The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [166]
“Bad?” she asked contritely.
“Good,” I said firmly. “Very good.”
“More?” Dragon asked eagerly, waving her hands to indicate that she would make something huge and mysterious and complex.
“Uh … maybe later,” Jik said sheepishly.
As soon as the sun set, the dim day gave way to a starless night, and the air resounded again with the mysterious growling noises. They sounded much closer, and I could not get over the feeling that we were being stalked, despite another fruitless mind search.
We were all relieved to stand on solid ground, though the darkness kept us from seeing what sort of land lay ahead. I decided we needed a break, having been unable to stop at all while crossing the swamp. We drank the last of our water with a feeling of recklessness. Already light-headed from lack of food, I prayed we were close to the compound.
Lying with my back against a tree, I heard Darga beside me sniffing delicately, tasting the various scents of the night. I could smell nothing but the noxious swamp gases and my own filth. The dog was proving an invaluable member of our company. I wondered if his presence was the real truth that lay behind the vague futuretelling of Jik’s importance.
A slight breeze ruffled my hair, and Darga lifted his head. “A storm comes,” he sent.
I nodded impatiently. “But can you smell any funaga yet?”
“I smell them,” Darga sent, confirming that we were nearing the end of the pass.
I decided we would rest for a time and leave the pass in the very early morning hours. I slept heavily and dreamlessly. I woke only once to the sound of Jik’s laughter echoing in the darkness.
He explained that he had been walking around to keep himself warm and alert on his watch, when he had nearly stepped on a small, lumpy-skinned swamp dweller with bulging eyes. Immediately, the frightened creature’s neck had blown up to three times its diminutive size, and it had let out the incredible growling rumble that had so mystified us. We had seen dozens of the creatures since leaving the area of bubbling mists, sitting on logs and blinking sleepily at us, but we had not connected the giant noises with such harmless life-forms.
Jik’s suggestion that the dreadful calling was a kind of love song made me laugh until my stomach ached. I lay back to sleep finally, with a smile on my face. It was good to laugh. I had been doubly amused to find that Darga took Jik’s guess quite seriously. Beasts lacked only one funaga virtue that I regretted, and that was a sense of humor.
“You may call it a lack,” Darga broke into my thoughts. “So might I lack a pain in my head.” That made me laugh again.
I had intended to stand last watch, but Jik had not woken me, saying he had felt wide awake and thought I might as well sleep while I could.
I stretched, feeling oddly lethargic. I threw the blanket away from me, realizing it was hot. At once, my feet began to ache with a new pain, and my head and neck felt damp. I looked down at my feet uneasily. Standing carefully, I could not stifle a gasp of pain at the hot fire shooting up my legs.
“What is it?” Jik asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “My feet have gone to sleep.” It was not easy to lie to an empath, but Jik was young and untrained.
I turned away from him to hide the fear in my eyes. The numbness that had enabled me to climb the Olden way had been too good to be true. I forced myself to face something that I had known for a while. My feet had become infected. Fighting off a dull drowsiness, I roused the others, deliberately isolating the awareness of the pain.
This was a dangerous thing to do, and Roland forbade it in all but the most extreme need. Pain suppressed was pain in waiting. Eventually, it had to be endured, and the longer it was allowed to accumulate, the more devastating its final effect. It was possible to suppress minor pain for so long that the accumulation, when released, could stop one’s heart. I knew I would pay dearly for my suppression, but if I could suppress it until we reached home, Roland could have the healers siphon off some of the pain.
Resolutely, I went