As with all coming and going at Obernewtyn, they would travel across the now barren White Valley, and down the Olden way. Few dogs were as sensitive to poisonous taints as Darga, but with care it would be possible to find a safe path, retracing our own journey. It was no longer safe to come openly along the main way, and the mountain valley was supposed to be deserted and barren. Domick had gleefully reported that this was the report made by the soldierguards. It had been accepted by the Council and Ariel had lost some credibility over the matter. I wondered what he made of the disappearance of the Druid and his people.
I caught Rushton's eye, and he stared at me a moment before being accosted by the ever diligent Miryum who thought the fair a waste of valuable time.
Her words floated to me through the music and laughter: 'Just this one detail that needs . . .'
I sighed. Miryum was a worthy person and strongly Talented, but she had few friends. No doubt she thought them frivolous.
From the corner of my eye, I watched Rushton. No emotion showed on his features. It struck me suddenly that he had spent a lifetime hiding his thoughts and feelings.
The memory of his words as he lay dazed after being drugged by the soldierguards came back to me with a queer thrill. No one had heard those words but me, and it was clear from Rushton's behaviour afterwards that he did not remember having said them. Yet in the light of them, many things seemed clear; Kella's cryptic words about my inability to see the truth of things, and Rushton's reluctance to let me join the expedition to the Lowlands.
I turned to find Rushton standing beside me and flushed at my thoughts, glad he had no ability to deep-probe.
'You are always alone, even when there are people about you,' he observed.
I shrugged. 'Matthew tells me I'm too gloomy. But I find it hard to forget all the bad things. I feel sad for Jik. He was so young. All this is wonderful. . . but sometimes it seems like a pleasant dream that can't last. So many have died. It's a high price we pay for our place in the world.'
'If we did not fight, there would still be deaths because Misfits will continue to be born. We want to stop the killing, and that means fighting.'
'War to end war? It doesn't sound very sensible,' I said. We stared at the dancers for a moment in silence, then I felt his eyes on me.
'I could scarcely believe it when I heard you were alive,' he said remotely. I did not know what to say. When I looked up, embarrassed by the long silence between us, his expression was stern and unsmiling.
'It will take much to convince me to let you go away again,' he said gravely. 'Yet, I sense you don't really belong to us or to Obernewtyn. There is something in you that holds you ever apart. You are like a piece of smoke in my hand.'
'I am glad to be home,' I said, not knowing what else to say.
A wintry smile lit his dark features. 'Home? This is the first time I have heard you call Obernewtyn that.'
I smiled. 'You would be astonished at how often I thought of it that way, and longed to be here. What is that saying Louis has?'
'The greenest grass is home grass . . . something like that.' He gave me a long look. 'You are a strange one, Elspeth. Everything you do is mysterious and unexpected. Roland is sadly puzzled over the healing of your feet. He tells me even the scars have disappeared; something he assures me is impossible. The coercers talk of nothing but your ability to coerce as well as Gevan, and the healers praise your miraculous healing of Maruman. Not to mention the change in Gahltha. And what of your sudden appearance when we had thought you dead? How much more is there about you that you choose to keep hidden? I would swear you tell more to Gahltha and that cat, than to any of us.'
I suppressed an urge to smooth the frown from Rushton's forehead. I had never imagined loving anyone, and I had always believed Rushton incapable of doing so. Perhaps I was wrong in both cases. But something stayed my hand and tongue.
My life did not belong to me until I had fulfilled my vow to destroy the weapon machines. While that was undone, I could not truly belong anywhere, or to anyone; I had no right to think of Rushton as anything but the Master of Obernewtyn while my dark quest lay before me. That secret set a tiny chasm between us. Until that was gone, I did not belong even to myself.
'Tomorrow you go to the Lowlands,' I said, wanting to distract him.
He looked out beyond the walls of Obernewtyn. 'Maryon said the time to take our stand is not far away. I want to meet Brydda's friends and see how they regard Misfits. There is no good our making allies of bigots and, despite his optimism, I think not all his friends will welcome us with open arms.'
'What about Ariel?'
Rushton smiled grimly. 'We have nothing to fear from him. But he has much to fear from me. Domick tells me he has fallen from favour with the Council since the soldierguards came to Obernewtyn and found all was as I had reported,' he grinned.
