The Rebellion

  “Phew, these masks make you sweat. They’ll have to have more air holes,” Gevan gasped, mopping his forehead and coming to stand by me. “What did you think of the show?”

  “You were all marvelous,” I said. “Merret was so funny.”

  Gevan grinned. “She’s splendid, isn’t she? I take it you don’t feel the show holds our abilities up to ridicule as Miryum and her coercers-knights do?”

  “I don’t,” I said. “But I saw the knights looking rather disdainful.”

  “They can’t see that the Talent of coercing is separate from how it is regarded. I am no less powerful because I use my abilities to make people laugh. You know, as much as I regret the thought of it, I really think I will have to let Miryum form a splinter group.”

  “It saddens me to hear you don’t think it can be held together.”

  Gevan shrugged. “Oh, I can hold the split off indefinitely, if that’s what you want. But it’s disruptive to feel the knights silently pulling against the rest of us. It’s not as if they disobey me, but a guild can’t be divided in its heart.”

  “Just don’t do anything until we see what Rushton says,” I asked.

  Gevan frowned suddenly. “Speaking of Rushton, it seems as if you’ll have to fill in for him again after all. It’s time for the Choosing Ceremony.”

  Only then did I become aware that we were standing in near darkness, with a single guttering torch left alight by the wagon. All that remained of the day was a few streaks of golden light on the underside of the clouds near the horizon. My heart gave a nasty lurch. Fear for Rushton coursed through my veins.

  Gevan squeezed my arm in sympathy and said he was sure there was some good reason for Rushton’s delay; nevertheless, the Choosing could not be put off.

  And so, as the sun fell behind the mountains, Valda and several others formally chose the Futuretell guild, a young lad called Kally chose the Coercers, and some teknoguilders were promoted. Both Aras, bursting with pride and red as a beet, and an astonished Zarak were elevated to the rank of ward. Offering congratulations, bestowing bracelets and armbands, and lighting their candles, I waited until they stood with their various guilds before expressing my regret that I must again speak for Rushton. I implied that his delay had been half anticipated, and rather perfunctorily, I enjoined them to strive to be their best in all things.

  Now that the sun was gone, it had grown distinctly chilly, and I was shivering in my thin silk dress and shawl. I farsent Miryum, who told me glumly that the Sadorian was yet to wake. I then farsent Gahltha and learned that Avra was in labor but all was going well. He refused my offer to keep him company as he waited, saying there was naught I could do. In any case, as a wild mountain equine, Avra preferred her foal to be born without human presence. His tone was apologetic, but I sent that I understood perfectly and asked that he give her my love.

  I found Jakoby to let her know that I would ride on the morrow with her to the pass. Then I briskly bade her good night and walked away from the light and laughter of the moon fair.

  15

  BY THE TIME I climbed into bed, my eyes were closing of their own accord, but contrarily, the minute my head was on the pillow, I could not sleep.

  “Rushton!” I sent his name in a probe that stretched far into the night, but of course there was no answer.

  What if he had been more than delayed?

  Fortunately, sheer exhaustion claimed me before my self-control faltered. I fell asleep and eventually into a memory dream of traveling with my father.

  “Now, you mind your manners,” my father said, sitting by me on the wooden carriage bench and holding the reins. “This is not our little village where everyone knows everyone else. A city is a hard place, and people who dwell there have grown so to match it.”

  “Is that why we live in Rangorn, Da?”

  “It is, but it’s not the only reason. Now, that’s enough questions from you. A city is a bad place for idle chatter. You hold your tongue while we’re there and don’t go speaking out of turn.”

  Something in his voice frightened me. “Will there be a moon fair, then, Da?”

  “There will at that, but it’s not for pleasure that we’re going, lass. We’ll be doing some serious trading and one or two other bits of business. But you’ll have time enough to hear a few tunes and see a puppet show.”

  “And have some sweets?” I asked urgently.

