Pavo realized first what we were seeing, and gasped. I was struck by the wonder in his gaunt face. 'This is a Beforetime city,' he whispered reverently.
Squinting, I saw that he was right. The shapes were too smooth and square to be rocks, but the height of them astounded me. These, then, were the skyscrapers of the legends; things which I had never quite been able to believe in.
I stared about me as the current took us between two of the monstrous constructions, along what must once have been a street. There was no way of telling how far below us lay the floor of the dead city. I was silent with this evidence of the Oldtimers' abilities. Out of the distant past, I seemed to hear Louis Larkin telling me there were certain to be rare niches in the world where bits of the Beforetime were preserved.
And what wonders lay inside the buildings with their thousands of dark windows?
Up close, the surfaces were badly eroded, especially at the water line. One day the ebb and flow would eat the foundations and this marvellous city would topple. Gaps in the rows of buildings suggested this had happened already in some cases.
Many of the smooth fagades were crumbled, revealing the great black steel frames inside them, like the bones of some mouldering animal. Much of the walls that were not broken were covered in a livid yellow fungus. The glowing insects either lived or fed on it, for wherever the fungus grew, they were clustered thickly, and their collective light was brighter.
I wondered if the city had somehow sunk into the mountain during the Great White, or if the earth had spat the mountains on top of it like a grave-stone.
I found myself wishing Matthew could see it. He had long worshipped the Oldtimers with a glib surety that had always troubled me, but the city told a story of men who were certainly great, but men just the same with flaws that all their brilliance had not helped.
It was a sombre and sobering experience. It was not hard to think the people who had built such cities as capable of any wonder - or terror. Looking around me, I had no doubt that such a people could create a weapon that would live far beyond their span. The stark reality of the brilliance and insanity of the Oldtimers struck me then as never before.
After a while the current turned, taking us down what had been an intersecting street. Here, enough of the buildings had fallen for the rubble to rise above the water in a stony shore. Pavo asked Domick to take the raft closer. 'I mustn't lose this chance,' he whispered.
But Darga barked sharply in warning as we changed course. 'These stones and all about us are poisonous. Only the water is clean, because it flows.'
I relayed his warning. Pavo smiled faintly and I knew he was thinking that it no longer mattered as far as he was concerned. Yet he nodded, giving Darga a speculative look.
'This is a bad place,' Avra sent uneasily.
As much to distract myself as the mare, I asked her about Gahltha's strange behavior.
She whinnied forlornly. 'The funaga who had him before almost drowned him when he was first brought to them. It is a funaga way of breaking the spirit of an equine, if it does not kill them first. They did not break him, for he took refuge in a savage hidden hatred, but he has a dread of water that goes beyond reason.'
'I'm sure he's back at Obernewtyn by now,' I sent reassuringly, thinking she was afraid he had been caught by the Druid's armsmen.
'He is proud,' she sent. Too proud to bear such shame easily.'
I stared at her, puzzled. 'There is no shame in what happened. No one will blame him.'
Avra sighed in a very human way. 'He will blame himself. I do not think he has gone back to Obernewtyn.'
Unable to offer her any comfort, I turned to Domick and complimented his raft-building skills.
He smiled wanly. 'I had the feeling it would need to be strong, but even I never imagined how bad it would be. We're lucky to have got through.'
'Then if luck has brought us this far, let's hope we've not used our share up,' Pavo said. 'We have not gone down nearly far enough yet.'
Hours later, we were still gliding through the ancient city. The immediate wonder having worn off, we talked about what to do once we had reached the Lowlands. The loss of our gypsy colourants meant we could no longer pass for gypsies. Kella said she might brew a new stain, but it was decided gypsies on foot would be more conspicuous than ordinary folk. But going on foot would slow us considerably.
'I still don't understand how they found us so fast,' Domick said suddenly. He always wanted to know why a thing had failed so that it could be guarded against the next time.
