We had come to the end of the maze path, and I farsent to locate Katlyn and Grufyyd. They were waiting eagerly for their son in Alad’s kitchen. Katlyn burst into tears at the sight of Brydda, but he swept her into his massive arms and gave her a long hard hug and a dozen kisses, until she stopped weeping and started laughing and protesting. Releasing her, he gave his father a heartfelt hug and sat down between them.
Katlyn’s face fell when he told them he would not stay even one night, but Grufyyd patted her arm and said she was not to fuss, as he doubtless had to hurry back because of Rushton being kidnapped.
“Oh, of course.” Katlyn pressed a plump hand to her mouth. “Poor dear Rushton. It’s too much on top of the trouble Maryon’s foreseen.”
Giving Alad a swift warning glance, I said casually to Brydda that the futureteller had foreseen strife throughout the Land, which we had taken to be the rebellion.
“Did Elspeth mention about Sawlney?” Grufyyd began. I instituted a swift, gentle coercive block to stop him from going on to mention the magi as he’d intended, and the wagons he’d so lovingly created.
“She did, and it seems to me a good safe meeting place what with the moon fair dragging strangers from all over.” Brydda did not notice a vaguely puzzled look flit over Grufyyd’s wrinkled face as he wondered why he felt suddenly reluctant to speak of what was on the tip of his tongue.
“It is my hope that by the time the fair comes, we’ll have found Rushton and you won’t have to go there,” Brydda added.
Alad opened his mouth, then closed it at my warning kick under the table. Fortunately, Brydda didn’t catch his pained expression, because Katlyn was offering to pack a basket of special food for the journey back to Sutrium.
“Mam, we’ll be riding fast, and they have food aplenty in Sutrium,” Brydda objected.
Katlyn said that it wasn’t her food and that she could tell by his looks that what he’d been eating was nowhere near as healthy. I grinned in spite of everything, because Brydda had never looked undernourished. He caught the look and lifted his hands in helpless obedience as Katlyn hurried off.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, Da,” the big rebel told his father. “I would like to think I’ll be back soon, but I don’t know when, with the rebellion about to turn the Land upside down. And I’ll have to be part of sorting things out afterward. I just don’t know how long it will be before we can resume our own lives. I’ve had my fill of cities and crowds these last few years; when this is all over, I might move back to Rangorn and rebuild the old farm. How do you like the idea of going home after all this time?”
“Well now, we wouldn’t want to go back, truly,” Grufyyd said. “Me and your mam’re settled here, and here we’ll stay until they put us in the ground. Unless we’re driven out.”
“I’d never let that happen,” Brydda said. “Well, then, maybe I’ll ride up here and build a farm instead.” He gave a surprised sort of laugh. “It’s funny to hear myself talk of afterward. All those years of plotting and scheming, and the rebellion always seemed so far away you couldn’t imagine an afterward.”
“What about you, Reuvan? What will you do when it’s over?” Alad asked the blue-eyed seaman.
Reuvan gave a rare, dreamy smile that made him look older rather than younger, as if somehow all the worry and fear had arrested his development. “I’d like to go to Sador again,” he admitted. “But before that, I’ll get a small boat and a crew, and we’ll go off looking for the place that buys slaves from the Land, in memory of Idris. I’ll find Matthew and the others Salamander took and buy their freedom if I can’t help them escape.”
That reminded me of the dreams everyone had been having about Matthew. “Reuvan, have you ever heard seamen talk of a land where it’s terribly hot and where the ground is red and hard, and there are steep, rocky hills of reddish stone?”
Reuvan stared. “Can’t say I’ve heard of such a place.”
“A lot of us have dreamed of Matthew lately, and that’s the kind of terrain we see around him. He is in a port city, but it’s not like any in the Land.”
“I will ask around,” Reuvan promised, looking interested.
Katlyn returned with two enormous baskets, and Brydda said that he and Reuvan could not possibly ride as swiftly as they needed with such a load. Protesting and clicking her tongue, she repackaged some of the food into two smaller bundles, and we followed Brydda out into the chilly darkness.
