The Seeker (37 page)

Pavo looked thoughtful. “That would mean someone had found a way to modify another Beforetime machine. The Zebkrahn took years to modify—first Marisa Seraphim, then Alexi, and then the Teknoguild worked to change what seems to have been no more than a thing originally devised to measure brain waves. Besides, I think you would know if it was a machine.”

“It must be some sort of taint, then,” Domick said dismissively.

It was a cold night. I slept restlessly, dreamed of running through dark tunnels, and woke with the feeling that I had forgotten something important. After racking my brain, I pushed the nagging feeling to the back of my thoughts.

Pulling the flap aside, I was delighted to find sun streaming through the treetops. The others stirred in the blaze of light, blinking and groaning. The ground was soaking wet, and there was no question of lighting a fire, but it was lovely to stretch our legs and walk around. I was very stiff but suspected I would have been worse without Kella’s healer wizardry.

Gahltha and the other horses emerged from the trees as we were finishing a scratch firstmeal. Darga accepted a bowl of milk with a polite flap of his tail. We tied the oilskins, which were still wet, on top of the caravans and washed our faces in a streamlet. Domick worried that the water might be tainted, but Darga pronounced it safe. He had an acute sense of smell and could tell when water was bad.

We set off far more cheerfully than the previous day. I felt happier despite Gahltha’s insistence at my riding bareback. Mounting him was an awkward debacle, because my legs
were too stiff to flex easily. But once up, I felt more comfortable than I had on the saddle, though less secure.

The sun shone in a golden autumn way, and Jik played a jaunty harvest song on his gita, accompanying himself in a surprisingly sweet singing voice. Even grim Domick appeared to enjoy the impromptu concert, and the horses perked their ears as if they liked the sound.

Later, I listened to a communication between Darga and Avra about funaga. I was amused to hear their interpretation of human parenting, but Gahltha snorted loudly at Avra’s observation that the children of funaga seemed less dangerous than grown funaga.

“You do not know anything about the funaga and their ways,” he told her icily. “They are all the same. I have been beaten savagely by a funaga child who laughed at my pain and jeered when I bled. Like poisoned ground, funaga bear poisoned fruit.”

I shivered at the venom in his voice.

Gahltha’s pace quickened after that. On a flat stretch, he broke into a trot without warning, and I fell. My only consolation was that the wet ground was soft. My anger made no impression on Gahltha, who insisted that I would not have fallen if I had been gripping with my knees the way I was supposed to. Louis laughed uproariously, and though the others restrained their amusement, my next fall sent them all into gales of laughter.

I kept my temper with difficulty, realizing Gahltha sought to goad me. And I knew he was right, however sarcastic he was. I had been sitting lazily.

By the time we stopped for midmeal, I was covered in mud. It was not worth changing, so I merely washed my hands and face to eat. The afternoon was worse than the
morning, despite my forlorn hope for an easy walking pace. Gahltha decided I must advance to riding at a gallop. Only stubborn pride kept me from protesting that he was progressing too quickly.

So we cantered and galloped, and when the wagons moved too slowly for Gahltha, he would ride ahead, then turn and ride back. By late afternoon, I was beginning to feel the rhythm of his movements. Once or twice I even found myself enjoying the speed.

We had been traveling parallel to the Suggredoon most of the day, but soon after midmeal, the river broadened suddenly, swollen from the night’s rain. The undergrowth thickened, too, slowing the caravans to a walking pace. Avra went slightly ahead with Domick, seeking the easiest path for the caravans. Later, Gahltha and I took over, leaving Domick free to range farther ahead.

We hoped to reach the foot of the mountains before nightfall, but Domick returned just as the sun fell behind the mountains. One look at his grim expression told us his news was bad.

“I found the place where the Suggredoon goes under the mountains, but I couldn’t find any pass. We went a fair way up from the river, but there was nothing,” he reported glumly.

“The distances on the map might be wrongly drawn, or the entrance to the pass might be sharply aslant so that you would have to be coming from the other way to see it,” Pavo said.

“I hope you’re right,” Domick said. “But that’s not all the bad news. Just ahead, there are great patches of swamp and wetlands. The wagons won’t have a hope of going through, and it will take days to go round.”

There seemed no point in pushing on in the darkness. We
decided to make camp on a high, grassy knoll beside the Suggredoon.

Louis, Jik, and Matthew went to forage for dry wood while Kella organized nightmeal. Domick unharnessed the horses and checked the wooden wheels for stress cracks. Pavo sat near the wagons and pored over his maps.

I went to bathe in the river, but just as I reached the edge of the clearing, I heard Kella and Domick begin a heated argument. Sighing, I turned back. The last thing we needed was guild rivalry.

Before I could intervene, Pavo broke into a violent fit of coughing. Kella stared at him for a moment, then went over and commanded him to open his mouth.

“I swallowed a fly.” He laughed and waved her away. But Kella’s face was deadly serious.

“What is it?” Domick asked her.

The healer ignored him and laid a hand over Pavo’s thin chest. The smile faded from his face, and suddenly I felt frightened.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Kella asked in a subdued voice.

Pavo smiled sadly. “What good would it have done, eh? I don’t need a healer to tell me what the matter is.”

“Rushton would never have let you come if he had known,” Kella said.

Pavo turned away abruptly. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“What is it?” I asked, coming back into the clearing.

