Ashling

  "What about water?" Fian asked.

  "There are natural springs all around the perimeter of the desert which water the groves, and in the desert there are isis pools. The Sadorians call them the tears of the goddess."

  "What of the slave trade?" Rushton asked. "Do the Sadorians involve themselves in it?"

  Powyrs chuckled. "Oh, yes. The Sadorians involve themselves all right. The Sadorians send slavers and anyone proven to have dealt with them out into the desert without water. If the slavers make it to the other side, they are freed."

  "Do many survive?" Kella asked.

  The seaman wolfishly grinned. "One that I've heard of, and he was stark raving mad. The Temple looks after him though, just as it does anyone who is sick or aged, and who can't keep up the pace of the kar-avans."

  "Kar-avans?" Kella echoed.

  "They are what a group of Sadorians on the move call themselves. And Sadorians are always on the move."

  "Have you ever heard of the Battlegames?" I asked.

  Powyrs scratched his head vigorously as if to dislodge a memory that way. "You know, I believe I have. I can't recollect..." His scowl deepened. "It's some sort of ritual governed by the Temple overguardian." He shook his head and huffed in defeat. "Nope, I can't get at it. Never mind, you can ask the Sadorians yourself. They're great ones for talk." He grinned at some inner joke. The ship listed slightly, wiping the smile from his face.

  "Got to watch these fools who call themselves seamen or they'll run my Cutter up on a shoal," he muttered, hurrying outside.

  "I have to get a look at that Temple," Fian said, with all the fanatical determination of a teknoguilder on the trail of new information. "Garth will kill me if I don't."

  "And I'll kill you if you start any fuss," Rushton said with perfect seriousness. "We're not here to tread on Sadorian toes. There's every likelihood that this Temple will be out of bounds to Landfolk."

  Fian subsided, looking chastened.

  Rushton squared his shoulders. "Powyrs told me that we will reach Sador late tonight or early tomorrow and I think it is time we spoke of these Battlegames. Fian, go and tell Miky and Angina to come in as soon as they are done. Kella, get Dameon and Freya to come to the salon."

  "What about Miryum?" Hannay asked.

  "She'll be no good until she gets on land again. Let her sleep," Rushton said. He got up and began to pace about the salon distractedly.

  In a little while, we were all in the salon.

  "Tomorrow we will reach Sador. The greatest danger would be for us to forget why we are there. From what we have heard of this Malik, I am sure you will agree that we must not give him the slightest chance to use us against ourselves.

  "I have no doubt we can win, but I want more than victory. I want you to become sponges from the moment we arrive in Templeport. Learn all that you can about the rebels and the Sadorians, and about their attitudes to the Herders and the Council. Listen and watch, for the information you obtain might one day stand us in good stead."

  He crossed to sit in his chair again. "This is the first time we will pit ourselves against unTalents who know what we can do, and this will season us and allow us to see how we function under stress. I want you all to store up impressions about the battle, thoughts and suggestions that can be shared during guildmerge when we return to Obernewtyn.

  "One warning. Under no circumstances are you to use your Talents on anyone in Sador, except during the games. No farseeking or coercing, no empathizing. Although these rebels will be our opponents in these Battlegames, we hope to fight beside them in the future as allies.. We must be able to offer a code they will trust, and assure them they will not be violated by our abilities. I will give this in an undertaking when we arrive, but your restraint shall be my validation."

  He glanced once about the salon to emphasize this point The others nodded, but I thought of Malik's cold laughter and doubted anything Rushton could promise would impress him. Everything would hinge on winning.

  "Daffyd has agreed to fight with us," Rushton went on. "Since Dragon cannot take part, that makes us ten if we include Dameon and myself. Needless to say Dameon will not take part in the Battlegames, and though I have no usable Talent to offer I have battle skills, and there may be need for these."

  His green eyes shifted to me but I looked away quickly, afraid of what he might see in my face.

  "I do not feel that I will disadvantage us," he added pointedly, and I realized he thought my refusal to meet his eyes indicated my disapproval of his inclusion. Well, what did this small misunderstanding matter?

