The Seeker

  Sometimes it made me uneasy that we had not heard anything of the Druid for so long. Like Alexi and Madam Vega, the renegade Herder had wanted power in the form of Beforetime weaponmachines. What if he were to discover the machines that could set off another Great White?

  I choked off that train of thought. “The expedition we propose will not be to Blackland fringes.”

  Rushton looked puzzled. “Then I don’t see any difficulty. Teknoguild expeditions were banned because they never want to go anywhere but the fringes. But that still doesn’t explain your interest. I would be surprised to find you had any aim in common with the Teknoguild.”

  It was true I had often opposed their interests. Of all those at Obernewtyn, the abilities of Teknoguilders were hardest to define, being little more than a vague empathy for inanimate things, a slight power to move things by will alone, and a passionate interest in the past. The Teknoguild was the only one that had established its base outside Obernewtyn because the caves that housed it were the remains of a Beforetime establishment and contained a number of ancient machines.

  Pavo’s request that I visit the cave network had been unexpected and unnerving. I had not been there since Alexi had tortured me with the Zebkrahn machine in his effort to force me to use my powers to locate an Oldtime weapons cache. In the end, I had gone, as much to lay my fears to rest as out of respect for Pavo, who was more concerned with understanding the Beforetimers than unearthing their mechanical secrets.

  Also, I had been curious.

  Returning to the cave had been a disturbing experience. The past had seemed to lie tangibly beneath the present, despite all that had changed. The passage into the cave network was now littered with boxes and sacks of Beforetime papers, books, and other relics unearthed in previous expeditions. The passage was well lit by candles set in sconces at regular intervals.

  Coming from the sloping passage with its strangely smooth walls into the main cave, I had been forced to stifle a gasp, having forgotten how big it all was and how bright the Beforetime sphere of light that lit the area. High up in the shadows, stalactites still hung, poised like spears. Yet it was also very different than I remembered. Woven rugs and thick mats softened cold floors, and the walls were almost covered with paper, scrawled with lists and notes and diagrams. Tables and chairs were occupied by busy teknoguilders, who barely registered my entrance.

  Only the Zebkrahn machine had looked the same, though I knew it could no longer be used to coerce and torture, having long since been modified. Now it served as nothing more than an enhancer, enabling farseekers to double their normal range. Even so, my skin had risen to gooseflesh at the sight of it.

  I thought of all this as I stood before the guildmerge. “Pavo asked me to come to the Teknoguild cave network this morning,” I began in answer to Rushton’s puzzlement.

  The guilden gave a dry cough and rose. “It might be better if I explain, Guildmistress,” the Teknoguild ward offered diffidently.

  As in the cave that morning, I was struck anew by his pallor.

  “I did not know Elspeth would raise this matter today, and so I have not brought my notes; therefore, you will have to take my word on some matters,” Pavo said. “A while back, we uncovered evidence of an enormous book storage, which we believe might be untouched since the Beforetime. However, because of the ban, we set this matter reluctantly aside. Meanwhile, we succeeded in getting the Zebkrahn machine to penetrate the blocking static over tainted ground.” He paused to remind everyone that the machine, like farseekers, had been unable to project through Blackland wastes; even the tainted ground at the borders of the Blacklands produced a static that limited our range to just beyond the mountains that surrounded Obernewtyn.

  “It still only locates Talents—it won’t help us to communicate with them. But the machine is now able to monitor areas previously out of reach even to farseekers as strong as Elspeth, whose range is otherwise better than that of the machine,” Pavo said. “I thought it was necessary for Elspeth to see the machine—not to admire the new modification but so that she could see what it revealed.” Pavo looked at me, and all eyes swung expectantly my way.

  I said obligingly, “The Zebkrahn was registering a Talent at its outermost limit.”

  “But … that’s impossible. Th’ machine has to be focused through a farseeker,” Matthew objected.

  Pavo shook his head eagerly. “Only to detect ordinary or weak Talents. That is to say, in most cases. But the Zebkrahn would need no farseeker focusing to register, for instance, Elspeth.”

