“Slaves?” Zarak hissed in disbelief.
Noviny nodded. “I believe that the poor wretches were farmers and their families and servants, taken by Malik’s men in the guise of brigands before their land and homesteads were burned to make it seem they had been killed. I have no doubt they were given to Salamander. It was dreadful to lie there and know I could not help them. At last the ship boat was rowed away while Malik and his men carried the crates toward the steps. Fortunately, they were heavy, and Malik and his men were concentrating so hard on them that they angled straight across to the camp without even glancing in my direction.
“I dared not move as the afternoon wore on, and after Malik rode off with a couple of his captains, night fell and the armsmen lit a fire and cooked their supper. Still I lay there, hungry, thirsty, cramped. I was too stiff now to crawl backward, and I knew I must wait until it was dark enough to stand without being seen. The wind blew in from the sea, so I could hear little conversation, but I had heard enough talk between Malik and his men during that long afternoon to know that he had made a pact with the Herders to allow and aid a secret invasion.”
“An invasion!” I echoed incredulously.
Noviny looked grim. “Finally, it began to rain, which put out the cooking fires and drove the armsmen into their tents, giving me my opportunity. I got up and hobbled away, praying no one would look out and see me.
“It was a difficult trip back here. By the time I arrived home, I was fevered. For days I was ill, and Wenda and the servants feared that I had stumbled into a tainted trap on my ramble. It was fortunate they thought so, for this was the tale that traveled into town, which Vos would have heard and passed on to Malik.”
A faint smile crossed his crumpled features. “I daresay our chieftain hoped I would perish and was much disappointed when I did not. I have taken care since to seem permanently weakened by what happened, to assuage his jealousy. In truth, the adventure did take something from me that I have not managed to regain.”
He sighed. “Since that time, my sole concern has been how to get word of the invasion to the Council of Chieftains.” He shook his head. “I could not leave Saithwold, nor send a message clear enough to be useful. Sevendays passed and then winter was upon us.
“In desperation, I confided in Khuria, thinking he could communicate with one of his beast friends and ask them to carry a message to Obernewtyn. But none of the beasts could safely cross the poisoned perimeter. At last he suggested scribing letters to his son that would not mention our plight at all but would be so uncharacteristic that his boy would seek him out.”
Noviny looked at Zarak. “We expected you to be turned back at the blockade. Khuria believed you would then return to Obernewtyn and seek the aid of your master, who would ride out with coercer-knights only to find they were unable to penetrate the region with their abilities. Again they would be turned back at the barricade, but they would have discovered that the armsmen guarding it wore demon bands. This would prompt the Master of Obernewtyn to ride to Sutrium and demand that Dardelan investigate what was happening in Saithwold. It was an unwieldy plan, but we could devise no other.”
“The last thing we expected was that you would manage to get through the blockade with a sick man an’ the guildmistress of the farseekers, and you would be trapped here, too,” Khuria said gruffly.
“We came knowing something was wrong and accepting the risk,” I said firmly, and I explained my encounter with the tavern woman. Noviny took the note she had scribed, smoothed it out, and read the name and address upon it. Then he nodded.
“Lacent Ander,” he said. “I know her, and her husband, Rale. I will see this note is taken to her, but I fear that you will be unable to make good your promise to bring a letter out for her sister. Like Khuria, I must apologize for having dragged you into danger.”
“You are right in guessing that Dardelan will do nothing before the election,” I said, “but if he adopts Zarak’s suggestions about how to deal with Vos, he and a group of other chieftains and their armsmen and women will arrive in Saithwold without warning on the day of the voting, ostensibly to celebrate. There will be too many to forbid entry, and the minute Dardelan rides in, I will farseek him to let him know what Malik is about.”
“I’m afraid that will be too late,” Noviny said grimly. “You see, the invasion is to happen before the election. Malik spoke of the timing with great amusement.”
I mastered a surge of panic, realizing this was what had lain behind the premonition I had experienced in Rangorn. “All right. Then we have to do something ourselves to stop the invasion. You said there are steps down to a small beach? Are they narrow steps such as outside Arandelft, which will not allow two men to walk abreast?”
Noviny nodded. “Narrower and steeper, but there are three sets of steps along the Saithwold coastline, and I don’t know which the invaders will use.”
“Then we will keep watch over all of them. Surely every man and woman in the region will help, especially if you ask it.”
“Guildmistress, you do not realize how things are in Saithwold province these days,” Noviny said. “We live under constant surveillance by Vos’s men. Even movement from one farm to another is regarded suspiciously unless it is a regular event. If a person visits another unexpectedly, he is like to be brought before Vos for questioning. And Vos reports everything to Malik, who has camps of his men right along the stretch of coastline from the road to Sador down to the end of Saithwold province, because his men are supposed to be guarding it. Even if we could muster a force without it being discovered, how are farm holders, however brave and strong, to deal with the likes of Malik’s men? For that is who they would have to fight before they could even begin to think of defending the beach steps.”
I scowled at the fire. “I am a fool. I had forgotten about Malik’s part in this.”
