Trapped into revealing my abilities, Alexi was yet unaware I was strong enough to decipher his stepmother's notes without help. Ironically, under torture by Alexi and Ariel, I had seen not only the map Marisa had secretly commissioned carved into two doors, showing the whereabouts of the weapon machines but, somehow, I knew the machines were those which had caused the terrible Great White Holocaust. The Druid could not know that, because I had told no one, not even Rushton.
As far as I knew, Henry Druid had learnt nothing about Alexi's Misfit research from Rushton, who had recognized the Druid's obsessive hatred of mutations was a danger to us, and had gradually severed communication. Ironically, this must have convinced the Druid that Rushton was continuing Alexi's search for Beforetime weapons. The snatch of conversation I had overheard told me the Druid no longer saw Rushton as an enemy. Just the same, while taking care to present myself as an ignorant, self-centred gypsy, I made sure Rushton sounded as if he were verging on mania, trying to rebuild the shattered Obernewtyn.
Dismissed at last, I went back to the wash house.
'What did he want?' Kella asked. 'You've been ages!'
I told her of Emmon's antics, then recounted what I had heard.
'Nothing that will help us escape?' Kella asked disconsolately. I had told her of my abortive attempt to breach the block that morning. We talked over what I had overheard, convinced the words referred to the Teknoguild expedition.
'But it sounds like they now believe the people they bumped into on the ruins were Herders. How odd that they should jump to that conclusion,' Kella said.
I nodded. 'I think there is much about the Herders' activities that is secret. The important thing, though, is that the Druid now seems to believe Obernewtyn is a ruin. The problem is, it might be too late to stop the soldierguards coming to the mountains. I'm almost sure this friend on the Council organized the investigation. It wouldn't be hard. The Council is so suspicious anyway.'
Kella wiped her hands slowly on her apron. 'We have to warn Rushton.'
I nodded. 'But first, I have to do something about this machine. Let Rilla think I'm still with the Druid. I'm going to try to find it. I think I can home in on it if I put my mind to it.'
'Don't get caught,' Kella said.
I climbed out the window at the back of the wash house. Walking slowly, I let my mind rub against the oddly pliant nature of the blocking static. Again I was reminded of a blanket, and brushed my mind against it instead of using force. I had the eerie feeling it liked it, rubbing up against my mind like a kitten. I thought I could sense a core and moved in that direction, hoping I was not imagining it.
Before long, I found myself in a part of the camp I had not seen before. I walked purposefully, trying to look as if I were running an errand, and avoiding the eyes of the few people I passed.
Two men coming out of a doorway looked at me, but made no move to stop me. As soon as I rounded a corner I ran, keeping to the walls. I was determined nothing would keep me from at least locating the machine. A young girl looked out of a window curiously. I slowed abruptly to a walk, but her eyes followed me up the street.
I noticed a bank of ominous black clouds roiled the horizon. An omen, though for good or ill I couldn't decide.
Suddenly I found myself on the very perimeter of the settlement. There was no one in sight. This part of the camp looked deserted. Uneasily I wondered if the whole thing were some sort of trap.
I was about to turn back when, suddenly, I sensed the source of the block was very near. I couldn't resist. It came, I was certain, from a long, low-slung building with a flat roof. There was only one door in the building, and no guard. My trapped powers prevented me from knowing if there were guards inside.
Pressing one ear against the door, I heard faint voices.
Dry-mouthed I pushed the door. It swung open soundlessly.
I gaped at the complete unexpectedness of what lay inside. The building contained a single, long, almost bare room filled with babies and very young children. On the far side of the room, a thin, dark-haired girl wiped the face of a bawling tot.
In the middle of the room, helping a group of mesmerized children to build a tower, was Gilaine.
She looked up idly, and her face registered my own shock.
I could not think of a single thing to say. The room was obviously a kind of communal nursery, but I was convinced it was also the source of the block. The machine had to be concealed somewhere in the room.
The dark-haired girl came over. 'Yes?' she said pleasantly.
Gilaine touched her arm and made a few intricate hand motions. 'Gilaine says you're a friend. Come in.'