  “But … that means this Talent the Zebkrahn registers mun be as strong as she …,” Matthew said.

  “Perhaps stronger,” Pavo corrected gently.

  “Such a Talent would be worth rescuing,” interjected Gevan, guildmaster of the coercers.

  “The two—the new Talent and the book storage Pavo told you about—are in the same region, and since it is so far away, we thought of a joint expedition,” I said.

  There was a buzz of excited talk, but Rushton ignored it. “ ‘So far away’…” he repeated coldly. “Exactly how far?”

  My mouth felt suddenly dry. “Somewhere between Aborium and Murmroth.”

  There was silence, then someone sighed heavily. Aborium was on the west coast. The only known way to get there was to travel the main coast road, passing soldierguard camps and all the main towns, not to mention passing through Sutrium to reach the ferry that plied the Lower Suggredoon. And any expedition would be cut off from contact with Obernewtyn, as it would be far beyond the outer limits of even the most powerful farseekers.

  Rushton’s face was tight with anger; he must have realized his brief words to me before the guildmerge had prompted me to propose the expedition. He knew that he could not dismiss my proposal when he meant to propose his own equally dangerous expedition.

  “That would mean traveling through Sutrium and crossing the river by ferry,” Roland said brusquely. “A crazy, dangerous idea. Our false Certificates would not deceive the soldierguards for a moment.”

  Pavo coughed again. “It is not necessary to journey through Sutrium.” He pulled one of the maps on the table toward him and spread it out. “I have a better map, but”—he pointed to the red circle denoting Obernewtyn—“the expedition would travel out of Obernewtyn and down the main road but would turn off to cut directly across the White Valley, then through an Olden pass between Tor and Aran Craggie in the lower mountain ranges and down to the lowlands. From there, it would be an easy trip across the Ford of Rangorn and down to the coast.”

  Rushton examined the route. “You are sure this mountain pass exists? I have never heard of it.”

  The teknoguilder nodded.

  “T’would mean winterin’ outside maybe, unless an expedition were to leave at once,” Matthew said tentatively.

  “It would be best to act at once,” Pavo said anxiously. “Think of what we might learn from an untouched collection of Beforetime books. And who knows what ability this Talent will bring to us.”

  Rushton nodded for us to resume our seats, his expression inscrutable. His eyes swept the assembled faces. “Well,” he said at last, “I called this guildmerge for a particular reason, but Guildmistress Elspeth has preempted me. I, too, meant to propose an expedition. While in the high country these last few days, I heard rumors of men asking questions about Obernewtyn. Strangers—perhaps Councilmen, perhaps not. They were asking questions about the damage caused by the firestorm, wanting to speak to anyone who had actually seen Obernewtyn. This means the Council may know I lied about the storm. If so, we will be investigated, probably after the next thaw.”

  There was a muffled howl of dismay.

  “Or,” Rushton went on, “it may mean nothing. The problem is that we have no idea what they know. Up until now, we have striven to avoid any contact with the Council, to hide and grow in strength until we were powerful enough to confront them. We are not yet strong enough for that battle, or any sort of open confrontation, but it i
s time we moved on to the next stage of our plans.

  “I called this meeting to propose an expedition to Sutrium, with the aim of finding out if we are in danger and if the Council has any real knowledge of our existence. We can no longer hide in the dark, shivering. We must look, in the next year, to establishing a safe house in the lowlands, preferably right in Sutrium.”

  “What is a safe house?” Miryum asked.

  “A refuge that will form the nexus of our inner defense. It means we can move with more confidence among the lowlanders. Most important, it means we will be in a better position to know what the Council is up to.”

  “What if someone is caught and … tortured into giving up its location or, worse, to tell th’ truth about us and Obernewtyn?” Matthew asked. A few nodded fearfully at this.

  “Don’t you understand that we are no safer hiding up here?” Rushton demanded. “Even if the rumors are just gossip, the soldierguards will come to hear of it, especially if they set up camp in the high country. The question is, do we wait until the Council descends on us before we act, or do we act now, while we can still move with relative freedom?”

