'You know I am no demon,' I sent gently, after a moment.
'Yes,' the boy sent simply.
'Once, I was an Orphan. Like you, I was different. I didn't fit in and I was afraid of being found out and Burnt, or sent to the farms. Now I live free, with others like me.'
'Misfits,' he sent, using the hated word.
'Like you,' I sent. 'You could join us,' I added lightly.
Hope flared, swamped by a sudden regressive fear that I might, after all, be a demon tempting him to the loss of his soul. 'The other one. The first one I met. Is he there?'
I called Zarak and shielded his beam while they talked. In the end, the young Herder agreed to join us.
'He wants to know if he can bring his dog,' Zarak asked with a grin.
Zarak, Matthew and Ceirwan brought him out. Officially Zarak was still in Coventry, but the Herder boy trusted him, and had insisted he be present.
Gradually over a matter of days, the boy gave his Herder masters the impression he was becoming increasingly homesick. He talked constantly about his family and refused to eat. He let his masters think he was having trouble with the mental disciplines of the priesthood. When he escaped, it was made to appear as if he had run away with his dog, and had drowned trying to cross the Suggredoon.
It was a good scenario, one of the best we had designed. It had to be or Rushton would never have passed it. It was artistically managed, even to the point of having clothes washed up on the bank, and beast-speaking scavenger birds to hover ominously about the spot when the Herder search party arrived. It was one of the few rescues that had gone without a single hitch.
The boy proved not only to be a powerful farseeker, which we had known already, but also an equally strong empath, which explained how he had sensed my presence when I was shielded. The joint ability was unusual. There were only two other farseekers among us with weak empath Talent. To my regret, the boy Chose the Empath Guild, little wonder since Dameon had taken him gently in hand from the start. Within days he had developed the empaths' traditional adoration for their gentle leader.
His name was Jik.
The expedition was due to depart in only a week, when I met with Rushton to discuss the final plan. Discovering my name on the list of those to go, Rushton had exploded. He was furious to hear of my agreement with the black horse and even angrier that I had not spoken of it to him sooner.
'I won't be threatened,' he shouted.
'It is an agreement,' I said calmly. 'We really don't have any choice. We need the horses. And I am the strongest farseeker and a perfectly good candidate for this expedition.'
Rushton shook his head. 'I will agree to this test in principle, but you won't be the one riding the black horse. I won't risk a guildmaster on an expedition.'
Using Alad as translator, Rushton argued with the black horse, but it was useless. 'He says why should the equines risk one of their leaders if the funaga will not? He says a test should involve leaders,' Alad said.
'Then offer me as his rider,' Rushton said grimly.
The horse agreed this would be a fair exchange, but Guildmerge outvoted Rushton, saying he was more valuable than any other at Obernewtyn, being the legal Master. He must not be allowed to risk himself. Incensed, Rushton found his own rule, permitting a unanimous Guildmerge to outweigh his lone vote, used against him.
I was taken aback at his reaction. I understood his reluctance to risk a guildmaster, but to offer himself as a replacement was senseless. Even he must see he was more important to Obernewtyn than I.
Ceirwan was to run the Farseeker Guild in my absence, along with two other farseekers, since Matthew had also been appointed to the expedition. Unspoken was the knowledge that Ceirwan would become master, if I failed to return.
On the final list were myself, Pavo, Kella and Louis Larkin, with the Coercer ward, Domick, as Rushton's choice for our spy. The expedition was to be disguised as a gypsy troop. The carts had been built by the Teknoguild.
The black horse snorted its loathing at the sight of the gypsy rig. It had appointed two older horses to draw the carts. 'Gypsies are not well loved by the funaga. Too fine horses will encourage robbers,' he sent in terse explanation.
'What about you?' I asked.
The horse perked its ears forward complacently. 'They will not find me desirable,' he sent cryptically.
