“What is wrong with him?” Vega snapped.
Alexi sprang forward and looked into my face. “He’s helping her!” he screamed. “Kill him, Vega.”
“No!” I cried.
His brows drew together in triumph. “Tell me where the map is or I will kill him,” he whispered. I wrenched my mind from Rushton’s with a scream.
“Vega, get a knife,” Alexi instructed. He looked back at me. “Tell me or he will die.”
“Elspeth!” Rushton shouted.
In that moment, the block that separated me from Marisa’s thoughts was as thin as a web. I saw right through it and knew where the map was. It was hidden in plain sight, carved into the front doors of Obernewtyn. Then, as my mind began to buckle under the assault of the machine, I saw a vision of a dark chasm in the ground from which rose a thick brownish smoke, and I knew I was seeing the very place indicated on Marisa’s map.
Terrified at what else I would see, I found the strength to block the vision and push Marisa from me.
“Very well, kill him,” Alexi snarled.
I threw back my head and saw Madam Vega’s hand raise the knife. “No!” I begged.
“Tell me,” Alexi whispered.
“We come,” said an unknown voice in my mind. Startled, I realized Rushton’s friends must be within the stone hillock.
“Tell me!” Alexi shouted.
I hesitated. I could not tell him where the map was. That was too high a price for either my life or Rushton’s.
Alexi’s eyes narrowed, seeming to divine my thought. “All right. Do it.”
Madam Vega lifted her arm slowly.
I heard running footsteps, and at the same time, the machine seemed to be overheating. There was the sound of an explosion, and a shower of sparks fell on my boot and onto my bare and grazed knees. I jerked and kicked as best I could.
Vega’s hand paused before the downward blow. She looked at Alexi, and he nodded.
There was a terrible pain in my legs and feet, and I could smell smoke.
Then something inside my head crackled violently; a power stirred in me completely unlike any other ability I possessed. All at once, I knew that Rosamunde had spoken the truth: Jes had killed that soldierguard, and I knew how.
Whatever I had roused came from the deepest void of my mind, like a serpent uncoiling to strike. I felt a sense of exaltation at the knowledge that I could control such a terrible power. Madam Vega drove the knife downward, but I struck first, swatting her hand away and plowing a terrible furrow through her mind. She screamed horribly.
I felt flames burning my legs and feet. The smell reminded me of the day my mother and father died.
Dimly, I saw people running and shouting.
“Is she alive?” asked a voice I knew but could not recognize.
Am I? I wondered, and a dark wind swept me away.
27
“YER NOWT WELL enough!” Matthew said stubbornly. The look on his face told me what I already knew. I looked haggard even after all this time.
“It might be better …,” Dameon said diplomatically, but I would not let him finish.
“Stay here and miss this mysterious meeting? Not on your life,” I said. I sat back after that outburst, feeling the now-familiar weakness roll over me. It was still incredible to think the machine had taken so much from me. That, and unleashing the strange power I had tapped in myself. I had been unconscious for days after.
“Ye look different,” Matthew said. And I felt different, stronger somehow, despite my physical weakness and the scars. Even now I could feel the tingle in the depth of my mind that told me the power was there, waiting.
“So you would be different if some machine had been inside your head,” I snapped.
He grinned.
“Where is Rushton?” I asked casually.
Matthew looked quickly at Dameon, but the empath’s face remained as inscrutable as ever. I felt a stirring of resentment that Rushton had not come by to visit. Matthew had told me that Louis and the others had freed Rushton and he had beaten and smothered the flames that had engulfed my lower legs. Both Alexi and Madam Vega were dead—Alexi with an arrow to the heart and Vega without a mark on her. Louis guessed she had fallen and hit her head in the commotion. Ariel had fled, and had surely perished in the savage blizzard that had come that night.
It was known now by all those who dwelt at Obernewtyn that Rushton was its legal master and that the mysterious doctor was his defective half brother. None doubted the claim, and the new Master of Obernewtyn spoke openly of taking it to the Councilcourt to have the matter formally recognized.
