The Seeker (52 page)

All at once, fear assaulted me.

Darga growled again, and the fear vanished.

I stared at the girl in wonder. “
She’s
doing it!”

“I learned from a dog that you had left the city. I followed your scent,” Darga sent. “Then I saw the child-funaga’s mind making you see things. I frightened her enough to break her grip on your mind. She does not know how to speak to my mind, so she cannot make me afraid.”

The urchin snarled at me, pressing herself deeper into the corner.

“She is like a wild wolf pup,” Darga sent.

I looked at the girl. “Well,” I said aloud in a gentle voice, “if you are wild, then I will have to tame you.” I backed away, telling Darga to follow. The girl suspiciously watched us withdraw, then ran forward and slithered through a hole in the wall, swift as a snake.

I reached out but could find no trace of her mind.

There was a joyous reunion between Jik and Darga. The others were astonished and relieved that the demon we had seen was no more than a vision. Pavo suggested returning to the library, but I decided we had better find Reuvan, Brydda, and Idris.

“It’s been a long night. And we have plenty of time to go through the books. We’ll have to stay until I can tame our wild girl.”

We found Reuvan unconscious, having run into a jutting piece of stone in the darkness, then returned to Brydda. He was fascinated to hear the truth about his ghosts and, though still wary, agreed to cross into the city. But he was skeptical about my intention to tame the girl.

I shook my head wearily. “I can’t give up. I have to win her trust.”

“Why?” Brydda asked. “What does it matter?”

I looked at him. “Don’t you understand?
She
is the one I came all this way to find. She’s one of us. And I have a feeling she needs us as much as we need her.”

19

W
E CALLED HER
Dragon, after the picture I had seen in the library.

We had set up a comfortable camp inside the roofless shell of a building with a clear view of Aborium and the surrounding plains. Each night, I set food out, hoping to make her understand that I meant no harm. But though the food had been gone each morning, we did not catch sight of her. Sometimes I sensed her watching us but could not reach her. After a few initial attempts to instill her particular brand of fear into one or another of us, and being fended off by me, she had given up trying to frighten us away.

The third night fell, and I was silent and preoccupied with thoughts of the ragged urchin girl. Kella was trying to force Pavo to set his notes aside and eat. Finally, losing her temper, she shouted at him.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll be dead before you have the chance to get your precious books out of their hole in the ground!”

She broke off, looking horrified at herself. But Pavo burst out laughing. “Kella, what would I do without you? All right; you win.”

We all laughed at the martyred expression he gave the flushed healer.

“No luck with the girl?” Pavo asked me over nightmeal.
“Have you given thought to what sort of powers she has?” Pavo said.

I frowned. “Empathy and coercing, though I have never encountered that combination.”

Kella gave me a quick look. “It’s more than coercing. Domick can’t make things appear in the air.”

I shook my head. “The creature she conjured looks so like the ones on the map. I think she took the image from my unconscious and somehow projected it into all our minds.”

Brydda yawned. “Whatever she does, it’s kept the soldierguards from looking for us here. And I saw no patrols out on the plains today. I think they have moved the search to Half Moon Bay or Morganna. I doubt they will bother with Murmroth or Port Oran, given the distances involved. As soon as you’ve finished with the books, we can leave.”

Pavo nodded absently. “I feel as if I could never be finished, but I’ll have as much as we can safely carry by tomorrow.”

No one looked at me, but I knew they were thinking of Dragon.

Time was running out, yet I seemed no closer to reaching the girl than when I had begun. I went out with a pot of stew and sat down to wait, determined to make some sort of contact. Hours passed, and I was beginning to drift off to sleep when I heard a faint sound.

Snapping wide awake, I sensed her trying to drive me off. Frustrated and baffled, she paced outside the light like a hungry, wild cat.

“Hello?” I called softly. The wind hissed in scorn, but there was no answer. I took up the pot of stew and held it out.

Still no answer, but instinct told me she was watching. I sighed, feeling suddenly defeated.

Then I heard a movement, and she was there, the half-moon shedding a wan light on her grubby face. I was careful not to make any sudden movements as she crept forward, never taking her eyes from me. She reached out abruptly and snatched the pot from my hands, turned, and ran into the night.

I sighed heavily and went back to the campfire. Reuvan sought to comfort me, saying he thought sheer curiosity would make Dragon follow us when we left. That and our food offerings. I was not so certain, but we had no more time to spare.

That night, we left the city after concealing the entrance to the library under rubble. If Dragon did follow, the city would have lost its guardian, and we did not want the books and all their secrets to fall into the hands of the Herder Faction.

There was no sign of Dragon as we left, but I sensed her eyes watching us from some dark corner of her lonely city.

I sent out a broadspan beckoning call, but there was no response.

Brydda had said that we ought to reach the sparse, distorted trees of the fringes before the moon rose, if we did not stop, for once again we were not able to move at more than a plodding walk. I asked what he would do if we could safely cross the Suggredoon.

“To begin with, I will ride to Rangorn to see my parents. Then I will return to Sutrium and join the group of rebels working against the Council there. I have already been in contact with their leader,” Brydda said.

Pavo, Jik, Kella, and I traveled in the cart with the books, and the others rode. Brydda had become adept at communicating with the horses through gestures and spent more time
conversing with them than with his human companions. Pavo looked pale and ill, the energy of the last days having deserted him as soon as we left the city. He lay back against his precious books and slept.

