The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [138]
In the hall, I heard enough to chill my blood. “The Council won’t like this,” said one voice.
“ ’Tis nowt th’ Council troubles me but th’ priests. They’re th’ ones he’s plagued,” said another voice. The two voices faded, and I realized we were climbing the stairs.
Suddenly there was another voice. “Ho, Reuvan. Where are ye goin’ at this hour?”
“I’m for the sea tonight,” said my rescuer.
“Tonight?” There was an edge of surprise in the other’s voice.
“The Herders have given permission to my master,” Reuvan said. “But I don’t know why he can’t wait till a civil hour to set sail.”
I wished he would get moving. The air in the trunk was beginning to foul. I felt sweat trickle down my spine.
At last the other laughed. “Better you than me. I’ll see you.”
“Not here you won’t,” Reuvan said easily. “It’s a damn sight too noisy, and that sharp-tongued manageress is no enticement.”
The other man laughed, and we moved on. At long last, I felt myself being set down, and the distinctive sound of hooves scraping over cobbles told me we were in the street.
The chest jerked, and I realized I was in a cart. It set off, and after an eternity, the latch was undone. “Stay down. It’s not safe yet,” the seaman whispered softly.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked in a low voice.
There was a pause. “You wanted to talk to Brydda Llewellyn, didn’t you? Well, I’m taking you to him.”
16
BRYDDA LLEWELLYN WAS a giant of a man, towering head and shoulders above the men around him. His face, illuminated fitfully in the guttering candlelight, was as stern and craggy as weathered rock.
Reuvan gave me a slight push. “Brydda, here is the girl who asked for you at the inn. I caught her trying to escape the old crow’s clutches.”
The buzz of talk from the men in the room ceased. My heart thumped unevenly under their hostile scrutiny.
“You have taken your time in coming,” said Brydda, for all the world as if he had expected me.
“If you were where you were supposed to be, I would have been quicker,” I said.
An astounded silence followed my words, then the giant roared with laughter. “Well, well, so they have sent a kitten that snarls and spits. I could crush you with one hand, little sad eyes, but I don’t. Let that be a sign of my good faith. Now, what do you have to tell me?”
I was less intimidated by his threats than reassured by his laughter, for I had seen Katlyn in it. “I come from Rangorn. I bring a message from your—”
To my surprise, Brydda’s smile disappeared and he held up an imperious hand. “Speak no more of that for a moment.” He glanced around, and silently the men filed out, giving me curious looks. Then we were alone except for Reuvan, who went to stand by the door.
“Don’t be afraid,” Brydda said in a softer voice. “I thought you were a messenger from Sutrium. I did not think … You come from my parents? Are they well?”
I nodded. “They are worried because you haven’t sent word to them in so long. I think they feared something had happened to you.”
Brydda ran a massive hand through the dark, springing curls on his forehead. “So it has. I suppose they told you about me?”
“They said you help seditioners.”
He smiled faintly. “Well, that is as good a way as any of putting it. How did you come to meet my parents? You are not from Rangorn.”
“We had an accident, and your parents helped us. We offered to bring a message to repay their kindness.”
“You are with friends?” Brydda said sharply.
I nodded, hoping Darga had got the others away. “When I left them, they were in an alley not far from the inn. I’m not sure whether they made it out of the city before nightfall.”
Brydda started, a look of concern on his face. “Quickly, Reuvan, go and take some of the others. Bring them back.” He turned to me. “What do they look like?”
“A girl and a boy not much younger than I am, and a much younger boy,” I said. “A wheat-colored mare is pulling the cart.”
He nodded, and Reuvan hurried away. “It is dangerous to be out in the streets at night, though