“Don’t lose hope, little sad eyes,” he said to me as I hugged him. “Miryum said none of your futuretellers foresaw any danger to Rushton, and whoever the kidnappers are, they need him healthy, so he is safe for the present. And he must know that we are all searching for him.”
The rebels mounted up, their coats flapping in the rising wind. He blew a kiss to his mother before galloping away. We stood there until the hoofbeats faded and all we could hear was the wind and Katlyn’s soft weeping.
“It’s long past our bedtime,” Grufyyd said, and led her tenderly away.
Alad walked me to the maze gate, but I would not let him escort me up to the house. “If I’m not safe at Obernewtyn, I might as well give up.”
“Let’s hope Obernewtyn will always be a safe haven for us,” Alad responded seriously. “Elspeth, I might as well tell you now that I mean to vote against our leaving the mountains. And if the choice is made to go to Sador, then I will stay here on my own with the beasts that cannot travel.”
“I don’t want to leave any more than you,” I admitted. “In fact, I may have a plan that would enable us to stay here.”
“I can’t say how it relieves me to hear you say that,” the Beastspeaking guildmaster confessed. “I have always loved Obernewtyn, but until we began talking seriously of leaving it, I never knew how much. Before I came here, I was a lone fugitive with nothing to hope for. Here I found purpose and friends and a life that I love. What I am today, this place made me.”
“We will hold on to Obernewtyn with all of our strength,” I promised him and Rushton both.
19
IN THE DAYS following Brydda’s visit, my determination not to fall into despondency remained firm, and I threw myself into the business of running Obernewtyn and planning its protection.
To begin with, I spent some time speaking to the other guildleaders and listening to general talk, only to learn that Alad’s passion to remain in the valley was universal. Therefore, even without any formal decision being made in guildmerge, I allowed the emphasis to shift from the idea of abandoning the Land to a strategic withdrawal to caves higher in the mountains.
The proposed exodus to Sador became part of a sleight of hand to produce the illusion that we had quit the Land once and for all. I spoke of the need to prevent anyone occupying Obernewtyn while it stood empty, and Gevan agreed that, while no one could reproduce Dragon’s incredible illusion, quite a lot of imaginary damage could be induced by a practiced team of his people. Miky suggested that the Empath guild could contribute to the illusion by projecting feelings of unease and edginess verging on nausea into anyone who looked at it. And Garth promised that his guild would produce a cluster of huts that would make it appear as if we’d been living rough in the valley and that Obernewtyn itself had been an uninhabitable ruin for years.
Alad and Javo prepared complete provision lists for our proposed sojourn in the mountain caves and had begun readying supplies to be transferred when the refuge was complete. Crops were planted bit by bit, and Grufyyd finished the magi wagons and began constructing others to be used as decoys in the apparent exodus to Sador.
Miryum rejoined her knights and continued to scour the highlands for news of Rushton. Straaka insisted on accompanying her. But they found only a persistent rumor of impending rebellion.
Maryon’s people were also hard at work, delving into their minds for information about Rushton and the rebel traitors; unfortunately, they came up with nothing more than vague visions of danger and betrayal. Or they dreamed of Matthew in his strange, red-
stone city.
Avra and Gahltha left Obernewtyn with their foal to run for a time with the wild herd, but Gahltha had promised to return in time to convey me to the meeting in Sawlney. In a previous beastmerge, the matter of the beast sales and gelding practices had been raised again. But with the rebellion looming, no one could say when the next sales would occur, so there was nothing for it but to wait and see.
As far as my own guild was concerned, a slight variation of the whiplash mindmerge was achieved successfully, though it would take many hours of practice to perfect it. Zarak and Aras had taken over organizing the practices in order to free Ceirwan to run the farseekers, since I was increasingly engaged in other matters.
The morning the magi were due to depart Obernewtyn, a note arrived from Brydda by bird saying the rebels had agreed to allow us to speak at their meeting in Sawlney. He had not enlightened them as to the subject we wished to address and had informed only his most trusted people of the kidnapping, because he had needed them to help search Sutrium for Rushton. Despite their best efforts, no trace of him had been found. It was, Brydda wrote, as if Rushton had vanished off the face of the earth.
