Ashling

by Isobelle Carmody

  Dardelan bowed. "I will speak with my father and preparations will be made at once."

  "So it begins," Gwynedd said, and there was a curious finality in his voice.

  "I am ready," Malik said, then he laid his head back and laughed wolfishly.

  Brydda closed his eyes and sank into a chair.

  XXXIII

  Walking back to the safe house very late that night, the difficulties of what had been agreed to multiplied ferociously in my mind.

  The worst of it was that I had to get to Obernewtyn and back within a threeday. Not such a difficult thing, except for the time it would take to convince guildmerge of the need for us to take part in the Battlegames, and I had a feeling that would be no easy matter. And if they agreed, there would be time needed to organize our team.

  I would have to leave as soon as I returned to the safe house, and ride for the mountains, leaving Dragon with Kella.

  Madness, Brydda had called it, and he was right. But I did not see what else I could have done. He had wanted me to impress the rebels with my normality, but right from the start it had been only too clear that most of them could not and never would see us as normal. Rushton had said as much himself in my chamber the night before I left Obernewtyn, but he had not followed that thorny notion to its logical conclusion.

  Or perhaps he had, I reflected, remembering the look of fierce determination on his face when he said we would force the rebels to join us, if they would not have us as allies. But even he could not have seen how the meeting would proceed.

  Whether Brydda admitted it or not, Malik had been on the verge of taking control of the rebellion. If that had happened, we would then have had to start regarding them as deadly enemies.

  I had to make guildmerge see that Jakoby's Battlegames could not alienate the rebels from us further. Nothing would be lost.

  I sighed.

  Not quite nothing. We must lose our innocence, for to agree to the games meant literally casting aside all of our dreams of peaceful co-existence and gradual friendship. It meant accepting that we would only ever be tolerated and even that must be fought for. Well, they would have to face that unpleasant truth sooner or later. It was only too clear to me now that we had been naive and foolish to think we could win the rebels by offering our help. We had failed to take into account that the same attitude which motivated the Herders to burn Misfits, also motivated the rebels. We had wanted to believe that opposing the same enemies made us allies, but that was not so.

  It was not difficult to anticipate the guildmerge response to my suggestion that we use the Battlegames to teach the rebels to respect—even to fear us—so that they would think twice before turning on us, no matter what happened in the rebellion. What other choice had we but to play by their rules?

  Rushton would understand that—his whole life had been one of compromise to obtain his birthright. But I could imagine how Maryon and Roland would take it.

  Under their leadership, the Healer and Futureteller guilds had violently opposed the Coercer's Talent contest when the idea was first mooted in guildmerge, claiming that competition promoted aggression. They had been narrowly outvoted and the contests had since become an important event during our mountain moon fair.

  There had even been unexpected benefits. Mindmelds had increased in coordination and individual skills had been honed and strengthened with the competitions as a goad. In addition, the stress of competition occasionally revealed unsuspected secondary and even tertiary abilities.

  Though there was rather more at stake than a crown of flowers, the Battlegames was still a contest.

  Of course Roland would point out that what had begun as competition between guildmembers at Obernewtyn had swiftly metamorphosed into stylized displays of skill, with both competitors playing to the audience rather than trying to outdo each other; as much a team effort as anything else.

  I would answer that it might be so with the Battlegames.

  But that would expose the main weakness of my argument: I did not know what the Battlegames entailed, any more than Malik or Brydda did. Jakoby had refused to elaborate, saying only they were not for the faint hearted and would test our ability in battle decisively. All we knew was mat each side should muster a team of ten and must reach Sador before the moon was full—within a fiveday. She would give no hint about what qualities and abilities might be needed.

  I noticed a man staring at me curiously and absently coerced his attention elsewhere, wishing fiercely that I had more time. Convincing guildmerge would take time, but all the eloquence in the world would not help us if we were late, for Jakoby had explained that Battlegames were held only on full-moon days during the Days of Rain.

