The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [113]
“At first I was determined to escape, but where would I escape to? I had no home, and I loathe the Council. And, as you see, this is a pleasant enough life for one so skilled and useful as I.”
“The Druid has a good supply of luxuries,” I said.
He grinned. “He has a friend in Sutrium.” He stopped abruptly.
I continued on, pretending not to have noticed his slip. “Are there really such things as slavers?” I asked.
He nodded. “There are at that, black-hearted souls. They prey on small fishing vessels like those belonging to my father, shanghai the crew, and sell them. I have also heard it said the Council sells seditioners they do not want brought to open trial. Those taken are never heard of again. Who knows where they end up? It is a wide, strange world.”
“But … what do you mean? There is only this Land and the two islands,” I said. “The rest is Blacklands.”
Gilbert shook his head. “A myth spawned by the Council, who have a vested interest in ignorance. There are other places on the earth where the white death never reached or where the poisons have faded. My father always said so, and he had seen more of the world than most.”
I stared. “But how is it no one talks of this?”
Gilbert smiled, not unpleasantly. “Any seafarer stupid enough to talk of such things disappears, no doubt himself sold to the slavers. After all, the Council do not want their subjects sailing off in search of greener pastures and freer lands.”
I was fascinated. I had never dreamed of questioning Council teachings on the extent of the holocaust.
“Why not take to the sea yourself and go where there is no Council?” I wondered.
Gilbert sighed. “I could have done that, but a harsh lore is better than none. It is said that incredible mutations of plant and beast run riot beyond our horizons. And even lands untouched by the Great White must have suffered in the Age of Chaos that followed. No, better to work here with the Druid to overcome the Council. Besides, unlike my father, I get seasick,” he added.
I laughed, then sobered quickly. “You think the Druid and his acolytes are any better than the Council?” I hardly expected an answer to such a question, but he had certainly been forthcoming to this point.
“I don’t know. I hope so. He is hard, but there is always hope of change. At least he has standards and rules to live by. He values order and normalcy.”
I looked at him sharply. “You said the world is full of mutation. Who has the right to decide what is normal?”
Gilbert looked taken aback at the change in my tone. “I do not mind mutants; in my experience, those deemed Misfit are harmless. But the Druid was a Herder, after all. He is fanatical on the subject. And most of the others think as he does. Perhaps I’m not fine enough to distinguish between the smells of people as if they were so much spoiled meat.”
I frowned, deciding whatever the Druid knew or guessed about Talents, Gilbert knew nothing. Perhaps only the Druid’s acolytes knew about the machine blocking my abilities.
“And what about freedom? He would not let you leave here.”
The armsman smiled. “No one keeps me where I do not want to be. But freedom is not a matter of that. You are a gypsy, so you think it is only the ability to move from place to place at will. Real freedom is a thing no one can take from you because it is of the spirit. I keep it here.” He tapped his head, then rose. “I have promised a dance, but we will talk again.”
I watched him go, surprised to find myself wishing we could have gone on talking, grateful that he had allowed me to question him without asking me questions in return.
I shook my head. He was an enemy, yet I liked him. And I was as certain he liked me. It had never occurred to me that I might be found desirable. Yet clothed in the fine dress, I had only been able to gape at my reflection as I’d caught sight of myself in a long mirror on my way to the dining hall. The girl who had looked