When I saw the three lavishly decorated magi wagons loaded up outside the entrance to Obernewtyn, I had the sudden premonition that our lives were about to change forever. A small crowd of well-wishers had assembled to see the wagons depart, including Rhianon, a silent blue-eyed woman who had been left in charge of the Coercer guild. Her shoulders were bowed as if already she felt the unaccustomed weight of her new responsibility. Gevan had confided to me that he had intended to raise her to wardship during the next Choosing Ceremony but that he had hastened the promotion informally. It was significant that he did not leave Miryum in his place and that she did not protest.
It was a beautiful day, and the elaborately carved wagons decorated with ribbons and garlands of herbs and flowers lent the whole occasion a brave, festive air.
“Don’t look so woebegone,” Gevan said. “You’ll be riding after us in a few days.”
“It’s seeing so many of you leaving that makes me feel sad,” I murmured.
“There are a motley lot of us, to be sure.” He grinned, casting his eyes over his troupe. There were ten magi, including himself, Merret, and Hannay; three empath musicians; and Freya, Ceirwan, and Kella. There were also six horses, two apiece to a wagon; two goats that had offered to provide milk and take part in the tricks; and three chickens, as well as a small cooing flock of homing birds. The birds and fowls had no minds to say whether or not they were willing to join the traveling show, but they looked content enough.
Gevan wanted to ride straight by Guanette without stopping. The magi would then stay three nights in Arandelft, perfecting their performance before the rustic locals and investigating the area we thought might be a prime location for a safe farm, since it lacked both rebel and Council affiliates. Leaving the forest village in the afternoon, they would arrive in Sawlney with a day to spare before the bonding of the Councilman’s daughter. The rebel meeting was to take place the following night, when the festivities were at their height. I would time my own journey to arrive the night before the meeting.
“Be careful,” I said softly.
“Always.” Gevan squeezed my arm and gave the whistling gypsy signal for his troupe to ready themselves for departure. Watching him scold and chivvy everyone into their places, I could see he was already becoming the irascible halfbreed gypsy-troupe leader. He looked every inch the part, and I had no doubt the magi would be safe under his guidance.
“Ri-ide,” Gevan sang in the gypsy way, and the travelers broke spontaneously into a well-known gypsy song as the wagons rolled away down the drive. I heard the faint trill of pipes and the soft thunder of a coercer drum as the last wagon passed out of sight around the curving drive. The sound of the music lasted for some minutes after the wagons had gone out of view, but eventually it faded, too, until there was nothing but the murmur of wind in the trees bordering the drive and the intermittent trill of birds.
With faint melancholy, I reflected that I seemed to be always bidding friends farewell these days.
“Well, that’s that,” Alad sighed beside me. “It’s funny how you always feel so flat and dull when people go off on a journey and you’re left behind. Yet, I don’t envy them, truly.”
I was only half listening, for I had caught sight of young Gavyn over near the tree line, standing very still and holding up a small, chubby hand. He smiled in delight as a bird came to light on his finger and tilted its head to study him.
“He is an odd one,” Alad said softly. “It’s often said of people that they charm the birds off trees, but he really does. All he has to do is focus his thoughts on them and they can’t resist him.”
“Are the animals in thrall to him somehow?” I asked.
Alad shrugged. “He’s not capable of deliberately enthralling anyone. Indeed, I can’t make him sit still and concentrate long enough even to finish a sentence. The best I can say is that it is some rare combination of empathy, coercion, and beastspeaking Talents.”
When Alad left, Gavyn trotted after him with Rasial at his heels. The others drifted away, and presently I was alone. Enjoying the rare solitude, I stood drowsing pleasantly in the sunlight.
At supper that night, there were a lot of empty seats with the magi and coercer-knights absent. People sat in little clumps looking subdued and talking softly until a couple of empaths, picking up on the general melancholy, played some comic songs inviting participation. The atmosphere lightened perceptibly.