'It was no one's fault. Remember I warned you there were armsmen out hunting? Well I recognized one of them on the bank. It was nothing more than a bad chance.' Kella interrupted to explain the connection between Gilbert and my bonding. She had also seen the ginger-haired armsman.
'So, maybe he was in a hurry for another reason?' Domick said.
I felt my face redden. 'This is no time to be acting like an idiot.' But I could not help thinking of the way Gilbert had looked after me on the bank, and wondered what he had called.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Kella and Domick exchange a look and realized the stresses and perils that had beset us since leaving Obernewtyn had a good side too. The old emnity between coercer and healer, symbolized in Kella and Domick, seemed to have disappeared. I was imagining what effect their unexpected friendship would have on their two guilds when we passed suddenly out of the big cave, and back into a tunnel. Immediately the raft picked up speed and in seconds we were back in rapids.
Another hour passed with little respite from the ferocious white water which seemed more frequent on this side of the underground sea. Domick was swaying on his feet with exhaustion.
Then we heard a noise. At first we checked our binding ropes, thinking there was another bout of rapids ahead, but as we came nearer to the source, the roaring became louder, taking on a curious vibrating quality.
I noticed Pavo was listening intently. There was no fear on his face, only fierce concentration.
'What is it?' I shouted. 'More rapids?'
'Let's hope that is all it is,' Pavo answered.
I opened my mouth to ask what he was afraid of when the raft tilted abruptly sideways. Being tied on was all that kept us together. I heard Kella scream and then we were falling as the Suggredoon became a giant waterfall, plummeting us into a black void.
My face felt hot and damp at the memory of that fall.
I tried to open my eyes. A bead of sweat trickled down my face and into the hair behind my ear. I lifted my hand to feel if my eyes were open, wondering if I had gone blind.
'Shh, lie still,' Kella said softly.
'My eyes,' I croaked. My throat felt dry as old paper.
'Your eyes are fine. They're stuck shut by blood from a cut on your forehead. Wait . . .'
I heard footsteps on a stone floor and the murmur of voices. It was strange to hear and not see; that was how it was for Dameon. Two sets of footsteps approached and there was the sound of curtains being drawn. I felt a warm cloth on my face and gasped at the unexpected sting.
'There are lots of small cuts from the rocks,' Kella explained gently. 'There now.'
I opened my eyes. I was in bed in a small whitewashed bedroom with sun streaming through a window and birds chirruping outside. Kella was sitting beside me on a stool, a bowl of bloodied water on her knees. Her cheek was badly bruised and her arm was bandaged. Behind her was a plump matronly woman I had never seen before.
'I am Katlyn,' she said with a warm smile.
I did not know what to say and looked helplessly at Kella. 'Katlyn and her bondmate, Grufyyd, found us washed up on the banks of the Suggredoon. They know we escaped from a Council Farm,' she said pointedly.
'Don't worry about that now. You need to rest,' Katlyn said. 'That is the best healer of all, but first I will bring you some food.'
She went out, taking the bowl of stained water, and returned in a moment with a bowl of soup.
'That smells wonde
rful,' I rasped.
She smiled. 'It is an old recipe, a special healing mixture. Eat and then sleep. You can talk later.'
'Where are the others?' I asked Kella as soon as she had gone.
Kella pointed to the soup. 'Eat, if Katlyn says it will heal, it will. She's incredible. She knows so much about healing and medicines. I've never seen such a herb garden.'
'Herb?' I asked sharply. Herb Lore was illegal.
'Katlyn is a Herb Lorist. She has herbs I've never even heard of, and bags and bags of dried herbs. I wish Roland could meet her. Her grandmother and mother practised the Lore before the ban and she has kept on with it. People from all over the Land use her mixtures.'
'Does she let her name be known so freely?'
Kella smiled. 'She talks about the Council and the Herders as if they were a collection of naughty boys. She knows what she does is dangerous, but she says it's her job.'
'How long have we been here?' I asked, suddenly anxious that we had stayed too long in the house of a woman who cared so little for her safety.