I was amazed at how many different varieties of mental prowess there were among the Misfits at Obernewtyn, and at the fact that I had never realized it. But, of course, I had kept my mind tightly leashed after my first encounter with the Zebkrahn machine. And most of the Misfits had minimal abilities; Roland, Domick, and a few others were the exception. But type and strength of ability did not matter to Rushton, who had none save the curious ability to host a merge of minds. In a way, it seemed to me that his desire to turn Obernewtyn into a refuge echoed this ability. The meeting I wanted to attend was meant to outline his plans in detail.
Matthew and Dameon felt I was not fit enough to attend. I insisted that the numbness and pain in my mind had gone, but I was still very weak and the burns on my feet and legs were yet to heal fully. Rushton had left word that I was not to get up until I was completely recovered. And still he had not come to see me.
“He’s the master here now,” Matthew said, as if answering my thought.
“No doubt he is too busy to tell me himself that I must not come to his meeting,” I said. I had meant to say it lightly, but I heard a flash of anger in my voice and realized that I only wanted to go because Rushton wanted to stop me.
Dameon said gently, “He did come to see you several times, Elspeth. But you were always asleep, and he would not let us wake you.”
“Of course,” I said as casually as possible, ashamed to think he was privy to my pettiness when we all knew how busy Rushton was. And after all, Rushton did not know I had stopped Vega from killing him. In truth, I did not want anyone to know that. The fact that I had the capacity to kill with my mind was hardly likely to endear me to anyone.
“We’ve decided we’re going to stay,” Matthew said. “Rushton’s going to make Obernewtyn a secret refuge for people like us. He has plans.”
“I know that.” I snapped. Dameon was staring at me with an odd expression on his face, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks at the thought that he was sensing the muddled roil of my emotions.
“What about Henry Druid? Does he have a role in this great plan?” I asked. Rushton had met the renegade Herder several years before, when he had stumbled into his camp, on his way to Obernewtyn at the request of his dead mother. Instead of being killed or made prisoner, Rushton had been allowed to go free, on the condition that he aided the old man in acquiring some of the forbidden Beforetime books said to be hidden at Obernewtyn.
Once Rushton arrived at the mountain valley, he learned that Michael Seraphim had died. Still puzzled as to why his mother had insisted on him bringing news of her death to a stranger, he had accepted Madam Vega’s offer of employment as overseer with the aim of finding out more about Michael Seraphim. Alexi had guessed the truth the moment he saw Rushton, and they meant to keep him close in case the truth about Stephen Seraphim was ever revealed. Madam Vega had done her best to ingratiate herself with him, though she had not told him the truth about his father. It was Louis Larkin who had done that. Rushton had stayed on, hoping to meet his half brother, who was kept mysteriously out of sight. Finally, he had discovered the truth and knew that he had a legitimate claim to Obernewtyn.
But by now he had developed an alliance with Domick and Roland and other Misfits with forbidden abilities, and he had conceived of turning Obernewtyn into a secret refuge. So he had to be very careful about how he established his claim. He must contro
l the process. He also needed to resolve his bargain with Henry Druid. He did not want to find himself at odds with the old man, so he had decided to provide him with several valuable books from the library before severing contact.
But would that satisfy the former Herder? If he was as voracious about forbidden knowledge as he sounded, he would not easily give up his search for weapon-machines. My thoughts shifted to the magnificent carvings on the doors to Obernewtyn. It was a great pity to destroy such craftsmanship, but I could see no other way to get rid of the map they concealed.
“What about the doctor?” I asked.
“I don’t think Rushton is quite sure what to do with him,” Dameon said in an amused voice. “He really is rather harmless. It turns out he was using garbled herb lore on the people he treated, and the worst he would have done is give someone a bad bellyache. Roland is trying to teach him some real herb lore, but the doctor is slow and Roland is so impatient.”