  I had come to Sutrium galvanized by an impossible deadline and now I would leave the same way. Life seemed to resound in echoes and oblique reflections.

  I made up my mind to uncover the tattoo and use it to speed the journey. If it was healed. I had not taken the wrappings off before, mindful of Maire's warning and the knowledge that, uncovered, it would demand explanations I was not yet ready to give.

  But this was an emergency.

  If the tattoo was still too raw or obviously new to be used, I would simply have to coerce my way past any obstacles.

  I would not let myself consider the possibility that guild-merge might refuse me.

  Once the discussion about the Battlegames had been concluded, Jakoby had offered any who desired it passage on the Sadorian ship Zephyr, which would return to her home port on the third day. She and Brydda had decided to ride up the coast with Cassell and Gwynedd to speak with some of the unaffiliated rebel groups about committing themselves to the rebellion and journeying to Sador. Those who would travel sooner, Jakoby said, might take passage on one of the many spice-trade ships which plied the short but lucrative passage between Sador and the Land. All ships for Sador docked at Templeport, for the sandy little peninsula settlement was the only accessible part of the steep, jagged Sadorian coastline. It had transpired that Jakoby's daughter had come to Sutrium with her mother, so there was no need to summon her from Sador. She would be brought to stay with Dardelan in Bodera's home as had been agreed at the meeting, and she would remain after they departed for Sador on the third day.

  Alone with Brydda, I had said we would travel with them on the Zephyr because it would take me that long to get to Obernewtyn and back.

  "If we make it, I will see you the third day."

  "I hope I do not see you," he had said pointedly.

  Grim parting words.

  I seemed to hear Malik's malicious laughter ringing in my ears, as jagged as pieces of broken glass falling through the night. He had laughed, I thought, because he imagined I had played right into his hands in agreeing to the contest. That might have been expected from Malik, but it had shocked me a little to think that Brydda felt the same.

  "How can your people win against Malik and his warriors?" he had demanded just before our parting. "He is the best strategist among us. He will win these Battlegames, no matter what they involve. It was madness for you to agree, for in doing so you have made an alliance with Misfits conditional on a win. I don't know what possessed you. Jakoby was for you and Dardelan. Cassell and Elii were on side and even Tardis' man, Gwynedd, seemed disposed to speak favorably of you to his master. You threw all of that away by agreeing to this lunatic contest."

  "You said there could be no rebellion without Malik," I had pointed out. "I tell you he would never have agreed to an alliance any other way than this. Nor, I suspect, would Tardis. Now at least Malik has committed himself to accepting us if we beat him and Gwynedd seems to think Tardis will agree too."

  Brydda had only shaken his head and commanded me to tell Rushton that the whole matter could be dismissed as a mistake if he would send a message quickly, saying I had overstepped my authority. He had even promised to send Reuvan to the safe house with a bird which might be loosed from Obernewtyn with this message.

  In honor, I must repeat Brydda
's words and the doubts that fueled them.

  Rushton's serious face floated into my mind, seeming at the same time accusing and deeply troubled. I wondered if he would take the rebel's advice, or mine.

  Coming through the repair-yard gate absorbed by my thoughts, I was utterly unprepared to see the object of them leaning against the side of a small gypsy wagon.

  I stopped dead, a fist of reaction clenching in my gut. Rushton's arms were folded across his chest and he was clearly deep in thought, a closed, brooding look on his face.

  Though I had not spoken nor made a sound, he must have sensed he was no longer alone, and turned his head toward me. It seemed to me that his green eyes reached across the yard with all the force of a jet of flame.

  "Elspeth."

  Just that: he spoke my name flatly, almost coldly. He straightened and walked across the yard and I felt the blood rise in my cheeks. I made myself walk to meet him, to show I was not disconcerted; only to find after all, that I was too near.

  Before I could prevent myself, I had stepped back. Rushton possessed no usable Talent but his face sharpened to a kind of irony at this. He stopped, and made a little bow, as if something had been agreed to between us.

