The Rebellion (38 page)

His voice faded as I closed my eyes and shaped an attuned probe to Daffyd’s mind signature. The mental static was very strong this close to the water, which meant I had to concentrate fiercely to keep my mindprobe intact. Given Brydda’s warning, I was shocked when the probe not only reached its target but elicited a strong reaction from Daffyd—as if I had thrust a brand into his mind.

The intensity of his response was blistering.

“I have prayed and prayed you would reach me,” he sent frantically. “Elspeth, it was a ruse! They’re loading the slaves aboard a ship right now! They’re going to leave as soon as it’s done!”

29

“W
E DARE NOT
go any closer,” Reuvan whispered from our hiding spot behind a pile of crates. “The soldierguards are still there, marching back and forth like a lot of fools. I can’t imagine what they are doing, but they will have to go when it gets dark. We should wait until then to get nearer.”

“This is madness,” Brydda said softly. “Burlymen and soldierguards all milling about while the slavers openly load an illicit cargo of drugged slaves.”

“Daffyd didn’t sound as if he was making a mistake,” I said softly. “He sounded panic-stricken and deadly serious.”

“Keep your voices down,” Oria warned. “Sound carries far and easily by the water.”

“We have to get closer,” Brydda said, frustrated. “Ask Daffyd if he can—”

I shook my head. “I can’t reach him. He must have gone back into the warehouse, and the static from the tainted water is like a stone wall.”

“Luddamn it!” the rebel chief hissed.

“I don’t understand,” said the brown-bearded rebel. “The only ship on the manifest for tonight is
The Calor Lady
, and like I said, that is a Herder ship.”

“That is the least strange thing about this whole affair. Herder ships are for hire at the right price, like any other,”
Brydda said. He looked at me. “Can you hide us somehow? We need to get closer.”

I glanced instinctively at Oria and the other rebel. Their faces showed slight curiosity but nothing more, and I wondered how much Brydda had told them of me.

“I can cloak two of us,” I said.

“Wait here,” Brydda instructed the others.

“Just a minute,” I said quickly. “I can feel Daffyd again.”

I closed my eyes, and the general probe I had left in case the farseeker emerged sharpened into an attuned probe. Like Matthew, his farseeking power was too weak to combat the static from the Suggredoon on its own, but I could make up the difference.

“You’d better do something now if you are going to, Elspeth,” he sent urgently. “Matthew is in the last lot, and they are going to load them shortly. Once he is on the ship, you will have no hope of helping him unless you brought an army.”

“What about Salamander?” I sent. “Have you managed to farseek him?”

“No!” Daffyd’s mental voice was savage with disappointment and rage. “He has not come ashore, and I cannot reach him over the damn water!”

“Ask him about the soldierguards and the Herders,” Brydda hissed into my ear.

I shook my head angrily, for he had distracted me, and it was difficult enough to focus in the static.

“Daffyd?” I sent. “Why are they boarding them on a Herder ship?”

There was no answer.

“He’s gone, but he said they’re going to load Matthew any minute.”

“What about Salamander?”

“He hasn’t left the ship.”

Brydda scowled. “The man has the instincts of a fangcat. It is almost as if he knew we were waiting for him.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Well, let’s get nearer.”

He led the way, and I concentrated on cloaking us coercively as we emerged from behind the crates and made our way through a narrow lane toward the water. I could smell the faintly brackish scent of the Suggredoon and hear its rush before I saw it. The static from the tainting was incredibly strong, and I wondered what had caused it. Certainly the upper reaches of the river, which fed the lake beneath Tor, were clean.

The row of sheds came into view, and through the gaps between them, I could see they were separated from the river by a stone walkway. Right on the bank were the warehouses, facing away from the river. The warehouse jutting out over the water was farthest away from us and set back a little from the rest. People were moving about in front of it, and even from this distance, I could see the huge front door stood ajar.

Tied up alongside it was a ship, its three masts and a small part of its bow visible behind the bulk of the warehouse. Judging from the movement of people about it, the gangplank lay on the warehouse side of the ship.

Brydda pressed my arm and pointed past the warehouse to an open field, where fifty or so soldierguards in full regalia were marching in formation. They were paying no mind whatsoever to the ship.

The whole scene was bathed in the ever-deepening pinkish gold light of the predusk. In less than an hour, the sun would set.

“It can be no coincidence that the soldierguards are here,” Brydda whispered.

“Do you think they were hired by the slavers?”

“Not this many,” Brydda said. “Too much risk of someone talking.” He gave me a searing look. “Of course, a soldierguard captain might have some hidden reason for ordering his troops to perform their exercises here.”

I bit my lip and wondered again about the soldierguard captain.

“Can you get us any closer?” the rebel prompted.

I shook my head decisively. “There are burlymen loading a wagon from that shed just up there. You can’t see them from here, but I felt them with my probe. Too many to coerce into blindness.”

Brydda and I stared at one another, and with dawning horror, I saw resignation shape itself in his eyes.

“We have to help Matthew,” I cried.

“Shh,” he said sternly. “I know how you feel, but it is impossible to attack openly. If he is to be rescued, it can only be by stealth and wit. Between the seamen, the slaver’s hirelings, the burlymen … Even with your powers, there are only five of us, six counting Daffyd, and Matthew makes seven—if he is in any state to fight.”

