In an hour, we were riding back along the road that we had last traversed in the dark and rain. The sky was blue above us, and the sun shone, but there were long straggling lumps of gray, sodden-looking cloud along the horizon. By tacit agreement, we did not speak of what had taken place in the White Valley.
“It rains on the coast,” Gevan said.
“I would be glad if getting wet was the only problem we had to face there,” I said morosely.
Once we reached the Brown Haw Rises, I tried to farseek Ceirwan, as nervous of using my abilities as a fallen rider mounting up again.
“Where have ye been?!” he responded. “Malik’s crowd rode by hours an’ hours ago an’ so fast that I could barely make head nor tail of their thoughts. There was somethin’ of betrayal an’ gypsies an’ dead Misfits.”
“All too many dead and not just Misfits, but I can’t speak of them now,” I farsent bleakly. “The simple truth is that Malik betrayed us.”
“This mun be th’ treachery Maryon foresaw,” Ceirwan sent in a subdued mindvoice.
“Undoubtedly. But now let us speak of Sutrium. Do you know what is happening?”
“Elii’s rebels took th’ soldierguard encampment as planned. Once it was secured, he left a few of his people to watch over the prisoners, an’ he an’ the rest rode down to rendezvous with the other rebels and those of ours what went with ’em.”
“Have you farsent Zarak?”
“I managed it just after the rebels took over th’ three Councilmen’s holdin’s. Two rebels were killed an’ three wounded at Radost’s place. From there, I ken they took one of th’ soldierguard camps without a hitch, an’ also th’ Councilcourt, but I dinna ken about th’ others.”
“What about the cloister?”
“They’ve put it off, because th’ place has been locked up since yesterday mornin’. Zarak says not a soul has gone in or out of th’ cloister. Brydda reckons th’ Faction got wind of what was happenin’, an’ the priests’ve barricaded themselves in to sit it out. Of course, none of our people can scry past th’ outer walls, so no one knows what they intend.”
“They will have to come out when they run out of food.”
“I’d say they are countin’ on th’ rebels losin’ th’ rebellion.
Brydda is nowt worried anyrate. He says their lockin’ themselves in saves him appointin’ guards to do the job. He says we can deal with th’ Faction when th’ rebellion is over.”
“Maybe,” I said, privately wondering if the Faction was going to be quite as easy to deal with as everyone supposed. I told Ceirwan to meet us at the Sawlney turnoff.
“Ye want us to come with ye?”
“Only you. I’d like Freya to return to Obernewtyn to let everyone there know what has been going on in Sutrium.”
After collecting Ceirwan and bidding farewell to Freya, we ate a rough meal of bread and cheese on horseback rather than lose time stopping. Even so, we did not reach the escarpment overlooking Sutrium until dusk. The city spread below looked as it always had: a demented labyrinth of streets and stone and thatched buildings running to the sea on one side and to the Suggredoon on the other, all flattened by the perspective from which we viewed it. A light rain was falling yet again, blurring and darkening everything slightly.
There was no sign that anything untoward was happening, but the streets and roads leading up to the town gate were deserted. The fact that the gate itself was unmanned brought us all to a halt.
“Weren’t there supposed to be rebels disguised as soldierguards here?” Ceirwan wondered aloud.
“Dardelan’s plague notices might have worked so well there was no need of gate guards,” Kella said.
“Or maybe the rebels couldn’t spare anyone to play the part,” Gevan offered.
“Let’s keep going,” I said. “We’ll ride to the Councilcourt. Brydda said they’d use that as their command center.”
“Ye know I have th’ distinct feelin’ we’re bein’ watched,” Ceirwan observed nervously.
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” I muttered.
As we made our way toward the center of the town, I saw several curtains twitch. Kella spotted the first of many Councilcourt notices warning people to stay in their homes to avoid contracting the plague. The notices advised that the cloister bells would be rung when the plague-carrier was caught, and they looked absolutely authentic to me, right down to their Council seal.
