Ashling

by Isobelle Carmody

  "We're away next," Matthew sent.

  I saw that he was nervous. "Remember, don't be apologetic or humble. It isn't the gypsy way and it will seem odd."

  The Farseeker ward had been on plenty of expeditions, but this was his first visit to the lowlands. It was one thing to fool an ignorant highlander, and another entirely to lie barefaced to hardened soldierguards.

  "There may nowt be humble gypsies, but there's plenty of silent, surly ones," he said. "I'll be one of them, an' you can do th' talkin', same as ye did when we was caught by Henry Druid that time."

  Henry Druid was a rebel Herder, who had disappeared after being driven from the Faction for refusing to destroy his collection of Beforetime books. On a previous expedition we had stumbled onto his secret camp, but it had since been destroyed, the Druid and his people killed or scattered. "My talking didn't stop them taking us prisoners," I pointed out, trying to distract Matthew from dwelling on his fears.

  "They nivver guessed we weren't gypsies," he retorted. "If they had, they'd have burned us fer sure."

  I thought, fleetingly, of the fanatical and charismatic Henry Druid and knew that was true enough. He retained the Faction's loathing of imperfection, and his followers would have torn us apart if he had commanded it. Oddly, even among his people, we had discovered Misfits concealing their Talents.

  Gahltha twitched, as if reproaching my inattention.

  The soldierguards had finished with the jack and were waving him through the gates. I noticed a man staring at Gahltha and realized the rain had washed away the dirt I had rubbed into his coat. Even at his most unkempt, the black horse had always been magnificent to look at. More than once, mere had been trouble on expeditions because someone had coveted him. I had got into the habit of daubing his coat with filth as a safeguard.

  I sent a swift message to him as the soldierguard gestured for us to come forward. Gahltha's smooth gait became an uneven lopsided lurch, his head drooped low and I was amused to hear him wheezing loudly as if his wind were gone.

  My amusement faded as the soldierguard reached up for my papers, for the other with the highland accent had gestured at the wagon and Matthew pulled the curtains open. We had decided to pretend there were only two of us, just in case the Guanette incident had been reported and they were looking for an injured gypsy. If either moved to examine the rig, I would have to coerce them.

  My heart leapt into my throat as the highland soldierguard climbed up onto the running board and peered inside the cabin.

  "Nothing to trade?" the other soldierguard asked me.

  "Some beads and braiding," I said, trying to pay attention.

  The soldierguard sneered. "No market for low-quality halfbreed work."

  I shrugged, riveted to the wagon. One step further and the other soldierguard could not help but see the gypsy. There was a loud hiss and the man fell back in fright.

  "What's that? Some sort of fangcat?" he demanded of Matthew.

  "It... It's injured," the farseeker stammered.

  "Looks like it needs knockin' on th' head," the high-lander growled, drawing out a short-sword.

  "Perhaps, but it is said Lud curses them who hurt cats," Matthew said, in a desperately sinister voice.

  He had gauged it well. The soldierguard was a highlander and, fortunately, as superstitious as the best of them. He backed away hastily, letting his sword drop.

  At that moment the light rain became a drenching torrent and, with a curse, the soldierguard examining my papers thrust them unceremoniously into my hand and reminded me that gypsies had to report to the Council-court for an extension of permit if we stayed more than a sevenday.

  "We won't be here more," I said, hoping that was true.

  "You did well," I told Matthew, when we had been passed through the gate. "Maruman says to thank you for preventing the man from knocking him on the head."

  "Thank Lud for Maruman," he said fervently. "Another step an' that soldierguard would've seen th' gypsy."

  In a few minutes, we had reached the outer rim of the labyrinth of narrow streets that was the city center of Sutrium. Dwellings here were built right up against one another, often with no more than a single dividing wall to separate them and with steeply thatched roofs that hung in shaggy fringes over doors and windows. Most were several floors high, which meant the streets weaving through them were shadowy and cold, seldom touched by the sun's rays. But there were gaps, too, where nothing stood. I saw several before their significance struck me: they had been burned. In some places a whole row of houses had been burned, while in others a single house had been razed, and those either side left untouched.