'Hopefully, he no longer bothers to think of revenge then. Domick said he has taken vows to become a Herder,' I mused.
Rushton shrugged. 'We have nothing to fear from those dabblers in dresses. I'll deal with Ariel once I have dealt with the Council.'
I stared at him, wondering if he was right about the Herder Faction, and about Ariel.
'We have come far, but the road is not yet ended,' Rushton said.
I sighed. 'Don't you think of anything but fighting battles and winning? There must be more to life than that.'
'More? Perhaps,' Rushton said. 'But life is a fight just the same, whether you fight it with weapons, or with words. You have to fight for what you believe in, and for the things you want.'
Abruptly he held out a hand. 'Dance with me.'
I stared at him, astonished. I had never seen Rushton dance, and I did not dance. I opened my mouth to say so, but the words died on my lips.
His arms went about me, lightly and impersonally as one might hold a piece of soap.
'I have always fought for what I want,' Rushton said with calm determination.
EPILOGUE
It was raining.
'Soon the coldwhite will come again,' Maruman sent.
I looked down at him, marvelling at his recovery. His appearance was as disreputable as ever but his eyes shone with their old stringent light. We were in the Futuretell tower room, waiting for Maryon.
'The time of cold is the time when Obernewtyn is safest, secure behind a barrier of snow and ice,' I sent.
'There are some things no barrier can hold away,' Maruman sent.
I stared at him, suddenly uneasy. 'What do you mean?'
'When the others come, it will be time to make the dark journey,' he sent.
I shivered, knowing at once what he meant, though we had barely spoken of it since the day I returned with Gahltha. 'What others?' I sent.
'You will not go alone,' Maruman responded. 'The old ones have promised.' I received a vague mental picture from Maruman of what looked like many dogs. One, I knew.
'Darga?' I whispered, wondering if it were really possible Darga had survived and, if so, where he was. And what did he have to do with my quest?
'He will come, and when he returns, it will be time. Best to forget until then,' Maruman sent.
I dared not ask him to explain. Maruman had only ever told what he wanted and no more. Besides, I thought morosely, I would know soon enough if what Maruman said was true.
If Darga returned . . .
I wondered suddenly if this had anything to do with Maryon's request for me to call on her. I was aware she was more likely than anyone else to see what lay ahead in her futuretell dreaming. Already I had appeared in her dreams, but as yet she had not fathomed the meaning.
Abruptly, I felt cold with Premonition. Unlike Maryon and those of the Futuretell Guild, my ability to see the future was restricted and infrequent. Most often, my premonitions were no more than a strong feeling of danger, but I had become accustomed to trusting them.
Sensing my mood, Maruman looked at me, yellow eyes gleaming in the dull evening light. 'Fear or no, you mu
st do what must be done. You are the Seeker.'
'That's what scares me most,' I sent. 'If I fail. . .'
Strangely, Rushton's face came into my thoughts, and his words on the day of our Moon Fair.
'Life is a battle. You have to fight for the things you care about and believe in . . .'
'Even the funaga have their times of wisdom, rare though these come . . .' Maruman said with oblique humour.
I laughed.
About The Author
Isobelle Carmody was born in Wangaratta in 1958. After completing her Bachelor of Arts degree, majoring in literature and philosophy, she worked in public relations as a journalist.
Her first novel, Obernewtyn, the first book in the five-volume Obernewtyn Chronicles, was shortlisted in the 1988 Children's Book Council of Australia (CBC) Book of the Year Awards for older readers. The Farseekers, Book Two in the Obernewtyn Chronicles, was named an Honour Book in the 1991 CBC Awards. Ashling, the third book in the Obernewtyn Chronicles, has now been published to much acclaim.
Other novels by Isobelle Carmody are Scatterlings (1991), and The Gathering, joint winner of the thirtieth Children's Peace Literature Prize and of the 1994 CBC Book of the Year Award for older readers. The Gathering will soon be made into a feature film. Her most recent book is Green Monkey Dreams, a collection of short stories.
Isobelle divides her time between her home on the Great Ocean Road in Victoria, and travelling abroad. She is currently working on the fourth book in the Obernewtyn series, The Keeping Place.
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