The Farseekers

  'Hmph,' Louis grumped. 'I'm surprised ye've th' time to spare for a beastspeaker.' Louis regarded my decision to lead the Farseekers rather than the Beasting Guild as the worst sort of traitorous defection.

  'What is it, Louis?' I asked resignedly. There were times when he reminded me of Maruman at his most difficult.

  'No need to snap my head off,' Louis said smugly. 'T'were a bit of gossip I heard, I thought might interest ye.'

  Louis was a remarkable source of odd bits of information. He hardly ever left Obernewtyn, but he always seemed to know what was going on in the Highlands. And he knew everything that went on at Obernewtyn.

  'I heard ye were wonderin' if th' Druid had left th' high country,' Louis said, looking over his shoulder as if he thought someone might be listening. I was never sure how much of his eccentric behaviour was affected and how much genuine.

  'Have you heard anything?' I asked.

  He nodded smugly. 'Th' word is that th' Druid has nowt left th' high country. No one has seen a sign of his people in many a long day, but now an' then, there are disappearances.'

  'That could be our fault,' Matthew said. 'Them missin' could be Misfits we rescue, despite th' trouble we gan to make them seem natural.'

  'Ye'd be right of course! It could nowt be that th' Druid is doin' his own recruitin'. 'Tis nowt possible the disappearances are the reason th' Council takes an interest in th' high country!' Louis huffed sarcastically.

  'But, if the Druid is taking people, where is he? And why haven't we been able to locate his camp in far-seeking searches?' I asked.

  Outrage in the old man's face melted into genuine puzzlement. 'Tis strange enow. I would have said th' Druid had gone. But if he's nowt away from th' White Valley, yer expedition route mun be more dangerous than goin' th' main way.'

  'Have you mentioned this to Rushton?' I asked.

  Louis gave me a look of sly entreaty. 'Fact is, I only just heard it. Ought to tell th' Master but I've a yen to go on this expedition. I'd like to see th' Lowlands once, afore I die,' he added pitifully. 'Ye could put in a word for me.'

  'Rediculous,' Matthew said. 'Ye'll live for ever ye old fake!'

  'I will speak to Rushton,' I said. Louis's eyes were fixed on my face, and whatever he saw there made him smile sourly.

  'Ye do that,' he said.

  After he had gone, Matthew looked at me incredulously. 'Why did ye let him bluff ye? Rushton'll nivver agree!'

  'Because if Rushton heard this, he would be bound to cancel the expedition, or at least delay it. And Louis knows it. Besides, he might . . .'

  'What th' devil?' Matthew muttered, hearing a wild yell from the courtyard behind us.

  Zarak and Lina of the Beasting Guild ran up to us. Both were white faced.

  'Guildmistress, we have to talk to you!' Lina gasped. She elbowed Zarak hard.

  'Well?' I snapped, in no mood for Lina's antics. Zarak looked up, his eyes miserable and frightened, and suddenly I was filled with apprehension. 'What is it?'

  Lina answered. 'We were sitting in the courtyard next to the maze and Zarak was . . .' She glared at Zarak, who was now staring at his feet. I restrained an urge to shake him.

  He burst out, 'I know I'm not supposed to farseek, but you don't know what it's like - being able to make your mind fly, and not being allowed to do it. I only meant to go a little way, but it felt so wonderful. Then I bumped into someone else. A stranger!'

  I stared at him coldly. 'You know even Farseeker novices do not farseek beyond the mountains.' He nodded. 'Do you know why we have this rule?' He nodded again. Tell me,' I snapped.

  'Because they might bump into a wild Talent . . . and not be able to shield well enough to stop them . . . tracing back to Obernewtyn,' he mumbled. 'But I swear it was someone untrained as I am. He couldn't have traced me. He thought I was an evil spirit.'

  I felt a sneaking sympathy for Zarak, who was in the wrong guild because his father was a beastspeaker. But I showed none of these thoughts on my face. Zarak had to learn to curb his curiosity, for all our sakes.

