I rode Gahltha to begin with, but once Brydda had made his brief call at the farmstead on the Sawlney turnoff, he suggested I dull Gahltha’s coat, tie him to the back of the wagon, and ride inside. “A young woman of your description riding a magnificent black stallion would be as good as a message to Vos that Elspeth Gordie is visiting Saithwold,” Brydda said.
I was not sure I was as well known as Brydda seemed to think, but I did as he suggested, drawing my shawl over my head and lifting Maruman into my lap as I joined Zarak on the bench seat. Darius lay in the back. I wished again that I had managed to convince him not to come, but perhaps all Twentyfamilies gypsies regarded it as their sacred duty to check on their D’rekta’s carvings whenever they had the chance.
When at last we reached the turnoff, I was surprised that there was no sign of armsmen or blockade on the smaller road, but Brydda said the blockade was not immediately visible from the main road. Sure enough, around the first bend, we came upon it: a solid barrier of planks nailed together and running from dense underbrush on one side of the road to the other. The surly looking fellow slouching before the barricade gave an unmanly squeak of fright as Sallah pranced to a stop. Brydda roared laughing, but before the red-faced man could unleash a tirade of abuse, the big rebel called out a greeting, naming him Tam Otey.
The man squinted shortsightedly at Brydda, and then his face changed. “Brydda Llewellyn, are you riding to Saithwold?” He sounded truculent, but there was alarm in his eyes.
“Will you try to stop me if I am, Tam?” Brydda asked in a mocking voice that made the other man’s expression twist with anger.
“Chieftain Vos will not like that you sent no word of your visit.”
“I have no wish to visit your precious chieftain, man. There are a lot more than him living in Saithwold province, though maybe he has forgotten it.” Brydda’s voice had a hard edge, and the other man scowled, but before he could respond, a man standing behind the barrier spoke in a cold, authoritative voice.
“No need to get shirty, Llewellyn. Tam here only asked if you intend to enter Saithwold region.”
“Stovey Edensal,” Brydda said flatly. “It is strange to see you here minding Vos’s front door. Were you not once Malik’s man?”
“Answer,” the man said in a stony voice. “Do you wish to enter this region?”
“I intended to escort these good people, whom I met upon the road, to Saithwold. The lass is anxious about the rumors of brigands. But seeing how well you have the road guarded, I can leave them and return to Sutrium,” Brydda said.
“We have orders to find out what they want before we let them through,” Stovey Edensal said stiffly, after a slight hesitation.
Brydda nodded to Zarak. “Tell the man your names and business, lad.”
“I am Zar and these are my two friends, Ella and Darius. We mean to visit my father, who works for one of the farm holders in Saithwold region,” Zarak said, suppressing his highland accent.
“Is your father expecting you?” the armsman demanded.
“He is not,” Zarak answered equably. “I had a missive from him some while back, and he sounded a bit low in spirits. I decided to call on my way to Sutrium to cheer him up.”
“There!” Brydda said with cheerful impatience. “Neither the boy nor his companions are robbers, so you may set the barrier aside with a clear conscience.”
Stovey looked from the wagon to Brydda and made a gesture with his hand. Three tough-looking armsmen emerged from each side of the bushes where they had been concealed, and my heart began to race, but all six merely set about moving the barrier to let the wagon pass. After Lo and Zade had pulled the wagon through the gap, the barrier was replaced and Zarak turned to shout thanks to Brydda for his kindness.
“You owe me a mug of good ale for my troubles,” Brydda bellowed. “Look for me at the Inn of the Red Deer when you arrive on the morrow.”
“We might stay a night or two with my father,” Zarak called, “but I promise you’ll have your ale within a fourday.”
“I look forward to it,” Brydda roared.
Their prepared speeches completed, I beastspoke the horses to urge them on. My last sight of the blockade was of Brydda astride Sallah, talking down to Tam Otey. He had reckoned that no one would come after us while he was watching, and it seemed he was right.
