"Garth..." Rushton began.
"Patience," Garth said, as if Rushton were an importunate novice. "As I was about to say, I did not expect to find anything here, but I was wrong. It appears that the people who ran the Reichler Clinic were forward thinking, and they sealed much of their information in a slippery, waterproof transparent material they called plast." He bent down with a grunt and opened a cupboard, lifting out a sheaf of what first appeared to be pieces of paper. On closer examination, they proved to be made of some sort of pliable material. There were words on the sheets, but I could make nothing of them.
"The plast-covered paper is absolutely impervious to water, although it is not resistant to heat. As you see, a good deal of the matter contained on the sheets is in one of the peculiar linguistic codes the Beforetimers were so fond of using. Hiding their information in this way always seemed to me a paranoid and pointless business but, as it transpired, they had cause to be careful and secretive. My guild is beginning to fathom the codes and these sheets are in one which the Beforetimers called Jerman. Fian has specialized in this code and he was able to translate enough to come up with some very odd intelligence—not about the Reichler Clinic, but about another Beforetime organization." He nodded regally at Fian, who took up the narrative.
"I believe th' code was used to store information that th' folk who ran th' Reichler Clinic wanted to keep secret," the highlander said. "I've only just begun decodin' th' plasts but it's clear from what I've read so far that they wanted to conceal th' fact that some of th' Misfits they tested were not latent."
"Conceal it from whom?" I wondered, and was startled to realize I had spoken aloud when Fian nodded.
"That's what got to me too. Why would they want to hide what was basically proof of th' things they wrote in that book ye found? Th' answer was in th' plast sheets. Th' Reichler Clinic were bein' investigated by a powerful organization called Govamen, which was connected to huge weapon tradin' houses that made a profit out of sellin' weaponmachines. Govamen was supposed to be stop-pin' wars an' finding other ways to resolve conflict between Beforetime Factions, but in reality it promoted war and reaped coin from people who wanted th' wars to go on—namely th' weaponmakers. Of course, th' connection between Govamen an' th' weapon tradin' houses was illicit. Th' Reichler Clinic folk learned of it by chance when they was tryin' to find out why they were bein' investigated."
"You mean, this organization conspired to promote war for profit?" Rushton demanded.
"I would not go that far," Garth said. "However it does seem to offer a solution as to why the Beforetimers had so many wars. It is a thing that has always troubled me about them."
"I still don't understand what this had to do with the Reichler Clinic hiding things," I said. "It wasn't forbidden to be a Misfit then, was it?"
"No. But th' Reichler Clinic people learned that th' part of Govamen investigatin' them was devoted to research an' development of paranormal abilities as weapons," Fian said. "This was th' symbol of th' research cell from Govamen."
He interrupted himself to point to a tiny picture denoting three minuscule birds flying in an endless spiral around a word I could not interpret.
"Look closely," Garth invited.
I did, and my eyes widened at the realization that the birds pictured were Agyllians—Guanette birds, as Land-folk called them.
"Fascinating, eh?" he demanded.
"Yes," I agreed faintly, thinking he had no idea how fascinating!
The Land resonated with myths about the red birds, and they were considered to be virtually extinct. But I knew that they dwelt in nests on high citadels of stone in the tallest mountains, because they had once brought me there and saved my life. The Elder of the birds, Atthis, had told me that they had existed since before the holocaust. I wondered if it could possibly be a coincidence that their image adorned material produced by the mysterious organization called Govamen, with its sinister connections to weapon-machine makers.
"Th' section in Govamen that used this as their mark," Fian tapped the triple bird design, "had apparently gone a lot further in its paranormal research than simply testin' th' minds of volunteers. It had actually tried to alter th' brains of animals to produce artificial Misfit Talents. Seems they had some spectacular initial results that came to nowt, before movin' onto experimentin' on humans. From what I have translated, th' Reichler Clinic people feared Govamen's interest in th' clinic meant they had th' idea of usin' th' people that they had tested as latent Misfit Talents. An' by usin,' I mean, kidnappin' an' usin' against their will."
I felt sick. That meant Misfits had been no more safe in the Beforetime than we were now. Perhaps it would always be so.
"This is all very interesting," Rushton interrupted. "But you could have told it to us safely and simply back at Obernewtyn. I presume there is some reason you have dragged us into this miserable place?"
Garth sighed. "All right. I could have told you what I am about to show you too, but it is so momentous I felt you would wish to see it. Perhaps I was wrong."
The fat teknoguilder moved to the other end of the room and as the light from the lantern he carried touched it, I could see a mural had been carved into the far wall depicting a mountain scene in perfect relief and intricate detail. It was a magnificent work, yet it seemed vaguely familiar.
"It's Obernewtyn," Rushton said in a stunned voice. "Or at least, it is where Obernewtyn is sited. The same spot. The trees are different but you can tell by the positioning of the mountains. But why on earth would its image be carved here?"
"I think ye'll find th' answer to that when ye read th' inscription on th' wee plaque," Fian said in an excited voice, pointing to a small metal square with raised lettering on the wall beside the mural.
