The Seeker (47 page)

“What do you want?” asked a sharp voice. I jumped and heard a snicker of laughter. A woman and two men were sitting near the window, silhouetted against the fading pink sunset.

I swallowed dryly. “I’m … looking for a man. I have a message to deliver.”

“What is his name?” the woman asked coldly.

I made myself speak, though I was regretting not listening to Darga. “Brydda Llewellyn.”

A match flared and a lamp was lit on the table, illuminating the narrow, ratty face of the manageress and the hard, wary faces of the men.

The woman smiled, a folding rather than a curve of thin lips. “Brydda lives at the inn, but he has been on his boat this last moon. He will be here tomorrow morning. I can let you have a room for tonight.”

Again the sour smile, and as she rose, dark satin skirts rustled around her feet like a nest of snakes. “Come with me,” she commanded, and I dared not refuse. The inn was larger than it looked, and I was filled with unease as she took me downstairs where there were a number of bedrooms. The room she gave me was halfway down a hall and had a narrow window, level with the street. It was sparsely furnished.

“This is the only room we have free. Best if you keep to it until morning. The men who stay here are not used to having women around. I’ll send water for you to wash and some supper.”

Forcing a smile, I went across and tested the springs of the bed. “It’s been a while since I’ve slept in a bed,” I said casually. “I don’t mind a bit of rest.”

“I’ll lock the door so you’re not disturbed. Ring the bell if you want anything.” She nodded smugly and departed.

My false smile fell away the minute the door closed, for I had no doubt I was a prisoner. The moment I tried to leave, the thinly veiled pretense would end. I pushed a bench to the window and climbed up to peer out. There was no possibility of getting out that way. I could fiddle locks, but I could not magic myself through the ground. I sent a call to Darga.

“Can you get out?” he asked as soon as he appeared at the window.

“I can open the lock, but I will have to wait until everyone goes to sleep. I want you to go back to the cart and get the others out of the city.”

“Why have they locked you up?” Darga asked.

“I don’t know, but I think it was because I asked for Brydda Llewellyn.” I wondered what Rushton would do in such a situation.

“He would not risk you,” Darga sent.

I stared. “What do you mean?” I shook my head. “Look, there’s no time for this. You have to get the others out of the city before the gates are closed for the night.”

An hour later, I could wait no longer. The door lock was a simple device, and I tampered with the mechanism so it would seem to be broken. Then I wrapped a towel round my hair and stuck my head out into the hall. The man outside started in astonishment at the sight of me. “How—?”

I interrupted him. “I’ve rung the bell three times, and no one comes. I was promised some water for a wash,” I complained. Amazement gave way to confusion and then indecision. He had obviously been told to guard the door, but I was not acting like a prisoner. My querulous demand for water and the towel on my hair had confused him, and I sensed him wondering if he had somehow got his instructions muddled.

“Go on, then, tell her,” I snapped, and shut the door.

I listened to his footsteps receding. Then I threw off the towel and slipped out into the hallway. I had barely taken two steps before I heard voices coming. I dared not go back to the room. Turning, I hurried in the other direction, trying every door I passed. A locked door had to mean the room was occupied.

My heart leaped as I recognized the manageress’s voice. “What do you mean the door was unlocked? I locked it.”

The last door was also locked, but I had no choice. If there was someone in the room, I would have to coerce them. I bent my mind to the lock, but before I could do anything, the door opened and a young, bearded man looked out. We stared at one another in surprise; then the voice of the manageress came clearly down the hall.

“Find her! She can’t have gone far. She has a limp. Search all the rooms on this level.”

Without saying a word, the man reached out and pulled me through the door, shutting it quickly. He made a sign for me to be quiet, and we listened intently. I heard the manageress shriek in rage at finding me gone.

The young man turned to look at me. He was not much older than Rushton, and his skin was the clear smooth brown of a seaman. He wore trousers, but his wet face and bare chest told me I had caught him in the middle of a wash.

“You are the girl who asked after Brydda Llewellyn?” he asked in a low voice.

I nodded, dazed that he should know.

There was a loud knock on the next door, and I looked at him in a panic.

In two strides he crossed the floor and flung open the lid of a big trunk. “Get in.”

There was a knock at his door. I climbed in the trunk and heard him turning the key slowly.

“Why did you take so long to answer?” It was the manageress. I held my breath in terror.

“I was washing. What’s going on?” he asked crossly.

“Ah … well, we have had a girl staying, as a favor to her father, who is a seaman. She is subject to manias and brainstorms.
For her own safety, she was locked in, but she has got away.”

“Is she dangerous?” asked my rescuer seriously. Despite my fear, I grinned at his convincingly anxious tone.

She grunted.

“Well, I heard this was a respectable place, but with all the noise and murdering madwomen running around, I am glad I am heading out to sea this night. Send someone to bring up my trunk.”

My heart thumped in fear that she would demand to see what was in it.

“Carry your own trunk!” she snapped rudely, slamming the door. There was silence and some movement, then I felt myself lifted. I slid to the bottom of the trunk, half-suffocated by clothes.

“Don’t make a sound,” he hissed in a strained voice that told me he had hoisted the trunk—and me—onto his back.

In the hall, I heard enough to chill my blood. “The Council won’t like this,” said one voice.