'Only a day, but without her help we would have taken much longer to heal,' Kella said sternly, seeing my disapproval.
'I'm grateful for her help,' I said. 'But it's my job to keep us safe and finish this expedition without getting caught by the Council who are a lot more dangerous than bad boys. Now tell me, do these people live alone here? And where are we?'
Kella shrugged. 'We're not far from Rangorn and the Ford. There's a son, but he doesn't live here. Katlyn didn't say what he does now. She talks about him as a child. She said he was always putting himself in danger, never thinking of the cost.'
I reflected that this seemed to be a family trait. 'Where is he now?'
'I think, it was something Katlyn said, that he lives in one of the coastal cities.'
'Good. How did you come to tell them we had escaped?'
'Domick insisted on telling them something. No one would have crossed the Suggredoon so high unless they were trying to avoid being seen. There was no way of hiding that we had been in a boating accident. I couldn't tell them we came out of the mountain, so the Council Farm runaway story seemed best.'
'You are certain they didn't send word to the Council? There is a reward for information leading to the capture of runaways.'
Kella shook her head emphatically. 'I don't think it occurred to them.'
I frowned. 'If Katlyn is a Herb Lorist, she wouldn't want soldierguards here, so we're probably safe enough for now.'
A flicker of anger crossed Kella's face. 'You're too cynical, Elspeth. It makes you blind to things right under your nose,' she added obliquely.
'What about the others?'
'Everyone's fine except for a few bruises and bumps. Pavo is not too good, but that has nothing to do with the accident.'
'Jik?' I asked.
She smiled. 'A cracked rib. He's milking the goats with Grufyyd. Domick has gone off to scout the area. Once a coercer . . .' I was astounded to see her eyes soften and wondered if friendship was all that had grown up between them.
Kella stood, taking the empty bowl from my fingers. I could not remember drinking the soup.
'Sleep and get better. The world will wait,' the healer said.
Weary as I was, I could not rest easy. The expedition seemed to be in tatters, without disguise or papers, two all but unfit to travel. Would we ever get home again?
Domick returned late that night.
'Elspeth?' he whispered outside the window.
'I'm awake,' I answered softly, sitting up. 'Come in.'
He climbed through the window. 'I am to sleep in the stables with Jik and Darga, but I wanted to talk to you while it was quiet. Katlyn and Grufyyd are good people,' Domick said. 'Kella believes it and so do I. I don't like lying to them.'
I hid my amazement at these un-coercerlike sentiments. Domick went on. 'They seem . . . accustomed to people like us - people on the run, scared and without anything but a flimsy cover story. The medicines, the food, the lack of questions . . . makes me think they have done this before - sheltered runaways.'
'What are you trying to say?' I asked.
He frowned. 'Something Katlyn said, right at the start makes me think this son of theirs, Brydda, might be mixed up in Sedition, rescuing other Seditioners. It's my guess he sends people here from time to time.'
'Are you sure? How do you know?'
He shrugged. 'Instinct as much as anything. Remember a while back one of the Misfits we rescued spoke of rumours in the Lowlands of a Seditious organization where escapees from the Council Farms could find help.'
I nodded thoughtfully. 'If you're right, it means we're safe enough here. But we have to get going again soon, or we'll waste the time we gained coming through the mountain. The expedition must go on, even if some of us are to be left behind.
Domick's face was impassive and I knew he had come to the same conclusion.
'We're close to Rangorn, but we can get to the Ford without being seen. It's unguarded, though Grufyyd says there are guards further down at the ferry. I'll get some papers before I have to go across, but what about the rest of you?'
'We'll manage without them. I think the best thing is for you to try to get hold of a cart. That way Pavo and I will be able to move more quickly.' I touched his hand. 'Go to bed now.'
He left as soundlessly as he had come.
Later Katlyn came in to change the bandages on my feet. 'Poor ill-treated feet,' she said gently, unwrapping them. 'I put on a salve to numb them so you could sleep. The scars are deep and have not healed well, though they are old.'
