The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [170]
“Then Obernewtyn was not ruined by a firestorm?” Daffyd said.
“No. It’s quite safe—so far.”
“But, why are you telling me all this now, if you would not speak of it to Gilaine?” Daffyd asked.
I sighed. “Because I need you to go to Obernewtyn and warn Rushton that Ariel is behind the Council’s interest in us, before the pass is closed with snow. Tell him soldierguards will arrive at first thaw, and they will find no firestorm-racked ruins. Maybe Rushton can evacuate, take everyone higher into the mountains. Maybe they’ll decide to fight, defend the pass. But if I don’t get word to Rushton, they’ll be defenseless. Ariel will have won.”
Daffyd looked pensive. “Ariel always seemed fanatical about Obernewtyn, now that I think of it. He has convinced the old man that Rushton was a threat to us. He was up here just days ago, and when he heard that a group of gypsies had seen Obernewtyn with their own eyes and then slipped through our fingers … Well, he was very interested in you and your friends. He cursed when there was no trace of your bodies and swore you had not died. If not for him, the Druid would have called off the search much sooner. Does he know the truth about Obernewtyn?”
“I’m not sure what he knows, but it seems to me he has guessed that Obernewtyn is undamaged. And he wants revenge,” I said bitterly. “He must also realize that Rushton can expose him to the Druid, or to the Council, as a Misfit and a seditioner. Daffyd, will you go to Obernewtyn for me?” I asked, too weak for pretense.
Daffyd’s eyes flicked to my legs.
I nodded. “They’re badly infected. So far I’ve been able to block the pain so it wouldn’t slow me—one of my more useful Talents. But stopping the pain can’t make these legs carry me any farther.”
There was a long pause. Finally, Daffyd spoke. “I can do as you ask. But what about you and the girl and boy you spoke of?”
“We’ll be fine. Rushton can send help for us. The storm is interfering with my farseeking, but once it’s over, I’ll call Dragon and Jik and Darga to me.”
I looked out of the cave. There were no more flames, and a gray curtain of firestorm rain obscured the outside world. Carefully, and remembering Daffyd had no love for the Council, I related all that had befallen us in the lowlands. When at last the rain ceased, I urged him to leave at once.
“You must go now—” I began, when an anguished cry shattered the stillness.
It took a moment for me to understand that it was Dragon screaming, the grief in her voice tangible and terrifying. Daffyd gave me one startled look, then plunged out into the open.
Long moments later, he returned carrying the prostrate form of Dragon.
“She’s not…,” I began, but he shook his head.
“Fainted,” he said stiffly as if his lips were frozen. His face was very pale as he laid her on the ground inside the cave and wiped the wetness from her bare skin.
“What is it?” I asked, sensing disaster.
He looked up bleakly. “She had found a body. Burned beyond recognition. It might be one of the people from the compound,” he added unconvincingly.
He reached into a pocket. “She was clutching this.” He held out a hand, and something glinted dully in his palm. It was the small empath novice token that Dameon gave to new members of his guild.
I felt the suppressing barrier weaken with shock and revulsion.
Jik. It was Jik.
I was filled with a guilt deeper than anything I had ever imagined possible. I was responsible for his terrible death. I might as well have killed him with my own hands. If only I had left him with Brydda. If we had not brought him away from Obernewtyn, had not brought him out of the cloister. My teeth chattered, and I felt dizzy with horror.
Daffyd knelt beside me and made me drink water from a tin jar. “Drink,” he said, and his eyes, filled with honest pity and compassion, were my undoing. I wept then, great choking tears that seemed to take pieces of my soul.
Jik’s face rose in my mind’s eye, sweet and