Obernewtyn

"And you do not seem to be an ordinary funaga," the dog answered with some humor.

  "So," I grinned, "you are wary. That is good. But I am curious. I did not imagine there would be pets at Obernewtyn."

  The dog growled. "I am no nannyhammer to the funaga. I come where I please. I think I will leave," he added, obviously offended. But when he made no move to disturb himself, I perceived that his curiosity outweighed his dignity.

  "I did not mean to call you that. It is simply that I wonder why you are here. Are there no better places for a dog to be?" His reaction to being called a pet made me more than sure he was, or had been, wild.

  "There are at that," he said with a sad sigh. "I have heard your name before," he said unexpectedly. "A cat spoke it"

  "Maruman!" I projected a picture with the name but Sharna was unresponsive.

  "I did not see this mad cat who seeks a funaga. I heard it from a beast who had it from another."

  "Do you know if the cat was here?" I asked excitedly.

  "Who knows where a cat goes?" he said philosophically. "It was only told to me as a curiosity. Whoever heard of a cat looking for a funaga? I thought it a riddle."

  I heard a movement and looked up to see Rushton enter. Sensing my withdrawal, the dog settled back into his corner, Rushton looked about sharply, sensing something amiss, then tersely told me to follow him.

  If he had shown a peculiar interest in me at our first meeting, this time he seemed at pains to assure me of his total Jack of interest. "The stables have to be cleaned every second day," he said in a bored voice as we entered. A rich loamy smell rushed out to greet me. I watched as he showed me how to catch hold of the horse's halter and lead him out. The horses were to be released into the yard leading off the stables, their halter detached and hung on a hook. Rushton gave me a broom, a rake, and a pan, taking up a long-handled fork himself.

  "You have to lift the manure out in clumps and drop it in the pan, along with the dirtiest hay." Deftly he slid the prongs of the fork under some manure and threw it neatly into the pan. "When you've done all that, rake the rest of the hay to one side, then fork in some fresh stuff." He forked hay from a nearby pile onto the floor with economical movements. It looked easy.

  "You lay the old hay over the new because if you don't the horse will eat it." He handed the fork to me. "There are twelve stables in this lot so you'd better get on with it. Call me if you have any trouble getting the horses out." I nodded and briefly those inscrutable eyes probed mine, then he turned on his heel and left.

  I turned and surveyed the stables.

  "You would do well to mindspeak to them first," Sharna commented from his comer. Taking his advice I approached the nearest box and greeted its occupant, a dappled mare with a large comfortable rear. She flicked her tail and turned to face me.

  "Who are you?" she asked with evident amusement. "I have spoken to many odd creatures in my time but never one of you. I suppose you are behind this," she directed the latter thought to Sharna, who had come to watch. She leaned her long nose close to my face and snorted rudely. "I suppose you want to put me out? Well, I'm not having that thing on my head. Just open the door and I'll walk out."

  Fearfully, I did as she asked, hoping Rushton would not come back and find me. Sharna muttered about her but I ignored him and concentrated on trying to copy Rusnton's movements.

  Except for a big nasty black horse whom Sharna said had been badly mistreated by a previous master, the rest of the horses walked easily to the field. I had finished and was leaning on a post watching them graze when Rush-ton returned.

  "You have been uncommonly fast," Rushton said. The smile fell from my face and I realized I had been stupid. Of course I had been too swift.

  "Too quick to believe, even if Enoch did recommend you," he added reflectively.

  And as I looked into his hard face, I was afraid.

  XIII

  "Well?" Rushton inquired grimly.

  "I... my father kept horses," I lied, hoping he did not know how young I had been made an orphan. There was a speculative gleam in his eyes but he nodded.

  "All right. There are packages of food from the kitchen for midmeal out by the barn. I'll find something else for the afternoon," he said mildly.

  I left as fast as I could to escape those curious watchful eyes. Rushton seemed to hold a special place at Ober-newtyn. I did not think he was a Misfit, yet he had been wary around Ariel, who was one. And there was that strange business with Selmar in the hall.