  'Then since you know the rules it is not a matter of ignorance, but of deliberate disobedience.' Zarak hung his head, flushing. Therefore you will go at once to Javo and tell him you will be available for heavy kitchen work until I say otherwise. You will be suspended from the Beasting Guild for the same period. I will speak to Alad and your father. Or do you want to lodge an appeal at the next Guildmerge?'

  Zarak shook his head.

  Matthew nodded approvingly. 'A fool who knows he is a fool is near to becomin' wise.'

  Lina fidgeted and looked at Zarak. 'You'd better tell them everything,' she advised.

  Zarak bit his lip. 'I might be wrong. It was so quick,' he said, then floundered to a halt.

  'What did ye do?' Matthew shouted.

  Zarak said nothing.

  'The person Zarak bumped into,' Lina said with a sigh. 'Zarak thinks it was a Herder.'

  4

  'Do ye think it were a Herder?' Matthew asked dubiously when the Farseeker Guild met the following day.

  'I don't know,' I said. 'Misfits have come to us from almost every walk of life. Why not from the Herder Cloisters?'

  Matthew frowned. 'But would nowt they just Burn any Misfit they found among themselves? They have th' right, over their own people.'

  I shook my head. 'The Council might, but the Herders are subtle enough to think of using a Misfit for their own purposes. Especially if it were our sort.'

  'You think this accidental meeting was no accident?' asked an older farseeker.

  I shrugged. 'It may have been accidental on Zarak's part. But if the Herders have discovered about Talented Misfits . . .'

  'Maybe he was wrong about not being traced,' Ceirwan said.

  I shook my head. 'I think he was telling the truth, but we'll have to make sure. Have you traced the old path from Zarak's memory?'

  Ceirwan nodded. 'It's a cloister all right - in Darthnor, of all places.'

  'Darthnor. A town full of pro-Herder bigots an' fanatics. Wonderful,' Matthew said darkly.

  Later that day I went down to the farms. Ostensibly I wanted to organize wagons for the expedition to the Lowlands. But I was also curious to talk to Alad about his outburst in Guildmerge. The Beasting guild-master was nowhere to be seen but I noticed a dark horse grazing nearby. That reminded me of the rumours of friction between humans and the younger horses.

  It looked up warily at my approach. 'Greetings, Funaga.'

  I was surprised at its guarded tone. 'Greetings, Equine,' I sent. 'Do you know where Alad Beasting guild-master is?'

  The horse looked at me measuringly. 'Who knows where the funaga go?' it sent coolly.

  All at once I realized whom I was talking to.

  Alad had encountered the black horse in Guanette. He had belonged to a gypsy troop. Half starved, he had been trying to pull a cart loaded with furniture, five plump children and a fat, dirty gypsy man cursing and lashing out with a whip. Alad had told me the horse's imaginative mental curses had attracted his attention - that and its strength of mental projection.

  He had ended up buying the horse and bringing him to Obernewtyn. Despite a deep hatred of humans, the horse had chosen to remain, becoming almost at once the spokesman for its kind. He had arrived, a dusty, bedraggled bag of bones, wild-eyed and filled with hatred of the funaga. Now he was lean and muscled, his coat gleaming and sleek. Only the eyes were unchanged, still filled with anger and suspicion. Suddenly I was sure this horse was behind Alad's difficulties with the horses.

  'I remember when you came to Obernewtyn,' I said gently.

  The horse tossed its head, nostrils flared wide. 'I was brought here a slave. I did not choose to come,' it snarled.

  Taken aback I said, 'We had to do it that way. It would have looked odd to buy a horse and set it free. You chose to stay.'

  'That is so, Funaga. There is no place in the world not infected by the funaga. Here is the same as anywhere else.'

  From the
corner of my eye, I saw Alad approaching.

  'We are not like the people who owned you before. Here, all work together. We are equals.'

  The horse snorted savagely. 'You talk like a fool. We have no place in the funaga conclaves.'

  'It's only a matter of time . . .' I began, but the horse cut me off with its own thought.

  'Alad-Gahltha asked that we be treated as true equals. Again this was set aside. Wait, they say. We have waited long enough. Now we are tired of waiting. From now on, we work only for our food and shelter. We will carry no funaga, and we will pull no cart beyond these mountains. We will not risk our lives to help the funaga. We will not fight the funaga's battles unless they are also ours.'