“ ’Tis nowt th’ Council troubles me but th’ priests. They’re th’ ones he’s plagued,” said another voice. The two voices faded, and I realized we were climbing the stairs.

Suddenly there was another voice. “Ho, Reuvan. Where are ye goin’ at this hour?”

“I’m for the sea tonight,” said my rescuer.

“Tonight?” There was an edge of surprise in the other’s voice.

“The Herders have given permission to my master,” Reuvan said. “But I don’t know why he can’t wait till a civil hour to set sail.”

I wished he would get moving. The air in the trunk was beginning to foul. I felt sweat trickle down my spine.

At last the other laughed. “Better you than me. I’ll see you.”

“Not here you won’t,” Reuvan said easily. “It’s a damn sight too noisy, and that sharp-tongued manageress is no enticement.”

The other man laughed, and we moved on. At long last, I felt myself being set down, and the distinctive sound of hooves scraping over cobbles told me we were in the street.

The chest jerked, and I realized I was in a cart. It set off, and after an eternity, the latch was undone. “Stay down. It’s not safe yet,” the seaman whispered softly.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked in a low voice.

There was a pause. “You wanted to talk to Brydda Llewellyn, didn’t you? Well, I’m taking you to him.”

16

B
RYDDA LLEWELLYN WAS
a giant of a man, towering head and shoulders above the men around him. His face, illuminated fitfully in the guttering candlelight, was as stern and craggy as weathered rock.

Reuvan gave me a slight push. “Brydda, here is the girl who asked for you at the inn. I caught her trying to escape the old crow’s clutches.”

The buzz of talk from the men in the room ceased. My heart thumped unevenly under their hostile scrutiny.

“You have taken your time in coming,” said Brydda, for all the world as if he had expected me.

“If you were where you were supposed to be, I would have been quicker,” I said.

An astounded silence followed my words, then the giant roared with laughter. “Well, well, so they have sent a kitten that snarls and spits. I could crush you with one hand, little sad eyes, but I don’t. Let that be a sign of my good faith. Now, what do you have to tell me?”

I was less intimidated by his threats than reassured by his laughter, for I had seen Katlyn in it. “I come from Rangorn. I bring a message from your—”

To my surprise, Brydda’s smile disappeared and he held up an imperious hand. “Speak no more of that for a moment.” He glanced around, and silently the men filed out, giving me
curious looks. Then we were alone except for Reuvan, who went to stand by the door.

“Don’t be afraid,” Brydda said in a softer voice. “I thought you were a messenger from Sutrium. I did not think … You come from my parents? Are they well?”

I nodded. “They are worried because you haven’t sent word to them in so long. I think they feared something had happened to you.”

Brydda ran a massive hand through the dark, springing curls on his forehead. “So it has. I suppose they told you about me?”

“They said you help seditioners.”

He smiled faintly. “Well, that is as good a way as any of putting it. How did you come to meet my parents? You are not from Rangorn.”

“We had an accident, and your parents helped us. We offered to bring a message to repay their kindness.”

“You are with friends?” Brydda said sharply.

I nodded, hoping Darga had got the others away. “When I left them, they were in an alley not far from the inn. I’m not sure whether they made it out of the city before nightfall.”

Brydda started, a look of concern on his face. “Quickly, Reuvan, go and take some of the others. Bring them back.” He turned to me. “What do they look like?”

“A girl and a boy not much younger than I am, and a much younger boy,” I said. “A wheat-colored mare is pulling the cart.”

He nodded, and Reuvan hurried away. “It is dangerous to be out in the streets at night, though less than usual because of the moon fair. Is there no one full grown among your companions?”

Slightly indignant, I told him we were perfectly able to look after ourselves. Changing the subject, I asked why I had
been locked up at the inn. “Your parents told us to mention your name. I didn’t reckon on such an unfriendly reception,” I said resentfully. Brydda only laughed and gave me a slap on the back that winded me.

“Much has happened since I last spoke to my parents. I was betrayed by one of my men. Once I could go to and from the inn openly, an ordinary seaman, but now I am known to be the notorious seditioner they call the Black Dog. You are lucky I had friends keeping an eye out at the inn for the messenger I mistook you for. Once she comes, I will leave Aborium. I dared not send word to my parents while I am here, because I was afraid of having their connection with me exposed. But I am glad to hear they are safe.”

“Those soldierguards at the gate,” I said in sudden realization. “It was you they were looking for.”

He nodded. “The Council would like to catch me, and so would the Herder Faction. But I will slip through their fingers like snow during the moon fair.”

“Where will you go?” I said unthinkingly.

Brydda looked at me for a long moment. “Few would expect an honest answer to such a question. But I believe I can trust you. Does it seem strange to you that a wanted man trusts his instinct over caution?” He smiled when I did not answer. “I have a kind of infallible knack for judging people.”

“Yet you say you were betrayed …”

He nodded grimly. “By a man I loved like a brother. But I did not misjudge him. He was tortured and made to speak, and there will be a payment for that. Come, tell me the truth. Are you not a seditioner or a runaway yourself, that my mother should tell you my secrets?”

I stared at him in fright.

“I told you. I have a knack at guessing. But don’t look so
unnerved. It makes us allies, not enemies,” he said.

I nodded, shaken, entertaining an odd notion about this uncanny “knack” of his. “My parents were burned by the Council as seditioners, and my brother was killed by soldierguards,” I said.