  The packages were on the ground next to a large bucket of milk covered with a piece of gauze. I scooped up a cup of milk but avoided the squashy packages I recognized from my days in the kitchen as bread and dripping. Propping myself up against a rain barrel in the sun, I admitted that I had been stupid working so quickly. I could have been with Sharna and the horses all day but instead Rushton was sure to give me some horrible job. I sighed, thinking that no one ever needed to get me in trouble—I could do that well enough myself.

  I turned my thoughts to Maruman and wondered if he had really been here. I could not think so. He would not have crossed the tainted ground on foot and I did not think the carriage had returned since he brought me because I had noticed no new faces at meals. Yet he had been oddly defiant when he said he did not want to come to Obernewtyn, as if he felt guilty. His dreams had told him to follow me. I hoped he had not had another fit and decided to come anyway. I decided to ask Sharna to see if he could find out the origin of the story of a cat who searched for a funaga.

  I was so deep in thought I did not see Matthew approach and jumped as his shadow fell across my lap.

  "Dreamin' again?" he asked. He sat himself down beside me and called to Dameon, who joined us. In the past this casual intrusion would have annoyed me, but I found I did not resent the company of this odd pair.

  Nevertheless, I felt bound to point out to them that groupings of people were invariably dangerous. "I'm not saying I don't want your company but maybe it's not a good idea to be so obvious," I ventured, looking around doubtfully.

  Matthew shrugged. "Elspeth, yer thinkin' like an orphan. We are Misfits now. What more could they do?"

  Burn us, I thought, but did not say it for that seemed unlikely now. And he was right. I was thinking like an orphan. The two boys unwrapped their lunches. Dameon rewrapped his with a grimace but Matthew ate his with a bored expression.

  "Have ye come across old Larkin yet?" Matthew asked presently. I shrugged, saying I hadn't seen anyone but Rushton. "Nivver mind." Matthew laughed. "Yer bound to see him soon. Ye'll know when ye do. He's not th' sort ye could easily forget."

  "Who is he, a guardian?" I asked curiously.

  "There are only three permanent guardians up here," Dameon explained. "The others could come and go. They don't last long though. I suppose they think it is too unfriendly." I thought of guardian Myrna's treatment of the hapless Hester and did not wonder.

  "Strictly speakin' Larkin is a Misfit, but he's much older than all the rest," Matthew said. "Do you notice how there are no older Misfits? I think they probably send them back to th' Councilfarms. But Larkin has been here practically since this place was built. I don't know why they keep him on. But he's a queer, fey old codger, an' rude as they come. I'm not even sure I like him exactly. At first I thought he must have been an informer and maybe that's why they kept him here. He'd a nasty glint in his eye and a sly air. But when I talked to him, I stopped thinkin' that. He hates Ariel and Vega and he even swears at the guardians!"

  "You make him sound awful." I laughed.

  "In a way he is," Matthew said seriously. "But if ye can get him talkin', he has some interesting ideas."

  "I don't suppose half of it is true," Dameon scoffed.

  But Matthew refused to be drawn. "No doubt. I daresay he does make a lot of it up. But he knows a lot too. An' there's no harm in hearin' ideas, whoever tells them. Especially ideas about th' Beforetime."

  "And who mentioned the Beforetime?" Dameon inquired smartly.


  "He did," Matthew said defensively. Their talk proceeded as if they had had this argument before, but it was new to me and I was becoming interested in this Larkin. "Sure a lot of what he says is just stories. But nothing comes from nothing. An' some of th' things he says makes a lot more sense than the rubbish the Herders put about. There's no harm in it... unless ye happen to be blind in more ways than one," he added with an oblique glance at Dameon. I thought it rather a tactless jibe but Dameon only laughed.

  "Well, where is he, then?" I asked crossly, somehow envious of their casual friendship.

  "Well, he's nowt a man to blow th' whistle an' bang th' drum. In fact I sometimes think he'd like to be invisible. He works on th' farms. Ye'll meet him soon enough, doubtless," Matthew said.

  I thought of something else, "Tell me, that farm master, Rushton. Is he a Misfit or what?"

  "Nobody really seems to know," Matthew said. "I asked Larkin once an' he told me to mind my business."