The night before we were to leave, Rushton came to the turret chamber. He had collected our false Normalcy Certificates. Written on old discoloured parchment they were good forgeries, but I hoped we would not need them. The names had yet to be filled in.
'It's done then,' Rushton said. He stared into the fire. There was a drawn-out silence and the fire crackled as if the lack of sound made it uneasy.
'Is something wrong?' I asked.
'Are you afraid?' he asked unexpectedly. I had a sudden vivid memory of him asking the same question in that room when it had been his.
This time, I nodded soberly. 'It will be dangerous, despite bypassing Sutrium and the main ways.'
Rushton turned to face me, his green eyes troubled. 'Don't . . . risk too much for this Misfit,' he said. 'Whoever it is might not want to join us. You . . . are perceptive, but you don't always see what is in front of your eyes.'
I had the notion he had meant to say something else and shifted uncomfortably. I had never felt really at ease with him since being forced into a mind link with him. I began to wish someone else would come in.
Rushton stood abruptly, shook his head and walked across to open the window shutters, breathing deeply as if the air in the turret room were too thin. He turned, leaning back against the open window, his face in shadow. 'You . . . are important to Obernewtyn. We can't afford to lose a guildmistress. Even now it is not too late to change your mind . . .'
I shook my head, relieved at the change of subject. 'I want to go. Besides, I promised.'
'You belong here,' Rushton said sternly.
I wished he would come back into the room so I could see his face. There was a note in his voice that puzzled me.
'Have you been so unhappy here?' he asked.
I laughed. 'I've never been more content in my life. But I am glad to go away for a while. It's as if I'm too safe and comfortable - like an old house cat. As Maruman would put it: I'm being tamed by comfort.'
'And look at him,' Rushton said darkly. 'Someday you will have to come out of your ivory tower.'
I shrugged, not understanding the reference. 'Alad said he is recovering, though he still sleeps. He remembers nothing of coming back here.'
Rushton nodded. 'He will miss you.'
Before I could answer there was a knock at the door.
I was surprised to find Dameon and Maryon outside. Their eyes went beyond me to Rushton.
'What is it?' he asked brusquely.
'I have futuretold th' expedition,' the Futuretell guild-mistress announced in her soft Highland accents.
'What have you seen?' Rushton asked eagerly. 'Will it be a success? Will those who travel return?'
I held my breath.
Maryon looked grave and serene. 'I have seen that th' boy Jik mun travel with th' expedition. If he does nowt go, many, perhaps all th' rest, will nowt return.'
I gasped aloud. None were permitted on expeditions except full-fledged guild members.
'Surely another empath?' Rushton said.
Maryon shook her head. 'The prediction deals specifically wi' th' boy, but it is unclear. I dinna see any direct action on his part. It is my belief that he matters in some obscure manner - perhaps something he will do or say, will offer a turning point for the journey. Whatever it means, he mun gan on this expedition, or Obernewtyn will fall to its enemies.'
'That settles it, the expedition will have to be put off until Maryon can clarify the prediction,' Rushton said.
Again the Futuretell guildmistress shook her head. 'The boy was only part of the foreseeing. Th' fate of Obernewtyn hangs in balance of this journey an' it mun proceed as planned.
The expedition mun return to th' mountains wi' their prizes before winter freezes th' pass, else we fall.'
Rushton shook his head. 'I don't know what to make of this.'
'You need not fear Jik would betray us,' Dameon said.
Rushton looked taken aback. 'I don't doubt his loyalty if you vouch for him, but he's a boy! It's bad enough . . .' His eyes darted momentarily in my direction. I felt irritated knowing he was thinking how it would damage Obernewtyn to lose a Talented guildmistress.
'I don't think we have any choice,' Dameon said. 'For some reason or other, Jik has to go on the expedition. There is no time to wait for clarification.'
'Which might never come,' Maryon added.
Rushton ran one hand through his hair and sighed. 'I sensed it was time to end our isolation, but I little thought what that would cost.' He turned and nodded at the pile of Normalcy papers. 'Jik will have to use the extra one I had made for the Talent you hope to find. It's too late to make another.'
