal on a tray.” Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door, and Ceirwan slapped his forehead. “That will be Wila. I fergot she wants ye to see her notes on th’ Herders in rough before she prepares them for th’ next guildmerge.”

  “I’ll talk to her. In the meantime, maybe you could have Javo send up something light to eat.”

  Ceirwan nodded and let Wila in on his way out.

  The older farseeker arranged a pile of notes on the table and sat diffidently on the edge of her chair. “You understand these are just rough notes, Guildmistress?”

  “Ceirwan explained,” I said, as ever discomfited to find myself deferred to by a woman old enough to be my mother. I had tried to be less formal, but it only made the older folk at Obernewtyn uneasy. Now I reminded myself that the deference was to my office and tried not to let it bother me.

  Wila had riffled through a sheaf of scrawled notes and was now peering at one page in apparent dismay. This was an expression she often wore, so I simply sat back in my seat and waited.

  “As you can imagine, we found it difficult to discover much about the upper ranks of the Faction because of their secrecy. But we have managed to get some vital information. The leader of the Faction is a man known as The One. He is served by a group called The Three. They, in turn, are served by The Nine. Theoretically, The Nine serve all of The Three equally, but in practice they seem divided up among them. That might be less a matter of faction and more to do with the various areas of responsibility of The Three. We have some of their names, but not that of The One, of course.”

  “This One. Does he ever leave Herder Isle?”

  “Never, and no one but The Three and a few trusted servants see him even on the Isle. Now, we call this group—The One, The Three, and The Nine—the inner cadre. They are the core of the organization.…”

  “What about the head priests of the cloisters?”

  “They form the upper rank of the outer cadre. There are thirty-nine of them, and each has the power of a One over the hundred and seventeen senior priests who are next in rank. Lesser Threes. You see, it follows the same pattern as the inner cadre. The head priests are Ones, the senior priests are Threes, and under them are Nines—in this case, the ordinary, unranked priests.”

  “You said there are thirty-nine head priests, but there are not thirty-nine cloisters in the Land.…”

  “There are fifteen on the mainland. But Sutrium has a double set of priests in residence, as has Morganna. Then there are two cloisters on Norseland and three on Herder Isle—training cloisters.” She paused as I added up in my head. “The extra ones are on Herder Isle, waiting to be rotated for their turn in a cloister. That turnaround happens every year, just like they shift orphans in the orphan homes.”

  “Thirty-nine sets of thirteen comes to … over five hundred priests!”

  “Not counting acolytes, novices, and bonded servants, of course,” Wila said. “Nor the thirteen who make up the inner cadre.”

  I stared at her, wondering if she had grasped that her figures represented real priests. If she was right, there were nearly a thousand people in the Herder Faction. I would have guessed a few hundred at most.

  Wila was talking again, and I forced myself to listen. “All wear gray habits but novices, who wear white. Then there are the bands. Head priests wear gold armbands, and senior priests wear red. The rest wear brown. Just before they go up a rank, the band is edged with the color of the next band. There are also priests who have other colored bands; most of the Sadorian priests wear green. On Herder Isle, there are a lot of priests who wear black bands. We have no idea yet what these colors signify.”

  “So very complex,” I said.

  “If you’ll pardon me for saying so, Guildmistress, those who have been researching the Herders believe the complexity and the secrecy are designed to keep the power and knowledge at the center of the Faction.”

  “I wonder what they are hiding in their unassailable core,” I muttered, all of my old distrust and fear of the priesthood reawakened. I looked
at Wila. “How did you learn all this about the inner cadre?”

  “Nhills of The Nine happened to visit the cloister in Guanette when we were scrying it out.”

  “You farsought this man?” I asked worriedly, for the upper-rank Herders were often mind-sensitive.

  “Not him. A novice assigned to be his servant during the stay. He overheard a bit here and there, and we were able to put it together with other bits and pieces.” She looked justifiably pleased, and I forced myself to smile, although I was filled with dismay.

  I could not imagine why Herders had not taken over the Land if there were so many of them. It was almost as if they were biding their time. But biding their time for what?

  I rose. “You and your helpers have done some important work, Wila. It would be useful to have your report in full by next guildmerge. It is not necessary to come up with charts and lists as Tomash did. Just make sure the numbers are clear. Rushton will be back tomorrow, and he should know how matters stand.”

  After she had gone, I sat thinking of the way no one really looked at Herders. Especially the ubiquitous brown bands. You saw the bald heads that came after banding, the gray whispering garments; you heard the reproaches and exhortations. But you didn’t notice how many faces there were, because in a sense, one Herder was the same as any other. The stealthy increase in their numbers was like a secret invasion, like the rotting sickness that had destroyed Pavo’s body, only revealing itself when he was riddled with its deadly spore.

  I shivered and looked at the table before me. Under Maryon’s quarter-year dreamscape were Tomash’s chart and map, which I had yet to examine properly. In my cloak pocket were Dameon’s letters, one still unopened. So much to do, and I felt suddenly exhausted.

  Sighing, I lifted out the chart Tomash had made and began to examine it.

  When Ceirwan brought me a tray a little later, my appetite had vanished. The number of Councilmen, soldierguards, and their collaborators was not as shocking as the Herder figures, but it was still high. I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of our enemies, and that did not count the rebels and ordinary folk who feared and loathed Misfits.