  "'Tis ice cold," Matthew shivered, distracting me from the burnt houses. "Feels like wintertime rather than Days of Rain."

  "Better to be cold here," I said, turning my attention back to the road. "Stops us getting comfortable and careless."

  "I dinna think there's much danger of that," Matthew said. He jerked his head toward the wagon's cabin. "Besides I was nowt thinkin' of myself."

  "Look there," I interrupted, pointing to a striped awning. "Just as Domick described it."

  "Were we supposed to turn left or right now?"

  "West toward the Suggredoon. That would make it right." I hope, I thought.

  Responding to my mental directive, Jaygar veered away from the main road down the next right-turning side street. It proved to be a narrow lane lined with workshops and frowsy dilapidated apartments. Even in the rain it stank of urine and refuse.

  Without warning, a window opened and a bucket of swill was hurled across the stones.

  A little further on, a man opened a door and stared out at us.

  Uneasily I remembered that since the plagues and crop failures, there was little to sell in cities other than information. The sooner we located the safe house and got off the street the better.

  We came around the corner and groaned at the sight of the sea. Rain had turned it into a seething gray mass. I was surprised when my senses detected powerful static from the direction of the water. There must be something nearby tainted with holocaust poisons.

  "We should have turned left back there," I said. "See if you can turn around. We'll get behind you."

  Gahltha edged obediently past the wagon, coming out behind it, his hoofs slipping on the greasy cobbles.

  I opened my mouth to tell Matthew he might just manage it, and I almost bit my tongue off when Gahltha leapt forward and galloped at a breakneck pace back along the lane. I had no trouble keeping my seat thanks to pur mountain rides, but I almost flew straight over his head onto the cobbles when he came to an abrupt halt and swung sideways, facing into a short dead-end street

  "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, then I faltered, feeling the panicky shift in my mind that meant someone was tampering with my thoughts]

  The alien probe sensed my awareness of it and fled from my mind. At once, I could see what I had been prevented from seeing sooner.

  Crouched in the middle of the lane was Dragon, dripping wet and staring up at me with mingled defiance and fear!

  VII

  "What do ye mean ye followed us?" Matthew shouted.

  Dragon backed away from his fury into the corner of the wagon, bumping the bedshelves. The gypsy stirred and the blankets fell from her face; I was startled by her pallor.

  "Have ye any idea how worried they'll be at Obernewtyn when they find ye missin'?" Matthew raged for Dragon's formidable and instinctive mindshield made far-seeking her nearly impossible.

  "Keep your voice down," I snapped.

  We had climbed inside the wagon out of the rain. It was hardly the safest place for a screaming argument.

  "Did ye hear..." Matthew began wildly.

  "I would have to be deaf not to," I interrupted in a cold, quiet voice. "Whatever Dragon did or didn't do is not going to matter a damn if someone calls the soldierguards on us for causing a disturbance."

  The empath gave me a mutinous look. "Dragon come too," she s
aid.

  Even dirty and wet, her glorious mop of curls dangling in rat's tails, she was still incredibly lovely in the wagon lantern light. I could only pray we were not the only ones she coerced out of seeing her. Once seen, Dragon would not be easily forgotten. What puzzled me was how she had followed us. It was true that we had not made the trip at breakneck pace, but she could not have kept up on foot. She must have got some sort of ride. I hoped she had kept out of sight, but decided to pursue the matter later.

  "Won't go back," she added mulishly, as if she feared she had not been clear enough.

  Since there was no question of simply sending her back, I might have reassured her, but she must not be allowed to think she had won.

  "This is a bad thing you have done, Dragon," I said sternly. "I am very angry. Dameon will be terribly worried about you."

  Dragon adored the gentle Empath guildmaster who had taken her under his wing. With a stricken look, she burst into noisy tears and choked out that she had left a message with Louis Larkin to say she had gone to visit some of her animal friends. That mollified me slightly, for no one would worry overmuch to begin with. At least she had not gone away completely heedless of the trouble it would cause. Everyone would assume she was sulking over our departure for a little while, and since she had fended for herself alone for most of her life, no one would think of finding her and forcing her back to Obernewtyn. But we had to send a message back as soon as possible.