Looking at my friends, I thought this business had wrought a change in them, too. Dameon seemed quieter and older, while Matthew carried the scar left by Cameo’s death in the sadness I sometimes saw in his face. Yet they were more certain of themselves, more purposeful. Perhaps because Rushton had offered them a place in his world.
I found myself yawning and knew I did not really want to go to the meeting. I grinned at their relief when I said so.
“Will you stay?” Dameon asked.
“It will be some time before I can think of leaving,” I said, sidestepping the question.
Dameon did not press me. In truth, I did not know what I would do. I did not think I would stay at Obernewtyn, for I had a yearning to travel, to see the great sea and the western coast. But it would be as difficult as ever to move from place to place in the Land, even if Rushton provided me with a Normalcy Certificate, as he had promised any of us who wished to leave the mountains.
“Ye mun stay!” Matthew cried, looking disappointed. “Rushton said you’re stronger than all of us. He has the notion of starting his own council!”
Dameon nodded, sensing my curiosity and incredulity. “He wants to govern Obernewtyn with the help and advice of a council elected from our ranks. He wants us to work at our abilities and to train others to be better at what we do.”
“He wants us to form groups, guilds organized by special abilities,” Matthew added.
“And this council will be a sort of guild merge,” I quipped.
Dameon’s mouth twitched. “A good name. I will suggest it,” he said.
I laughed. Then another question occurred to me.
“Speaking of councils, what happened to those Councilmen and the soldierguards that came up here?” To my surprise, Matthew only laughed.
“There’s a story,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Madam Vega made the mistake of leaving the Councilmen to Ariel’s tender mercies. He fed them drugged wine and threw them in one of the underground storage chambers.”
I gaped.
“By the time they were discovered, it was all over. Rushton got them out and told them what had happened—with a few omissions.”
“A few omissions!” I gasped.
Matthew grinned widely, enjoying his audience. “He told them Madam Vega and Alexi had been plotting against the Council, and that they had organized to have the Councilmen knocked out and murdered in case they found out that Stephen Seraphim was defective and their prisoner.”
“And they believed him?” I asked.
“With a little empathy,” Dameon said with a sly, slow smile.
“Rushton gave them the impression the whole revolt had been meant to free them,” Matthew continued. “They were sick to their stomachs from th’ stuff Ariel had given them, and they were only too happy to believe anything they were told by the man who rescued them. Those with empath abilities have been preparing them to rush back to Sutrium after the thaw, and ye can be sure Rushton will have no trouble getting his claim accepted after they prepare the way.”
I laughed aloud at the thought of the self-important Councilmen thrown into a storage cupboard. Then I sobered. “What about me?”
“What about you?” Matthew inquired pertly. “You’re dead. You ran away during the battle and were almost certainly tragically devoured by wild wolves.”
Domick poked his head around the door. “Rushton’s coming up.”
Dameon and Matthew moved to depart.
“Wait. Don’t …” Don’t what? I wondered. Don’t leave me alone with the person who risked his life to help me? I shook my head at the absurdity, and they went.
Rushton seemed too tall in the turret room that had once been his own chamber. There were faint shadows under his green eyes that told of the long hours he had been spending at reorganizing Obernewtyn, but he looked remarkably content.
“I heard you want to come to the meeting,” he said.
I shrugged. “Not really. It was a whim. I hear you have plans,” I said.
He didn’t seem to hear me. “I feared you would die or wake up senseless like Selmar.”
I shrugged again, embarrassed at his intensity. “Well, I didn’t,” I said with some asperity. “I never thanked you for helping me with the machine that time.”
He shrugged. “Will you stay?” he asked, rather as Dameon had done.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Did they tell you my idea about the guilds? You could stay and help set it up,” he offered diffidently.
“What guild would I belong to?” I asked, striving for a lightness I could not seem to feel.