  A thoughtful silence greeted his words.

  “Then, do you propose two expeditions to the lowlands?” Roland asked.

  Rushton smiled slightly. “I vote that we accept the expedition proposed by Elspeth, with the addition of another person, whom I will choose, who will leave the main party after Rangorn and venture into Sutrium to investigate the possibility of establishing a safe house. An expedition that can have two purposes can as easily have three. Now we will vote on the expedition with its threefold purpose, and on the establishment of a safe house in Sutrium. Yes, first.” He lifted his own hand.

  I raised mine, hiding a reluctant smile. Rushton was as sly as ever. He knew Garth would never have agreed to the move on Sutrium without the lure of the coveted library. In the end, the vote was unanimous. Perhaps all felt that the time had come, whether we liked it or not, for a less passive strategy. At any rate, no one liked the idea of waiting like a lamb to be slaughtered.

  Rushton rose to close the meeting but was interrupted by a commotion outside the doors.

  Christa entered, her face betraying her worry.

  Seeing me, the Futuretell guilden beckoned urgently. “Elspeth, it’s Maruman. He’s returned but is unconscious, and we cannot waken him. You had better come quickly.”

  3

  MARUMAN HAD BEEN taken to the Healer hall. As usual after days of wandering, often on tainted ground, his fur was filthy and singed in places; dried blood matted the fur on one paw. But he looked no worse than he had on any other return. The wan afternoon light slanted obliquely from a high, slitlike window to lie across his body, making it seem insubstantial, while candles burning all around the hall gave the room a ghostly orange tinge.

  In the bed alongside the old cat’s was a girl, heavily bandaged. She had been literally wrested from the Herders’ purifying flame and had been unconscious since her arrival. One of Christa’s fellow futuretellers sat beside her, sunk in deep concentration.

  I looked up to see Alad come through the door.

  “He looks like he’s asleep,” I said.

  Christa shook her head, then gestured at the meditating futureteller. “She can hardly think for Maruman’s emanations. I don’t understand how you can’t feel them,” she added.

  “I have my shield up,” I explained. I dissolved the protective mental barrier and almost staggered beneath the force of gibberish flowing from Maruman’s mind. “I see what you mean.”

  I saw from Alad’s expression that he had lowered his own shield. “Usually I find the flow of beast thought soothing,” he said ruefully.

  “He was lying outside the Futuretell wing when we found him. It looked as if he had dragged himself there,” Christa said.

  “Can you reach his mind to find out what he’s been doing?” I asked.

  She looked down at the old cat. “The truth is, his mind is generally such a mess that it is a wonder he can think straight even some of the time. I can’t imagine what caused the damage in the first place—perhaps a traumatic birth. For the most part, his mind seems to have adapted itself amazingly well. There are the most extraordinary links and bypasses—somehow it all functions. The fits he occasionally has are the result of some sort of upward leak in his mind, where material from the deepest unconscious levels rises to distort his everyday thinking, hence the wild futuretelling, but this …”

  “What do you make of it?” I asked Alad.

  He sighed. “I’m a simple beastspeaker. This is beyond me. I’ve sent for one of the few strong beastspeakers with a small Talent for deep probing. Christa suggested it since Maruman will not allow her to enter his unconscious mind. Perhaps he will permit a beastspeaker to deep-probe.”

  “I can deep-probe,” I said.

  Christa raised her brows, then she looked at the cat pensively. “You could try. He’s less likely to oppose you. I’m afraid if it goes on much longer, he’ll die of exhaustion. He looks calm enough, but this is pulling him apart.”

  I stared down at the battle-scarred old cat, tears pricking my eyes. He looked so vulnerable. He would have hated that. I stroked him, fighting for control.

  “Is there no healer free to ease him?” I asked gruffly.

  Christa shook her head. “They have done all they can. He’s in no pain.”

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  “Go into his mind,” she answered. “See what you can find out. Make him wake if you can.”