  But it seemed it did matter for, at the end of his speech, Rushton asked me coldly to see him after the nightmeal in his chamber.

  XXXVIII

  I did not go.

  In time I would be able to face Rushton calmly, but not yet. I could not trust myself. What if somehow I betrayed my feelings? Perhaps I already had by speaking so stiffly to Freya. My thoughts ran wild. What if Rushton wanted to see me alone so that he could apologize for not loving me any longer? What if he tried to explain his attachment to Freya?

  These were stupid thoughts, and it was the fear of making a fool of myself that made me cast about desperately after the nightmeal for some plausible excuse not to go to Rushton's chamber. I found myself plucking nervously at the bandage covering the tattoo Swallow had given me, and this produced an idea.

  I would go and see Fian about the Govamen mark. He was ensconced in Powyrs' chamber and I doubted anyone would think of looking for me there. The tattoo was reason enough to have forgotten Rushton's summons. He would be angry, of course, but I would show the tattoo to him and say that I had remembered the mark and had gone off to see Fian about it without thinking of his request. That would show him how little he meant to me. I would tell him of the tattoo—and I imagined the apologetic and slightly flippant smile I would wear as I said it—and explain how it had come about. I would casually mention that the gypsy had kissed me. Just as if people were always kissing me, so that I hardly even bothered about it.

  Let him dare try to pity me then!

  Having worked myself into a fury, I marched off to Powyrs' cabin, taking good care to let no one see me enter.

  "Elspeth," Fian said, sounding surprised. He had to flatten himself against the wall to get the door to the tiny chamber open, but there was hardly enough room even when it was closed. He waved me to the only seat that would fit, and propped himself on the corner of the rickety wooden table piled high with books.

  "I'm glad ye've come. Ye know there are actually some Beforetime maps among these papers? I am tryin' to ..." He stopped. "Lud, I do blather on. It is a teknoguild failing, I know, to imagine th' world revolves around them. Did ye want somethin' in particular?"

  I bit my lip, suddenly unsure of how much I wanted to tell.

  "I did," I said slowly. "Do you know of the mark on the Govamen plasts stolen by the Reichler Clinic people?"

  Fian wagged his head impatiently. "Yes, yes. Three Guanette birds goin' around one another?"

  "Was there anyone else who might have used the same mark other than Govamen?"

  "Unlikely," Fian said. "It appears on every single piece of research an' plast from Govamen an' I think it was especially devised fer them. Ye remember before when I said th' Reichler Clinic was in contact wi' th' Misfits bein' held by Govamen?"

  I nodded.

  "Well, all of those documents wi' Govamen's special symbol have convinced us that th' Misfits' contact was nowt one of th' Misfits, but one of th' scientists—that's what th' Beforetimers called teknoguilders. Who else could have stolen th' papers an' smuggled them out, but someone who worked there?"

  "You think this scientist wanted to help th' Misfits escape?" I asked curiously.

  "Help them get to the Reichler Clinic, I expect—an' that would have meant first helpin' them to escape. What we're tryin' to find out now is whether or nowt they did escape. Why did ye ask about th' Govamen mark, anyway?"

  I took a deep b
reath. "Did you know that our gypsies were not like the ones in the Beforetime?"

  "Of course nowt. Th' real gypsies were a people called Romans an' they were swallowed up into other races long afore th' Great White. Our gypsies are just people who took on their philosophy an' nomadic habits."

  "Do you have any idea what our gypsies were before the holocaust?"

  Fian's puzzled expression deepened. "What is this all about, Elspeth?"

  "Have you ever heard of Twentyfamilies?"

  "Some sort of council within th' gypsy fraternity?"

  "Not exactly," I said, and went on to explain.

  "Amazin'," Fian said. "You must tell me this again slowly, so that I can write it down. I had no idea gypsy society was so complex. A pity ye dinna have th' chance to find out more about th' ancient promises. I've nivver read or heard anythin' about them. But what have gypsies to do with th' Govamen mark?"

  "The purebloods wear it on their inner forearms."