  Dameon nodded. "He might work for pay, like the temporary guardians. But I don't know. Whenever I'm near him, I sense a command, a rare completeness in him. I sense a purpose and drive."

  I stared, again wondering about his curious ability.

  "What about Ariel, then?" I asked.

  "I hate him," Matthew said with cold venom. I was taken aback at his vehemence and Dameon actually flinched.

  "I'm sorry," Matthew said contritely. He looked at me. "Ye have to be careful about what ye feel. Sometimes things hurt him."

  "Burns," mumbled Dameon. "Hate always burns."

  I thought that was true enough.

  "Ariel is a Misfit but he has great authority here. He seems to be Madam Vega's personal assistant. Perhaps he started off as an informer and proved especially good at it."

  "Do you... I mean, what do you feel when you're near him?" I asked.

  "Lots of things. Not nice. I don't really know. It's like being near something that smells sweet and then you realize it's that sweet smell that rotten things sometimes get," he said, then he sighed as if annoyed by his vague explanation. But I found it a curiously apt description.

  "And you say Larkin has been here for a long time?" I said, changing the subject because Dameon was looking pale. His powers seemed to demand more of him than mine did of me.

  "Forever, practically," Matthew said extravagantly. "An' if ye want to know about people ..."

  I shook my head hastily. "Oh it wasn't so much people as Obernewtyn I was thinking about. It seems such an odd place. Why would anyone build here in the first place? And when did it become a home for Misfits, and why? There is some kind of secret here, I sense it. I don't know why I should care. The world is full of secrets, but this nags at me."

  "I feel that too," Matthew said eagerly. "As if something is going on underneath all these everyday things."

  "It makes me cold to listen to you two," Dameon said suddenly. "I don't deny that I have felt something too. Not the way you two do, and not by using any power. A blind person develops an instinct for such things and mine tells me there is some mystery here, something big.

  "But some things are better left unknown." His words were grim and I found myself looking around nervously.

  Dameon went on. "Sometimes I am afraid for people like you who have to know things. And there's no point in my even warning you that finding out can sometimes be a dangerous thing. Your kind will dig and hunt and worry at it until one day you will find what is hidden, waiting for you."

  I shivered violently.

  "Curiosity killed th' cat," Matthew said. I looked up startled, thinking of Maruman. "That's what Larkin told me once. He said it was an Oldtime saying."

  "And how would he know Oldtime sayings?" I asked, throwing off the chill cast over me by Dameon's words.

  "In books," Matthew said calmly. "He keeps them hidden, but I've seen them in his cottage."

  "It seems like a silly sort of saying to me," I said.

  "Well, sayin' it cleared the ice out of me blood." Matthew looked at Dameon, who seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts since he had uttered his chilling little speech. "Ye fair give me th' creeps talkin' that way," he added.

  "Do you know, I was just thinking," Dameon said. Matthew gave me a "not again" look. "I once thought it was the end of the world to be sent here, the end of everything. But here I sit, happy, safe, and with two friends, and I wonder."

  "I know what ye mean," Matthew agreed. "I near died of fright when Madam Vega picked me to come here. I thought I would be going to th' Councilfarms. But now I sit here an' I sometimes get th' funny feeling that this, all along, was where I was meant to come."

  I said nothing but thought of Maruman saying that my destiny waited for me in the mountains.

  "Yet it is not freedom," Dameon added, softly, and we both stared at him. The bell to end midmeal rang, seeming to underline his words.

  "Ah well. Back to work," Matthew said glumly, and pulled Dameon to his feet. With a sketchy wave they went back across the fields.

  Rushton came to stand beside me as I watched them go. "I see you accomplish many things quickly," he sneered. "You choose companions as easily as you muck out a stable. I should have thought the orphan life would have taught you more caution."

  I said nothing.

  "Well, this afternoon you can show me your talents at milking. I don't suppose your father had cows as well as horses?" he added.

  I sighed and fell into step behind him, hoping he was not to be my teacher for the afternoon. I was beginning to ache from the morning's work. We went to a big barn that Rushton said was the dairy. A bearded man sat on a barrel near the entrance.

