I saw Zarak’s mind shape a continuation of his attack on Aras and sent sharply that I would speak with him after the practice. This transformed his anger into alarm, for Ceirwan handled all guild matters except ones considered serious enough to warrant my direct intervention.
The boy’s lack of concentration itself was not usual. He had been something of a handful since we had permitted his transfer from the Beastspeaking guild to the Farseekers, but he was not usually given to temperamental outbursts.
Whatever was bothering Zarak, his lack of concentration and his silly refusal to admit it were ill-timed, as they interfered with what was clearly the most promising group we had assembled to attempt Aras’s unusual mindmerge. What had come to be named the whiplash would be a great achievement if we could ever make it work, for it would enable us to farseek farther than any of us could manage alone or even within a traditional merge, which increased power but not range. Theoretically, Aras’s merge could enable us to reach mentally from one end of the Land to the other.
The merge required groups of three to form traditional mindmerges, which would be linked to one another to form a line that could be used as a conduit and directed by a farseeker with coercive abilities. But so far, every attempt to put it into practice had failed. The difficulty was in having each participant hold consciously into both triple and line merges while also making themselves passive enough to be used as a conduit. What kept happening was that the moment they attempted to become passive, the conscious links relaxed their connection, and the whole thing fell apart.
We had been seeking a complementary combination of minds for over a year, first trying with farseekers and then ranging into all the other guilds. The current merge was the most harmonious yet.
“Let’s try again,” Ceirwan said. “We’ll form up in a circle around Freya.” Those attempting the merge had been physically linking in the hope that this might help retain the connection when their consciousness faded.
I was not taking part in the actual merge. I would monitor it. If they succeeded, I would attempt to use them as a conduit.
“Let’s begin,” Aras said aloud.
Again the triple merges formed, and with Freya’s enhancing presence at their center, the links were flawless, even those formed by members of other guilds.
Aras worked to connect the triples into a continuous line. One by one, the triples were joined, and finally Aras came to the team made up of Zarak, the young coercer Hari, and Ceirwan. It was to link into the meld containing Zarak’s father, and then from within, Ceirwan would smooth the individual merges into a single long strand.
Whether or not Freya’s presence was enhancing my confidence as well, I began to feel we really might manage it at last, for as the last triplet was linked in and Ceirwan began to smooth the merges into a single strand, the line remained stable instead of falling apart at once.
Then Zarak’s mind skittered, and the whole thing crumbled again.
“It’s not my fault!” Zarak shouted.
“Control yerself,” Ceirwan sent sternly. Then he said aloud and more gently, “Dinna let’s be disheartened. Th’ process was completed fer th’ first time, no doubt due to th’ encouraging presence of our visitor.” Freya smiled wanly. “I am certain we have th’ right combination, but it will take time to perfect. We’ll meet again in a few days.”
Ceirwan thanked those of the other guilds for coming, telling them he would speak with their guildleaders to ensure they would be free henceforth for practices. Zarak’s father left last, with a worried glance at his son, who stood mutinously to one side, avoiding his eyes. When only farseekers remained, the guilden directed everyone to take a short break before the guild meeting started.
Then I was alone with a pale-faced Zarak.
“What is the matter with you?” I snapped. “You know it was your fault the merge could not hold.”
He hung his head.
“I do not blame you for failing the meld, but it was nasty and cowardly to attack Aras, especially when she only spoke the truth.”
“She thinks she’s so perfect,” he said angrily. “I’m sick of her always telling me what to do. She can’t even farseek as well as me, and she can hardly coerce at all. I don’t know why you would make her into a ward—” He stopped, aghast.
I stared at him coldly. “How did you know that we were considering making Aras a ward?”
“It was…I overheard it. I didn’t mean to. Lina and I were in that tunnel that runs alongside the main wing and…you and Rushton were going past. I heard you tell him that Aras was a brilliant theoretician, and you wanted her to be a ward.”
