The Seeker (9 page)

Clinging to my seat, I looked down at the guardian, who continued to sleep. Branches scraped at the window; the road had suddenly narrowed, and we were in the midst of a thick clump of gnarled trees. I hoped none would fall, for they were big enough to crush the carriage.

A blinding gray rain fell as we passed from the trees and out into the open again. I could see very little because of the rain and the darkness, but the landscape looked barren and ugly. Then the rain stopped as abruptly as a tap turned off.

The silence that followed was so complete it was uncanny. The horses were under control again, and I heard a tired snort from one. The sound almost echoed in the stillness. It had
grown fractionally lighter, and I could see sparse trees drooping wearily. I thought the land must indeed be cursed for the fury of nature to strike at it so mercilessly.

Then, before my eyes, the land seemed to transform itself from a barren place to the bleakest, deadest piece of earth. It was impossible to imagine a single blade of grass or even the most stunted tree growing in this place. A strange, terrible burning smell penetrated the carriage despite the thick glass of the windows. I could see vapors rising sluggishly from the earth and writhing along like yellowish snakes. In some places, the ground was as smooth and shiny as glass.

This, then, was the tainted ground, but surely it could not long ago have been true Blacklands.

Now I understood the tension of the horses. It was not the storm they had feared but the poisoned earth they must cross. It was a narrow stretch, and only a short time passed before we returned to a less desolate landscape, but the brief glimpse of the effects of the Great White seared into my mind.

I heard a faint rumbling sound and, looking around again, wondered what could happen next. The noise arose almost from the hills themselves, and a small breeze began to blow. The sky had the dull sheen of polished metal as the wind grew in force. All at once it was cold enough that my breath misted the air inside the carriage.

Then the storm burst over us again. This time there was no rain, just a fierce wind that tossed the cart around like a leaf. The long-suffering trees were bent almost double beneath this fresh onslaught, and I began to understand their ragged appearance. They did well even to survive in this savage land. There seemed something primitive and destructive in the wind, an evil intent I could nearly feel.

Like the rain, it stopped suddenly, and all at once I could hear only the slushy rattle of the wheels as they plowed through the new mud. The sound accomplished what nothing else had been able to do—it woke the guardian.

With a grunt, she sat up and blinked owlishly. “Have we passed the storms?” she asked.

“You mean … they’re always like that?” I asked.

“If you went back there right now, the storms would still be going on,” the guardian confirmed with a shudder of distaste. “They’re caused by the Blacklands.”

I looked out the window again.

The last stretch of the journey seemed endless, for Obernewtyn was some distance from the tainted pass. The country grew more fertile and ordinary, though very jagged and uneven, with great outcrops of stone rearing up here and there from the dense forest. It was still a hard, wild sort of land, but it seemed fair and rich after the devastated terrain.

My sense of time was utterly confused, but I realized now that night had given way to the early morning, for its dense blackness had transmuted into a frigid, dark blue.

“There,” said the guardian suddenly, and I saw a sign swinging between two posts. In dark lettering, it read
OBERNEWTYN. KEEP OUT
.

The sight of it chilled me more effectively than all the Blacklands in existence. Just beyond was an iron gate set into a high stone wall. The wall extended as far as I could see in both directions. Enoch pulled the horses up and unlocked the gate. He walked the weary team through, then relocked it from the other side. I wondered why they bothered—surely Obernewtyn’s remoteness barred the way more effectively than any locks. I tried to see the house, but thick, ornately
clipped trees hid their secret well in the curving drive. Someone had gone to great lengths to keep Obernewtyn from prying eyes.

“Obernewtyn,” whispered the guardian, looking out the other window. Her voice was low, as if the somber building that had come into view quelled her as much as it did me. Even the horses seemed to walk softly.

It was a massive construction and outwardly more like a series of bleak buildings pushed haphazardly together than one single mansion. It was constructed of large, rough-hewn blocks of gray stone streaked with flecks of darker stone. Aside from the stone itself, no effort had been made to make one section harmonize with the rest. In some places, it was two or three stories high, and turrets rose up at its corners, with steep little roofs ending in spires. Each wall was pocked with hundreds of slitlike holes that I realized must serve as windows.

The drive curved around an ugly fountain, from which rose a lamppost. Its flame flickered behind gleaming panels, making shadows dance along the walls of the building. Atop a set of wide stone steps, the entrance seemed to move in the shifting light, making me think of an opening maw.

The carriage had drawn to a stop at the foot of the steps, and Enoch unlocked the door. I climbed out after the guardian. The cold air gusted and made my cloak flap violently enough that I clutched at it, fearing it would be wrenched away from me. The branches of the trees were filled with the blustering wind, and the noise they made seemed a mad whispering that made my skin rise up into gooseflesh.

I shivered and told myself sternly not to let my imagination get the better of me.

Only when we reached the top of the steps did I see that the
two broad entrance doors were deeply and intricately carved wood. The beauty of the carvings struck me, particularly because the building itself seemed so utterly utilitarian. I studied them as the guardian rang a bell. Men and all manner of queer beasts were represented, many seeming half man and half beast. Whoever had done the work was a true craftsman, for the expressions on the faces portrayed the essences of the emotions that shaped them. Framing the panels was a wide gilt border decorated with exotic symbols. The symbols seemed to me a sort of scribing, though I could make no sense of them.