  Dragon was staring at me with a woebegone expression. I put my arms around her thin shoulders with a sigh, knowing there was no use in trying to treat her as if she were any other disobedient novice. Despite her beauty and incredible illusion-making Talent, only the thinnest veneer of ordinary human behavior lay over the wild, half-starved waif I had coaxed from the Beforetime ruins outside Aborium. It had been foolish of us to expect her to accept our joint departure. After all Matthew had been her mentor, and I had brought her to Obernewtyn. No doubt she had felt we were abandoning her.

  And the truth was, had I not been so preoccupied with my own thoughts, I would have felt her clumsy coercive manipulations and sent her back long before we reached Sutrium.

  "Surely yer nowt goin' to let her gan away wi' this?" Matthew demanded.

  "No. I'm going to turn her over to the soldierguards to teach her a lesson," I said sarcastically, wondering at the extent of his reaction. Did he think I would blame him for her presence? "What's done is done. Now let's move."

  Dragon promptly turned her head and stuck her tongue out at him.

  "Enough," I said firmly. "Lud knows how many tales will be told tomorrow about a gypsy wagon lurking in a side street. I think we have done enough to get ourselves noticed. Now let's find the safe house. Get the wagon turned around, Matthew."

  The farseeker obeyed, his back stiff with outrage.

  Dragon's eyes were huge with apprehension when I turned to face her. "Not go back," she begged.

  "I won't send you back," I promised. "We're going to the safe house now to see Kella. You remember Kella?" Dragon's eyes warmed and she nodded eagerly. "Good. Now you must be very quiet or else the soldierguards will stop us. Can you do that?"

  Dragon nodded solemnly. "Quieter than Maruman stalking a squeaker," she vowed.

  Hearing his name, the cat stretched luxuriously and peered down at us, his good eye glowing in the darkness.

  "Maruman will you keep her/mornir quiet?" I sent. Mornir was the name the animals at Obernewtyn had given Dragon. It meant brightmane.

  The old cat assented and began to wash himself industriously. I glanced at the gypsy. Her breathing was labored, her eyes sunk back in their sockets. If she did not get help soon, she would die in spite of Roland's seal.

  Well, I could do no more than I was doing.

  Cautioning Dragon again to stay quiet, I climbed out of the wagon, pulling the curtain to the cabin shut behind me. The lane ahead was empty and it was still raining hard, but it was too much to hope we had not been noticed. I remounted Gahltha and we retraced our steps as swiftly as we could, but it was full dark before we reached the small, oddly shaped trading market that Domick had described as the nearest landmark to the safe house. In the daylight, on a good day, it would doubtless be a pleasant spot to linger, but tonight it was a wet and windy pool of darkness, and completely deserted.

  We crossed the square to a street leading off, abutted by a trader office on one side and a huge wagon-repair shed on the other. A sign glistening wetly in the wagon light told us the entrance to the repair yard was from the side street.

  The gates were standing ajar, creaking slightly in the wind when we came to them. Beyond, the place was sunk in darkness. The shapes of half-dismantled wagons were standing about in the open, and the shed was nothing more than a square of shadow.

  "Are ye sure this is it?" Matthew sent. "It dinna look as if anyone is here."

  "They wouldn't advertize their presence," I said, though in fact it did look deserted. Jaygar pulled the wagon into the yard.

  "There's a light in there," Matthew shouted over the racket made by the drumming rain on the shed roof. I looked where he was pointing and sure enough there was a dim glow from inside the shed.

  "I'll go," I sent, and slid off Gahltha.

  Inside, the shed smelled of damp metal and sawdust, but at least it was dry. The light we had seen was coming from a small room constructed down the very end of the enormous shed. Through a doorway, I could see a youth sitting at a table poring over something, the light from a lantern glancing off his cheeks.

  He jumped to his feet when he spotted me. "What do you want, halfbreed?"

  "I... I have a wheel rim that needs some attention," I stalled, startled by his aggressive tone.

  "You'll have to go somewhere else. We don't fix half-breed wagons," he said.

