Forging the Darksword - Margaret Weis [55]
Joram and Anja kept walking.
“Here! Stop! Wait a minute, you two. Turn around.”
Joram halted, but he kept his back to the overseer. Anja stopped and half-turned, glancing through the matted mass of her filthy hair, her chin raised.
“Were you talking to us?” she asked coldly.
Ignoring them for a moment, the overseer stalked over to Father Tolban. “Catalyst,” said the overseer, pointing at Joram’s back, “open a conduit to this young man.”
“I have done so, Overseer,” replied Father Tolban, in injured tones. “I am quite capable of handling my duties—”
“You’ve done so?” interrupted the overseer, glaring at Joram. “And now he stands there, absorbing Life force, storing it up for his own personal use! Refusing to obey me!”
“I don’t think that’s true,” returned the catalyst, staring at Joram as though seeing him for the first time. “It’s very odd. I don’t get the feeling that the young man is drawing Life from me at all—”
But the overseer, with a growl, left the catalyst still expounding and walked across the new-plowed earth toward Joram.
Joram heard him coming, but he did not turn around to face him. Staring straight ahead, unseeing, he clenched his fists. Why didn’t the man just leave him alone?
Mosiah, watching nervously, felt the truth slip under his skin like a splinter. Quickly he motioned for Joram to turn and talk to the overseer. Joram could hide it! He had all these years. There were countless things he might offer as excuses.
But, if Joram even saw his friend, he ignored him. He didn’t know how to talk to this man, let alone how to reason with him. He could only stand there dumbly, acutely aware that all the other magi had come to a halt and were staring at him. Blood rushed to his head; anger and embarrassment throbbed in his temples. Why couldn’t they all just leave him alone?
Coming up behind Joram, the overseer reached out to grasp hold of the young man’s shoulder, intending, to physically impose his will on the sullen boy. But before he could touch him, Anja slipped between the overseer and her son.
“He is not well,” she said quickly. “He must conserve his Life force …”
“Not well!” The overseer snorted, his gaze flicking over Joram’s strong, young body. “He’s well enough to be a damned rebel.” Shoving Anja aside, the overseer put his hand on Joram’s shoulder. At the man’s touch, Joram spun around to face him, even as he involuntarily moved several steps backward, out of the man’s reach.
Drifting in the air nearby, Mosiah started to float forward with some idea of intervening, but his father stopped him with a look.
“I’m not a rebel,” said Joram, breathing heavily. He seemed to be suffocating. “Just let me get on with my work. And let me do it the way I do best …”
“You’ll do it the way y’er told, you young dog!” the overseer snarled and started to take another step forward when Father Tolban, who had been staring at Joram with a pale face and wide eyes, suddenly gave a shrill cry. Stumbling forward, falling over his plain green robes, he grabbed hold of the overseer’s arm.
“He’s Dead!” the catalyst gasped. “By the Nine Mysteries, overseer, the boy’s Dead!”
“What?” Startled, the overseer turned to the catalyst, who was shaking him frantically.
“Dead!” Father Tolban babbled. “I wondered … But I never tried giving Life to him! His mother always—He’s Dead! There’s no Life in him! I can’t get any response—”
Dead! Joram stared at the catalyst. At last the words had been spoken. At last the truth he had known in his own heart entered his brain and his soul. Memories of Anja’s story came to him. The Vision. No living issue. Memories of Mosiah’s words. Dead children smuggled out of the cities. Dead children smuggled out of Merilon.
Alarmed and terrified, Joram looked at Anja …
… and he saw the truth.
“No,” he said, letting the sack of seeds fall unheeded to the ground and backing up another step. “No.” He shook his head.
Anja held out her arms to him. Her face was deathly pale beneath the dirt, her eyes were wide and fearful.
“Joram! My sweet! My own! Please, listen—”
“Joram,” broke in Mosiah.