  He laughed. “Oh, you’ll fill yer belly with muck just as your brother does and will moan and puke all the way home.”

  “Da!”

  I sat silently, listening to his thoughts bubble and mutter in his mind like a stream running under the earth. He was worrying about whether he would be able to find a man he needed to speak with. He was thinking he ought not to have brought me into danger but that a child stopped people giving a man the evil eye the way they did a lone stranger. Normally, he would bring Jes, but the boy was fevered. Mother had said to take me, because she didn’t want me coming down sick as well. She would be furious with him if she knew he was still feeding the odd bit of news to his rebel friends in the city. Well, he couldn’t do much else with the responsibility of a family, but cursed if he’d sit back while the filthy priests charged innocent folk so as to steal their lands.

  He drew the wagon to a halt to water the horses at a stream, and I forced my mind to close itself to his thoughts, feeling shamed. Somehow, without being told, I knew that listening to his private mind was as wrong as eavesdropping, and maybe worse.

  “Sometimes you have to eavesdrop,” a familiar, piping voice said.

  I looked down to find Ariel, as a child, too, standing by the side of the road and looking up at me. He tittered with malice and became a man before my eyes.

  “Greetings, Elspethelf,” he said in caressing tones. “That’s what your brother used to call you, isn’t it?”

  “What do you want?”

  He held out a white, long-boned hand. “Come down, and we will talk. Come.”

  I shook my head, unaccountably frightened.

  “Are you afraid?” he whispered. Darkness began to pour from him like smoke, and in seconds it was as night. Dimly, I saw his form change. He was a child again; then he was something huge and writhing. A pallid tentacle crawled toward the stream where my father was still filling a bucket.

  “Da!” I screamed, and began to climb down. Then something smashed into the wagon, toppling it violently sideways, and I was thrown into the air with a shriek of terror.

  I sat up gasping in fear. It was still dark, and it took me a moment to calm down from my nightmare enough to recall that the Sadorians were departing at dawn, and I had set my mind to wake me. I stepped out of bed onto stones that felt like slabs of ice, and dressed in thick trousers, socks, and two undershirts, all the while wondering why I had dreamed of Ariel yet again. Pulling on my riding boots and an oiled jacket, I glanced out the shutter and was relieved to find it hadn’t snowed, despite the icy feel of the air. I dragged a comb through my hair and farsent to Alad, who was sharing a predawn meal with the Sadorians, and told him I would meet them.

  “Oh, you should know that Avra had a filly as coal black as her da about an hour ago,” he sent.

  “Are they well?”

  “Avra is tired but triumphant, from the tenor of her thoughts, and the foal is staggering about wondering what it is. Gahltha doesn’t want to leave them yet, so Zidon will carry you to the pass and back.”

  I caught a brief image through his mind of the Sadorians rising from the table and realized I had best get a move on if I was to be at the front door when they came past.

  Waiting at the end of the curving moonlit drive, I had an eerie sense of déjà vu, for it reminded me of the night I had visited Obernewtyn on the dreamtrails. The stillness of the mountain predawn made it seem as if the world held its breath. There was not a whisper of wind to disturb the trees. Not a leaf rustled nor a frog croaked, and a thick frost glimmered over everything. Then I heard the sound of horses. br />
  As the riders emerged like shadows from the darkness, I saw Fian and Rasial as well as Alad and the Sadorians. Fian was mounted on Faraf.

  “I’m just on my way back to th’ Teknoguild caves,” Fian said. “It was so late, I figured I mun wait until mornin’ an’ ride along wi’ ye a way. Faraf offered to carry me to give her leg a bit of exercise.”

  I greeted Faraf and asked if her leg was truly well enough to bear the lad.

  “The boy is light and will soon dismount,” she sent.

  Alad interrupted to say he was freezing without a proper coat and must get indoors. He got down from Zidon, and I took his place. As the horses turned their noses to the lowlands, Jakoby invited me to ride by her.

