Authors: Isobelle Carmody
'Is it true ye've been to Obernewtyn?' Emmon asked suddenly, as if reading my mind.
'True enough,' I said.
He shook his head in wonder. 'That's th' library.' He pointed to another building. It seemed his dislike of spelling did not run to books. The Druid had obviously instilled his followers with his own love of books.
'I hear Erin dinna take to ye much,' Emmon said.
'Who told you that?' I asked sharply.
Emmon smiled. 'I'll take ye to visit a friend of mine.'
Before I could answer he ran off, and I was forced to follow. I found him outside the door to a small cottage. As I reached his side, he knocked firmly on the door.
'Who lives here?' I asked. I heard footsteps inside. 'Erin's twin sister lives here,' he whispered, as the door swung open. I gave him a furious look, but it was too late. The door opened and a delicious odour wafted out.
'Gilaine, it's me. I've brought a visitor,' Emmon announced. He sniffed and sighed. 'Honeyballs.'
I stared at the girl who had answered the door.
There was no question whose sister she was. But they were as much alike as the sun and the moon. Where Erin's hair was spun gold and elaborately dressed, Gilaine wore her long, ashen tresses loose about her shoulders. Erin's eyes were bright blue, but Gilaine's were grey as clouds with the sun behind them. The greatest difference though, lay in their expressions. Erin's face was haughty and querulous, but Gilaine's was gentle, the smile on her mouth only echoing the smile in her eyes. I was immediately drawn to her.
'This is Elspeth. She's one of them gypsy folk,' Emmon said, slipping behind her into the house.
Gilaine smiled. I wondered why she did not speak. As if in answer to my thought, she raised a finger to her lips. At first I thought she was trying to tell me to be quiet, then I realized. She was mute.
'The honeyballs are burnin'!' Emmon wailed. Gilaine smiled, gesturing for me to follow her.
The cottage was tiny, consisting of three sections. A closet with a bed in it, a front hall and a cosy and relatively large kitchen. The honeyballs turned out to be tiny crisp sweets.
Mouth full, I asked Emmon why I had not seen Gilaine at the nightmeal. Emmon managed to look wrathful over bulging cheeks. 'She is nowt asked,' he said.
The old Druid was a perfectionist. He hated anything flawed. Gilaine was mute. Poor Gilaine, I thought. Seeing my look she smiled sadly and shrugged.
We stayed with Gilaine until it was time to go. I was surprised to hear Emmon confess his deception, but Gilaine only shook her head helplessly and ruffled his hair with an expression of mingled concern and exasperation.
Crossing the green to the meeting house, I spotted Jik playing ball with some younger children and asked Emmon if I could talk to him.
'Well, yer nowt supposed to, an' ye know what a stickler I am for rules. But if I was to gan over an wash my hands at th' spring, I'd nowt see what ye were up to. I'm a gullible fellow,' he said with an engaging smirk.
'Do you know where the others are being kept?' I asked Jik as soon as we could speak. There was no time for greetings.
He shook his head. 'I think they're some place outside the walls.'
'What about the block, can you feel it?'
He nodded, saying he said he had heard no talk of machines, but that the Druid's helpers had a special place to work in where no one was allowed to go.
I nodded impatiently. 'Keep an ear out but don't ask any questions that will make anyone wonder about you. Remember, you're a gypsy. Where's Darga?'
'He disappeared when they brought us inside,' Jik said, miserably.
'Darga's a smart dog,' I said. 'He's probably gone to look for the others, or Domick.'
Jik's face brightened. 'Do you think so?'
'Come on,' Emmon called.
I patted Jik on the shoulder and ran to join Emmon.
I was taken in to the Druid by one of the acolytes. I wondered curiously if the Druid were trying to start up his own opposing order. I had the feeling the Druid's order would be as bad as the Herder Faction, whatever Gilbert believed. Entering the Druid's meeting chamber, I heard a tantalizing snatch of conversation.
A voice said, 'If she is telling the truth, I don't see any need to waste more time on the mountains. I said all along it was your old friends that we bumped into. Herders.'
'That may be, but I think it is too late to stop the soldierguards from investigating Obernewtyn.' That was the Druid. I hesitated at the door, hoping to hear more, but the Druid looked up.
'Come in, Elspeth. I want you to tell me again all you saw at Obernewtyn . . .'