The moment we were out of sight of the blockade, the horses broke into a gallop. Maruman complained bitterly at the ride’s roughness, but I ignored him. I had never been to Noviny’s homestead, but I knew that his property ran along the outer edge of the Saithwold region. The entrance should not be far along the road, and with luck, we could reach it before we were pursued. At last we saw a gateway with Noviny’s sigil and name painted on a metal shingle swinging from a post beside it. The gate stood open, but it was so narrow that it took a good deal of maneuvering to get the wagon through. The track beyond it was only a little wider and badly rutted, which surprised me, for Noviny had struck me as a meticulous man.
“Noviny gave my da a cottage not far from the front gate,” Zarak said, looking around, but it was Darius who spotted the thatched roof that rose above the trees a little way from the entrance. A clearing at the start of the path leading to the cottage enabled the horses to draw the wagon off the track, where it would not be visible to anyone glancing into the property from the main road. I suggested we unhitch the horses and shove the wagon under a huge spreading tree with weeping branches to hide it from the sight of anyone coming along the track as well.
Zarak had to help Darius down, and when I saw his strained expression, I asked if he would not rather stay in the wagon and rest.
“It will be better for me to walk about a little,” he answered, but his rigid smile alarmed me. However, there was nothing to be done immediately, and at least he could lie down in a proper bed in Khuria’s cottage. Noviny might even employ a healer. With the horses’ help, we shoved the carriage out of sight. I arranged branches to conceal the protruding part of the wagon while Zarak hurried off to see if his father was asleep, as neither of us had been able to farseek him. Darius lowered himself to a log with a stifled groan as I sent a general probe in the direction of Noviny’s homestead. It was blocked by areas of buzzing rejection that betokened tainted earth. I remembered that the Saithwold Herders had laid caches of tainted material during the rebellion to confound the ability of Misfits to communicate with one another.
We heard footsteps and turned to see Zarak alone, a worried expression on his face. “He’s nowt there, an’ it looks as if nobody has lived there for some time.” Anxiety strengthened his highland accent.
“He probably just shifted to the main house during the wintertime,” I said soothingly. “There’s too much tainted stuff about to farseek him, though.” I looked at the gypsy. “Can you walk, Darius? We had better leave the wagon where it is, given the state of the track.”
Gahltha offered to carry him, but when I conveyed the offer, Darius thanked him and said he would rather walk. We set off, moving slowly and leaving the horses to graze near the wagon so they could warn us if we were pursued. They would follow us up to the homestead later. Maruman lay across my shoulders in offended silence, his claws sunk in painfully deep. I kept trying to farseek the homestead, but areas of tainted resistance continued to block me. I wondered if Noviny realized how much poisoned material was strewn about his land. It ought to be cleaned up before it began to seep in and poison the groundwater. But perhaps Noviny knew about the tainted matter without having any idea how to remove it.
After a time, the sound of dogs barking filled the air. Four great hounds with faces as ugly as Jik’s friend Darga came racing down the steep, rutted road, gnashing their teeth menacingly. I beastspoke them and they stopped at once. They came to me, the lead dog whining and baring his neck in such a show of inferiority that Zarak gave me a curious look. Unlike Talented communications between humans, beastspeaking was audible to anyone with the Talent; other beastspeakers had often s
een animals behave reverently or heard them address me as Innle, which was the beast word for Seeker. I had found it wiser to offer no explanation, for people were usually too shy or awed to question me. But Zarak was neither.
“Try farseeking your father again,” I said quickly.
Distracted successfully, his face took on the distant focused look all farseekers acquire when they send out their minds, but after a moment, he shook his head in defeat. We walked to the top of a long slope, and there stood a graceful, low, stone homestead and a cluster of well-kept outbuildings. The front door burst open, and Khuria stepped out carrying a cudgel and frowning suspiciously. Zarak gave a relieved shout and ran to embrace his father.
Khuria was a taciturn man, but after holding his son tightly for a long moment, he looked at the three of us in open consternation. “I dinna expect ye to come here!” he said.
“The letters you sent Zarak were designed to summon us, were they not?” I said, puzzled by his reaction.