  There was no doubt in my mind that the proud, bitter horse meant it.

  'That won't make anyone like you or take . . .'

  The horse spat violently at my feet. 'Like! I care nothing for the likes and hates of the funaga. Allies we will be, or nothing. I have heard the funaga plan a journey to the Lowlands. We will see how they fare with no equine to draw their carts or carry them in the dark lands.'

  I blinked. 'But we're not going to the Blacklands.'

  'The places where the funaga dwell are darker than any poisoned ground,' the horse sent bleakly.

  'I tried to warn Rushton. And it's not just the horses,' Alad said from behind.

  I ignored this and addressed the horse again. I knew as well as he that no expedition could be undertaken on foot, especially one so far and through such terrain. We needed the horses. 'What if the journey were a test - to see if your kind and mine could really be allies, working together, trusting one another?'

  The black horse stood very still but he did not respond. 'A way to find out if your kind and mine can work in accord,' I went on softly. 'A test in which funaga must pretend to have no special abilities and equines must pull carts, be ridden by funaga, and reined.'

  The horse reared violently and Alad started back swearing. I had expected the reaction knowing the younger horses would not even tolerate a modified rein, and would only work with beastspeakers.

  The black horse bucked and reared, driving blade-like hooves deep into the ground. At last he calmed and turned to face me, his coat dark with sweat. 'What if all who journeyed were slain? What if this journey failed?'

  'If the equines did their part faithfully, the test would be judged a success - regardless of the outcome. And one of your kind would sit at Guildmerge.'

  I knew I was offering what I had no right to offer, but I had no doubt Rushton would concur. He knew we needed the horses.

  Alad should have brought the black horse before Council and let it make out a case. Its obvious hatred of humans would have been balanced by its intelligence and strength of mind. The horses were worthy allies, though I doubted animals like the black horse would ever be friends to their former masters.

  'It shall be as you have stated, Funaga,' the horse said finally. 'I will find those to draw your cart for this testing. But I will join your expedition also. Not to draw a cart, but to bear you. Then we will see whose kind is best fitted to lead.'

  'Elspeth, you can't!' Alad cried aloud. 'Rushton will have a fit!'

  The black horse did not take its eyes from mine and there was challenge and cold amusement in his look. He was daring me to agree, certain I would refuse.

  I took a deep breath, ignoring the horrified Beasting guildmaster. 'It will be as you say, Equine. Together we will deceive the Lowlanders into thinking I am your master.'

  The horse neighed its laughter.

  5

  'Who are you?'

  Young, I assured Ceirwan.

  'Where are you? I know you're there. I feel you.'

  The probe was clumsy and its movements graceless and badly focused, but I was surprised to find he had sensed my presence since I was tightly shielded. I let my probe brush against his fleetingly, testing.

  His mind stabbed out in fright. 'Are you a demon?'

  Even while he grappled with my shielded probe, I entered him at a deeper level, deepprobing to find trace memories of the encounter with Zarak. The meeting had had a huge impact on his mind. I was amused to find he thought Zarak a minor demon come to test his faith.

  I decided to risk contact. If he reacted by calling out to his masters, I would stun him and Domick would manufacture a coercive block.

  Rushton had insisted Domick monitor the attempt after being reluctantly convinced we had to establish how much damage had been done, and whether Zarak's probe had been traced back to Obernewtyn. I suspected Domick had orders to cripple the boy's mind if there were any risk of the Herders using him.

  'Do your elders know of us?' I sent.

  The boy's mind recoiled from my mental blast. I had deliberately made it harsh and even slightly painful. While the boy believed he was dealing with demons, we were in no real danger.

  'It is the way of a priest to undergo his tests in silence, Demon. My master has warned me your kind would try to shake my faith,' the young Herder sent proudly.

  I had read from his thoughts that he was a novice or apprentice priest. Born and bred on Herder Isle to servants of the priests, he had been Chosen to join the priesthood. After initial training, he had been sent to Darthnor Cloister to serve out his apprenticeship in the Highlands. Ironically, he had become aware of his powers under the rigorous mental training of the priesthood.

