The Seeker (45 page)

“Good. How did you come to tell them we had escaped from a Councilfarm?”

“We had to tell them something. There was no way of hiding that we had been in a boating accident, but no one would have crossed the Suggredoon this far north unless they were trying to avoid being seen. Gypsies would hardly travel by water, and besides, our coloring has all but faded now. The Councilfarm runaway story seemed most plausible.”

“It’s risky,” I said. “You are certain they didn’t send word to the Council? There is a reward for information leading to the capture of runaways.”

Kella shook her head emphatically. “I don’t think it occurred to them.”

I frowned. “I suppose if Katlyn is an herb lorist, she wouldn’t want soldierguards here. So we’re probably safe enough for now.”

A flicker of anger crossed Kella’s face. “You’re too cynical, Elspeth. It makes you blind to things right under your nose,” she added obliquely.

“What about the others?”

“Everyone’s fine except for a few bruises and bumps. Pavo is not too good, but that has nothing to do with the accident.”

“Jik?” I asked.

She smiled. “A cracked rib. He’s milking the goats with Grufyyd. Domick has gone off to scout the area. Once a coercer …” I was astounded to see her eyes soften and wondered if friendship was all that had developed between them.

Kella stood, taking the empty bowl from my fingers. I could not even remember drinking the soup.

“Sleep and get better. The world will wait,” the healer said.

Weary as I was, I could not rest easy. The expedition seemed to be in tatters, without disguise or papers, two all but unfit to travel. I wondered if we would ever get home again.

Domick returned late that night.

“Elspeth?” he whispered outside the window.

“I’m awake,” I answered softly, sitting up. “Come in.”

He climbed through the window. “I am sleeping in the stables with Jik and Darga, but I wanted to talk to you while it was quiet. Katlyn and Grufyyd are good people,” Domick said. “Kella believes it, and so do I. I don’t like lying to them.”

I hid my amazement at these uncoercer-like sentiments. Domick went on. “They seem … accustomed to people like
us—people on the run, scared, and without anything but a flimsy cover story. The medicines, the food, the lack of questions … it makes me think they have done this before—sheltered runaways.”

“Are you sure? How do you know?”

He shrugged. “Instinct as much as anything. But Jik can sense their sincerity. If we were forced to leave him or Pavo behind, I think it would be safe for them here.”

I did not respond to the question in his voice, knowing that Jik must accompany us however dangerous the expedition had become. “You’re right to think of leaving soon, or we’ll waste the time we gained coming through the mountain. You scouted ahead?”

Domick’s face was impassive. “Yes. We’re above Rangorn, but we can easily get to the ford without passing through the town. The ford is unguarded, though Grufyyd says there are guards at the ferry terminal. You will need papers to cross.”

“We’ll have to manage without them until we reach Sutrium. We need to try to get hold of another cart. That way we should be able to leave together—all of us.” I touched his hand. “Go to bed now.”

He slipped out as soundlessly as he had entered.

The next morning, Katlyn came in to change the bandages on my feet. “Poor ill-treated feet,” she said gently, unwrapping them. “I put on a salve to numb them so you could sleep. The scars are deep and have not healed well, though they are old.”

“I have to be able to walk,” I said.

Katlyn nodded. “If you must, these will carry you. But walking will increase the hurt. If they are ever to heal properly,
you must rest them completely for many months, perhaps even longer.”

Katlyn looked up at me, her expression serious. “Child, there is something I want to say to you. Kella told me you are making for the west coast, in search of sanctuary. But I dinna think you will find any safe place on the coast. I want ye to think of staying here with us.”

“Here?” I echoed, astounded by the offer.

Katlyn reached out and touched my hand. “This is a safe house, a refuge for runaways … and for others. You could help us in our work. Help others like yourself …”

I stared at Katlyn, my heart beating fast, for her eyes told me clearly that she knew we had not told her the truth about ourselves.

“Think on it,” she said softly. “Talk with the others. Let us know tonight what you decide.”

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“W
HAT WILL YOU
tell her? Won’t she find it odd that runaways refuse refuge?” Pavo asked when I told the others of Katlyn’s offer.

“I will tell them the truth,” I said. “As much of it as we can. I think we owe them that.”

Grufyyd turned out to be a big, silent man with a brown beard and somber, smoke-gray eyes. After we had eaten nightmeal, my first out of bed, I asked the couple if I could retell our story.

“We have so often had to lie that it’s hard to see where the truth can be told,” I began. “It is true we are escapees, in one sense, but that was a long time ago. Now we, and others, have a secret … place in the highlands. There are a lot of us there now, mostly no more than children and many runaways. Some came to us, more we helped get away.

“Until recently, we thought our existence a secret. Then we started to hear rumors that the Council meant to investigate the highlands, so our leader decided to send down a delegation to see what we could find out. And at the same time, we came to find a … a friend who is hiding somewhere near Murmroth and Aborium.”