When they were gone, I went to the window and breathed in the cool night air thinking how strangely things came about. A fortnight before, Jik had been a Herder novice. Now, suddenly, he was vital to Obernewtyn's future. If Zarak had not disobeyed me . . .
I shook my head. One could go mad thinking of alternate possibilities. Kella was right. The present was enough to deal with.
6
The day of the departure dawned, grim and unseasonably cold.
Grey clouds scudded across a metallic autumn sky. Wind blustered and rain fell in short violent flurries.
I shivered, staring out over the gardens from my balcony. I could imagine vividly in that moment the mountain valley blanketed in ice and snow, the mournful sound of wolves echoing across the frozen wastes. The Lowlands would be much warmer than the mountains, even in winter. Perhaps at last, the scars on my feet would have the chance to heal completely. I had avoided speaking to Roland about my feet for fear Rushton would hear of it and use them as reason to ban me from the expedition. He seemed savagely opposed to my going. Fortunately, Kella understood and had been treating me without telling Roland.
The healer made me think of Maruman. I had gone to see him before firstmeal but, though conscious, he was still dazed and barely coherent. I had wanted desperately to talk to him about the vision I had seen in his unconscious mind.
As with all expeditions, no amount of forethought could avoid the last-minute rush as remembered necessities were hunted up. Feeling harrassed, I looked up with relief to see Ceirwan and Matthew approach.
'See, I've been practisin'' Matthew sent on a tightly shielded probe. The momentary mischief in his eyes faded as he looked around.
'Until today it hardly seemed such a great thing to be doin',' he said pensively.
I had said nothing of Maryon's prophecy. Rushton believed it was better not to let it be known the expedition carried the fate of Obernewtyn on its back. I would tell the others when and if I needed to. Dameon had suggested I tell no one of the part of the prophecy concerning Jik. 'It would not be fair on the boy. Maryon said it may be that his part is something quite obscure, something not apparent until much later, though his presence means the difference between survival and failure.'
Jik was excited, but it was a subdued excitement. He was younger than Lina and Zarak, but more serious and quieter of nature. He seemed bemused by the news that he was to be part of the expedition.
We were delighted to discover he had been to Sutrium before coming to the Highlands, and had seen enough to give Domick some idea of the present shape and disposition of the town. He had also been to Aborium, where we might need to renew supplies for the return journey. All the Herder vessels berthed there. I had the impression Jik had not liked the sprawling seaport and resolved to ask him why.
Jik's dog, Darga, was to accompany us as well. A nondescript short-haired dog with a ferociously ugly face, he was one of a breed used by the Herders to guard the Herder Isle. Darga had been a miscoloured runt in his litter, expected to die when Jik had volunteered to nurse him.
Zarak and Una stood beside Jik, their faces openly envious.
The three horses to travel with us had been supplemented by another. I would ride the black horse, who sent terse instructions that he would answer to the title Gahltha, meaning leader. Domick would ride the newcomer, a small, wheat-coloured mountain pony with doe-like eyes. Named Avra, she had been brought wild to Obernewtyn the previous winter, having injured herself in a fall. Alad told me she was the black stallion's chosen mate. The two mares to pull the carts were Mira and Lo.
The horses stood together as Alad harnessed and installed the hated bit and bridles. Privately Alad had warned me Gahltha had chosen horses that were completely loyal to him. It was clear where their allegience would lie if it came to a choice between equine and funaga aims. They would follow me as leader of the expedition only under instructions from the black horse.
None of the equines seemed inclined to closer acquaintance and I hoped I had not made a mistake in choosing Louis over a full Beasting guilder. I could beastspeak, of course, but the animals had more time for those of the Beasting Guild. Naming his selection, Gahltha had said he had trained the horses to fight funaga. He sounded as if the thought of fighting pleased him. I hoped fervently he would remember which funaga were his allies, if it ever came to battle.