I was there for the rest of the afternoon. Fortunately my story was simple and I resisted the temptation to embellish in case he asked me to repeat it again. I quickly realized what he really wanted to know was if Rushton were continuing Alexi's researches.
I was unsure how much he knew of the truth. It was common knowledge Alexi and Madam Vega had been involved in illegal research into the Beforetime, and that Rushton had stopped them, at the same time rescuing two Councilmen. At one time, Henry Druid had befriended Rushton, knowing him to be the true heir to Obernewtyn. Rushton had told him that Alexi and Madam Vega were searching for weapon machines from the past. Yet he could not know Alexi based his search on the work of his stepmother, Marisa Seraphim, a brilliant scientist devoted to studying the technology of the past. She had discovered and resurrected the Zebkrahn machine. In his eagerness to possess his stepmother's secrets, Alexi had murdered Marisa, only to find her notes cryptic and secretive. Originally the research Alexi conducted into Misfit abilities had been a cover, but he had learnt that some Misfits possessed a remarkable sensitivity to the written word, which might be used to decipher Marisa's notes, if he were able to find a Misfit with a strong enough sensitivity. He quickly found that pain enhanced sensitivity.
Trapped into revealing my abilities, Alexi was yet unaware I was strong enough to decipher his stepmother's notes without help. Ironically, under torture by Alexi and Ariel, I had seen not only the map Marisa had secretly commissioned carved into two doors, showing the whereabouts of the weapon machines but, somehow, I knew the machines were those which had caused the terrible Great White Holocaust. The Druid could not know that, because I had told no one, not even Rushton.
As far as I knew, Henry Druid had learnt nothing about Alexi's Misfit research from Rushton, who had recognized the Druid's obsessive hatred of mutations was a danger to us, and had gradually severed communication. Ironically, this must have convinced the Druid that Rushton was continuing Alexi's search for Beforetime weapons. The snatch of conversation I had overheard told me the Druid no longer saw Rushton as an enemy. Just the same, while taking care to present myself as an ignorant, self-centred gypsy, I made sure Rushton sounded as if he were verging on mania, trying to rebuild the shattered Obernewtyn.
Dismissed at last, I went back to the wash house.
'What did he want?' Kella asked. 'You've been ages!'
I told her of Emmon's antics, then recounted what I had heard.
'Nothing that will help us escape?' Kella asked disconsolately. I had told her of my abortive attempt to breach the block that morning. We talked over what I had overheard, convinced the words referred to the Teknoguild expedition.
'But it sounds like they now believe the people they bumped into on the ruins were Herders. How odd that they should jump to that conclusion,' Kella said.
I nodded. 'I think there is much about the Herders' activities that is secret. The important thing, though, is that the Druid now seems to believe Obernewtyn is a ruin. The problem is, it might be too late to stop the soldierguards coming to the mountains. I'm almost sure this friend on the Council organized the investigation. It wouldn't be hard. The Council is so suspicious anyway.'
Kella wiped her hands slowly on her apron. 'We have to warn Rushton.'
I nodded. 'But first, I have to do something about this machine. Let Rilla think I'm still with the Druid. I'm going to try to find it. I think I can home in on it if I put my mind to it.'
'Don't get caught,' Kella said.
I climbed out the window at the back of the wash house. Walking slowly, I let my mind rub against the oddly pliant nature of the blocking static. Again I was reminded of a blanket, and brushed my mind against it instead of using force. I had the eerie feeling it liked it, rubbing up against my mind like a kitten. I thought I could sense a core and moved in that direction, hoping I was not imagining it.
Before long, I found myself in a part of the camp I had not seen before. I walked purposefully, trying to look as if I were running an errand, and avoiding the eyes of the few people I passed.
Two men coming out of a doorway looked at me, but made no move to stop me. As soon as I rounded a corner I ran, keeping to the walls. I was determined nothing would keep me from at least locating the machine. A young girl looked out of a window curiously. I slowed abruptly to a walk, but her eyes followed me up the street.
I noticed a bank of ominous black clouds roiled the horizon. An omen, though for good or ill I couldn't decide.
Suddenly I found myself on the very perimeter of the settlement. There was no one in sight. This part of the camp looked deserted. Uneasily I wondered if the whole thing were some sort of trap.