But knowing why the streets were deserted did not stop the ride through them being a profoundly eerie business. I experienced an immense rush of relief when the Councilcourt came into view, even though, as ever, it brought back vivid memories of my being committed to the orphan homes after my parents had been executed. The streets had been silent then, too, but only because people always fell silent at the sight of children with the lurid red paint on their faces that marked them as the offspring of seditioners.
What a long way I had come since that day.
I sent out a probe to Zarak. It did not locate, but I was not troubled, for he could well be over tainted ground. There was enough of it in Sutrium. I was shaping a probe to Tomash’s mind when Gevan pointed out the lack of a guard at the door.
“You’d think there would be someone here, if only for the look of the thing.”
We dismounted, and for once there was no need to dirty Gahltha or pretend to tie him up to ensure no one would steal him. He sent to me that he could smell other horses round the back of the Councilcourt and suggested he question them. Before I could agree, Brydda’s white mount Sallah trotted around the corner.
“Greetings, ElspethInnle,” she sent, coolly as ever. “I trust/hope you come to ensure that no funaga-li will have the right to bind equines in this barud-li.” Without waiting for my response, she invited our horses to join a beast council taking place. The horses trotted after her without a backward glance, though Gahltha invited me to call when I needed him.
As we mounted the steps to the entrance, I wondered whether there would be any serious attempt by the rebels to institute beast rights. Brydda was committed to changing the way humans dealt with animals, but he was just one man. Most of the rebels would not feel as he did, and common sense told me that any law that divested humans of beasts that they regarded as rightful property would be unwelcome. Especially since so many human livelihoods depended on the enslavement or even death of beasts.
I lifted my hand to open the door to the Councilcourt, but it swung open on its own to reveal the dear, longed-for face of the blind Empath guildmaster, Dameon.
“Elspeth,” he said, a world of gentle loving in that one word.
Unable to speak, I moved into his waiting embrace.
“I am so very glad to see you,” I sighed, my mouth against the rough linen of his shirt collar. “Rushton …”
“I know, my dear,” Dameon whispered into my hair. “Zarak told me. But you know he will let nothing keep him from one he loves so dearly.”
27
“SHE LIES!” MALIK snarled.
“She is mistaken,” Brocade said pompously. “She claims that Malik deliberately prevented his men from announcing their presence to the soldierguards in order to see her people slain. But she also admits that her powers and those of the other Misfits with her were exhausted, so how could she know if Malik was there or not?”
“The horses smelled that he was in position,” I said tightly. I wished uselessly that I had not had to plunge so swiftly into this particular confrontation. My emotions were too close to the surface, and an outburst of anger or sorrow would weaken my argument.
“The Misfits called Duria, Gevan, and Miky were brought some way from the ambush point so that they would be in no danger,” Malik said, spreading his fingers. “It was while my men and I made our way from where we had taken them that the soldierguards arrived on the heels of the Misfits. Sadly, we were not yet in place.”
Before I could undo myself by voicing my rage, I felt a surge of such sweet calmness and certitude that I knew
Dameon was directing his considerable ability to calm me. I bathed gratefully in his essence for a moment, and when I spoke again, my voice was as mild as I could have wished.
“Malik emerged from his hiding place conveniently after the gypsies had stopped the soldierguards firing on us. It is well known that he loathes Misfits, and it was his suggestion that we act as bait in a trap that he claimed to be infallible. I have no way to prove that he maliciously watched beasts and Misfits die, but if you look at what happened, you must see the truth. If you cannot, I wonder how your new order will fare. Your words sound very fine, but it is your deeds that will reveal your truest intent.”
Brocade got to his feet with a grunt. “What I would like to know is where these gypsies came from. They must have been told the location of the trap, and if that is so, then the only treachery was Misfit-born.”
Elii stood. “I, too, should like to know the answer to this question, but I am fully mindful that Malik hates the Misfits and would like them eradicated despite their invaluable aid in putting his plan into practice. Maybe Elspeth is mistaken, and maybe not. I do not see it as out of character for Malik to have held his hand at the crucial moment, knowing he broke no sworn oath to us in doing so.”
