The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [102]
Zarak and Lina stood beside Jik, their faces openly envious.
The three horses to travel with us had been supplemented by another. I would ride the stallion, who had told Alad haughtily that he would answer to the title Gahltha, meaning leader. Domick would ride a newcomer, a small, wheat-colored mountain pony with doelike eyes. Named Avra, she had been brought wild to Obernewtyn the previous wintertime, having injured herself in a fall. Alad told me she was the black stallion’s chosen mate. The two mares to pull the carts were Mira and Lo.
The horses stood together as Alad harnessed and installed the hated bit and bridles. Privately, Alad had warned me Gahltha had chosen horses that were completely loyal to him. It was clear where their allegiance would lie if it came to a choice between equine and funaga aims. They would follow me as leader of the expedition only under instructions from the black horse.
None of the equines seemed inclined to closer acquaintance, and I hoped I had not made a mistake in choosing Louis over a full Beastspeaking guilder. I could beastspeak, of course, but the animals were more receptive to those of the Beastspeaking guild.
With Kella, Jik, and Darga in one cart and Matthew, Pavo, and Louis in the other, the caravans were authentically crowded. Gypsies traveled traditionally in extended family groups, singing and dancing for money and providing amusing and impromptu plays. The descendants of those who had originally refused Council affiliation, they were little liked or trusted for all their variety of skills. In some ways, it was a dangerous disguise, but it was one of the few ways a number of us could travel about without drawing attention. Travel was not undertaken lightly, for people everywhere were suspicious of strangers in their midst.
To complete our disguise, we were unnaturally tanned and wore the layers of colored clothing favored by gypsies. The dark skin was the result of a powerful berry-based dye. I doubted anyone would have the slightest suspicion we were anything but a motley gypsy troupe.
Rushton stressed the need to maintain our disguise at all costs. We had all set up coercive blocks that would erase our memories in an emergency. These were Obernewtyn’s safeguard in case one of us was caught and tortured. Only Jik had been unable to prepare a block, being too untrained. Domick or I could wipe his memory should it come to that.
Rushton adjured us to work together and not to forget that each of the three aims in the expedition was equally important.
At the last, he wished us good fortune. “This journey is the beginning of a new stage for us. I wish you success, for your sake and ours.” If anyone else noticed the slightly ominous note in his final words, it was not apparent.
All Obernewtyn turned out to see us go, but the festival air did not last long. We had barely finished preparations when it began to rain heavily.
I climbed awkwardly into Gahltha’s saddle, ignoring his derisive whinny. He might not want to be ridden, but he knew an incompetent rider when he had one.
Wrapping an oiled cape about my head and shoulders, I nodded to Domick. We had decided he would ride in front of the carts and I at the rear, at least until we left the main road.
The rain had sent everyone running inside, but looking back, I had a final glimpse of Rushton standing alone on the top step, apparently oblivious to the downpour.
Even at that distance, I could see the same odd tension in his stance that had puzzled me in the turret room.
I wondered what he was thinking and impulsively lifted a hand to wave.
Instantly, he responded, raising his own hand. I stared over my shoulder until the gray curtain of rain came between us.
I felt an unexpected regret at the thought that I would not see him again for a long time, perhaps many months if we failed to make it back before the pass froze.
PART II
THE LOWLANDS
7
I HAD BEEN nervous about riding and found it only slightly less traumatic than I had expected.