Gilaine made another agitated hand movement and the girl nodded. 'I'll do it. You talk to your friend,' she said kindly.
'What is this place?' I asked Gilaine, when we were alone.
She frowned and pointed to the children. One of the toddlers waddled after her and lurched drunkenly at my knees. Reaching out to catch him, my hand brushed against Gilaine's.
The baby gurgled in delight, oblivious to our stunned looks. The moment our hands touched, I had immediate access to her mind - and she to mine! Gilaine was a Misfit. An empath and farseeker like Jik.
She had pulled away almost immediately. I leaned forward slowly, not wanting to alarm her, and touched her forearm. Again contact was established. It seemed the block did not work if I was actually touching the person I wanted to communicate with.
'Gilaine?' I sent gently. She recoiled violently. I stood waiting, and she reached out, touching my shoulder with a tentative finger.
'Elspeth?' her mind said. It was a weak signal, despite the strength I had found in her mind.
I nodded. Gilaine sat on a chair as if her legs would not hold her, and pulled the toddler onto her lap. I reached forward, pretending to look at the baby, and touched her. 'We must not make ourselves obvious/dangerous,' I sent, at the same time wondering if Gilaine were the trap.
'You . . . are not like us,' Gilaine sent timidly.
'Us? There are more of you here?' I asked, astounded. She nodded imperceptibly. I sensed that she did not want to talk about them.
'Does He/Druid/father know?' I asked.
She shook her head vehemently. 'Not know. Mustnot know.' The baby began to struggle to be put down. Gilaine jiggled her knees up and down and he gurgled contentedly. 'Fatherdruid thinks Misfits feebleminds or dreamers. He doesnot know about us/you. He thinks Misfit/mutant evil,' she stressed.
'You? Do you think this is evil?' I asked.
She shook her head, but without much conviction.
'Dangerous foryou and friends here. Why stay?' I asked.
She shook her head and fleetingly, a face pressed from her thoughts into mine. I was amazed to recognize it. It was the face of the boy I had met in the Councilcourt in Sutrium, waiting to be sentenced to Obernewtyn. Startled, I remembered the youth had spoken to me of refuge in the mountains, and of running away. Was it possible he had meant me to run away to the Druid? He had even mentioned Henry Druid, saying the rumour of his death was a lie. I fumbled in my memory for the name. 'Daffyd,' I murmured aloud triumphantly. Gilaine almost dropped the baby in fright. The startled child hitched in a breath and began to scream. When it was quieted, Gilaine touched my hand. 'How do you know that name? Did you read my behindthoughts?' she asked suspiciously.
I shook my head without bothering to explain that I could, but chose not to. People always thought you wanted to eavesdrop on their private thoughts, whereas the notion actually embarrassed me. 'I saw his face in yourmind. Remembered the name. I met him once, in Sutrium.' I gasped aloud. 'You mean he is one of you? Us?'
She nodded, still warily.
I wondered what had possessed him to envisage the Druid as a refuge for a Misfit. 'Where is he?' I asked.
'Druid sent him to Sutrium/Lowlands. Druidbusiness.'
I noticed the dark-haired girl watching us curiously. We had been silent too long. In another moment she would begin to wond
er who I was and why she had not recognized me. I was putting Gilaine in danger and said as much to her in a low voice.
Rising, I sent a final vital question, 'Where is the blocking machine?'
She frowned. 'Machine?'
'The block on our minds. Surely you can feel it?'
'Feel what?' Gilaine sent.
Confused I sent a brief image of the block.
'Oh, that,' her mind sent, amused. 'No machine. Lidgebaby.' She pointed to a cot near one of the walls. 'Lidgebabymind.'
My mouth fell open. The incredible numbing effect blanketing the camp which had resisted all my strength was the uncontrollable mental static of a Misfit baby!
11
Something woke me.
It was a dark night and the moon showed full beyond the window glass. Rain was falling softly on the roof of the wash house and its adjoining sleeping chambers.
Then I heard a voice, calling softly. 'Elspeth?'
I sat bolt upright in bed, afraid to answer in case it was a trap. Trying to think how I would react if I really was nothing more than a gypsy, I climbed out of bed and went across to the window.
