The Dreamtrails (80 page)

“You need have no doubts about Gwynedd,” Dell said. “He is a man of great honor, and his desire is to prevent a bloody war, not to achieve kingship.”

“Perhaps,” Rushton said. He looked at Dardelan. “I think we had better ride and see what Gwynedd has to say.” Dardelan nodded, and he and Rushton went to get their cloaks and weapons. Dell and Jak went with them, and after Merret had spoken a few soft words to her, Blyss went, too.

“Did you know about this futuretelling?” I asked Merret quietly after sending to Seely to heat fement and offer it to Gwynedd’s wards and bidding Orys to engage them in conversation.

“I knew that Dell had spoken with Gwynedd and that he was much affected by what she told him, but I did not know what was said,” the coercer answered quietly. “Yet I would trust Gwynedd with my life and Dell no less than that.”

“You will ride back to Aborium?”

She nodded. “Blyss and I. Will you come as well? Gwynedd would be glad of it. He wishes to speak to you of Herder Isle.”

I shook my head. “I think he will be too busy for such a conversation, at least for the next day or so. And I need to
speak with Dell, about this and other matters. But I will see you in Aborium before I ride to the river. I will speak with Gwynedd then, if he has not left for Murmroth.”

Merret nodded and glanced over at the rest of Gwynedd’s folk, who were still hanging back with their horses. She muttered a curse. “If there were demons, they would have taken us by now!” she roared. “Come and drink some hot fement and warm yourselves before the ride back to Aborium.”

Looking sheepish, the men came slowly across the hard earth to the patch of sand where the firelight danced. Seely offered mugs of fement to the men, and when Kalt met my eyes over the fire, I saw that she was suppressing a smile. I had a sudden urge to laugh, too, in spite of everything and as macabre as it ought to have seemed with Domick’s cairn behind her.

One of Gwynedd’s rebels gave an exclamation and strode around the fire to me. “Can it be Elaria?” he asked incredulously.

I gaped, for it was Gilbert, the handsome red-haired armsman whom I had met when I had been a prisoner in Henry Druid’s secret camp in the White Valley. I had not recognized him, because his hair had grown very long, and he now wore it in the Norse style, plaited at the sides and going to a great wild tangle of red curls and silver-cuffed ringlets hanging halfway down his back.

“As you see, I am not truly a gypsy,” I said. “I am a Misfit.”

“Not just any Misfit,” Merret said. “She is guildmistress of the farseekers at Obernewtyn. But when did you two meet? It has been long since you wore gypsy clothes, Elspeth.”

“Elspeth!” Gilbert spoke my name with a slow relish that made me stiffen, and Merret gave me a speculative look.

“That is my true name, and this is my true self,” I said sharply, feeling the blood rising to my cheeks.

Gilbert ran his eyes over the trousers and soft white shirt I had found in my chamber; then he gave a low soft laugh and smiled. “Your true self is more fair but no less lovely than your old.”

I ignored the jest about the brown gypsy dye I had used and explained briefly to the others that we had met when the renegade Herder priest Henry Druid had taken me prisoner.

Gilbert said softly, “I thought you died when you were swept away on that raft in the middle of the storm.” There was an intensity and intimacy in his words and expression that discomfited me.

“I did not die, as you see,” I said with a calmness that belied my own occasional nightmare about rafting into the mountain following my escape from the Druid’s camp. Gilbert went on gazing at me, and I said, “Do you remember Daffyd, who also served Henry Druid? He told me that you had escaped to the west.”

His brows lifted. “I remember him. He was determined to find those who had been taken and sold as slaves just before the firestorm razed the encampment. Madness, for he knew that the survivors were sold to Salamander, which meant they had been taken over the seas. I think he was in love with Henry Druid’s daughter, of course. Not cold brave Erin but her sweet twin sister Gilaine, who was mute. Daffyd’s older brother had been taken, too, and two musicians he was fond of. I have often wondered what became of him. How did you become friends with Daffyd? Surely not from that little time you were in the Druid’s camp?”

“I had met him before,” I said, glad that he was no longer staring so fixedly at me. “But not until I came to the
encampment did I discover that he was a Misfit, as were Gilaine, his brother, and the others.”