“Aye! But I dinna imagine anyone would manage to get past th’ blockade. I thought the letters would bring Zarak there, an’ once he’d been turned back, he’d ride to Sutrium and tell Dardelan. I fear I have brought all of ye into deadly danger.” His eyes settled on Darius, whom he had never met, and Zarak introduced the beasthealer to his father. The older man greeted the gypsy with warmth; then he sobered abruptly. “I only wish I were nowt meetin’ ye under such circumstances.”
“Don’t worry, Father,” Zarak broke in eagerly. “We know what Vos is tryin’ to do, and High Chieftain Dardelan knows it as well. We saw Brydda Llewellyn last night in Rangorn. He rode with us to the barricade, the only reason they let us through without a fuss. He told us Dardelan will deal with Vos after the election.”
The old beastspeaker ran gnarled hands through his thinning hair. “I wish that we had only Vos’s ambitions to contend with. Well, I will say nae more, fer this is Noviny’s story to tell. Come inside an’ ye will hear it soon enow.”
I wanted to insist on some immediate answers, but I noticed that Darius was looking grayer than ever, so I held my tongue. We had barely stepped inside the door of the homestead when he fainted dead away. Zarak managed to catch him, and the young woman coming along the passage toward us commanded we carry him to a small bedchamber. Once Darius was stretched out on a bed, she examined him with a swift efficiency that marked her as a healer. Then she said, “He is very hot. I will prepare something to lower his fever.” She drew a sheet over Darius’s twisted form and ushered the rest of us through a well-appointed kitchen, where the staff gaped at us, and into a large round room containing a fire pit sunk deep into its center. She introduced herself abstractedly as Noviny’s granddaughter, Wenda, and bade us wait while Khuria fetched her grandfather.
“I must go back and tend to your friend,” she added, and left.
Somewhat dazed by the speed at which things were happening, I set Maruman down and eased off my muddy boots before lowering myself onto one of the worn embroidered cushions set around the fire pit. Maruman was already kneading one enthusiastically when Zarak joined me.
“What do ye think is the matter with Darius?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I wish I knew why Khuria looked so appalled to see us.”
We heard footsteps, and the door opened to reveal Khuria and the older man I remembered as Councilman Noviny. Although the man was straight-backed and had a very direct gaze, his hair had turned snowy white, and there was a frailty about him that I had not noticed during the trials. But he smiled warmly as Khuria brought a carved chair with a very upright back and set it close to the fire. Noviny turned his eyes to the leaping flames for so long that I wondered if he had forgotten us.
Finally, I said gently, “It seems there is more trouble here than Vos wanting to win an election.”
Noviny sighed and looked at me. “If Vos were wise or even sensible, he would know perfectly well that Chieftain Dardelan and the other rebels will never allow him to usurp the leadership of Saithwold. But he is vain and foolish, which has made him the perfect pawn for a true villain whose own ambition is darker than anything Vos could imagine.”
My heart sank. “What villain?” I asked. But even as I said it, I thought of Brydda saying, “Stovey Edensal … Were you not once Malik’s man?”
“BEFORE I SAY anything more, I must ask how you got past the barricade,” Noviny said.
I let Zarak explain, and Noviny nodded. “I thought it must have been something like that, since you could not have used your Misfit powers.”
“What is going on here?” I asked. “Why was one of Malik’s men guarding that barricade?”
Noviny gave me an approving look. “Stovey Edensal, I imagine. And he is manning the barricade, because he is mind sensitive to the Talents exhibited by your people. Unlike the other men there, he will not wear a demon band, for his task is to identify any Misfit attempting to use Talents to enter the region. It is sheer luck that you did not attempt to enter his mind.”
“Demon bands!” I said, unable to believe I was hearing about them again so soon after Brydda had mentioned them. On the other hand, Malik and Vos had managed to get their hands on demon bands even before the rebellion. Indeed, a demon band had prevented us from realizing that Malik meant to betray us. No doubt more had been found in the abandoned Saithwold Herder cloister.
“Ye mun have noticed,” Khuria now said, “that ye were unable to farseek us here.”
“It is no secret that the Herders here and elsewhere in the Land made a practice of laying tainted matter and studding the tops of the cloister walls with poisoned fragments, knowing it would inhibit Misfit Talents,” I said.