I cursed myself for having failed to sense their presence, but I tended to focus on Rushton’s so strongly, I could be somewhat deaf and blind to anything else.
“I’m sorry,” Zarak muttered.
“Sorry?” I said icily. “I don’t think so. I think you don’t care at all that you violate privacy when you creep about in the walls. I don’t think you are sorry about anything except being caught out. Your behavior tonight was abominable, and your reasons for it disgusting. You are jealous of my considering Aras as a ward, and you have no right. She is not a strong farseeker or coercer, as you say, and she would never presume to pretend she is. Unlike you, she is very aware of her limitations, and she strives hard to overcome them. Unlike you, she does not secretly covet wardship. In fact, she refused when I proposed it.”
Zarak looked stunned.
“Yes. Because she does not have the conceit to think she deserves it. You might be interested to know that she suggested you be made a ward instead.”
Zarak paled.
“Had I offered you the wardship, which you so clearly feel you deserve, you would have accepted it without ever wondering if you were worthy. Being gifted as a farseeker and being crossguilded does not qualify you for the position. You must also have a refined sense of responsibility and genuine concern for the guild and its members. You think of nothing but yourself, and you spend far too much time involved in Lina’s silly pranks.”
I stopped, anger threatening to make me cruel. “Go away now. I don’t want you at the meeting. Go to the kitchens and tell Javo you are his for two sevendays.”
When Ceirwan returned, he frowned. “I could feel yer anger from outside th’ hall.”
“Zarak learned that I was offering Aras a place as a ward, and he was jealous,” I said tightly.
“Ahh. Did ye tell him ye were considerin’ him, too?”
“I did not, and his behavior tonight has shown that he’s not mature enough.”
“I dinna know, Elspeth. Some people need responsibility to grow. I think Zarak will remain a child until he is treated as somethin’ else.”
My anger faded, for Ceirwan had some small ability to empathise, and if he thought Zarak needed responsibility, maybe he was right.
“Zarak needs th’ chance to prove himself to himself.” Ceirwan hesitated. “Ye know, part of his problem is that he reminds ye of Matthew. Yer too careful of him, an’ somethin’ in him knows it an’ interprets it as lack of faith.”
I stared at Ceirwan, stunned because I realized Zarak did remind me of Matthew. Was it true that I had held him back because of my own fear that he would go the same way as Matthew?
The others filed in for the guild meeting. When they were seated, Ceirwan made an opening speech mentioning various matters, then told them of Maryon’s request for a record of dreams. An elderly woman named Sarn, who had come to us with her pregnant daughter, offered to establish a dream journal for our guild. Next, Ceirwan invited Tomash to deliver a report.
The plump, good-looking Tomash rose, pushing back his dangling mass of black curls. “You asked me to put together all the information we’ve gathered on the rebels and on the Council in some easily accessible form. I’ve made a chart.” He unrolled a large sheet of paper showing a list of towns and villages in the Land. Beside each was a series of names.
He looked at me. “I ought
to begin by telling you all that there are now Councilmen in the highlands.”
The hair on my neck rose.
“Where?” I asked.
“In Darthnor, there is Councilman Moss. And in Guanette, another called Bergold.”
“Honorary Councilmen appointed from among th’ locals?” Ceirwan ventured hopefully.
“No. Both came up from Sutrium.” He hesitated, and I sensed there was worse to come. “They are both sons of Radost.”
Worse than worse, I thought. Radost was the head of the Council.
“They have each been given land to go with their appointments,” Tomash went on. “This may be not so much an attempt by the Council to strengthen its control over the high country as a move by Radost to extend the territory he controls. But it seems the catalyst at least was the rumor of Miryum’s knights.”
I suppressed a burst of fury. In fairness, I knew Miryum’s deeds alone would not have caused Radost to send his sons to the high country, but they had certainly given him a good excuse. “The number of soldierguards they brought might give us a clue as to what they mean to do,” I said.
“Enoch said that both have small bands,” Tomash said. “Ten armsmen each.”