Katlyn and Grufyyd exchanged an odd, tense look.

“How did you come to be half-drowned on the banks of
the Suggredoon?” Grufyyd asked in his rumbling voice.

“We were in the White Valley looking for an Oldtime pass through the mountains. We didn’t want to use the main roads. But we stumbled on a secret camp run by Henry Druid. He takes prisoner anyone who gets too near. He uses the men for labor or else makes them join his armsmen.”

Katlyn cast an appalled glance at Grufyyd. “Armsmen. Then he still means to get revenge?”

Grufyyd shook his head sorrowfully.

“We escaped, but the Olden way proved impassable. We were desperate with the Druid’s armsmen close behind us, so we rafted the Suggredoon through the mountain.”

Katlyn gasped. “But is it possible?” No one answered, since we were the living proof of our story.

“Looked overmuch damage for an overturned boat,” Grufyyd observed dispassionately.

I continued. “Now … all I have told you is true, but I have not told everything, mostly to protect the ones we left behind. But I would not have said this much unless I trusted you and because we want you to understand why we can’t stay here.”

“We are no strangers to necessary secrets,” Katlyn said gently. “But since you will not stay, then we would like to offer you further help, in return for a favor.”

“What favor?” Domick asked.

Grufyyd rose suddenly and decisively. “Our son, Brydda, does not live strictly according to Council lore. In short, he is a seditioner. He helps people who are to be burned—helps them to get away an’ start afresh. Our problem is that we have lost contact with him. Brydda has neither visited us nor sent people to be hidden for two moons. We are afraid something has happened to him. We are too old for intrigue, and
we ask that you will go into Aborium to give Brydda a message from us.”

“Aborium,” Jik said and paled.

Domick looked at me. “No,” he said decisively. I was startled at his brusqueness after his words the previous night. “If I was coming with you, it might be different, but …”

“We mean to part before Morganna, you see,” I explained. “Domick will remain in Sutrium. The rest of us will cross the Suggredoon, and on the other side we meant to stay away from the towns. Especially Aborium, for it does not have a good reputation, even in the highlands.”

Grufyyd nodded. “It is a bad place. Yet all west coast cities are the same. Ye will have to enter one for food and fodder. And it may be that we can help.”

“I do not see how asking us to deliver a message to your son can help us,” Domick said belligerently. He stole a glance at Kella, and suddenly I understood his agitation.

Grufyyd nodded with a grave courtesy that made Domick seem rude and brash. “I meant to offer you the use of a cart. Ye will travel more swiftly and safely that way. And I can provide you with some false Normalcy Certificates.”

“We will be happy to deliver a message to your son,” I said. “It is the least we can do.”

Grufyyd’s face broke into a beguiling smile. He crossed abruptly to the door, gathering up his coat. On the threshold, he turned. “It will be best for you to go soon. I will ready the cart for tomorrow morning.” Without waiting for a response, he went out, leaving a startled silence behind him.

I looked around to see Katlyn giving Domick an apologetic look. “He has been frightened for Brydda; we both have. But dinna fear for your friends, Domick. No one checks papers,
save at the main entrance to Aborium. And it is even possible Brydda can help you find th’ refuge ye seek.”

Katlyn looked at me and smiled. “Now … food and drink to travel.” She turned to her store cupboards.

“How are we to find your son?” Jik asked timidly.

Katlyn smiled over her shoulder at him. “Ye mun go to the Inn of the Cuttlefish and ask for Brydda Llewellyn—that is the name he calls himself. Wait then, and he will come to you.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Domick asked.

Katlyn’s back faced us, but it seemed to shrink. “Then that will mean he cannot come. The journey takes two days. If you leave very early tomorrow morning and travel steadily, you will arrive at Aborium at daybreak. That is the best and safest time to enter the city. Tradesmen from outlying regions come then, when the gates are opened.”

“It is a walled city?” Domick asked sharply.

“The gates are open freely and unguarded in the daylight hours,” Katlyn assured him.

She turned to us suddenly, her face serious. “I dinna think ye will come to harm seekin’ Brydda out, but take care just th’ same, for there are other dangers on the west coast besides the Herders and the Council soldierguards. Those Brydda helps to run away do not account for all the disappearances from the city.”

“Slavers …,” I murmured.

Katlyn’s expression altered subtly. “You have heard of such things?”

“I heard a story while we were in the Druid camp. A man whose father had been to sea. I didn’t know if it was the truth or not.”

“Many things that seem impossible are true of Aborium. In its own way, it is worse than Sutrium. There the Council rules, but Aborium belongs to the Herder Faction, for that is where ships from Herder Isle and Norseland dock.” Katlyn was silent for a time, her eyes anxious. She shook her head and said, “Dinna linger there, is all I’m saying.”

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