Gilbert shook his head. “Never would I have guessed that, for he was a favorite of the old man, and his hatred of Misfits was legend.” He paused as Dardelan and the others returned, and I waited to see if Rushton would ask me to accompany them. I did not know whether to be relieved or to grieve when he did not, though common sense told me it would be better to be apart from him. In the end, Gilbert asked if I would come with them. I shook my head and said I would come in several days. He smiled and said he was sorry he could not remain to escort me.

I had not noticed that Rushton had drawn near, but now he said in a harsh voice, “You do not know Guildmistress Gordie, armsman, if you think she needs an escort. She is the veteran and planner of many daring rescues of Misfits when she is not crossing the ocean on the back of ship fish.”

The red-haired armsman looked taken aback by his tone, but I said nothing, for I had seen the glitter of rage in Rushton’s eyes as he spoke. Fear assailed me, but Rushton turned away, went to where the horses from the free herd had begun to arrive, and mounted up. I watched him, chilled by the certainty that his suppressed memories had not been laid to rest by Domick’s death, as I had prayed. The sooner I spoke to Dell about him, the better.

Gilbert touched my arm and said warmly, “I hope that you will come soon to Aborium, lady. I had little chance to know Elaria, but I would like very much to know Elspeth.” Then he caught my hand and lifted it to his lips before mounting his horse.

I was conscious of Rushton’s unsmiling eyes on me, but I did not look at him, terrified of cracking open the carapace
that protected him from his deadly memories. I turned to bid the others a distracted farewell, and they all thundered away into the night.

Seely and Orys began to pack up the remains of the feast. Jana wakened the younger Misfits who had fallen asleep earlier, handed each of them something to carry, and ushered them down into the complex. Orys followed, laden with the heaviest pots and pans, and Seely took the last basket of leftover food and gave me an inquiring look, for I had sat down on a blanket.

“I will sit until the fire dies,” I told her, gesturing to the flickering embers. She nodded and went, leaving me alone.

I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from me as I lifted my knees and leaned my chin on my folded arms to gaze at the distant horizon, now faintly visible because of the approaching dawn. I closed my eyes and let images from the last sevendays fall through my mind like flakes of snow, making no attempt to catch any of them. Then a breeze began to blow, whipping the fire up and sending a cloud of sand to scour the air with a sibilant hiss. I shifted my position so the sand blew at my back, and my eyes fell again onto Domick’s cairn. I thought of his last painful hours and loathed Ariel more passionately than I had ever done before, because I knew that Domick’s death had been intended as a stab at me.

“The harm you did to Rushton was not your fault,” I whispered to Domick’s shade, in case it listened.

I saw that the dusting of stars overhead was beginning to fade as the sky lightened. My thoughts shifted to Kella, and I wondered why she had not come across the river. She must have known about Domick, because Iriny had told the others, and it surprised me that she had not crossed with them.

I shrugged, thinking that I would soon enough be in
Sutrium, where I would find out for myself about Kella. I would be able to see Dameon, too, and Gahltha and Maruman. The thought lifted my spirits. I would see Dragon also, and I might find that she had remembered who she was or at least that she had grown less hostile toward me in my absence.

I was still thinking of Dragon when the sun rose. The fire had gone out some time before, and I stood up and stretched and rubbed my arms, realizing that I was cold and my eyes burned with fatigue. I said a final farewell to Domick and made my way wearily through the blue shadows of the early morning toward the complex below. I felt so tired and hollowed out from the day’s emotions that I virtually sleepwalked to my bed. Dragging off my boots and socks, I fell into the smooth sheets and sleep at the same moment.

An instant later, or so it seemed, someone was shaking me, but when I dragged open my eyes, Seely smiled and told me that it was late afternoon.

“What is it?” I asked her, rubbing my face and feeling the grit of sand.

“There are riders in the ruins waiting to escort you to Aborium,” she said.

“Riders?” I croaked.

“They came from Aborium specifically to fetch you,” Seely said.

I sighed, realizing that Gwynedd must be more eager than I had anticipated to hear about the events that had taken place on Herder Isle, despite the fact that Merret must have told him everything I had shared.