  "That is odd. Why would a gypsy wear th' mark of a long dead Beforetime organization?"

  "Exactly what I am wondering," I said.

  "I suppose these gypsies might have adopted the Govamen sign. By all accounts, it was an enormous organization an' th' Beforetimers had a great love of flauntin' their symbols about."

  "How do you explain that the gypsies regard it as a sacred mark?"

  "Perhaps their mark only looked like th' Govamen symbol," Fian suggested.

  I lost my temper a little—a thing I would not have done normally. I rolled up my sleeve to reveal the grubby bandage around my arm, and gestured for Fian to pass over a jug of water sitting on a tray.

  He stared as I dipped my arm in it and let the water penetrate. "A Twentyfamilies gypsy gave the mark to me," I said. "You will see if it is exact or merely alike."

  Fian listened, horrified, to my description of the tattoo procedure.

  "Talk to me," I said fiercely, when the silence went on too long. "But not about this. Not yet because I haven't seen it since it was done."

  Fian looked like a startled owl, but he obliged. "Tell me about Jakoby again."

  I began to separate the sodden bandages. "She was wonderful, and yet terrible too in a way. You got the feeling she was capable of anything."

  "An' she really offered to fight th' rebel leader of Sawlney?"

  I nodded, remembering the sweaty terror of me fat Brocade. "Let's keep our fingers crossed it is healed properly," I said evenly, lifting the last layer away. We both stared.

  "Is this a joke?" Fian demanded crossly.

  I was mute with astonishment, for other than the crisscross reddening left by the bandage, my skin was utterly unmarked or discolored. The triple bird tattoo had vanished!

  Leaving Fian's tiny room, I dismissed his suggestion that I had been tricked into thinking I had been given the tattoo.

  No one knew better than I how it had been obtained, or

  exactly what it meant for Swallow to have given it. If he had intended to rook me, why would he have told me so much about himself? Besides, I had seen the needles and felt them pierce my skin.

  But I could hardly blame the teknoguilder for his doubts.

  I might have had the same reaction in his place, except that I knew I had not imagined the tattoo. Which left me wondering what had happened to it. Unfortunately, only Swallow could know the answer to that.

  I sighed and decided to relieve Miky who was sitting with Dragon. Maruman was sleeping curled up at the foot of the mattress, but he woke as I entered.

  When the Empath guilden had gone off yawning to her bed, I moved across to where Dragon lay and sat on the floor and took her small limp hand in mine. Maruman rose, stretched and came to curl himself into my lap. We made no attempt to communicate and I was grateful for his silent companionship. I did not want to talk anymore or think. It had been a long, confusing, painful day and I just wanted to lay my head on the bed and be still.

  I put my cheek against Dragon's hand and stared out the small circular window at the sky. Almost at once I slept.

  I dreamed of walking along a black road. Rushton was behind me calling. "Wait. I will come with you."

  I walked faster, thinking of him holding Freya.

  "Elspeth..."

  But his voice was fading. I was crying but I walked faster still.

  I fell then into a deeper dream; a chaotic tumult of images that made no sense.

  There was a chair, red and bulging with carvings of grotesque faces. One moment the faces appeared to be convulsed with mirth and, the next, they seemed to shriek with agony.

  I saw a tall, beautiful woman smile.

  "All the women in my family have it," she said in a soft, musical voice.

  Then the same woman was slumped in the carved chair. Her hair was red like Dragon's, and her breast too, for she had been stabbed there and the knife still protruded from the gaping wound. Bending over her was a bald man with a pale, greasy face and a bloody hand. "Who will ever know it was my hand that struck the killing blow?" he whispered with feral glee.

  The vision changed and I was aboard a ship going over the waves. Then I was in the sea, and the water about me was tinged with the red-haired woman's blood, for she was beside me in the water. I tried to keep her afloat, but the waves were violent and kept tearing us apart.

  "My daughter," she rasped. "You are... You must..."

  "Templeport ho," a voice called, and I woke with a start to a blazing hot day, my head aching abominably.