  Before I could think how to respond to that, a door opened beside him and Kella stepped out. Seeing me, the healer's mouth fell open.

  "Elspeth! By all the heavens! How did you get here?' Without waiting for an answer, she rushed across and flung her arms around me.

  Instinctively, I stiffened. At Obernewtyn people treated me with such distant reverence, I could not remember the last time anyone had even touched me.

  Misunderstanding, the healer let her arms fall to her sides and stepped away awkwardly. "I'm sorry," she stammered.

  "No, I'm sorry," I said contritely. "I'd forgotten how it feels to be treated like an ordinary human being."

  She looked bewildered. "But you mean..."

  I laughed dismissively. "I don't mean anything, except that I am glad to see you." I looked pointedly at the strange youth.

  "This is Balder," Kella said lightly. "He is one of Brydda's people lent to us as a watchman. Balder, this is a friend of mine and of Brydda's."

  The boy nodded politely but his eyes were cold, and I could not help but recall Rushton's words about the intolerance of the rebel leaders. Obviously, the leaders were not the only ones we had to worry about.

  I drew Kella out into the great shed on the pretext of seeing the wagon. "Why is he here?"

  "I told you, he is guarding the safe house. It's all right," Kella said. "He doesn't know anything except that we are friends of Brydda's, and that I am a healer. Brydda always sends someone when Domick goes out of the city on errands for the Councilcourt."

  There were a dozen questions I wanted to ask her, but now was not the time. "We'll talk about this later. Matthew and Dragon are in the wagon.... "

  "Dragon!"

  "There is also a woman who needs healing," I went on quickly.

  Kella stiffened. "Take me to her," she commanded, imperious in her healer role.

  Dragon was sitting wide-eyed in the corner of the wagon with Maruman, who had solved the problem of keeping her put by sitting on her lap. With barely a glance at them, Kella climbed into the cabin and pulled the blankets back from the pallet bed. Her eyes widened at the sight of the unconscious gypsy, but she composed herself swiftly, and lay he
r fingers lightly on the woman's neck. A moment later, she shook her head.

  "It's impossible to treat her here. Wait, I'll send Balder away and then you can bring her in."

  She was gone and a few minutes later the rebel came out of the shed wrapped up in a dark, oiled coat. When I was sure he had gone, I jumped down into the rainy dark and, between us, Matthew and I carried the gypsy inside.

  "On th' floor?" the farseeker asked, as we reached the smaller room within the shed.

  "Through here," Kella directed, opening the door she had come through. Beyond was a rickety set of steps going up into the darkness. Seeing the expression on my face, she gave a faint smile. "Things are rarely what they seem. You, of all people, should know that."

  At the top of the steps was a dark landing and a door with blistered whitewash. Kella opened it with a flourish and bright light and warmth flowed out.

  "The safe house," she said proudly. "The reason you can't see any light is that all the windows face the sky. There is only one ordinary window and it is blacked out with heavy cloth. You can't tell from below but the whole top of the shed is another floor."

  She stepped into a short hall and opened a door. "This is our healing chamber. Bring her in."

  The room was long and narrow with a row of straw mattresses made up as beds. The healer drew back the blankets on the nearest and we lay the gypsy on it.

  "I'll unharness Jaygar and take the bit off Gahltha," Matthew said, turning to the door.

  "Do that, then bring Maruman and Dragon up." I crossed to the door and closed it behind him. When I returned, Kella was kneeling by the mattress bed holding the gypsy's hand.

  "These are not fresh wounds," she said, a question in the tone.

  In as few words as I could manage, I explained my rescue of the gypsy, Roland's diagnosis and the sleepseal he had imposed. I said nothing yet of Maryon's predictions. I had half made up my mind to tell them at least part of it when we were all together.

  "I don't understand why you brought her here," Kella said, beginning to unravel the stained bandages. "If Roland couldn't help her, I doubt I will be able to do better. I daren't take the seal off yet, but at least I can bathe her wounds and change the bandages." She moved to a small cooling cupboard, took out a stone jug of whitish fluid, and returned to bathe the gypsy's flaccid flesh.