  "I have been waiting for you. Kella said you had gone to meet with the rebels."

  I nodded, my thoughts chaotic, but on the heels of my reaction to Rushton's presence was a rising fear. "How ... why are you here? What has happened?" I demanded.

  "Nothing. Not yet, at least. We are here because Maryon sent us."

  We? Then he was not alone.

  I was about to demand to know who else had come, when it struck me, with some force, that there was only one explanation for this expedition. Maryon had foreseen the journey to Sador.

  Could it be that need would be answered so gracefully after all the ill-fortune that had haunted our time on the coast?

  Rushton nodded. "So it's true, then. She said you would understand."

  "Understand?"

  "Maryon futuretold us coming here, but she did not know why. She said you would."

  And again that awful, swirling, helpless feeling of being a leaf borne on some impossibly strong tide. Maryon had known that I would know. It was too much.

  "You just came without knowing why, because ..."

  "Because Maryon said it was vital for Obernewtyn. Yes." Rushton nodded, a faint challenge in his green eyes. "It would be a little late to be deciding now that we would not live our lives by the whimsical wisdoms of futuretellers, don't you think?"

  "But that was ..."

  "Dangerous, foolhardy, rash? Of course." He spread his fingers into a gesture of acceptance. Then his expression hardened and the mockery died in it. "Why are we here, Elspeth?"

  I took a deep breath. "I think because of something that happened at a meeting I had with the rebels today."

  "Do you think you might manage to be a little less cryptic?"

  "Brydda asked me to meet with the rebels to show them that Misfits are not monsters," I said. "You were right when you said they regard us as freaks and, in spite of Brydda's hopes, the meeting did not change that. The two main rebel leaders wanted nothing to do with us. That was why Brydda had not contacted us—he was trying to make them change their minds. He had hoped this meeting would do it..."

  I told him, then, about Malik and Tardis and the other rebels, about the power struggle between them, and about Jakoby.

  "The rebels liked the idea of being able to use us to communicate because they would need no overlord," I said. "All but Malik, of course, because he wants to be the overlord. But even if it were not for that, he would never, never accept us willingly. He had all but convinced the others that we were children and incapable of holding our own in a battle."

  Rushton frowned. "Go on."

  "He was on the verge of taking over the meeting and the rebel groups when Jakoby made a suggestion as to how we might discover if Misfits were able warriors."

  I told him of the Battlegames. It was impossible to know if he was angry. He was too good at keeping his thoughts and emotions hidden.

  At last he sighed. "We had better go and tell the others to prepare themselves for a sea journey."

  Maryon had sent seven of them, Rushton told me, naming each herself. There had been no vote in guildmerge. My heart sank when I saw whom she had sent. No wonder Rushton had sighed when I told him of the Battlegames.

  The young twin Empath guilden, Miky and Angina, were sitting across from one another at the table sorting herbs. Receptive Miky intercepted my astonishment and swung around, her face creased in a welcoming smile, tinged with mischief. "I bet we are the last people you imagined seeing here."

  "That is saying it mildly," I said somberly.

  The stocky Coercer guilden, Miryum, was seated by the hearth with a pile of toasting forks on her knees. She had been rubbing the points over a whetstone as we entered but, hearing Miky, she threw them down and strode across the room to thump me on the back with painful enthusiasm.

  "It is good to see you, guildmistress. This is a queer business, is it not?"

  I was distracted from answering by the sight of a strange, plain-faced girl with yellow hair.

  "Greetings, guildmistress Elspeth," she said. "I am Freya. I believe you left Obernewtyn a sevenday or so before I arrived." She gave me a slow, sweet smile that lit serene, gray eyes and I realized I had been wrong. She was not plain at all.

  "Greetings," I said faintly.

  The enormous, soft-spoken coercer, Hannay, was helping Kella to slice cheese and bread. "Greetings guildmistress," he rumbled, and went on slicing. I would definitely have chosen him, I thought. As much because of his deep patience as for his utter reliability. And Miryum, because of her coercive powers. But the rest?