  “I’ve never tried to deep-probe him before. What if he resists? I might hurt him.”

  Alad broke in impatiently. “He’ll die if we can’t help him. He is more wild than tame, and you know as well as I that the wild ones are hardest to reach, even in a normal communication. But you must try.”

  With a feeling of dread, I sat on the chair beside the bed. I stroked Maruman’s coarse fur gently, willing him to wake. I was repelled by the idea of entering my old friend’s most private mind. I could not have borne such an intrusion myself.

  Alad squeezed my shoulder. I bit my lip, then closed my eyes. Loosing a deep-probe tendril gently into the first level, I forced myself to ignore the screaming babble that assaulted me. For a moment, I was swept along like a leaf in the dizzy maelstrom of Maruman’s unconscious mind. I had a fleeting temptation to let myself go but concentrated on Alad’s hand on my shoulder, forcing myself to the next level.

  I slipped through effortlessly. Maruman was letting me in.

  I drifted deeper, concentrating to avoid the forgetfulness that was one of the greatest dangers inherent to entering an unconscious mind.

  Deeper still and suddenly the clamor of the upper levels ceased. It was very quiet and still.

  “Maruman,” I whispered. “Maruman?”

  I sensed a ripple in the fabric of the cat’s unconscious mind. In a sense, I knew I was inside his dreams. I went deeper still. Again I whispered his name.

  This time he responded. “ElspethInnle …”

  “Come with me,” I invited, hoping to draw him to the upper levels and wakefulness. I was buffeted gently by his refusal.

  “Cannot. Must wait,” he responded.

  I was puzzled. “Wait for what?”

  “Must wait until Seeker comes.”

  This was a name Maruman sometimes called me. More confused than ever, I said, “I am the Seeker.”

  “Deeper. Must come deeper,” Maruman responded instantly.

  “Why must?” I asked.

  “The oldOne wishes it.”

  I shivered violently, becoming suddenly conscious of my physical presence in the Healer hall. I forced myself to concentrate, but I was unnerved. It struck me that Maruman had let me in easily, because he had wanted me to enter his deepest mind. Why? I could only know that by slipping deeper, but I was almost at my limit. The desire to rise was powerful, and my energy was running out quickly. Before long, I would have no choice. I would
not have the strength to remain. If I wanted to go deeper, I had to do it immediately.

  Yet I hesitated.

  At the depths of the mind is a great unconscious mindstream. It was into this that the futuretellers dipped for their predictions. Without training, it was possible for a mind to literally dissolve at that depth. And I was already deeper than I had ever gone before.

  I braced myself. Fighting an irresistible urge to rise, I pushed my mind lower, fraction by fraction. All at once, the void seemed to brighten, and below, I was aware of the shining silver rush of the mindstream.

  Now I felt an opposite tug from the stream, a siren call to merge. My innate fear of losing myself gave me the strength to resist.

  “I have come,” I grated.

  “Deeper,” Maruman urged. “Must come deeper.”

  I was truly frightened now, for it was possible Maruman did not realize the danger. I hesitated and felt myself begin to rise. Then I clamped on my probe and forced it deeper. I could feel the wind of the stream and its incredible cyclonic energy below. It seemed to sing my name in an indescribably lovely voice, willing me to join. Again fear helped me to resist. Then, suddenly, the pull to join the stream and the pull to rise equalized exactly, and I floated motionless.

  I was on a high mountain in the highest ranges, the air around me filled with cold gusts of wind. I was inside the body of Maruman. I felt the wind ruffle his/my fur.

  An illusion, but real as life.

  He/I licked a paw and passed it over one ear.

  Then I felt the calling. It was not a voice so much as an inner compulsion. Maruman/I rose at once and began to walk, balancing with easy grace on the jagged spines of rock leading to a higher peak. It was there, I sensed, that the calling originated.

  Then I heard my own name, but the voice was not Maruman’s.

  I was so astonished that the mountain illusion wavered, and for a moment I saw the Healer hall overlay the mountain.