“Doesn’t sound too threatening,” I said. “But we had better keep an eye on them.”
Ceirwan made a note, then nodded to Tomash to continue.
“Radost is one of three Councilmen ruling in Sutrium. He has a daughter as well as the two sons, but our information says she is estranged. Most Councilmen have children or other blood relatives as official assistants. So far, there is no Council representation set up in Arandelft or Rangorn. They are administered by the representatives from Kinraide. And we don’t know the name of the Councilman or the assistants on Norseland. Everyone else is named on the chart. Here”—he unrolled another sheet showing a map of the Land covered in blue and red circles—“these blue circles indicate each Councilman’s personal farm holdings. The red circles are Councilfarms.”
We pored over chart and map with interest. It was the first time I had seen clearly how the Council divided up the Land, and I was amazed that almost all farm and grazing land belonged to individual Councilmen or to the Council as a body.
Tomash laid aside the map and returned to his chart. “Now, beside each Councilman are the names of rebel leaders in the same area. I’ve also noted whether the rebels there tend to align with Malik in Guanette or Bodera in Sutrium. There have been some interesting developments in the west coast bloc among Radek in Morganna, Cassell in Halfmoon Bay, and Serba in Port Oran—”
“Wait,” I said. “I thought Madellin ran the Port Oran rebel group.”
Tomash nodded. “He did, but he has taken ill. Serba is his daughter. She assumed his place and has become very popular. In fact, it looks as if she might achieve what her father desired and unite the west coast bloc at last.”
“Radek and Cassell agree?”
“I don’t know about Radek, but she’s to bond with Cassell,” Tomash said.
“Madellin probably proposed th’ bondin’ as a way of unitin’ th’ bloc finally,” Ceirwan murmured.
I was not so sure. Cassell had struck me as a clever, strong-willed man. “Perhaps the idea was Cassell’s.”
“They might be in love,” Aras said rather shyly.
Ceirwan smiled at her. “So they might. What a terrible lot of cynics we are nowt to think of that first.”
“All of our information about the west coast is sketchy at best,” Tomash said. “I will try to fill the gaps.”
“You have done a wonderful job,” I said warmly. “This is invaluable. We will present it to the next guildmerge and let it do the rounds of the guilds to see if anyone has anything else to offer before you make a fair copy.”
Tomash nodded and sat down.
“Wila?” Ceirwan sent. “Ye have a report due about th’ Herder Faction?”
The woman rose. “I’m afraid I have not been so successful as Tomash,” she said diffidently. “I have some information, but I am expecting more. I would like to defer presenting my report until the next meeting.”
I nodded. I had scarcely expected much, for the Herders were notoriously secretive. Rising, I made my own report of the beastmerge; then Ceirwan dealt quickly with the few minor matters remaining. We ended the meeting just as the nightmeal bell rang.
“Have you seen Maruman about?” I asked Ceirwan. Usually, the old cat joined me during guild meetings.
“Isn’t he asleep in your turret room?” Ceirwan asked.
“Excuse me, Guildmistress,” Sarn said. “I saw him in the Healer hall just before I came here.”
“The Healer hall? Now what was he doing there?” I muttered.
The Healer hall was actually two long, narrow rooms joined at one end by a chamber with an enormous hearth. Both of the long rooms were filled with beds, and there were small sleeping chambers running off from one side.
Walking past empty beds, I noticed a healer and the Futuretell ward Dell sunk in concentration over the sickly babe born to Sarn’s daughter. Dell’s presence indicated that things were not going well. I passed quietly into the connecting room, where a group of healers were seated in front of the fire on low stools, talking softly and plaiting what I took to be some sort of herb garlands.
As I approached them, a tiny pile I had taken for another garland stirred at the foot of an empty bed, and two huge orange eyes opened to survey me. I realized it was an owlet when the diminutive creature hooted in fright.
Kader turned to greet me, smiling. “Welcome, Guildmistress. You have just missed Roland.”