  The cabin door slammed open.

  "We're here!" Miky announced in an elated voice.

  I got up stiffly, disentangling myself from Dragon and feeling groggy. I rubbed at my stiff back, ignoring Maruman's grumbles at being disturbed.

  The others were outside already when I got there, all pressed up against the side of the ship and staring out through the goldshot salt haze at Sador. I was astounded to see how high the sun was. I had slept near through to midday! The air outside was dry and hot, and breathing seemed to burn the inside of my nostrils.

  The soaring sea cliffs lay before us like a black barrier, running as far as I could see in both directions. They were sheer and utterly inaccessible. But right ahead of us, the cliff was cracked as if split by a giant axe, and sand from the desert high above had trickled out to form a spit, pointing out into the dark sea like a white finger. This, Powyrs said, was Templeport.

  As we came closer to the tip of the peninsula, we could see a cluster of tents fluttering white like scattered blossom, but there were no other buildings and no greenery at all. Little wonder. The spit would be barren, saturated as it was with salt from the sea, and the pitiless heat would scorch anything that tried to grow. The shore wavered and danced through shimmering waves of heat, appearing as insubstantial as an illusion.

  "How could anyone live here?" Miky said. This had been directed at Angina but her twin was busy murmuring softly into Dameon's ear, describing the scene.

  I kept a tight shield around my mind, for Dameon always seemed to sense my darkest moods. The image of Freya and Rushton was still fresh in my mind and I had no wish to confide my feelings to the empath, for all I loved him dearly. Some pains were not to be shared.

  "It is too hot," Miryum grumbled, her voice slurred by her long sleep.

  "You'd best get used to it," Hannay said. "It will get better before it gets worse. The ship will be cool compared to the land."

  "Hmh," Miryum grunted. "Well, at least the ground will stand still under my feet."

  "How can it be so hot? It will soon be wintertime," Kella said, visibly wilting in the strong sunlight.

  "Perhaps the desert makes the sun hotter somehow," Fian said. "The lack of plant life and water..." His voice trailed off.

  "There is the Earthtemple," Powyrs said, pointing. I scanned the spit for a building but could see nothing.

  "Oh Lud," Daffyd murmured suddenly. "There. In the cliff. No wonder it is called an Earthtemple."

  The Temple was part of the cli
ff, and visible only because the cliff was carved from top to bottom. Closer, I could make out windows in the midst of the carving. From the number of them, the Temple must be enormous.

  I felt someone at my side.

  It was Rushton and his eyes were accusing. "I asked you to come and see me last night"

  "I... I had to see Fian," I stammered. "He..."

  Rushton's eyes blazed with such fury, I faltered. He turned on his heel without a word, and went to stand with Freya and Hannay.

  "What in Lud's name are those?" Angina exclaimed.

  He was pointing at a group of great, shaggy, dun-colored beasts with four legs and a lump of flesh pouting up from their backs.

  "They are kamuli," Powyrs said, looking over his shoulder with a grin. "The Sadorians use them rather than horses and they are not mutants, however much they might look it. They existed in the Beforetime and were called desert ships because they traverse the sands effortlessly with their soft splayed hoofs. They store water in those lumps on their backs."

  "Sadorians do not use horses, then?" Freya asked curiously.

  "Inland they do," the seaman said. "Where the spice groves are, the ground is hard and there is thick forestation that makes horses more suitable as transport."

  I noticed Kella watching me, and made an effort to look interested.

  "Act," Brydda had once advised me. "Pretend that you are clever, wise, brave, calm, courageous. Pretend, and some of the time, you can forget it is pretense."

  But pretend that I did not care what Rushton thought of me?

  Easier said than done.

  "Since the road opened, the Sadorians have brought Landhorses in because they are very keen on breeding hardier beasts out of their own stock," Powyrs was still talking about horses. "Of course, anyone game enough to travel along the coast road uses horses or uses them to pull wagons, and everything brought for trade, including horses, must come to Templeport first to be checked for disease. In fact, all trade in Sador happens here because the only form of coin permitted here are Temple tokens."