I was sitting with Aras and Zarak and had been explaining that they must run our guild while Ceirwan and I were away. The duties were not onerous, since the majority of those left would be youngsters needing only to be encouraged to practice, and older folk with work of their own to be getting on with. To my surprise, Zarak said he thought it would be better if I left a small council of farseekers in charge, since he and Aras were working very hard on the whiplash variation. He had drawn up a list of names, saying the job of leadership would be better shared out among all of them.
Impressed with his reasoning, I conceded and bade him let those on his list know. I noticed Aras give him a glowing look and experienced a prickle of unease, for he was all but betrothed to Lina of the Beastspeaking guild. Since the tragedy of Dragon’s feelings for Matthew, I was wary of unrequited love.
“Guildmistress?” Aras said timidly. “A few of us were talking, and we were wondering why we don’t just shut the pass altogether. It wouldn’t be too hard for the teknoguilders to cause an avalanche to block it. Then no one could get to us.”
“Who is taking my guild’s name in vain?” Garth boomed, coming up to the table behind the wards. Aras yelped in fright, but Zarak pulled a seat out for the big man courteously and repeated Aras’s suggestion.
“We could do it, and don’t think for a minute that we have not thought of it,” the Teknoguildmaster said, grunting as he lowered his bulk into the seat. “The trouble is that no beast or human wanting refuge could find their way to us once we had done it. And we have our own reasons for wanting and needing access to the rest of the Land.”
“I didn’t mean we should cut off access altogether,” Aras said shyly. “I thought maybe we could make another way to come up here. Something smaller that would be almost impossible to find by accident. We could have the beasts pass on the location.”
Garth waggled his beetling brows at her. “You’re a clever little puss, aren’t you? Unfortunately, to create another way would require boring through the mountains. Apart from the sheer impossible weight of stone that would have to be shifted, they’re still tainted enough to do us harm.”
“Oh.” Aras looked deflated.
“If the pass wasn’t so big, now, we could obscure the opening with a false rockfall to deter anyone looking for a way in. We’re using that technique on our Teknoguild caves.”
“False rockfalls? I thought you were going to close up the caves
with real rockfalls. I hope you’re not envisaging creeping back and doing a bit of work when the valley is occupied by hostile forces?”
“Of course not,” Garth said blithely.
I gave him a stern look. “I know your research is important to you, Garth, but you cannot put it before our need to make it look as if we have abandoned the mountains. If just one of your people is seen or caught, we would all be exposed.”
He looked faintly penitent. “I see your point, but our current research—”
“Will not go anywhere!” I snapped. “It is the past you are researching, Garth, not a bird about to fly away.…” I broke off at the sight of Fian approaching.
“Greetings, Guildmistress,” Fian sent courteously; then he turned to his master. “Alad says he can talk now about which beasts are willing to help us dig or haul dirt.”
Garth heaved himself to his feet to leave. Fian made to follow, then swung round to me. “I almost fergot.” He dug in his pocket and withdrew a sheet of crumpled paper. “Here’s that translation ye wanted, but it doesna make much sense.”
I was glad that Garth had walked out of earshot, immediately aware how hypocritical it seemed for me to pursue my own research of the past. And, of course, it couldn’t be worse timing in a way. But I had long ago accepted that, to some extent, what happened at Obernewtyn was connected to my larger secret quest to find and disarm the weaponmachines. The two might seem to be separate matters, and even at times opposing, but if I succeeded, then Obernewtyn must survive to become the seed that would change forever the way Landfolk lived their lives.
I took the sheet, and though I was aware of Zarak and Aras watching me curiously, I could not resist a glance. Fian had given me back the copy I had made of the rubbing, having written between the lines and along the edges of it. My heart sank to see gaps and question marks, and in some places, two or three possible meanings. I folded the sheet and slipped it into my sleeve as if it was nothing very important and went on speaking to the two wards of other guild matters until Zarak’s father appeared, giving me the chance to escape.
The Rebellion Page 63