  When she again praised the empath singers’ moon-fair performance, I took the opportunity to tell her we had decided to send an empath and two beastspeakers to replace Dameon.

  She looked pleased. “Any of your people would be welcome among us, particularly empaths and beastspeakers. Which reminds me: You have shown us great courtesy here, and I hope you will not mind extending it further. Straaka took ill yesterday, and we have had to leave him behind.”

  I assured her that we would be happy to host the tribesman until he was fit to travel.

  “He was alone with Miryum when it happened,” she mused. “She said he was in the midst of greeting her when, without warning, he apparently fainted. It is puzzling for, as a rule, he is not a sickly man.”

  Realizing she must have questioned Miryum, I felt uneasy. The coercer would not lie well. “Perhaps the mountain air affected him,” I murmured. “It is thinner up here than at sea level. But whatever happened, we have accomplished healers. I’m sure it won’t be long before he follows you.”

  “I think that might depend more on your Miryum than on Straaka’s health,” the tribeswoman said, giving me a sideways glance.

  “Perhaps Straaka will return to Sador to await Miryum’s arrival.”

  Jakoby shook her head decisively. “He will not return to Sador without her. Either he will wait as an exile here, or he will take his life. No tribesman could prepare for a wife and then fail to bring her without being ridiculed.”

  “That seems very harsh,” I said, beginning to wonder if I had been too clever for my own good.

  We rode in silence as the sky grew steadily brighter. The moon stayed high but faded to a pale sliver against the blue, and by the time Fian left us, the sun was close to rising, and the mountains glowed gold and magenta. Riderless now, Faraf trotted alongside Zidon, and behind them Rasial padded tirelessly, offering no clue as to why she had decided to accompany us. In sight of the pass, I asked if Alad had given them a brace of homing birds so they could send back a message if they encountered Rushton or at least heard news of his passing. Bruna held up the wicker cage tied to her pack, where two birds on a swinging perch looked phlegmatic and unimpressed.

  “If you don’t hear anything on the way, would you ask Brydda to let us know what happened when Rushton was there? Who he met and spoke to, and especially who saw him last and when.”

  “You need not worry for him, surely. Your seers would foresee harm to their master,” Bruna said so loftily that I felt an urge to slap her.

  We trotted slowly down the last stretch to the pass, hailing the coercers on watch in their fortified hut. I farsent to ask if there had been any activity on the road and learned that there had been no sign of anyone as far as Guanette since the previous day.

  “That is good news,” Jakoby said. None of us dismounted, for it was not the Sadorian way to do so at partings.

  “Travel safely and give Dameon my love when you see him. Say we miss him sorely,” I said.

  “I will,” Jakoby promised. Then she put her arm across her chest and half bowed in Sadorian fashion. “I hope Rushton comes home safe and soon.”

  “So do I,” I said.

  Watching the riders break into a gallop and diminish in the distance, I wished with all my heart that I would see Rushton riding up toward me, but of course he did not appear. As Zidon turned his back on the pass, I glanced down at Rasial, wondering again why she had come.

  “The loss of a mate is a hard thing,” Rasial sent morosely. “The funaga-li killed my mate before he could sire pups on me.”

  “You are not old. Perhaps you will find another mate?” Zidon sent compassionately. As usual, animal exchanges were on an open band, so I could understand what they said to each other as well as what was directed specifically to me.

  “I will bear no pups,” Rasial sent, her strange eyes burning with a queer zealotry that reminded me of the way Herders looked during burnings.

  “I don’t see how you—” I began, but Rasial began to growl a warning. “What is it?” I demanded. When she did not respond, I sent out a probe to discover what had alarmed her. I could find nothing, though she continued growling and all the hackles were up on her neck.

  I noticed Faraf was trembling and had drawn nearer to Zidon. “What is it?” I demanded of them both. “What do you sense/scent?”

  “Funaga,” Faraf sent tremulously.

  “Impossible. I don’t sense any human nearby.”