Rushton leaned closer, and I heard him suck in a startled breath of air.
"What is it?" I demanded.
He gave me an unseeing look and I slipped past him to see for myself. The words read: Presented to the Founder of the Reichler Clinic, Hannah Seraphim, by her devoted admirer, Jacob Obernewtyn.
"Seraphim," I whispered, staring at Rushton. "That's your name, and Obernewtyn ... What can it mean?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but abruptly the dazed look of amazement faded into a frown. "Listen," he said, tilting his head.
Then we all heard it. Someone was calling out
"It's Matthew." I recognized the farseeker's voice.
I crossed to a window and peered out. From above, the watery caverns looked even more eerie. I spotted the ward by his lantern light bobbing along the ledge path, and shouted to him that I would come down. My voice echoed weirdly, reverberating between water and rock.
"I told him to do a routine scan of the villages for new Misfits," I explained to the others. "Maybe he's found someone."
"Be careful," Rushton cautioned.
I nodded impatiently and hurried back downstairs, wondering why after so many rescues he felt the need to warn me to take care.
Matthew looked so relieved when I joined him on the ledge, that I realized he had something more than a wild Misfit Talent to report
"What is it?" I demanded, panting slightly.
"Ceirwan farsought me," the farseeker said. "He says ye mun all come back at once. Maryon's had a futuretellin' vision about th' gypsy woman we rescued."
IV
We rushed back to Obernewtyn, only to discover that soon after her request that we be sent for, Maryon had fallen into a second futuretelling trance from which she had yet to emerge. The Futuretell guilden had been unable to tell us anything more about his guildmistress's futuretelling, other than that it concerned the gypsy I had rescued and the future of Obernewtyn.
There had been nothing for it, but to go on with other matters until Maryon awoke. The whole affair completely overtook the excitement of finding the Reichler Clinic, and as we made our way to the kitchens for a late nightmeal Rushton asked me not to speak of the finding, until the Teknoguild had prepared a presentation.
Rushton shook his head. "Lukas Seraphim built Obernewtyn as it is now, but I remember Louis Larkin once telling me that my great-great-grandfather had built it on the ruins of an older building. It's my guess this Jacob built the original house that stood here."
"I wonder why Hannah Seraphim started the Reichler Clinic in the first place."
Rushton gave me a look. "It is a long time past and her world is dead. The teknoguilders' discovery of the Reichler Clinic is useful only in that it confirms absolutely that there were Misfits like us in the Beforetime. We have the present to deal with and that is quite enough without wasting time on historical puzzles. I am far more concerned to find out what a nameless gypsy could possibly have to do with Obernewtyn."
The Teknoguild discovery meant he could trace the line of his descent back to the Beforetime—he must surely be the only person alive who could do that, yet it was nothing to him because he was only concerned with the present. But he was wrong about the past being irrelevant. Past, present and future were linked by a thousand invisible threads. I existed in the present and yet my life was bound up in waiting for the future, to fulfil a deed whose seeds were sowed long ago in the Beforetime.
I did not sleep that night for wondering what had been so important it had necessitated our immediate return.
The following day, Maryon had still not wakened and I was distracted from my own guild's affairs by a growing apprehension that her untimely unconciousness was delaying the transmission of some vital news. Like Rushton, I could not begin to imagine what the gypsy had to do with Obernewtyn's fate, yet I felt it was somehow my responsibility because I had brought her among us.
"Guildmistress?" Ceirwan's voice broke into my thoughts.
I blinked and became conscious of the room about me filled with the gray daylight that characterized the Days of Rain, and of the two farseekers sitting opposite staring at me.
My mind had drifted yet again and I shook my head in annoyance.
"I am sorry." I looked at the young farseeker novice beside the blond guilden. "Go on, Aras, you were saying you have thought of a new method of linking up farseeking minds."
The girl nodded eagerly. "Guildmistress, this new method is not like the old one, where a group of farseekers focused all of their energy through one mind."
She drew a star on the paper before her to represent the traditional mindmeld.
"The old way is limited because the central mind that focuses the whole thing can only hold so much energy." She drew a single beam radiating out from the star. "This merge enabled us to farseek maybe five times further than a single mind—no more. The new way of linking will enable any number of farseekers to contribute power to the overall merge. That means the distance over which we could farseek would be virtually limitless."
"Go on," I prompted. "How does it work?"
Aras drew a long line beside the star, with conjunctions at regular intervals.
"Like this. In a line rather than in a star shape. There is no need for a central mind to focus. All it requires is a single linear link between three people. That's the basic unit, but you can have as many units in it as you want."
"I don't see the point," I said. "The whole aim of a mindlink is to increase farseeking distance and power. As far as I can see, each of the farseekers linked into this sort of string would be locked into a small triple mindmeld. That will not increase the power of a single unit by more than a few times. And without a focusing mind, even linked, these triple melds could not combine their power into a larger pool of energy."