“I wanted to see Kella, actually.”
“She has gone to fetch some more dried reeds. We are plaiting prize wreaths for the moon fair.” He gestured at a basket full of leafy coronets. “Shall I go and get her?”
“No. I’ll sit with Dragon until she returns.” I glanced over to Dragon’s bed and saw with shock that it was empty.
“She has been moved,” Kader said, his smile fading. He ushered me down one of the long rooms and into a smaller chamber, where a candle burned low on a table beside the sole bed. The red-gold mass of Dragon’s hair, spread over the white pillow, glowed in the dim light. I was startled to see that Maruman was nestled in it. The sight of two I loved so dearly lying together brought me close to tears.
Kader had strong empathic abilities as well as being a healer; he merely touched my arm gently and withdrew.
Kella believed Dragon’s long coma was the result of Dragon’s decision to retreat into the blocked part of her mind and resolve what was hidden there. If she had not done so, the healer argued, the block would have burst, filling her mind with poisons and rendering her defective.
If Kella was right, Dragon was inside her own mind, reliving over and over again whatever it was that had caused her to forget her past and trying to resolve it. One of us might have entered her mind and tried to help, but Dragon’s Talent was so strong that it would almost certainly have trapped any intruder inside the recurring memory until Dragon recovered.
If she recovered. The brutal truth was that she might wake in a day or a year or ten years—or she might never wake.
Sitting on a low stool by the bed, I took her limp hand in mine. It was white and the nails pale and long. I remembered how she had reached out a filthy paw to touch my clean skin the first time we had managed to communicate. I envisaged her playing with Maruman and brushing Gahltha’s coat, or gazing at Matthew with an adoration he could not return. Again I saw her fall to the ground as my augmented mindprobe smashed through her mental shield, knocking her unconscious in my desperation to keep her safe from soldierguards.
It is my fault she is like this, I thought bleakly. Yet another occasion on which the lethal killing power of my mind, even muted, had shown its malignancy.
I looked into her pale, still face and fought a blur of tears, resting my head on her hand.
“Elspeth?”
I sat up to find Kell
a gazing down at me concernedly, the owlet perched on her shoulder.
“I started to fall asleep,” I muttered, surreptitiously brushing tears from my cheeks.
Kella gazed down at Dragon. “I sit with her a lot,” she murmured. “I can’t bear to see her lying here alone. I’m glad Maruman has taken to keeping her company.”
I looked at the old cat, wondering uneasily what had brought him to her bed. Dragon had no ability at all to communicate with beasts, though they were drawn to her and had given her a name of their own—mornir, which meant “brightmane.”
“Kader said you had to move her.”
“Any healing is difficult with her near,” the healer said. “When you begin to focus on your mind and shape a probe, she…well, her mind pulls at you. Like an under current in a river. You feel yourself being tugged toward her.” She shrugged. “It is easy enough to resist, of course, but it’s impossible at the same time to focus properly on healing. It’s like having someone shouting numbers at you when you are trying to add up.”
“Is she getting worse?”
“I don’t know,” Kella said. “She could be getting worse, or maybe this is a prelude to her getting better.”
Hope must have shown in my eyes, for she went on. “You should not make too much of it, Elspeth, because she has been like this before. There is a strong pull, and then her mind just suddenly goes passive again. I think she gets like this when she is close to resolving her memories, but something goes wrong and she has to start all over again.”
I noticed Maruman beginning to twitch.
“Chasing mice in his dreams, I suppose,” Kella said fondly. “No doubt he is faster in them than in real life these days. He’s not supposed to kill anything within the grounds, but I know he hunts mice when he thinks no one notices. I do not think he catches many, though.”
But in his dreams, Maruman is not slow nor old nor even really a cat, I thought. I shaped a probe to dip into his dreaming mind, but there was a muted cry of pain from the other end of the hall.
“The child is failing,” Kella murmured. “I fear we are losing him.”