The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [188]
I stared at the empath. “They told you?”
Dameon smiled. “I am an empath master, but the greenest novice might guess as easily. They might as well announce it and get it over with.”
I grinned. “They’re working up courage. It will rock their two guilds on their heels. Merrett’s choosing will be nothing to that.”
“It is well done. Such divisions are not good for Obernewtyn,” Dameon said approvingly.
“I hear Dragon is doing well as an empath novice,” I said, catching sight of the red-haired beauty.
Dameon shook his head. “She is a handful, that one. I do not envy Matthew her violent affections. Yet I would like to know more about her past.”
Lina ran up, grinning. “Dance with me, master?” she cried, taking his hands. I opened my mouth to rebuke her, but to my surprise, Dameon let himself be coaxed to his feet. As if sensing my surprise, he cast a smile over one shoulder. “Remember, today is for dancing, not worrying about the future.”
I sat back in my seat. So much had changed subtly at Obernewtyn, as if winning one battle, even if by trickery, had given everyone bolder hopes.
It was spring, and the choosing ceremony had been the high point of our own moon fair. It was the wrong season and the moon had waned, but the brief, lovely season and an increasing feeling of hope for the future ensured its success. There had been a merry feast. After the choosing, there were tests of skill between the coercers, a vision demonstration by Dragon, and various entertainments by the other guilds as the musicians played their instruments.
Daffyd appeared beside me with a mug of fement. I motioned him to sit as the musicians tuned between songs, and strains of discordant music filled the air.
Daffyd smiled, but his eyes were sad. “Gilaine would love this,” he said wistfully.
“Is there any news of them?”
He shrugged. “Nothing definite. You might remember Gilbert, the leader of the armsmen? He devised a plan some time back in case there was a need to evacuate the camp in a hurry. It was meant to be used in case of soldierguard attack, but it would have served well in the firestorm. If Gilbert survived to put it into operation, he would have kept the survivors together.”
“Have you spoken to Maryon? She might be able to help pinpoint them.”
“The Futuretell guildmistress thinks they’re alive, but ’tis hard for her to get a definite reading, because she dinna know them.” Daffyd was sunk in thought for a minute. “I mean to leave when Domick, Kella, and the others go. I’ll travel with them as far as Sutrium and then … well, I’ll keep lookin’. Rushton has offered help, but until I find some clue as to where they are, I’m better working alone.”
I felt a shadow touch my heart at the thought that each had his own deeds to do, his own battles and quests. Mine lay in a dark chasm across endless Blackland plains.
I caught sight of Rushton deep in conversation with Brydda and Gevan, apparently oblivious to the music and laughter. As ever, he treated the festivities as yet another guildmerge, going from one group to the next in his effort to have everything organized before his departure. He was going down to the lowlands with Domick and Kella when they returned to Sutrium with Brydda. The big lowlander had been vastly impressed with all he had seen at Obernewtyn, and he and Rushton had taken an instant liking to one another. Brydda was eager to have Rushton meet his allies.
Addressing a guildmerge, Brydda had made it clear that though he had no prejudices about Misfits, he could not speak for his allies. But he was certain that, in time, the book I had found about mind powers would convince them that our Talents were not evil or mutations caused by the Great White but were a natural development of human abilities that had existed in the Beforetime.
Brydda had brought