  "Louis, this is Elspeth Gordie," Rushton told the man. "You can have her for the afternoon." The old man's deeply weathered face twitched, but it was too wrinkled to tell if he smiled or not.

  "I hope she's quicker than th' last," the old man said abruptly.

  "Oh, she's quick all right," Rushton said pointedly as I went after the old man. I turned, expecting to see his departing back, but he stood there watching me.

  Louis turned out to be something of an enigma. He instructed me thoroughly and at such length that I began to wonder if he thought me a half-wit. I understood what he meant long before he completed his explanations.

  He reminded me of a tortoise. That is not to suggest, however, that there was anything foolish or absurd about him; tortoises, though slow, are dignified and self-sufficient. On the other hand, I had the distinct but unfounded impression that his thoughts were not nearly as slow as his appearance would have me believe. He grunted his satisfaction when I demonstrated that I could milk the cow. Then he gave me terse instructions about emptying the bucket into the right section of a separation vat.

  "Nowt like it," he said suddenly and I jumped because so far the only words he had spoken had been orders. He pointed to the milk and I nodded, wondering if he was slightly unbalanced. "Ye don't gan milk like that in th' towns. Watery pale stuff tasting of drainpipes," he said, patting the cow's rump complacently.

  "Ye mun call me Larkin," he said suddenly.

  "Oh," I said.

  "Well, ye gan on with the cows in that shed. I've done most of them. Dinna mix th' vats up," he cautioned me.

  So that was Louis Larkin. Odd that we should meet so soon after Matthew had spoken of him. Remembering that earlier conversation, I wondered if permission to use his last name was a good or bad sign. It was hard to be sure with that beard and his leathery face. I took the opportunity to question the cows about him. like most cows they were slow, amiable creatures without much brain. But they were fond of Louis and that disposed me to like him, for animals have an infallible instinct about funaga.

  "Niver gan done that way!" Louis snapped and jumped. I had been leaning my head on the cow's warm velvety flank, sensing the odd pleasure it got from having its udder relieved. Louis pulled a box up and sat on the wrong end, scraping at a pipe.

  "I suppose you've been here a long time," I ventured. He nodde
d, still busy with his pipe. "I suppose you would

  know just about everybody here..." I looked up quickly

  but he seemed unperturbed by my questions. Perhaps he was used to them. "Where did you come from ... before?" I asked daringly.

  Louis chewed the end of his pipe and looked at me thoughtfully. "I were born in th' Highlands," he said. I stared but he did not elaborate. "Then they put me in here," he added, looking at me with a smile that was both sly and childishly transparent. "Them smart town folk think they know everything. They think they can keep things th' same forever. But change comes an' things have gone too far to drag 'em back to what they was. Every year there be more Misfits an' Seditioners an' one day that Council will find there's more in th' prisons than out." He chuckled. "It's too late to undo what's been done," he added, almost to himself. His eyes slid away from the curiosity in mine, suddenly evasive.

  What people, I wondered? People like me and Matthew and Dameon? Matthew had been right about the old man's fascination. I wondered how I could get him to talk about Obernewtyn. "This place ... it's been here a long time," I said.

  He shrugged. "I been here a long time too, an' I know practically everybody who lives Here," he said.

  I decided to try another tack. "Do you know Ariel? And Selmar?" I asked.

  He nodded but his eyes had grown wary and I wondered which name had produced the change. "Oh, aye. I know them all, an' more. Selmar's a poor sad thing now. Ye'd nowt know her if ye could see how she were when she first came. An' she were th' hope of Obernewtyn . .." he said bitterly.

  I frowned in puzzlement. I had assumed Selmar had always been the way she was now. She must have degenerated. Some Misfits did.

  I started to ask him about Ariel but he stood up and ordered me tersely to get on with the work. He grunted and stomped off and did not come back.

  When I had finished the milking and washed the buckets, I sat outside the barn forlornly, thinking I had a bad habit of annoying the worst people.

  "Don't tell me you are tired?" came Rushton's mocking voice. I looked up at him with open dislike.