'I have to walk,' I said.
Katlyn nodded. 'If you must, these will carry you. But walking will increase the hurt. If they are ever to heal properly you must rest them completely for many months, perhaps even longer.'
Katlyn looked up at me, her expression serious. 'Child, there is something I want to say to you. By the look, you be th' leader of these bairns. Kella told me you are making for the outland coast regions, in search of sanctuary. I tell you, I do not think you will find any safe place on the coast. I want you to think of staying here with us.'
'Here?' I echoed, astounded.
Katlyn reached out and touched my hand. This is truly a safe house, a refuge for runaways . . . and for others. You could help us in our work. Help others like yourself. . .'
I stared at Katlyn, my heart beating fast, for her eyes told me clearly that she knew we had not told her the truth about ourselves.
'Think on it. Talk with the others. Let us know tonight what you decide,' Katlyn said softly.
14
'What will you tell her? Won't she find it odd that runaways refuse refuge?' Pavo asked, when I told the others of Katlyn's offer.
'I have decided to tell them the truth,' I said. 'I think we owe them that or as much of it as we can tell.'
Grufyyd turned out to be a big, silent man with a brown beard and sombre, smoke-grey eyes. After we had eaten nightmeal, my first out of bed, I asked if I could retell our story.
'We have so often had to lie that it's hard to see where the truth can be told,' I began. 'It is true we are escapees, in one sense, but that was a long time ago. Now we, and others, have a secret . . . place in the high country. There are a lot of us now, mostly no more than children, and mostly runaways. Some came to us, more we helped get away. Until recently, we thought our existence a secret. Then we started to hear rumours of a Seditious organization rescuing people from the Council and we were afraid it might mean us.'
Katlyn and Grufyyd exchanged an odd, tense look.
'We also heard the Council meant to investigate the Highlands, and that meant we were in danger. So it was decided to send us down to see what we could find out. And at the same time, we mean to search for a friend we think is hiding somewhere near Murmroth and Aborium.'
'How did you come to be half-drowned on the banks of the Suggredoon?' Grufyyd asked in a rumbling voice.
'We came across the White Val
ley looking for an Oldtime pass through the mountains. We didn't want to use the main roads. But we stumbled on a secret camp run by Henry Druid. He takes prisoner anyone who gets too near, and they have to join him. He makes all the men join his armsmen,'
Katlyn cast an appalled glance at Grufyyd. 'Armsmen. Then he still means to get revenge?'
Grufyyd shook his head sorrowfully.
'We managed to escape, but the Olden way proved impassable. We were desperate with the Druid's armsmen close behind us, so we rafted the Suggredoon through the mountain.'
Katlyn gasped. 'But is it possible?' No one answered since we were the living proof of our story.
'Looked overmuch damage for an overturned boat,' Grufyyd observed dispassionately.
I continued. 'Now ... all I have told you is true, but I have not told everything, mostly to protect the ones we left behind. But I would not have said this much unless I trusted you, and because we want you to understand that we can't stay here.'
'We are no strangers to necessary secrets,' Katlyn said gently. 'I spoke impulsively this morning, though I guessed you would not stay. But we would like to offer you further help, in return for a favour.'
'What favour?' Domick asked.
Grufyyd rose suddenly and decisively. 'You have heard enough, I reckon, to guess our son Brydda does not live strictly according to Council law. In short, he is a Seditioner. He helps people who are to be Burned for Sedition to get away and start afresh. It is possible his organization is the one your rumours spoke of. Our problem is that we have lost contact with him. Brydda has neither visited us, nor sent people to be hidden for two moons, and we are afraid something has happened to him. No one would send word to us, because no one else knows about us. He keeps us secret for our own safety and for the safety of the people he sends.
'We are too old for intrigue, and we ask that you will go into Aborium and bear a message to Brydda from us.'
Domick looked at me. 'No,' he said decisively. I was startled at his brusqueness after his words the previous night. 'If I were with you . . .' he said.
The Farseekers Page 12