  “No sense funaga. Smell,” Rasial sent, lifting her lip to bare her teeth in a ferocious grimace.

  I did not understand. A human who could be scented ought to be easily found with a probe. Unless whomever the animals scented was cloaking themselves coercively.

  I thought of the killing power that lay slumbering in my mind. I had drawn on it before to enhance my other abilities. Carefully, I delved down into my mind, drawing on a shred of the dark power and sheathing my farseeking probe in it. Casting it out again, I had a sense of exaltation, for it made my probe far more potent. This time, the probe located two human minds beneath a strong coercive shield.

  Asking the animals to wait for me in the clearing, I pushed through the trees toward the minds I had sensed. It did not take me long to find them physically: a girl of about twelve and a much younger boy, cowering in the bole of a huge dead tree. The boy burst into tears at the sight of me peering in at them, and the coercive cloak that had hitherto hidden them dissolved.

  “I’m sorry, Seely!” he wailed to the girl.

  “You are runaways?” I asked calmly.

  “We are, and what of it?” The girl’s belligerent answer was belied by her frightened eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I live near here,” I said ambiguously, registering that the girl was an unTalent.

  Her eyes widened in a different kind of fear. “We heard that no one lives up in the mountains, because the people who dwelt here got burned in a firestorm and them that survived died later of the plague.”

  “I don’t have the plague,” I promised, spreading my hands. “Come out. I won’t hurt you. I’m unarmed.”

  The girl hesitated before urging the boy out and crawling quickly after him. She wrapped her thin arm protectively around his chubby shoulders. There was a delicate cast to her face and frame that suggested she was not the child of a rough peasant household. The sturdy little boy might have been a peasant child, but he had a mass of golden curls and soft skin under the dirt and scratches, which marked him the son of wealthy parents, too. A prickle ran up my spine, for here was a riddle—and maybe a dangerous one.

  “Do you have food?” the girl asked, an edge of desperation in her voice. “I have a few coins.…”

  “Are there soldierguards after you?” I asked.

  “They might be looking for us, but not up here,” the girl said with a glint of malice in her eyes.

  “You’re not highlanders, are you?”

  She glared at me with a mixture of defiance and fear. Clearly, she knew they needed help, and I could almost see her trying to decide how much of their story to tell. “I’ll help you,” I said bluntly, “but I need to know for certain that no soldierguards are on your trail.”

  “I swear no one knows we are here. Gavyn has hid us from soldierguards and other travelers on the ro
ad.”

  “Well and good, then. Come along with me. There’s a clearing just over here where you can have a drink, and then we’ll ride to my home.”

  “Hooray! A drink!” the little boy caroled. He turned his guileless eyes on me. “I don’t mind at all that you found us.”

  The girl looked at him, then at me. “How did you find us?” she demanded suspiciously.

  There was no point in prevarication, so I told her.

  “You are like Gavyn?” She gaped. “I thought the poor lad was a lone freak and pitied him for it. You are up here hiding from the Herders as well, then?”

  “You could say that,” I said, repressing a smile. Then I realized what she’d said. “Here, a moment past you said the soldierguards weren’t after you, but what about the Herders?”

  Her brown eyes flared with hatred. “The bastards would like to have us, but they don’t have any idea where we are.”

  I stared, for the curse had been the sort she would never have heard in a wealthy house. When the pair of them had quenched their thirst, I felt the girl decide she might as well tell the truth of their story. Having made up her mind, she told their tale quite simply, with a weariness that was all the more poignant because it was too heavy for her years.

  Seely’s parents had died when she was very young, and she’d been adopted by distant relatives. She said little, but enough bitter visions flickered through her mind to show she had been more maid than daughter to the family that took her in. Nevertheless, she formed a friendship with the daughter of the house, who was some years older than her and who’d been promised by her parents to a Councilman. When the daughter went to her man’s house and bed, Seely went with her as her companion and personal maid.