At last the doors opened to reveal a tall, thin woman holding a candelabrum. The light shivered and twitched in the wind, giving her gaunt features a curious, almost fluid look. She bent closer, and I wondered if she found me as indistinct in the wavering light. I was too tired to pretend dullness and hoped weariness would do as well.

“You’ll get no sense out of her,” said Guardian Hester scornfully. “I thought Madam Vega did not intend to bring up any more dreamers. This one doesn’t even look strong enough to be a good worker.”

The other woman raised her eyebrows disdainfully. “If Madam chose this girl, she will not have done so without purpose,” she said very distinctly, and peered into my face in much the same way Madam Vega had at Kinraide, but without any of her hypnotic power.

“Elspeth, this is Guardian Myrna,” said Hester.

“You may leave now,” the other woman told her abruptly.

“But … but I thought, since it was so late …” Guardian Hester hesitated and faltered before the gaze of the other.

“It is not permitted for temporary guardians to stay in the main house. You know that. If our arrangement does not please you, I am sure another can be found.”

Guardian Hester clasped her hands together. “Please. No. I … forgot. I’ll go to the farms with the coachman,” she said.

Guardian Myrna inclined her head regally after a weighty pause. “You should hurry. So much talk has delayed you, and I think the dogs are out,” she said. The other woman paled and hastened to the door. Guardian Myrna watched her go with a cold smile; then she took some keys from her apron pocket. “Come,” she said.

We went out a doorway leading off the circular entrance chamber and into a long hall pitted with large doors. Clumsy locks hung from each, and I thought that if this was an indication of the security at Obernewtyn, I would have no trouble getting away. Distantly, I heard the bark of a dog.

The guardian unlocked one of the doors. “Tonight you will sleep here, and tomorrow you will be given a permanent room.” She shut the door behind me and bolted it.

I stood a moment in the total darkness, using my mind to ascertain the dimensions of the room. I was relieved to discover that I was alone. It was too cold to get undressed, so I simply slipped my shoes off and climbed into the nearest bed. I drifted uneasily to sleep, thinking I would rather be anywhere than Obernewtyn.

9

T
HE DOOR BANGED
violently open.

A girl stood on the stone threshold with a candle in one hand. With her free hand, she continued to hammer loudly at the open door with a peculiar fixed smile on her face.

“What is it?” I said.

She looked at me through lackluster eyes. “I am come … I have come …” She faltered as though her brain had lost the thread of whatever message she wanted to impart. She frowned. “I have come to … to warn you.” There was a glimmer in the depth of her muddy eyes, and all at once, I doubted my initial impression that she was defective.

“Warn me about what?” I asked warily.

She made a warding-off movement with her free hand. “Them. You know.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I am new here. Who are you?”

She jerked her head in a spasm of despair, and a look of anguish came over her face. “Nothing! I’m nothing anymore.…”

She looked across the room at me and started to laugh. “You should not have come here,” she said at last.

“I didn’t choose to come here. I am an orphan, and now I am condemned a Misfit.”

The girl giggled. “I was no orphan, but I am a Misfit.”

Unable to make any sense out of her, I reached out with my thoughts. At once I learned that her name was Selmar and her mind was a charred wreckage. Most of her thought links did not exist, and little remained that was normal. I saw the remnant of someone I could have liked. But whatever she had gone through had left little of that person. Here was a mind teetering on the brink of madness.

Her eyes rolled back in panic, and cursing my stupidity, I realized she could feel me! She must have been one of those people with some fleeting ability. For an instant, her eyes rolled forward, and she looked out with a sort of puzzlement, as if she was struggling to remember something of great importance. But all too quickly, the muddiness in her eyes returned, and with it a pitiful, cowering fear.

“I promise I don’t know anything about a map,” she whispered.

I stared. What was she talking about now?

“Selmar …,” I began, throwing aside my covers and lowering my feet to the cold stone floor.

Before I could say more, a voice interrupted. “Selmar, how is it that you take so long to wake one person?”

It was a sweet, piping voice, high-pitched and querulous. Not a voice to inspire fear, yet, if it were possible, Selmar paled even further as she turned to face the young boy behind her. No more than eleven or twelve years, he was as slender as a wand, with delicate blond curls; slim, girlish shoulders; and large, pale eyes.

“Answer me,” he hissed. Selmar swayed as if she would faint, though she was older and bigger than him.

“I … I didn’t do anything,” she gibbered. “She wouldn’t wake up.”

He clicked his teeth. “You took too long. I see you need a
talk with Madam to help you overcome your laziness. I will make sure to arrange it.” The sheer maliciousness in his beautiful face angered me.

“It is as she told you,” I said, stepping between them. “I had trouble waking, because I arrived so late last night.”

Selmar nodded pathetically.

“Well, go on with your duties, then,” he conceded with a nasty smile. Selmar turned with a frightened sob and fled down the hall, her stumbling footsteps echoing after her. Chewing his bottom lip, the boy watched her departure with thoughtful eyes.

“What did she say to you?” he asked, turning back to me.