Kella looked at me bleakly. “The rotting sickness. It’s in his breathing.”

“Are you sure?” Domick asked.

“It’s not hard to feel, once you know. And the coughing is
always a sign. There’s nothing I can do for him. Nothing,” she said flatly.

Pavo still had his back to us, rigidly unmoving.

“You’ll have to …,” I began.

“No!” The usually mild teknoguilder whirled, eyes ablaze. “I won’t go back.” He turned to Kella. “You said yourself there’s nothing to be done. I accept that, but I’ll go the way I want. I won’t be a problem. Tell them.”

She nodded. “He’ll cough, and there will be bouts of pain. He won’t be affected badly until near the end—three or four months, maybe less …”

I gaped. Pavo stared back, his eyes pleading and determined at the same time. “You will need me to get to the library.”

I wished Rushton were there to decide. After a long moment, I nodded, and Pavo’s shoulders slumped visibly as if he had been holding his breath.

“Thank you,” he said.

I felt tears in my eyes and was relieved to see Matthew and Jik arrive, laden with dry wood. Jik froze and looked about, sensing the tangle of emotions. I sent a quick shielded instruction to Matthew, and he began to make a fire, diverting Jik’s attention.

We slept inside the caravans again because of the sodden ground but left the flaps open for fresh air. Obernewtyn seemed very far away.

Near dawn, I was jolted awake by Domick poking his head into the wagon.

“Quick, there are people coming. Men,” he hissed urgently.

I farsensed the area and almost fainted with horror. There were at least a dozen men approaching the clearing. “It’s too
late to escape,” I told him. “You get away. I’ll send the horses away and contact you once I find out what this is all about. Quickly,” I whispered.

He nodded, then melted silently into the gray predawn shadows.

My heart thundering, I farsent the group, warning them to let me do any talking. Then I urged the horses away.

Our only hope, I knew, was to be taken for the gypsies we appeared to be. I cursed my stupidity at not taking better precautions after Avra had found the tracks.

“Ho. What have we here?” called a gruff voice. I leaned out of the caravan. Three men stood in the open, illuminated by the dying embers of our fire. Behind them, the dark sky showed pink and gray traces of the dawn. I sensed the other men waiting in the bushes.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I shouted.

“Gypsies,” sneered one, a fat, bristle-bearded man with a great pouting stomach and pale, glistening eyes.

“Perhaps,” said the voice that had first hailed us. It belonged to a muscular young giant with ginger hair.

The third man appeared frail and was clad in a long, fine woolen gown much like the garb worn by Herder priests. I was terrified that we might have fallen into Herder hands. I prayed the priest would not recognize Jik and hurriedly warned him not to draw attention to himself. With his dark skin, dyed hair, and gypsy clothing, he did not look much like the Herder boy we had rescued.

“Who are you to be waking us in the middle of the night?” I demanded. Gypsies were not known for their manners.

“Get out of those wagons, all of you!” snarled the black-bearded man.

“This is a funny time to want your palm read,” I grumbled.
“If you mean to rob us, you’ll be disappointed.” I climbed out and put my hands on my hips as the others gathered behind me. I watched the man in the robe closely, but he did not seem to recognize Jik. “Well, you have us all out. Now what?” I asked.

The ginger-haired woodsman quirked his brow speculatively. “Is this all of you?”

“Enough for you,” I said cheekily.

“Are you the leader of these people?” asked the man in the robe. He had a curiously colorless voice and very cold eyes.

“For now,” I answered after swift thought. “My father is the leader of our troupe. We are to meet up with him in Arandelft.” I nodded at Pavo. “My cousin here fell sick, and our party split in two. Though I don’t know what business it is of yours,” I added rudely.

“What are you doing here if you are headed for Arandelft?” asked the white-robed man.

My heart jumped. “We heard there was an Olden way through the mountains,” I said. The best lies are the ones that are mostly true, Louis always told us. He was glaring belligerently at the men, and I hoped he would keep his mouth shut.

“There is no such pass.” The robed man stepped forward, and I resisted the urge to step away. “Enough of this. We will bring them back to camp.”

More men stepped out of the trees. I pretended to look surprised. “Find the horses and bring these vans.”

“Where are you taking us?” I demanded.

The robed man did not answer, but the ginger-bearded woodsman grinned over his shoulder. “You are to meet the great man himself. The Druid.”

8

T
HROUGH THE TREES
, I could see a settlement. I realized we were headed for the blank area I had been unable to penetrate the night before. This and the knowledge that we had been captured by Henry Druid filled me with apprehension. We could hardly have gotten into a worse mess deliberately.

But more disturbing, as soon as we entered the area of blankness, my powers were useless. I could not even reach Matthew, who was directly behind me.

Mindbound for the first time in my life, I was nearly overcome with panic and the feeling of being trapped. Glancing over one shoulder, the look of rigid terror on Jik’s face acted like a bucket of cold water on my own fear. I made myself smile reassuringly, and the stark tension in his movements subsided. Then I concentrated on calming myself. I had to find a way to free us, and that would only be possible with a cool head. Methodically, I tried reaching all the others, including Darga, who padded along quietly beside Jik. I could not sense a single thought. Then I tried to farseek outside the area—Domick, then Gahltha.

Nothing.

No wonder the Druids had seemed to disappear so completely. The block had to be a machine, modified like the Zebkrahn. There was something mindless about the static.