  Beside him was the teknoguilder, Fian. "Kella told us about Matthew. I am sorry," he said gently, and his highland accent hurt because it reminded me vividly of the farseeker ward.

  "And Dragon," Miky murmured, her face falling. "It's so awful. Poor little Dragon. If only Maryon would have let the others come and get her."

  I stared at the empath. "What do you mean, if Maryon had let the others come?"

  "She foresaw Dragon following you," Rushton said briskly. "We wanted to come after you to get her—you had only been gone a few hours. But Maryon said you needed to have her with you. That it was necessary." His eyes met my growing horror and fury with bleak resignation. I remembered the words he had just said to me: "It is a little late to be deciding now that we will not live our lives by the whimsical wisdoms of futuretellers, don't you think?"

  I shook my head, anger making my eyes burn and my head hurt. Did we have no will to exert? No choice? I remembered with a kind of sickness, that it was Maryon's futuretelling which had sent Jik with me to the lowlands, and to his death. "Did she dream of Dragon falling into a coma as well, when she stopped you bringing her back?" I snarled.

  "Maryon foresaw Dragon following you, Elspeth," Rushton said wearily. "But Dragon chose to come after you of her own will. You cannot have it both ways. If you will not accept Maryon's futuretelling that saw the need for Dragon with you, then you must also erase that which saw her come after you."

  I knew what he was telling me, but I didn't care about logic. If Maryon saw me walking off a cliff in time to stop it, would you not try to prevent my death? I wanted to scream at him. Might there not be moments when a futuretelling was shown as a warning? Would so much have been altered had Maryon defied her vision? What difference would it make if Dragon had not come to Sutrium, other than that she might not now be comatose?

  A great deal, I realized with a queer chill. Matthew would not have rushed off in guilt to be taken by slavers, and I, having rescued Dragon from the Herders, would not have then run headlong into Swallow....

  I might just as well ask how many ripples a single fallen leaf would cause in a stream, and how far might they spread.

  "Dragon's not dead. She's just asleep," Angina said softly, his e
mpath Talent swirling out to enfold me in hope and compassion.

  I sat down. "I know ... I know. I'm sorry."

  There was a moment of silence and then the others began to talk, filling the void with words to give me time to recover myself.

  "It was awful on the road, Elspeth," Miky murmured presently. "We were searched at the gate and then when they started to check our papers against a birth register I near died."

  "Miryum and Hannay had to coerce us through," Angina said eagerly, taking up his sister's lead, his face a masculine echo of hers. "Even so we were lucky because the second gate guard had a natural shield. Luckily he wasn't the one checking."

  "I can't believe we're really here in Sutrium!" Miky said. "When Rushton came to firstmeal an' told us that Maryon had futuretold another expedition to follow you here, we never guessed for a minute we'd be on it"

  Angina took up the story without missing a beat. "We thought there would be a guildmerge and a voting, but Rushton said Maryon already knew who was to come."

  Why these Misfits, Maryon? I wondered, with sudden suspicion. What are you up to now?

  "She said it was vital for Obernewtyn," Miky went on.

  Doesn't she always? I thought bitterly. But why choose Miky, who had great empathic Talent but no secondary ability and no physical strength; and Rushton who could not reach his powers, or this Freya who, no matter what her Talent, was a newcomer to Obernewtyn?

  "She would nowt say more'n that," Fian spoke with all the disgruntlement of a thwarted teknoguilder, interrupting the dual flow of the twins' story.

  "She didn't know any more that that," Miky said quickly.

  "But Elspeth knows," Angina chimed.

  The others looked at me expectantly, but I realized I did not know why they had come. Not them in particular. And there were only seven of them, yet ten were to go to Sador and take part in the Battlegames. I would fill the eighth place, of course, but there were two more places to be filled. Was Domick to come? But he had to stay at the Councilcourt. And Kella could not come, because she must stay to care for Dragon.