The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [114]
To my relief, the meal ended without talk of bonding. Like all farseekers, I knew bonding for me would mean more than a physical communion. A mindmeld would be far more intimate than any bodily merging. It would be an ultimate kind of nakedness with one of my own kind; to bond with an unTalent would be like bonding to a statue.
I prepared for bed in a private chamber; Kella had been housed in a separate room. Dismissing all thoughts of the nightmeal from my mind, I concentrated my senses for a final, unrestrained attempt on the barrier of static.
The block lay like a wet blanket over my senses. I felt suffocated as I tried to farseek. I used more power, but the static seemed to respond, strengthening in direct proportion to the force I used.
Finally I lay back with a defeated sigh. It was no use. I would have to find the machine.
10
“WHAT ARE YE up to, Emmon?” Rilla demanded suspiciously of a slight boy with a lopsided grin who had entered the kitchen.
He looked exaggeratedly hurt. “Th’ Druid sent me to bring the gypsy called Elspeth,” he said in a wounded voice.
I had spent the morning with Kella helping to do the encampment chores. I had tried questioning Rilla, but she appeared to know no more than Gilbert about the existence of Talents, much less the blocking static. She also didn’t seem to know where the rest of our friends were. I’d begun to worry.
Kella had learned that Rilla’s dead bondmate had been one of the Druids slain in the last Teknoguild expedition, and the older girl’s general ignorance of the incident confirmed that the Druid only told his people what he felt they needed to know. “Rilla knows that others were involved but has no idea that they were from Obernewtyn,” Kella had said. “She did say the Druid believes the explosion had been caused deliberately with a Beforetime weapon. That and his interest in Obernewtyn must mean he suspects Rushton of treachery.”
I wondered now what the Druid wanted of me.
As we left, Emmon stole a slice of meat and got a hard smack for his troubles. Outside, he rubbed his ear and grinned broadly. “T’was worth it. Come on.” We had not gone far when I realized we were going in the wrong direction.
“Well, that’s true …,” Emmon admitted. “As a matter of fact, I were nowt told to bring ye at once, so we’ve time to spare. I’d rather walk about than wash dishes or work at spellin’ an’ th’ like. Wouldn’t you?”
“Won’t we get into trouble?” I asked warily.
He shook his head. “Ye won’t. If we gan caught, I’ll say ye knew nowt of it.”
“Will you show me around, then? I haven’t had much chance to see the camp,” I said.
Emmon nodded enthusiastically. He marched off, at once setting out to describe the variety and uses of the buildings we passed. I tried in vain to lead him to talk of the Druid, in the hope of getting a clue about the location of any machine. Eventually, I concentrated instead on committing the camp to memory.
We passed a long series of windowless buildings, which Emmon identified as storehouses.
“Where do all the Druid’s supplies come from?” I asked.
Emmon grinned. “From th’ Council’s own stores. Th’ Council dinna know that one of their own trusted agents is oath kin to th’ Druid.”
Oath kin? That meant someone as close as blood without being related. The Druid was as canny a strategist as I’d ever encountered.
Emmon pointed out another building. “That’s th’ library.” It seemed his dislike of spelling did not extend to reading. The Druid had obviously instilled his followers with his own love of books.
“I hear Erin dinna take to ye much,” Emmon said.
“Who told you that?” I asked sharply.
Emmon smiled. “I’ll take ye to visit a friend of mine.”
Before I could question him, he ran off, and I was forced to follow. I found him knocking on the door to a small cottage.
“Who lives here?” I asked. I heard footsteps inside.
“Erin’s twin sister lives here,” he whispered.