“He is not a man who can be overlooked,” Noviny said wearily. “You can be sure that Stovey Edensal will soon be riding to report that three people in a wagon escorted here by Brydda Llewellyn managed to enter the province.”
“One thing I dinna understand,” Zarak said. “What sort of invasion can priests mount? They are nowt warriors, after all. Will they command Malik’s force, or will they bring soldierguards from the west coast?”
“There was no talk of Councilmen or the west coast in what I heard,” Noviny said. “As far as I can understand, this is a Herder invasion. But those sent will certainly be warrior priests.”
“Warrior priests…,” I echoed, some memory nagging at me.
Noviny nodded. “You say that priests are not warriors, lad, but there have always been priests trained to fight. There was a name they called themselves, but I do not recall it. A number of them inevitably accompanied the higher cadre priests as honor guards when they came to the cloister here. Having seen them practice, I do not doubt their skill.
“And while it is true that initially these warrior priests were just a small force within the priesthood, even before the rebellion, that was starting to change. The head priest of Saithwold—a Nine and a proud, cold man—often spoke disparagingly of the Faction’s soldierguards. More than once he implied that his masters were growing weary of spending their coin on the temporary loyalties of soldierguards. Once, he said that a soldierguard was a cur whereas a warrior priest was intelligent, courageous, and loyal unto death to the Faction’s principles and ideals. When I admired their discipline after seeing the warrior priests exercise, the Nine told me that they trained on Norseland under the most stringent conditions,” he said.
“Warrior priests…,” I muttered again, and then I remembered. Domick had mentioned warrior priests several times in the last garbled messages before his disappearance, and I was sure that he had even mentioned a vast training camp, though he had not said it was on Norseland. I could see that Faction leaders would much prefer fanatical warrior priests, who did not have to be bought, to soldiers for hire, and it made sense that, having fled the Land, they w
ould do all they could to increase their numbers against future need. An army of their own kind would free them from having to rely on or accommodate anyone outside the Faction. And, of course, they would have at their disposal all the young novices and acolytes from the abandoned cloisters in the Land.
“Do you think the west coast Councilmen know anything about this invasion?” I asked.
“I have thought much about this. I think the Herders did not warn the Councilmen this side of the Suggredoon about the rebellion, because they wanted them to be defeated. And I think they warned the Councilmen on the west coast, not because they favored them but to ensure that we did not take over the whole Land. They were practicing a strategy called divide and conquer. They knew they had not strength enough to confront the east and west coast Council and its legion of soldierguards, so they allowed the rebels to defeat them in this part of the Land. The rebellion thus had the effect of producing two lesser powers, each in control of one part of the Land, with the added advantage that each saw the other as the primary enemy. That has left the Herders free to develop a force and play their own secret game.”
“But how does Malik fit into this?” Zarak asked.
Noviny shrugged. “I have no doubt he has been offered wealth and the sort of power he yearns for in the Land, after the Faction reclaims it. Remember, he failed to be voted high chieftain, and he is now about to face a trial here for his betrayal of your people.”
A chill slipped down my spine at the realization that, in coming to Saithwold, I had put myself within the reach of Malik, who hated me. I was about to ask how many knew that Khuria was a Misfit, when Zarak asked, “But how did the Herders get to Malik in the first place?”
“’Tis my guess he signaled the ships and offered to betray the rebels, lad,” Khuria said. “He was in the perfect position to do it without anyone kenning it. But it might also be that someone here got to him and made him an offer, fer it is well kenned that he loathes Misfits an’ Dardelan’s championing of ye. Then there is th’ Beast Charter.”
“Are you sure that the west coast is not involved in the invasion?” I asked, thinking of Maryon’s prediction of trouble in the west.
“I do not doubt it,” Noviny answered. “The Councilmen see the Herders as allies, and the Faction would encourage that. Not only can the Herders control Council activities to some extent but they can also make sure no pact or truce is made between the west coast Councilmen and the rebels here. But rest assured that when they are ready, the Faction will dispense with both the Council and the rebels and take control of all the Land themselves.”
Zarak leapt to his feet. “I am sorry to interrupt, but, Guildmistress, ye said we would have to wait until the election before anyone would come here. Yet what of the Master of Obernewtyn? Surely the moment he arrives in Sutrium for the ceremony to celebrate the new Charter of Laws, finds ye absent, an’ hears what Brydda says, he will ride here with the coercer-knights. And I dinna think they will be turned away, for even if they cannot use their Talents against men wearing demon bands, they are skilled fighters. It will be nothing fer them to overcome those louts guarding the barricade.”
In that moment, Zarak reminded me of Matthew, who had been much given to notions of romantic rescues. But I knew that the last thing Rushton would do when he discovered my absence would be to ride to Saithwold. He would accept Dardelan’s decision that matters be left as they were until the elections and be relieved that I was not in Sutrium. Grief and desolation clawed at me, but I stifled them and said aloud that we dared not wait and hope to be rescued. Too much was at stake. Then I stopped, realizing that I had no more idea than Noviny how to stop the invasion. After an uncomfortable silence, Noviny sighed and suggested we eat.