With Kella, Jik and Darga in one caravan, and Pavo and Louis in the other, the caravans were authentically crowded. Gypsies travelled traditionally in extended family groups, begging, singing and dancing for money and providing amusing and impromptu plays. The descendants of those who had originally refused Council affiliation, they were little liked or trusted for all their variety of skills. In some ways it was a dangerous disguise but it was one of the few ways a number of people could travel about without drawing attention. Travel was not undertaken lightly, for people everywhere were suspicious of strangers in their midst.
To complete our disguise, we were unnaturally tanned and wore the layers of the coloured clothing favoured by gypsies. The dark skin was the result of a powerful berry-based dye. I doubted anyone would have the slightest suspicion we were anything but a motley gypsy troop.
The last Guildmerge proved a disorganized affair. Along with a feeling of genuine need to get the expedition underway, and the flurry of last-minute preparations, there was the underlying feeling that time was getting away from us.
'We have been lucky up to now that our secrets have not been penetrated, that we have not been reported or caught out somehow,' Rushton told us. 'But luck and caution will not keep us safe for ever. Sometimes, only an aggressive move will do. Now is the time to begin to fight the Council more openly.' He went on to say that by 'more openly' he did not mean revealing ourselves. He stressed the need to maintain our disguise at all costs. We had all set up coercive blocks that would erase our memories in an emergency. These were Obernewtyn's safeguard in case one of us was caught and tortured. Only Jik had not been able to be blocked, being too untrained. Domick or I would wipe his memory, if the need arose.
Rushton adjured us to work together, and not to forget each of the three aims in the expedition was equally important.
At the last, he wished us good fortune. 'This journey is the beginning of a new stage for us. I wish you success, for your sake, and ours.' If anyone noticed the slightly ominous note in his final words, it was not apparent.
All Obernewtyn turned out to see us go, but the festival air did not last long. We had barely stepped outside when it began to rain heavily.
I climbed awkwardly into Gahltha's saddle, ignoring his derisive whinny. He might not want to be ridden but he knew an incompetent rider when he had one.
Wrapping an oiled cape about my head and shoulders, I nodded to Domick. We had decided he would ride in front of the carts, and I at the rear, at least until we left the main road.
The rain had sent everyone running inside but, looking back, I had a final glimpse of Rushton standing alone on the top s
tep apparently oblivious to the downpour.
Even at that distance, I could see the same odd tension in his stance that had puzzled me in the tower room.
I wondered what he was thinking and impulsively lifted a hand to wave.
Instantly he responded, raising his own hand. I stared over my shoulder until the grey curtain of rain came between us.
I felt an unexpected regret at the thought that I would not see him again for a long time, perhaps many months if we failed to make it back before the pass froze.
PART II
THE LOWLANDS
7
I had been nervous about riding, but was relieved to find it less traumatic than I had expected. Under the terse instructions of the black horse, I had tied the reins to the saddle. There was no need to direct the horses until we reached the Lowlands. I had not wanted to ride at all. Gahltha said coldly that I would have to learn to ride properly before we reached the Lowlands. No gypsy would be as inept in the saddle.
I noticed Domick casually slouched into the saddle as if it were an armchair and envied him his skill and confidence.
Gahltha began instructing me the moment we left Obernewtyn. When I did not know what to do with my hands, I clutched at the saddle, hanging on for dear life. He forbade this, saying I must learn to ride by balance. A gypsy did not rely on hands or stirrups. This seemed impossible enough, until he warned me that I would have to be able to ride without a saddle, since gypsies rarely used them.
The steady rain kept me from talking aloud to those in the caravans, so I contented myself with the occasional farseeking observation to Matthew, and concentrated on trying to co-ordinate all the contortions Gahltha seemed to feel riding required.
'Heels out so you do not jab me in the ribs, or I may forget and buck you off,' he sent.