Aras looked disappointed at my reaction. "But you would not need any more energy. The merge can be used as a conduit. Each triple unit can link with another and then a single farseeker not connected into it could slide along the whole length—right from one end to the other, directing the line ahead wherever they wanted to go. To increase the distance would only require more farseekers joining the link."
I took a deep breath, seeing what she meant at last. Ceirwan was right. The idea was revolutionary. It could eventually offer us a way of reaching from one end of the Land to the other in a single farseeking leap.
"Have you tried any of this out?" I asked.
Aras shook her head, tossing her dark curls. "I'm not so good at doing things as I am at thinking them up," she said, looking a little crestfallen.
"You've done a wonderful job," I said firmly. "You just go on thinking up new ways to do things. There are plenty of us who don't think so well, to test out your theories."
Aras beamed. "Thank you, guildmistress."
I repressed a sigh at her reverent tone.
My dramatic return from the high mountains the previous year on Gahltha and the seeming miraculous healing of my burn-scarred legs had turned me into an object of reverence among many of the Misfits. My appearance had been greeted with astonishment and almost superstitious awe because everyone had believed me dead. Refusing to speak of where I had been and how I had been healed had bestowed an air of mystery on the whole matter that only made it worse.
In a way, the reaction of those at Obernewtyn had made me a Misfit all over again; a privileged outcast with too many secrets.
"All right, Aras, you can go now," Ceirwan told the girl.
She bobbed her head and hurried out as the guilden turned to me. "Do you think it will work?"
I recalled my mind to the possibilities inherent in Aras's mindlink with some effort. "I don't see why not, though it will take some practice. Remember how long it took us to perfect the old mindmeld, and how few minds could act as a focus?"
Curiously, Rushton's mind had the greatest storage capacity.
As if reading my thoughts, Ceirwan said, "Funny to think that Rushton has the biggest capacity for holding mental energy of us all, but that he can't use the power because his Talents are latent."
"I doubt he finds it funny," I said, knowing Rushton regretted his inability to use the Misfit power locked in his mind. He could be used as a focusing agent only if someone with coercive ability tapped his mind. He had no conscious access to it at all.
Ceirwan sobered. "You are very gloomy today."
I sighed, knowing it was true. "It's probably this endless rain," I said. "Let's go and see if Maryon has woken yet."
He nodded and we rose and went out of the farseeking chambers into the gardens. It was raining only very lightly, but dark clouds suggested there was more to come.
"What do you think of Garth's theory that normal people are developing natural and unconscious shields to stop Talented Misfits reading them?" Ceirwan asked, as we walked.
I shrugged. "There have always been unTalented people with natural mental shields, or mind sensitivity. Since most people have no idea there are Misfits like us, how could they develop defensive shields because of us?"
"Garth says it doesn't matter if they know about us or not. He said the unTalents are developing the ability to shield in response to our development of the power to enter their minds."
"It's true that there are a lot more people with natural shields than there were, but I doubt we are the cause. If so, that would put paid to the theory that we are the next step in human evolution. It would mean we are simply one strand in human evolution and the unTalents another. That practically brings us back to the Herder theory that we are mutations from true humanity."
I noticed Maruman sitting on a dry step under a broad eave and told Ceirwan to go on ahead to the Healer hall.
"Greetings, Elspethlnnle," Maruman sent, as I approached him.
I lowered myself to sit beside the bedraggled cat, resisting the urge to gather him onto my lap and stroke the rough fur and misshapen head of my first and dearest friend. Every time Maruman disappeared, I worried, knowing he wandered far from Obernewtyn in the throes of his occasional strange fey fits. This
time he had only been gone several days, disappearing soon after Roland had allowed me out of the Healer hall but on the previous occasion he had been gone for almost a full cycle of the moon, and when he returned his already damaged right eye had been so severely infected that Roland had no alternative but to remove it.
"Where have you been?" I asked calmly, knowing he did not approve of overt emotional displays.
He gave me a haughty look with his remaining yellow eye. "I am not a funaga slave," he sent coolly. "Maruman goes where he wills."
"Of course," I said. "I am merely curious about what you/Maruman saw in your journeying."
Maruman's eye narrowed, for he hated to be questioned and would tell exactly what he wished, when he wished it and not before. There would be no coaxing the contrary beast now. On impulse, I asked casually if the oldOne had spoken to him. The Agyllian Elder, Atthis, had first communicated to me through the cat's mind. I had no idea why the bird had used Maruman instead of approaching me directly, but the cat had since claimed the bird spoke often to him. I did not know if that was true.
I half expected him to snub me, but instead he gave me a queer look. "The oldOne tells Maruman: guard the dreampaths that lead to Elspethlnnle," he sent. "Guard the innle when she journeys from the barud. Donot/never let her gojourney without you/Maruman yellow-eyes. One day Elspethlnnle will lead the beasts to freedom from the funaga."
An icy surge of fear mingled with excitement replaced the lethargy that had settled such a weight on me over recent months. Barud meant home in beastspeak. Did this mean Atthis had at last decided it was time for me to leave Obernewtyn?
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