  He was speaking the truth about having said nothing of his encounter with the demon. He believed, at least superficially, that this was because the private agonies of a priest must remain locked in his own mind. Herder teaching said anything outside normal abilities was a mutation, but he had refused to admit his secret fear that he might be a Misfit.

  He was no hardened fanatic for all his reactions. We rescued few older folk since most were unable to accept that their mutant abilities might not be evil. Those we encountered whom we judged a bad risk, we simply blocked, making it impossible for them to use their powers.

  This horrified the Healers, but, in truth, the Misfits were happier to seem normal. Many believed Lud had cured them. The Herder boy's youth was a mark in his favour, since most of our rescues were of children. It was his youth that stopped me simply having Domick expunge the memory and block his mutant powers. Instinct told me he was worth rescuing but, because he was a Herder, I had to be sure he would respond the right way. I had promised Rushton I would do nothing until I was certain he could be trusted.

  'How do you know I am a demon?' I asked, curious to know how much dogma he had swallowed.

  The response was immediate. 'You are a greater demon. The other was a lesser novice. Only demons can talk inside a man's head. My master says many are driven mad by such things, but you will not find me easy to break.'

  I sensed Ceirwan's amusement. 'A puppy,' he sent in ardent relief.

  'If we can bring him in we would have an insight into the Herders' world. It's always possible those men asking questions about Obernewtyn were from the Herder Faction.'

  Ceirwan looked unconvinced. 'He is a novice. Unlikely to know their inner secrets.'

  'He is one of us,' I insisted stubbornly. 'If we leave him, the Herders might end up finding out what he is anyway, sooner or later. Then he might betray us at their behest. He is not fully committed to their way and, deep down, I think he knows it. He's suppressing it because he is frightened.'

  'A rescue would have to be completely foolproof,' Ceirwan warned.

  'Are you still there, Demon?' the boy sent.

  The wistful enquiry in his voice decided me. I remembered my own long mental loneliness, thinking myself a freak, living in fear of disclosure.

  'Do others of your kind speak to demons?' I asked.

  There was a significant hesitation in his mind before he answered. 'Demons test many priests.'

  'I have not encountered any other human who could communicate with me,' I sent, trying to sound like a demon.

  Still probing his lower mind, I sensed him
shy away from the half-formed thought that followed my comment. I was reminded of my own childhood in the Orphan Home system. I had not known at once that I was a Misfit, but some instinct of self-protection had kept me silent about my abilities. My brother, Jes, had been even more frightened. His hatred of my mutant abilities had warred with his love for me. He had spent a lifetime suppressing, even from himself, the fact that he, too, was a Misfit. In the end, he had been killed trying to escape from an Orphan Home after I was sent to Obernewtyn. For all his apparent devoutness the Herder boy was afraid, loath to speak of his abilities because of a gut feeling of danger.

  'I want to bring him out,' I told Ceirwan aloud.

  The memory of Jes made me determined to rescue the boy before leaving for the Lowlands. With this in mind, I contacted him every night, working on his buried fears. At last he broke down, confessing his knowledge that he was a Misfit; his belief that his masters had begun to suspect him.

  'Surely such a small mutation would not matter,' I said, at the same time evoking an old nightmare in the boy's mind based on a Burning he had once witnessed.

  I was startled at the strength of his reaction. He screamed.

  The noise brought an older Herder. Fearing the worst, Domick struck. I deflected his blow with an ease that made him glare suspiciously.

  'I said I'll handle this,' I hissed aloud.

  I was relieved to hear the Herder boy tell his master he had been dreaming and injected my own calm control over his outward expressions. The priest departed with a final hard stare. My own heart was thudding, reacting to the boy's fear.

  'He knows,' he sent forlornly. I had not meant to make an approach so soon, but the desperate loneliness I sensed in his thought decided me.

  'You could run away,' I suggested.

  'Where could I go that they wouldn't find me?' the boy asked miserably. 'If they suspect, they won't let me get away. They are interested in Misfits. They don't send them to the Council.' I saw a fleeting thought that confirmed rumours of the Herder interrogation methods and shuddered. What would happen when they discovered our kind of Misfit? What would happen to the boy if they did guess the truth? Suddenly I was very curious about the mysterious Herders.