I took little food, my appetite gone, but Zarak had heaped his plate high, and between mouthfuls he said, “I can nowt believe Malik has made this bargain after he fought to free the Land.”
Noviny said wearily, “I think he fought, as many do, not to rid the Land of oppression but to create a situation in which he could gain power. Instead, he is to be tried for betraying your people. So not only does he stand to gain the power he wants from the Faction, but he will also take revenge on the rest of us.”
“It will not come to that,” I said through gritted teeth. “We will get a message to Sutrium.”
“How?” Zarak asked eagerly.
“I am not sure yet,” I admitted. I looked at Noviny and asked, “Is it common knowledge here that Khuria is a beastspeaker?”
Noviny shrugged. “It was clear from the beginning that Vos would torment any Misfit in this region, so we never spoke of it openly; however, there are many who probably harbor suspicions.”
“Okay,” I said. “Now, who normally shops for your household?”
“Wenda and one of the servant girls take a small cart into town once every sevenday,” the older man answered, looking perplexed.
“If you will permit it, then, tomorrow Wenda will take me to town to see what patent medicines are available for my crippled companion. Better to act as if we are innocents who got into the region by chance.”
“You will be harassed by Vos’s armsmen, if they do not insist on taking you to him. And they will all wear demon bands, so you will not be able to prevent it,” Noviny warned.
“I want them to take me to him, because I assume that is where Vos’s men live as well. If I can reach a single armsman, I can impose a coercive command to remove his band whenever a certain control word is spoken. That means I can get to him later and coerce him to help us spread the word to Dardelan and the others. I will also do my best to stop anyone regarding us as a threat, by playing the innocent fool. Just one thing: Is Malik like to be there?”
Noviny shook his head decisively. “Malik rarely enters the town, and I doubt very much he will be at Vos’s property. His plans require him to stay very much in the background at this stage. But you can be sure he will demand a full report from Vos.”
“Will Vos not recognize you?” Zarak asked.
“I think the chance is slim, because Vos is the sort of man who does not look at anyone properly, especially not those he believes are his inferiors. But just in case,” I added, “I will change my appearance.”
I retired early that night, more to think than anything else, for I was wide awake. I kept turning over and rejecting plans, occasionally getting up to gaze out the window at the dark wood behind the homestead and wonder what had become of Maruman. He had stalked off in a rage when I told him that he could not accompany me to town, refusing to listen when I explained that if I carried him on my shoulder, I might as well put up a sign announcing myself as a Misfit. Gahltha had told me not to worry, saying he would go and find the old cat, but neither had returned, and now I worried about both of them.
My mind shifted to Zarak’s touching certainty that the Master of Obernewtyn would ride to my rescue. Absurd and impossible as it was, I wished it were so. But Rushton would not come. It was not that he hated me or wished me harm; it was only that he no longer loved me or wanted to be near me.
Why, I wondered bleakly, was it so much more hurtful to love him hopelessly now than before I had known that he cared for me? I cursed myself and turned over, forcing my mind back to the problem of sending a message from Saithwold about the invasion. It was deep in the night before I finally slept.
I dreamed I was walking along a wharf toward a knot of people. There were men and women and boys, all roped together. Slaves, I thought, recognizing the wharf, though it was not the one in Sutrium.
What am I doing here? I wondered. Then one of the slaves turned and I recognized his face. It was Matthew, but he was a boy again. It was a memory dream.
“Elspeth!” Matthew farsent urgently. “Ride on past, fer Obernewtyn’s sake!”
I beastspoke Gahltha, asking him to slow down and pretend lameness, and then I slipped to the cobbles, pretending to examine his hooves. On one level, I knew that I was dreaming of my last moments with Ma
tthew, but another part of me was in that moment, desperately measuring the distance to Matthew, trying to see the lock on his shackles and calculate how long it would take to unlock it, mount Gahltha with him, and gallop away. The nearest soldierguards were close—one carried a short sword, and two held bows in their hands; all of them were wary and alert. Perhaps I could coerce them into fumbling or even into not seeing me move.
“It’s no good,” Matthew sent, resolution and despair in his mindvoice. “Ye mun let ’em take me.”
“Matthew, they’re taking you away on a ship!”
“I ken it,” Matthew sent calmly. “An’ ye’ll let them because we are outnumbered. I’m nowt afraid…. I love ye, Elspeth. I’m sorry about Dragon….”
His mental voice faded as he walked over the gangplank, over the water.
“Matthew!” I sent in anguish. The cry, coming from the self who had lived through that awful parting and the self who now dreamed of it, was so strong that it catapulted me out of the memory dream. I had the sensation of falling through darkness, and suddenly I was on a steep stony road following a line of men with picks and other digging implements hoisted over their shoulders. The man directly in front of me turned, and I gasped, for I saw that it was Matthew, but now he was a grown man. I had dreamed of him like this before, but the dream had never felt so real. At the same time, I was very conscious that I was not present in the dream, save as a watcher, for though his eyes seemed to search mine, I knew he could not see me. A man ahead called out to ask him what the matter was.