“There are nine—if you count the equines as two more,” Gahltha sent sternly, and I turned to see that the black horse had followed us.

“I/Gahltha hid myself,” he sent imperturbably. “Sallah watches over the other funaga.”

“Hell!” Brydda started in fright when he noticed the horse. “What in the name of …?”

I shook my head impatiently, knowing two horses would not tilt the balance in our favor in an open battle. Then I spotted Daffyd coming from the warehouse with a small group of shuffling slaves. He led them along the pier and then vanished between the building and the ship.

“Elspeth!” Daffyd sent as soon as he felt my probe. “I’m taking this group to the ship, and Matthew is in the next lot. It doesn’t matter if you cause a fuss, because Salamander is out of my reach anyway. Help Matthew …”

His voice faded, and the contact dissolved. I guessed he had stepped onto the gangplank and out over the water.

I sent a swift command to Gahltha and pulled myself up on his back. At once he started forward, evading Brydda’s grasp.

“Elspeth!” the rebel hissed, not daring to come out in the open after us.

“Stay still and no one will see you,” I said over my shoulder as I urged Gahltha forward.

“Elspeth, there is nothing you can do!” he said. “For Lud’s sake, come back.”

Gahltha’s hooves clattered on the pier boards, drowning out Brydda’s frantic whisperings.

“Go along the pier/ride slowly,” I sent to the equine. Then I turned my mind to the warehouse. “Matthew!” I sent. “Matthew!”

But, of course, there was no answer.

Closer to the warehouse, I could see
The Calor Lady
properly. It was an elegant vessel with slender lines and its name stamped in red on the bow. Underneath was the distinctive Herder insignia. Given what Brydda had said, it had probably been hired for the occasion to encourage people to mind their own business. Though I could not see why, since they were brazenly loading slaves in public with soldierguards paying no mind to them at all.

The vessel rested low in the water, underlining Daffyd’s warning that most of the slaves had already been boarded. No doubt the armsman had contrived as best he could to put
Matthew’s boarding off to the last moment. If this was imminent, it meant the ship’s departure also loomed, as well it must if they meant to catch the out tide, cross the sandbars at the river mouth, and reach open sea by nightfall.

I came level with the burlymen I had sensed. They had been loading bales of wool onto a wagon from a shed opposite the first of the four warehouses. But they had ceased their labors to watch the loading of the slaves. I felt dizzy with confusion. They were watching as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. There had to be more going on than officials turning a blind eye.

“Good riddance, I say,” said one of the two.

His thickset companion nodded, and I could not stop myself staring at them. Since when had slavery gained such general approval?

“Reckon the Herders should have rounded ’em up a long time ago. Waste of space they are,” the first man said.

His silent companion nodded again.

“Can’t see them succeedin’ in healin’ this lot, though, no matter that they say Lud’ll help ’em. Even if they do have skilled healers on Herder Isle. Once a defective always a defective, I say.”

I struggled to keep my face expressionless, but suddenly I understood what was going on. No one knew these people were slaves! Those watching thought that Herders were taking a load of defectives to their Isle for treatment. That was why the soldierguards were doing nothing and why the whole thing could be done in broad daylight without fear. And the new Sadorian drugs meant none of the slaves behaved as if they were drugged.

My heartbeat quickened as the two burlymen turned to stare at me.

“Gypsy slut. Ought to round
them
up, too,” said one.

This time the other was prevailed upon to grunt his assent. I felt sick. I had been so concerned about Matthew that I had forgotten to maintain my coercive enhancement of my boyish apparel. At any minute, I was sure to be recognized by the soldierguards. I inserted a sharp coercive command to the burlymen to get back to their work, and they reacted as if galvanized. They would remember me later, but in the face of everything else, this seemed a minor problem.

Then I coerced an image of myself as a sun-browned seaman’s lad. It took a steady surge of power to hold the image, and this, along with trying to combat the sea static, was proving a frightening drain on my mental energies. Soon I would have no reserve of power.

Yet what else could I do?

I sent to Gahltha to slow down as we came level with the warehouse from which the slaves were being led. At the same moment, a man brought a small knot of people outside, and I slowed to let them go before me, glad of a reason to delay.

“Elspeth!” Matthew sent.

I stiffened, for if the farseeker could reach me, it meant he was among those who had just been brought out.

“Matthew!” I sent gladly, urging Gahltha up beside them.

“Ride on past fer Obernewtyn’s sake!” he sent urgently.

Startled by the intensity of his command, I obeyed.

As I passed around the little clutch of people, I glanced down at them casually. The farseeker was less than a handspan from me, his expression carefully blank.

“Go slowly/be lame,” I sent, and Gahltha began to affect an exaggerated limp.

After a few steps, I pulled him up and slid off his back, pretending to examine a hoof. With a careful eye, I measured
the distance between myself and the little group of slaves. Matthew was only three or four steps away.

“It’s no good,” the farseeker sent suddenly. “This time I’ve got myself in a fix ye can’t get me out of.”

“What are you saying?” Fear made my mental voice strident. I pretended to pick a rock from Gahltha’s hoof.

The man who had brought out Matthew and the others went back to close the doors, leaving the slaves standing alone. Matthew turned his head to look at me.

“Elspeth, ye know ye mun let ’em take me,” he sent. “Ye can’t fight them all yerself.”