“If you agree that I broke no oath, then why are we sitting here discussing treachery?” Malik demanded.
Dardelan stood, and the others fell silent.
“I think this is ultimately a matter of ethics, and such a debate is never out of place, especially among those who would depose an oppressive order so that they can institute a better one. If you deliberately planned harm, Malik, then treachery it was, whether or no you swore not to harm the Misfits.”
“I did not harm them,” Malik growled.
“You broke an obvious unspoken trust if you did not act as soon as they appeared in the clearing.”
“I have told you already what happened.” He sounded bored.
Dardelan looked about at the other rebels. “We have before us two conflicting stories and no way of proving which is true.”
“The word of my men should be enough,” Malik said coldly. “They will tell what happened.”
“If you betrayed the Misfits, would you not also threaten your people to keep them from bearing witness against you?” Dardelan asked. “As host of this meeting, I say that there can be no fair judging at this point. But people and beasts died, and this matter is not ended. When the rebellion is over, we will investigate the incident more deeply.”
“But what of these gypsies?” Lydi demanded.
Dardelan gave me a look of inquiry, and I decided to be as truthful as I could. “I once did a favor for the gypsy leader, and when he had a true dream of my need for aid, he rode to the cul-de-sac. He has no interest at all in this rebellion.”
“Another Misfit,” Brocade sneered.
I regarded him icily, ignoring the curious look Gevan was giving me. “Many in the Land who are not called Misfits occasionally dream true.”
“Perhaps the gypsy who came to Elspeth’s aid may speak for himself of what happened when this matter is judged,” Brydda suggested from the back of the chamber, where he sat by the door. “It would be interesting to know exactly what he dreamed, would it not?”
Malik lurched to his feet and jabbed his great blunt-ended finger into the air toward Brydda. “Of course you would speak for your monstrous pets.” He swung to face Dardelan. “As for this Misfit gypsy, obviously he will side with his own kind.”
Dardelan let a silence grow before he spoke. “If I use your reasoning, Malik, then we can call no non-Misfit to vouch for you, for your own kind would not speak ill against you either.”
“I speak of Misfits, who are as amoral as beasts, not of humans,” Malik said haughtily. “A rebel would not lie in council, even to protect his leader, for true humans understand honor.”
“I think Malik’s understanding of honor was shown very clearly in the Battlegames, was it not?” Jakoby asked blandly, her slanted yellow eyes gleaming. “When it comes time to judge this matter, let all here remember how both parties behaved then and who showed the deepest morality.”
Malik looked apoplectic, but before he could speak, Dardelan held up his hands. “I know these are grave and sorely disputed matters, but right now, we must look to the west coast, for the rebellion is not yet over. Elspeth, will your people continue to aid us and allow this matter to be deferred?”
“Our people will remain with the rebels they were assigned to, but none will serve with Malik and his men,” I said.
“I desire no aid from monsters,” Malik snapped.
“If you—” Dardelan began, but there was a loud banging noise and the sound of shouts from the back of the chamber. Everyone turned to see a bloody-faced Serba enter, supported by Zarak.
“What in blazes—!” Brydda exclaimed, leaping to his feet. He helped Serba to a seat and bid someone bring water.
“What has happened?” Malik demanded.
“Treachery,” Serba gasped. “They knew all the plans. The rebellion. The Misfits helping us. Everything …”
“They? The Council?”
She seemed not to register the question. “The soldierguards burst in on a secret meeting we were holding in Port Oran. It was to be the last between the leaders of the west coast bloc. Cassell and Radek, Tilda in Yavok’s place, their seconds, and mine. All of our best fighters—trapped like rats …” She shook her head in disbelief. “They took no prisoners. They simply fired their arrows and slashed with their swords and knives. So many dead …”
“Strange that the Misfits with you failed to foresee the attack,” Malik sneered.