Huge flies plagued us by day, and the unseasonable heat made me long for the cool of the mountains. I consoled myself by thinking the weather was good for my feet, which had begun to heal again.

I felt weary when we stopped at dusk the second day. The others talked and sparred while setting up the camp and nightmeal, but I could not help thinking of Dragon and wondering if she would go on as she had before our departure. I had given up hope of her following us and wondered if Maryon’s prediction meant that all aims of the expedition had to be achieved to avoid whatever disaster she foresaw. If so, then everything we had done was for nothing, because I had failed to bring the Talent back to Obernewtyn.

Remembering how Dragon had cowered back against the wall, I was filled with self-reproach for my failure to reach her. I ought to have tried harder. Under all the dirt and savagery, she was little more than a child. Depressed, I went to bathe in a stream after summoning Darga to assure me that it had not flowed from Blacklands. The air had a misty mauve tone, and in the west, streaks of dusky sunset ran across the horizon.

Darga’s mind broke abruptly into my thoughts. “She follows.”

My heart leapt, understanding instantly whom he meant. “Where?”

“Behind the trees,” he sent.

I forced myself to walk naturally to the stream. Darga sniffed the water and pronounced it clean. Stretching himself
out on the bank, he pretended to sleep. I stripped off my clothes and slid into the icy water with a gasp of delight. Rubbing sand against my grubby skin, I reveled in the coolness, but only half of me was enjoying the bath. The other half was searching for the slightest evidence of Dragon’s presence. I was forced to concede that without Darga, I would never have known she was there.

I took up a handful of sand and rubbed it against my scalp until the tangled mass of my hair felt clean, then I ducked under to wash it out. Floating beneath the surface and holding my breath, I opened my eyes and looked up.

To my astonishment, Dragon was leaning over the stream, staring with openmouthed terror into the water. Gasping and spluttering, I bobbed to the surface. She sprang back, and gently I fended off the waves of fright she was generating. I reached for her mind but again was unable to penetrate her shield.

“It’s all right,” I said softly, realizing she thought I had been drowning. “I’m Elspeth,” I said slowly, extending a dripping hand.

She cringed away.

“She fears water,” Darga sent.

Dragon looked at him uneasily, though he had not stirred. I gathered up my towel and dried slowly.

I looked up to find her looking at my naked limbs with a hint of bafflement. I stood very still as she reached out one blackened finger and touched my pale belly. Her finger left a dirty smear, and she stared at it, frowning.

Very slowly, I reached out a wet finger and touched her bare stomach. A rag twisted around her body exposed most of her skin, but rag and skin were indistinguishable, merged together in uniform grime. She suffered my touch, then
looked amazed at the clean streak my finger had made. She gazed from the dirty mark on my stomach to the white mark on her own flesh, as if our skins had rubbed off on one another.

“Elspeth,” I said, pointing to myself. I bent down to put my clothes on. My trousers were worn to shreds, but Kella had given me an old skirt and underskirt to put on.

I saw Dragon’s eyes flicker toward the blue underskirt, and impulsively, I held it out to her. Eyes shining, she reached out, then froze, mistrust clouding her expression. I did not move, and finally, she reached out and grasped the underskirt, folding it into her arms and stroking it as if it were an animal. I went on dressing, pulling on Kella’s knitted stockings, my shoes, and a cloak.

“Esspess?” she said suddenly in a rusty whisper.

I gaped, for I had begun to suspect she was mute. I had even thought this might be why she had been abandoned.

I pointed to myself. “Elspeth,” I said distinctly. “Elspeth.”

Then I pointed to her.

“Elspess,” she said obligingly. I grinned, wondering if my name was the only word she would say. I pointed to myself again. “Els-peth.” I pointed to her. “Dragon … Dra-gon.” Later, when she could talk, she could choose a more suitable name.

She frowned. “Drang-om.”

I nodded. She pointed to me. “Elspess.” She pointed to herself. “Drangon.”

“Close enough,” I said. “Food?” I asked, rising slowly. Alarm flared in her eyes. I mimicked eating, and hunger replaced her fright.

Summoning Darga and warning him to move slowly, we made our way back to the camp. Whenever Dragon stopped,
I would mimic eating. I sent a probe to Jik, telling him to warn the others not to do anything to frighten her.

Approaching the light of the fire that glimmered through the trees, Dragon hesitated. I had to coax her the last few steps with exaggerated mimicry of how delicious the food would be. When we were close enough to smell Kella’s stew, she sniffed at the savory odor like a hungry animal. The others were sitting very still around the fire, fascinated, for this was the first time they had seen her. To my surprise, she barely looked at them. Her eyes darted about hungrily. Kella had set a pot to the side, and I took this up and held it out to Dragon.

The firelight showed her as an emaciated scarecrow with a mop of filthy hair, clutching the blue underskirt to her chest.

Taking the pot, she squatted unceremoniously and plunged her filthy fingers directly into it, scooping the stew to her mouth with ravenous dexterity.

Kella grimaced and softly wondered aloud whether she had not already poisoned herself with dirt. I was filled with compassion rather than revulsion. I had never imagined that the Talent I had come so far to find would be a half-wild savage who could barely speak. I had imagined a calm discussion ending in an offer of a refuge.