The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [106]
I kept my temper with difficulty, realizing Gahltha sought to goad me. And I knew he was right, however sarcastic he was. I had been sitting lazily.
By the time we stopped for midmeal, I was covered in mud. It was not worth changing, so I merely washed my hands and face to eat. The afternoon was worse than the morning, despite my forlorn hope for an easy walking pace. Gahltha decided I must advance to riding at a gallop. Only stubborn pride kept me from protesting that he was progressing too quickly.
So we cantered and galloped, and when the wagons moved too slowly for Gahltha, he would ride ahead, then turn and ride back. By late afternoon, I was beginning to feel the rhythm of his movements. Once or twice I even found myself enjoying the speed.
We had been traveling parallel to the Suggredoon most of the day, but soon after midmeal, the river broadened suddenly, swollen from the night’s rain. The undergrowth thickened, too, slowing the caravans to a walking pace. Avra went slightly ahead with Domick, seeking the easiest path for the caravans. Later, Gahltha and I took over, leaving Domick free to range farther ahead.
We hoped to reach the foot of the mountains before nightfall, but Domick returned just as the sun fell behind the mountains. One look at his grim expression told us his news was bad.
“I found the place where the Suggredoon goes under the mountains, but I couldn’t find any pass. We went a fair way up from the river, but there was nothing,” he reported glumly.
“The distances on the map might be wrongly drawn, or the entrance to the pass might be sharply aslant so that you would have to be coming from the other way to see it,” Pavo said.
“I hope you’re right,” Domick said. “But that’s not all the bad news. Just ahead, there are great patches of swamp and wetlands. The wagons won’t have a hope of going through, and it will take days to go round.”
There seemed no point in pushing on in the darkness. We decided to make camp on a high, grassy knoll beside the Suggredoon.
Louis, Jik, and Matthew went to forage for dry wood while Kella organized nightmeal. Domick unharnessed the horses and checked the wooden wheels for stress cracks. Pavo sat near the wagons and pored over his maps.
I went to bathe in the river, but just as I reached the edge of the clearing, I heard Kella and Domick begin a heated argument. Sighing, I turned back. The last thing we needed was guild rivalry.
Before I could intervene, Pavo broke into a violent fit of coughing. Kella stared at him for a moment, then went over and commanded him to open his mouth.
“I swallowed a fly.” He laughed and waved her away. But Kella’s face was deadly serious.
“What is it?” Domick asked her.
The healer ignored him and laid a hand over Pavo’s thin chest. The smile faded from his face, and suddenly I felt frightened.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Kella asked in a subdued voice.
Pavo smiled sadly. “What good would it have done, eh? I don’t need a healer to tell me what the matter is.”
“Rushton would never have let you come if he had known,” Kella said.
Pavo turned away abruptly. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“What is it?” I asked, coming back into the clearing.
Kella looked at me bleakly. “The rotting sickness. It’s in his breathing.”
“Are you sure?” Domick asked.
“It’s not hard to feel, once you know. And the coughing is always a sign. There’s nothing I can do for him. Nothing,” she said flatly.
Pavo still had his back to us, rigidly unmoving.
“You’ll have to …,” I began.
“No!” The usually mild teknoguilder whirled, eyes ablaze. “I won’t go back.” He turned to Kella. “You said yourself there’s nothing to be done. I accept that, but I’ll go the way I want. I won’t be a problem. Tell them.”
She nodded. “He’ll cough, and there will be bouts of pain. He won’t be affected badly until near the end—three or four months, maybe less …”
I gaped. Pavo stared back, his eyes pleading and determined at the same time. “You will need me to get to the