“No,” Serba said. “It was not possible for them to know the soldierguards were coming, for all wore strange metal headbands that prevented their minds being detected. I only escaped because the empath Blyss became agitated and claimed that we were in danger. She wanted me to tell everyone to leave. I drew her aside with me into a small tunnel leading to the roof to question her. Merret came out, too. She is a coercer, and she told Blyss she sensed no danger; the empath became weak, overwrought by whatever she sensed. Then we heard the sound of wood smashing.
“I ran back and we saw … I saw the slaughter. I heard the soldierguard captain in charge of the operation taunt Cassell with the knowledge that the Council knew the rebel plans. He knew a rebel force would be coming from this side of the Suggredoon tonight. He said there would be no rebels to meet them, because none would be left alive on the west coast by then. Soldierguards would be waiting in Port Oran. Hundreds of them, from all the other cities.
“I wanted to go in, but one fighter would make no difference to the outcome, and if I was taken, then no rebel would remain to warn you and … and to avenge my … the others. We got away from the building by jumping from roof to roof, then losing ourselves in the crowd that had gathered to investigate the disturbance.”
I glanced at Zarak and farsent a question.
“She was alone when she came to the ferry,” he responded grimly. “She told me that she separated from Merret and Blyss when the pair insisted they ride outside the city to warn the other Misfits. I suppose they meant to farseek Orys and the teknoguilders. They were supposed to meet her afterward, but they never showed up.”
“It was not just the meeting they targeted,” Serba was saying, tears flowing unchecked down her filthy cheeks. “They attacked all our refuges and hiding places. It can only have been the same in Morganna and Halfmoon Bay. Perhaps also in Aborium and even Murmroth. I went to several safe houses, but they were all burned out and filled with dead rebels. The soldierguards caught me in one of them. They … they questioned me about the Misfits who had escaped from the meeting. They even knew their names!” She gasped and rubbed a ragged sleeve over her face. “I fought my way out. I had to. Now I must go back. There will be others like me who escaped, and I must … must find …”
She fainted dead away into Brydda’s arms.
Kella pushed through the
rebels and lifted the unconscious woman’s eyelids. “She must be carried to a bed so that I can treat her.”
Malik caught at Kella’s arm. “You can’t take her away. She has information we need.”
She gave him a look of scathing distaste. “If Serba cannot speak of her own will, will you torture her to do so? I know all too well how cheap life is to you, Malik; both the lives of my people and of yours. But this woman can give you nothing until she is well.”
The gray-eyed rebel looked as if he wanted to strike her, but Brydda scooped Serba up and pushed past him. Kella followed him out.
As the doors swung shut behind them, Elii said, “You realize that if the soldierguards made no attempt to take prisoners, it means they have no need for any information. They know everything they need to know.”
“How convenient that the Misfit warning should come too late to save hundreds of rebels, but not too late to save themselves,” Malik sneered.
Zarak took a step toward the big man, his face cold. “What advantage do you imagine would come to us in betraying you?”
“Enough,” Jakoby said. “This is not the time nor place for such squabbles. Let the boy tell his story.”
There was a mutter of agreement, and Zarak took a deep breath. “I went across the Suggredoon to the other bank so that I could make contact with the west coast Misfits. Brydda suggested I let them know how things had gone here to lift their spirits. I had barely stepped off the ferry when Serba came running out of the trees, saying all was lost. She bid me return to the other bank with her before the soldierguards came.
“At first I thought she was delirious, but there was no lie in her mind. I … I saw it all there. The slaughter and her escape with Merret and Blyss. I got the rebels looking after the ferry to help her aboard and make ready to depart; then I went away from the water and tried to scry out Merret. I couldn’t reach her. I might have tried again, but I heard the sound of horses approaching. A great horde of them. I went back aboard the ferry and ordered the men to bring it over to this side. We were only just out of reach when they arrived on the shore. Soldierguards. Over a hundred of them.”
The Rebellion Page 75