“That was done before the rebellion,” Khuria said grimly. “But Vos’s men continue doin’ it. They have poisoned the region’s entire perimeter as well as many fences within.”
“But to what end?” I asked. “Surely not so that Vos can be reelected chieftain.”
“No, although that is certainly what Vos believes,” Noviny said. “Let me tell my tale from the beginning. It will be quicker and more orderly.”
I stifled a feeling of impatience and nodded.
He continued. “When Vos’s men began to call at homesteads in and about Saithwold before wintertime, demanding that folk pledge their votes to him in the coming elections, I thought him a fool. Once Dardelan learned what was happening, the Council of Chieftains would deal with Vos. But Vos’s oppressions increased. People’s letters left Saithwold only if they were not critical of the chieftain or the situation here. Vos issued a decree forbidding citizens to travel without permission because of the danger of being waylaid by brigands. Then the blockade was set up, supposedly to prevent robbers or unsavory folk from entering our region. Little by little, we realized that no one secured permission to travel and that the blockade was as much to keep us in as others out.
“It was obvious to me that the other rebel leaders would soon realize what Vos was trying to do, but I could not see Dardelan moving against him until after the election. Therefore, I advised neighbors and friends who sought my advice simply to wait. All would be put right in time.
“But having assured everyone that all would be well, I became troubled, for the dogs told Khuria of men creeping about my property. Khuria kept watch, and he saw Vos’s men laying tainted caches and overheard them saying it was being done on Malik’s advice. That made me very uneasy. Vos is foolish enough to suppose he could get away with forcing himself upon this region as its chieftain, but Malik would know his efforts were doomed to failure. So what was Malik up to?
“Then I heard a rumor that a second blockade had been set up on the other side of Saithwold—that is, on the road leading from the town to the cliffs. The new barricade was meant to prevent robbers creeping into the town from that direction, but I began to wonder if its true purpose might be to prevent anyone venturing near Malik’s main coastal camp. Then I decided that this might be the purpose of both barricades.”
 
; “Are you trying to say that Malik does or does not want Vos to become chieftain of Saithwold?” I asked, trying to contain my impatience.
“I am saying that Vos’s chieftainship and all that he has done to ensure it is irrelevant to Malik except as a distraction,” Noviny answered.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Wenda and a servant entered, carrying trays laden with mugs, jugs of ale, bread and cheese, and pie. Noviny remained silent as his granddaughter and a red-faced lad laid a small table. When they had finished, Wenda assured me in her gentle voice that Darius was sleeping.
“Do you know what is wrong with him?” I asked.
She nodded. “His fever is the result of severe joint inflammation. But I am preparing some poultices that will ease him, and he will be more comfortable by tomorrow.”
“I trust Wenda,” Noviny said when the door closed behind his granddaughter. “But she does not know what I am about to tell you. Nor have I dared to impart it to any of my friends or neighbors or even to trusted retainers.”
“Tell us,” I said simply.
Noviny nodded. “As a young man, I went on long rambles about the wild parts of Saithwold, and though I am no longer young, I know this region like the back of my own hand. I announced my intention to take a ramble toward a lake I know, not far from the Sawlney border. I set off at a deliberate old man’s pace, making sure any number of farm-workers and neighbors noticed me, until I reached a dense copse through which a stream flows. Within the copse, the stream cuts into a deep gorge. It appears utterly inaccessible, but I knew from my boyhood adventures that one could enter it and follow the stream to the other end of the gorge, where it emerges in thick wood not far from the coast.
“I am no longer the agile boy I once was, and it cost some effort to clamber into the gorge, but once inside, it was not hard to follow the stream. Some hours later, I came out of it and was immediately assailed by the scent of the waves. I knew well where I was, but I did not know the exact location of Malik’s camp. I very nearly walked into the midst of a group of Malik’s armsmen. Indeed, I would have if the wind had not brought a man’s voice to me. I froze, and it was just as well, for had I taken another step, I would have tumbled into a deep hollow where Malik’s men had made their camp.