“Choose whichever pleases you. You seem to have every ability save empathy.” He smiled. “You are the strongest Misfit here by far, but we’re going to bring others up here, too, you know. In secret. You could help to train them. And when we’re strong enough, we will force the Council to accept Misfits.” He paused. “Stay,” he said again when I did not answer.
“I’ll stay for a while,” I said at last.
“That will do to start,” he said cryptically. He glanced through the unshuttered window at the pale wintertime sky. “It will not be easy, I know, to do what I want. But one day, Obernewtyn will be a force in this Land. I will see to that.” He smiled down at me, and there was a fierce pride in his face that made it strangely beautiful.
He would be a good leader, I thought after he had gone. Guilds or not, he would remain the Master of Obernewtyn. There was a quality in him that inspired trust and a kind of love. He was born to lead.
People like Rushton never thought much about the past, I thought. It made them impatient. It was left to those like me to remember the past—and doubt.
Deep within, I felt again the tingle of the power I had wakened. Such power must have a purpose. I remembered my vision of a dark, smoke-filled chasm. I would destroy the map Marisa Seraphim had left showing its whereabouts, but the chasm would remain, as would whatever documents Marisa had used to create her map. Sooner or later, someone would find the chasm. Unless I found it first.
“The Seeker,” Cameo had called me. Strangely, the name Maruman and Sharna had called me meant exactly that. Perhaps it was my destiny to find the weaponmachines and somehow disarm them. The thought lay in my mind, and all the restlessness in me seemed to flow toward it. A vague idea became resolve. One day, I would seek the chasm I had seen, and I would find a way to prevent the weaponmachines within from being used.
Cameo had believed I was important—that I had something important to do in the world—and so had Maruman and Sharna. What could be more important than making sure the Great White could never come again?
THE FARSEEKERS
for Shane
PART I
REFUGE
1
ROLAND SHOOK HIS head decisively. “I can do nothing to hasten the healing, Elspeth. If you rested them more often …”
I sighed and rubbed the tender soles of my feet. “Kella said a warmer climate might help.”
Roland nodded absently, returning satchels of he
rbs to his carryall. “It’s true that cold doesn’t help the healing process, but whatever miracles we healers can do, changing the weather to suit our patient is not among them.”
I was startled at the unexpected touch of humor from the dour Healer guildmaster. Hefting the weighty bag onto his shoulder, Roland gave me a piercing look. “If you would stay in your room in wintertime with banked fires instead of wandering around the drafty halls—and beyond …”
“I am mistress of a guild,” I said.
Roland was unsympathetic. “Garth finds no difficulty in remaining in his caves, and the Teknoguild works do not crumble because of its master’s inactivity,” he said.
The Teknoguild was concerned with studying the Beforetime and researching the effects—past, present, and future—of the Great White. I had little interest in such things, but I had met secretly with Garth only that morning. I wondered if Roland knew.
“Garth … is Garth,” I said with a smile. Roland’s lip twitched.
There was a knock at the door, and Kella entered, carrying a jug.
Roland waved his ward in impatiently as he addressed me. “Soak in that, then rub some of the salve into the soles. And stay off your feet!” he growled, slamming the door behind him.
Kella poured the liquid in a flat pan, smiling ruefully. “He’s angry with himself, because your feet aren’t healing properly.”
I lowered my feet gingerly into the shallow pannikin. A sweet scent rose from the water. “Herb lore?” I guessed.
Kella nodded. “A recipe given to us by the Master of Obernewtyn himself.”
I smiled, never quite able to accept Rushton’s grandiose title. When I had first met him, he was an enigmatic farm overseer only a few years older than myself. No one had been more astonished than I to discover he was the legal owner of Obernewtyn.
Kella was staring into the fire, its orange glow playing over her cheeks. “Rushton has not come back yet from the highlands,” she said, a faint line of worry between her brows. I wondered idly if the healer was attracted to Rushton. It would be a pity for her. His brooding singleness of purpose made him blind to anything but his complicated plans for the future. I smiled wryly.