I climbed out of bed. “Ask Pellis to let these riders know I must dress and speak to Dell. Then I will come with them.”
After she had gone, I took the time to use the bathing cabinet, but I did not linger. Once dried, I put on my own trousers and tunic and the heavy oversized shoes Erit had given me. The Beforetime attire had been surprisingly comfortable, but it would draw attention. Vesit had said the guards at the gate had been coerced; even so, I would be careful.

Inside the escalating chamber, I asked Ines aloud and somewhat self-consciously if Dell was in Sanctuary.

“Yes, Elspeth,” Ines’s voice purred. “Do you wish the elevator to descend to the Sanctuary level?”

“Yes, please,” I said, and immediately the elevating chamber began to vibrate.

When I arrived, Dell looked up so expectantly that I guessed she had known I was coming to see her. That she rose and immediately pressed a small bag of books into my arms, asking me to convey them to Maryon, also told me she knew I meant to go directly to Sutrium after leaving Aborium.

“I need to speak to you about Rushton,” I began. “But maybe you already know what I want to talk about.”

She gave me an amused look tinged with sadness. “I saw that you would leave today, and since Jak has told me what he heard of Domick’s words to you and that he advised you to speak with me, yes, I was expecting you. But I do not live entirely through my Talent, Elspeth. Perhaps you can begin by telling me all that Domick said to you about Rushton.”

Drawing a deep breath, I forced myself to relax. It was important to be calm and factual in my telling, but even as I spoke, the futureteller’s expression grew more grave. When I had finished, she said, “I observed Rushton carefully yesterday. From that, and from what you have said of his behavior toward you at Obernewtyn and in Saithwold, I would say that you are correct in believing that the repressed memories of his
experiences on Norseland are working their way to his conscious mind. But I do not believe that it is happening
only
because of your presence. All memories that have been repressed will break open eventually, especially memories of such virulence. But from what you say, Rushton’s behavior toward you degenerated between your departure from Obernewtyn and seeing you only days later in Saithwold. That means it was happening
in your absence
.”

“So you are saying it has nothing to do with my being around him?”

“I am not saying that,” Dell said. “It is very likely that seeing you disturbs the memories, given the part you play in them, but not seeing you will not prevent Rushton from remembering what happened.”

“What do you advise?” I asked.

She gave me a clear, certain look. “The only healing lies in a true and clear remembering, Elspeth. But such remembering must be carefully managed in Rushton’s case, for he needs first to understand that the memory he has repressed is badly deformed.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“My futuretellings have told me that we know Rushton was drugged when they tampered with his mind, and we know the drugs created a false reality composed of nightmare and distortion. Rushton may have been made to believe that he tortured you or Domick or that they both tortured other people. So in addition to pain and horror, he might feel a terrible, self-destructive guilt. He needs to know that what he will remember may not be true. The problem is that he must be prepared without knowing what he is being prepared for, because being told what happened will almost certainly cause the memories to erupt immediately.”

“Is it bad for him to be near me?”

“It is difficult to say. On the one hand, your image is associated with torture, but on the other, Rushton used your image as a talisman and a shield, and that image was shaped by his love for you,” said the futureteller.

I resisted the urge to shake her. I wanted clear, practical advice. “I have thought that it would be better to avoid Rushton in Aborium and return as soon as possible to Sutrium,” I began.

“I do not know if that is the wisest course,” Dell said in her infuriatingly measured tone. “Remember, of all the images he could have chosen with which to defend himself, Rushton chose yours. It may well be that in the end, you are the only one who he will allow to help him. I cannot give you exact advice, but I do not think you should avoid him. Allow your presence to work on bringing the memories to the surface, but he must be prepared for them.”

“And how do I prepare him without speaking of what happened?” I snapped, perilously close to tears.

Dell sighed. “Did you imagine I would have a simple solution? Or better still, a potion that will heal Rushton after a single drop? This is not a child’s story, Elspeth. You want my advice? In my opinion, Rushton’s memory will break open soon, no matter what anyone does. I would suggest he be prepared through dream manipulation. That way, real things can be offered to Rushton’s subconscious mind in disguise. Gradually, the warped memories must be introduced and broken down as lies. This will be difficult because of course we do not know exact details of what happened to him, but you will have to use what you learned from Domick. It may be that what you learned while on Herder Isle will help.”