I was about to turn back when, suddenly, I sensed the source of the block was very near. I couldn't resist. It came, I was certain, from a long, low-slung building with a flat roof. There was only one door in the building, and no guard. My trapped powers prevented me from knowing if there were guards inside.
Pressing one ear against the door, I heard faint voices.
Dry-mouthed I pushed the door. It swung open soundlessly.
I gaped at the complete unexpectedness of what lay inside. The building contained a single, long, almost bare room filled with babies and very young children. On the far side of the room, a thin, dark-haired girl wiped the face of a bawling tot.
In the middle of the room, helping a group of mesmerized children to build a tower, was Gilaine.
She looked up idly, and her face registered my own shock.
I could not think of a single thing to say. The room was obviously a kind of communal nursery, but I was convinced it was also the source of the block. The machine had to be concealed somewhere in the room.
The dark-haired girl came over. 'Yes?' she said pleasantly.
Gilaine touched her arm and made a few intricate hand motions. 'Gilaine says you're a friend. Come in.'
Gilaine made another agitated hand movement and the girl nodded. 'I'll do it. You talk to your friend,' she said kindly.
'What is this place?' I asked Gilaine, when we were alone.
She frowned and pointed to the children. One of the toddlers waddled after her and lurched drunkenly at my knees. Reaching out to catch him, my hand brushed against Gilaine's.
The baby gurgled in delight, oblivious to our stunned looks. The moment our hands touched, I had immediate access to her mind - and she to mine! Gilaine was a Misfit. An empath and farseeker like Jik.
She had pulled away almost immediately. I leaned forward slowly, not wanting to alarm her, and touched her forearm. Again contact was established. It seemed the block did not work if I was actually touching the person I wanted to communicate with.
'Gilaine?' I sent gently. She recoiled violently. I stood waiting, and she reached out, touching my shoulder with a tentative finger.
'Elspeth?' her mind said. It was a weak signal, despite the strength I had found in her mind.
I nodded. Gilaine sat on a chair as if her legs would not hold her, and pulled the toddler onto her lap. I reached forward, pretending to look at the baby, and touched her. 'We must not make ourselves obvious/dangerous,' I sent, at the same time wondering if Gilaine were the trap.
'You . . . are not like us,' Gilaine sent timidly.
'Us? There are more of you here?' I asked, astounded. She nodded imperceptibly. I sensed that she did not want to talk about them.
'Does He/Druid/father know?' I asked.
She shook her head vehemently. 'Not know. Mustnot know.' The baby began to struggle to be put down. Gilaine jiggled her knees up and down and he gurgled contentedly. 'Fatherdruid thinks Misfits feebleminds or dreamers. He doesnot know about us/you. He thinks Misfit/mutant evil,' she stressed.
'You? Do you think this is evil?' I asked.
She shook her head, but without much conviction.
'Dangerous foryou and friends here. Why stay?' I asked.
She shook her head and fleetingly, a face pressed from her thoughts into mine. I was amazed to recognize it. It was the face of the boy I had met in the Councilcourt in Sutrium, waiting to be sentenced to Obernewtyn. Startled, I remembered the youth had spoken to me of refuge in the mountains, and of running away. Was it possible he had meant me to run away to the Druid? He had even mentioned Henry Druid, saying the rumour of his death was a lie. I fumbled in my memory for the name. 'Daffyd,' I murmured aloud triumphantly. Gilaine almost dropped the baby in fright. The startled child hitched in a breath and began to scream. When it was quieted, Gilaine touched my hand. 'How do you know that name? Did you read my behindthoughts?' she asked suspiciously.
I shook my head without bothering to explain that I could, but chose not to. People always thought you wanted to eavesdrop on their private thoughts, whereas the notion actually embarrassed me. 'I saw his face in yourmind. Remembered the name. I met him once, in Sutrium.' I gasped aloud. 'You mean he is one of you? Us?'
She nodded, still warily.
I wondered what had possessed him to envisage the Druid as a refuge for a Misfit. 'Where is he?' I asked.
'Druid sent him to Sutrium/Lowlands. Druidbusiness.'
I noticed the dark-haired girl watching us curiously. We had been silent too long. In another moment she would begin to wonder who I was and why she had not recognized me. I was putting Gilaine in danger and said as much to her in a low voice.