The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [146]
With shining eyes for his rescuer, Jik asked shyly how Brydda had come to spend his time fighting Herders. Brydda said it was a long tale and refused at first, but finally, when we all pleaded, he agreed to tell his story.
“I traveled to Aborium as a lad to get a trade as a seaman. Like many a boy, the sea called me. While I sought work, I heard rumors of slavers. I thought them no more than another salty tale at the time, but as I grew and worked on different ships, I learned that there were indeed slave boats that called at our shores. No one said openly how the slavers got their cargo, but it was whispered that the Herders filled their moneybags by selling prisoners and innocent folk they brought in for questioning.
“I pitied those taken, but I thought it was none of my affair and meant to mind my business,” Brydda said.
“Then a lad who was the son of my landlord, and very dear to me, was taken. He had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had no hope of doing anything, for I did not learn of it till days after when I came back from a fishing trip.
“I swore then that I would never again stand aside and let some injustice happen simply because it was none of my business. From that, it was not far to the next step, finding others who thought as I did and were prepared to fight back.
“And so we have done these long years past, stealing their cargo and silver when we could, disrupting their festivals and plans, rescuing prisoners and spiriting them away. And we have bided our time, longing for the day we might be strong enough to revolt openly.”
He looked at me speculatively. “If I had a hundred like you, I would dare to try it.”
“Don’t you fear and despise me for my deformed mind?” I asked so coolly that Kella gasped.
Brydda spat into the flames. “If the Herders are normal, then let me also be called Misfit. As to fearing you, I fear no man—or girl. Even if she can talk to dogs.”
Pavo and Kella exchanged a quick look, and Idris regarded Brydda in confusion. I took a deep breath. “Then maybe one day you’ll have your wish.”
Brydda’s eyes flashed. “What do you mean? Your people would fight with me?”
I shook my head. “You go too fast. I’m not the one to decide.”
Brydda looked angry, then he laughed aloud. “That’s me all over. My mother always said I was like a wild bull at a fence. Yet I think we will one day be allies.” His eyes had a familiar faraway look.
I was more convinced than ever that Brydda had some sort of Misfit ability, a combination of empathy and futuretelling—just enough to make him an infallible judge of character and a lucky guesser. But if he wanted to think of it as a “knack,” past experience told me to say nothing of my theories.
“I have always thought of Misfits as unlucky mutants, but maybe I was wrong,” Brydda mused. “Life is too short for all there is in it. A man with his eyes open learns something new every day,” he added so ironically we all laughed.
Gradually, the others dozed, but Brydda and I stayed up talking far into the night.
The rebel organization was very large, extending throughout the Land. By comparison, Obernewtyn was a very small operation. But Brydda was far from dismissive, saying more like me might shift the tide of a battle. He was taken aback to discover how young most of us were but still believed we could help one another. I agreed to advocate a meeting between him and Rushton, but I was not sure the extent to which our aims coincided.
“At the bottom of everything, we are Misfits, and few men would have reacted as you did. Can you say for certain all