'Who's out there?' My voice came out low and anxious, not quite a whisper.
'Shh!' the voice hissed urgently.
Apprehension prickled along my spine. 'What do you want? Who are you?'
There was a pause, as if the caller was wary too.
'I come from a friend,' the voice whispered at last, reluctantly.
I frowned. 'I have no friends here.'
Again there was a pause. 'Gilaine,' the voice grated, with a hint of irritation.
I bit my lip and peered into the rain-streaked night, wishing there were a moon. Whoever was out there had the perfect cover. I could see nothing. I wondered if Gilaine had really sent them.
'I have a key to unlock your door,' the voice said.
I made up my mind. If it were a trap I would blame gypsy curiosity.
'All right.' A moment later, there was a faint click and the door opened to admit a man wearing a dark, hooded cloak pulled low across his face. With an imperious gesture, he slipped back outside. Pulling my own cape hastily over my nightdress, I padded out barefoot, closing the door behind me.
'Who are you?' I demanded.
'My name is Saul. And you don't need to know any more than that,' he added brusquely.
We hurried along, keeping close to the walls, cloaks flapping in gusts of wind blowing along the dark, empty streets. Coming to a cobbled square, Saul stopped, scanning the square and the streets leading into it intently. Trees growing up through the cobbles flung bare branches about, sighing mournfully. After a long moment, he flicked his hand curtly and strode directly across the square.
On the other side I stopped. 'Wait a minute. This isn't the way to Gilaine's house.'
'It is the way to my house,' Saul answered.
His house proved to be as small as Gilaine's, but looked dark and deserted. He opened the door and light spilled out onto the wet ground. Dark heavy curtains had hidden the light from prying eyes. Reassured, I followed him inside.
Removing his cloak, Saul shook it and hung it on a peg in the wall. Studying him covertly in the light, I decided he was handsome in a cold sort of way. He was tall, but too thin and his skin pale. His hands were as long and slender as a woman's, and his facial features sharply defined beneath a fringe of straight light-brown hair. He looked at me fleetingly with eyes the colour of mud-stained ice. I smiled tentatively but he did not respond. I pretended to stumble following him along the hallway leading to the other section of the cottage, clutching at his arm to steady myself.
I had a brief impression of an intelligence bordering on brilliance, resting on a frighteningly unstable personality. 'Get out!' commanded an icy mental voice. He pushed me away with a look of revulsion.
I followed him wordlessly into the kitchen knowing I had seen such stress before in people unable to tolerate the realization that they were Misfits. I guessed Saul had been ruthlessly orthodox before his discovery that he was a Misfit. His personality was disintegrating under the stress of being what he loathed. I wondered if the others knew.
The kitchen was almost the exact replica of Gilaine's but without cooking smells, flowers or plants. It reminded me of an Orphan Home kitchen before Keeper inspection.
Seated at a scrubbed timber table were Gilaine, the two musicians I had seen at the Druid's nightmeal, and an older, heavy-set man I had not seen before.
For a moment they looked up at me with collective appraisal. Then Gilaine rose. Smiling welcome she touched my arm. 'I am glad you came. See? I am getting better at this strange way of communicating, but Lidgebaby does not like it. This is Saul, who brought you here. I think you have seen Peter and Michael.' She gestured at the musicians. 'And this is Jow, the brother of Daffyd.'
'This is dangerous,' I said aloud.
Gilaine nodded gravely. 'You told me this afternoon you had to get away. We want to help, but you must answer questions first,' she sent.
From the expressions on the faces of the others, I guessed they had been less eager to help than Gilaine. I wondered what she had said to convince them, especially Saul, who made no pretence of liking my presence and was prowling back and forwards like a caged animal.
The others with you - Misfit also?' Gilaine asked.
I nodded, aware we would not get out of the camp without help. I had to take the risk. And I did trust Gilaine. I guessed she was reporting my answers to the others, but could find no trace of their communication, though her hand rested on my arm. She seemed not to need physical contact to communicate with the others.
She looked back at me. 'Have you really come from Obernewtyn?'
