The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [143]
“I don’t know how to thank you …,” I began, but Brydda held up a hand.
“No need for thanks among allies. Now, the Herders will be going to the wharf. The girl said they want to question the boy.…” For a moment, his face really did look like stone, and I understood that Brydda Llewellyn would be a savage enemy. “There’s no time for subtle planning. I meant to leave town tonight anyway, so it does not matter if the Herders think I freed the boy. It will madden them trying to understand the connection. Was he really a Herder novice?”
I nodded. “What can we do? There are five priests in that cart,” I said as Reuvan suddenly reined the horse to a slow walk. I could smell the sea and the sour odor of old seaweed.
“We’re nearly to the wharf,” Reuvan said over his shoulder.
“Go softly, then,” Brydda said. “We can handle five between us, six counting the shipmaster.”
I nodded, praying they would succeed, for I knew I couldn’t wipe Jik’s mind clean of his dangerous knowledge.
The clatter of stones ceased as the wheels ran onto board. We had reached the wharf.
The waning moon broke through the clouds but shed a wan light, and all was darkness. The smells of oil and spices mingled with that of sea and fish scales. Moored vessels bobbed in the dark, gurgling water, bumping occasionally into their mooring posts with a dull thud.
“The Herders cast off from there,” Brydda whispered, pointing to the very end of the wharf. Lanterns swung from either end of a long, slim boat moored there. Illuminated fitfully in the gritty, shifting light was the carriage that had brought Jik. It was empty, and there was no sign of him. Priests were moving between the ship and the carriage, transferring boxes to the vessel.
“Why do they travel at night?” I whispered as Brydda signaled for Reuvan to draw the carriage into a shadowed corner.
“They are a secretive lot, and night suits their fell purposes. Most ships go out at dawn or just before. Folk know the Herders come here at night, and that is enough to discourage anyone else. People who seem too interested in Herder business have a way of disappearing. There’s the boy.”
Jik was standing between two priests, half obscured by their flapping gray cloaks. His hands were bound behind him, and his shoulders slumped hopelessly.
“Jik,” I sent.
His head jerked in surprise, but he subsided when one of the priests gave him a hard look.
“Careful,” I warned, and sensed him make an effort to maintain his dejected pose.
“Elspeth,” he sent in a powerful wave of gladness that twisted my heart.
“We are at the other end of the wharf, in the shadows. We’re going to help you.”
I broke contact, feeling Brydda’s hand on my arm. “It’s no good. There are at least seven priests down there. And there is the shipmaster. Two of us might barely overcome the lot, and I’d take the risk but for the dogs. They are trained by the priests to tear a man’s throat out on command,” Brydda said.
I blinked at him, trying to reconcile the savage picture his words evoked with Kadarf’s simple kindness. “But you said … we’ve got to get him away from them. I … I …” I stopped, gulping back tears.
“It’s not possible, lass. You see that, don’t you?” Brydda asked.
“You don’t understand. He … he can tell them about us, and about you and your parents.”
Brydda shook his head. “That’s bad, but there is no way to help the boy or silence him. Getting ourselves killed trying won’t help anyone.”
I threw caution to the wind. I felt I had no choice.
“Brydda, I am a Misfit,” I said. “I can stop those dogs from attacking. You think—everybody does—that Misfits are only true dreamers and defectives. Useless. But there are other kinds, too. Misfits like me and my friends. I can make those dogs do what