I nodded, and again told the story I had told the Druid, with one difference. I told her we had welcomed Pavo's illness as a way of splitting off from the rest of the troop. 'It was getting too dangerous for us to stay. Gypsies live close together - they hate mutant/Misfits.'
'Then you never meant to rejoin your father?' Saul asked accusingly, when Gilaine had relayed my answer. 'You say Obernewtyn is a ruin. How can we believe you?'
I shrugged. 'Believe what you want. Why would I bother to lie?'
It was odd how sure everyone seemed to be that the firestorm story was a lie. No one had been up to the mountains since Rushton had claimed Obernewtyn but our own people. No one could really know, but they seemed so certain. I decided to ask my own questions.
'How did you discover your powers?'
Gilaine smiled. 'The night Lidgebaby was born,' she sent.
The baby coercer had woken the entire group to operancy. Gilaine sent a graphic picture of the night the baby had been born. She had been in bed asleep, when the sound of a baby screaming woke her. She was in the street in her nightgown before she realized the cry she was hearing was inside her mind. She had dressed quickly, her mind reeling, unable to resist the summons. Only when she reached the street outside the birthing house, did she begin to understand what had happened, for she was not alone. They had all answered the call: Saul, destined to become an acolyte, Jow, an animal handler, his younger brother, Daffyd, and the two musicians.
Daffyd had woken first to the peril of such a gathering, and they had dispersed, planning to meet in less dangerous circumstances, the first of many such meetings. They all understood two things at once though. They would never again be alone in their own minds, for Lidgebaby was with them constantly, linking them irrevocably to one another, and they were in terrible danger.
In that dramatic birthbonding, Lidgebaby had forged an indelible emotional link between the group. None could ever consciously harm the baby. All were coerced to love and protect.
Little monster, I thought, keeping my mind shielded. No wonder I could not hear their communication. They talked through the baby, using their own powers only to maintain contact. It was the combined network of minds, and the child's mental overflow, that was blocking me.
It was an incredible sit
uation and gave me a clear idea of Lidgebaby's mental prowess. A baby, his coercive demands were selfish but basically innocent. What would happen when he grew up and became conscious of the power he wielded? I shuddered, seeing them smile in the collective memory of that first enslavement/ wakening of their Misfit minds.
Seeing my eyes on him, Saul frowned and turned away.
'Where will you go, if we help you?' Gilaine asked.
'We hadn't thought far ahead. We meant to use an Olden pass we heard about to get to the Lowlands without going along the main roads.'
Saul snorted. 'No one could get through that pass alive.'
I stared. 'You mean there is a pass?'
Gilaine nodded. 'But Saul is right. No way to go there. Dangerous.'
Jow shifted in his seat and the others fell silent. For the first time I glimpsed Daffyd's features in his face. 'Where then?' he said aloud.
I shrugged. 'To the coast I suppose. We thought of getting a boat. I've heard there are places . . .' I hesitated.
'Over the Great Sea,' said the boy musician wistfully.
'I have heard there are places over the edge of the world, where there is no Council or Herder faction,' Jow said pensively.
'Why do you stay here?' I asked. 'It's terribly dangerous?'
Jow shook his head. 'Better to wait until winter is over. And we must wait until Lidgebaby is weaned.'
'Couldn't you get the mother to go with you?'
'The mother is bonded to an acolyte and has already had one babe Burnt. She denounced it,' Jow said.
I stared at him in horror. 'Why are you offering to help us?'
Jow frowned. 'You are a danger to us as long as you stay. You are a danger to the baby. We'll help you, but you must understand we can't let you talk if you are caught. The acolytes are very persuasive.'
I nodded, understanding what he left unsaid. 'How can you help us?'
'There are two things,' Jow said. 'First, we can absorb Lidgebaby's emanations so that you can communicate with your friends in the compound. Second, we will organize a diversion to give you all time to get away. The soldierguards from the training camps below the lower ranges will leave in a few days to witness the ordination of new Herders in Sutrium. That will mean the main road will be safe for a week or so, and you can cut right through the camp and make for the coast between the lower mountains and Glenelg Mor.'
The Farseekers Page 9
