The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [3]
An eastward bend in the path led us around the edge of a natural stone wall, and there we suddenly came upon a thing that was unmistakably a product of the Oldtime. A single unbroken gray stone grew straight up into the sky like the trunk of a tree, marked at intervals with bizarre symbols, an obelisk of the ancient past.
“This is where the other Herders spoke their prayers to Lud,” said Elii. “They saw no danger before this.”
The young Herder flushed but kept his dignity. He made us kneel as he asked Lud for protection. The prayer lasted a very long time. Elii sighed loudly and impatiently. Making a final sign of rejection at the unnatural gray pedestal, the young priest rose and self-consciously brushed his habit.
The same girl spoke again. “Is that from the Beforetime, then?” she asked. This time I did not look at her. She was dangerously careless and seemed not to think about what she was saying. And this Herder was nervous enough to report all of us because of the one stupid girl.
“It is a sign of the evil past,” said the Herder at last, trembling with outrage. Finally, the girl seemed to sense she had gone too far and fell silent.
One of the others in our party, a girl named Rosamunde whom I knew only slightly, moved near and whispered in my ear, “That girl will be off to the Councilcourt if she keeps that up.”
I nodded slightly but hoped she would not prolong her whispering.
To my concern, she leaned close again. “Perhaps she doesn’t care if they send her to the farms. I heard her whole family was burned for sedition, and she only escaped because of her age,” she added.
I shrugged, and to my relief, Rosamunde stepped back into line.
When we stopped for midmeal, Rosamunde sought me out again, sitting beside me and unwrapping her bread and curd cheese. I hoped there was nothing about her that would reflect on me. I had heard nothing of any detriment about her, but one never knew.
“That girl,” Rosamunde said softly. “It must be unbearable to know that her whole family is dead except for her.”
Unwillingly, I looked to where the other girl sat alone, not eating, her body stiff with some inner tension. “I heard her father was mixed up with Henry Druid.”
I pretended not to be interested, but it was hard not to be curious about anyone linked with the mysterious rebel Herder priest.
Rosamunde leaned forward again, reaching for her cordial. “I know your brother, Jes,” she said softly. I stiffened, wondering if he had sent her to spy on me. Unaware of my withdrawal, she went on. “He is fortunate to be so well thought of among the guardians. There is talk that the Herder wants to make him an assistant.”
I was careful not to let my shock show. I had heard nothing of that and wondered if Jes knew. He would have seen no reason to tell me if he did.
Jes was the only person who knew the truth about me. What he knew was enough to see me burned, and I was frightened of him. My only comfort lay in the tendency of the Council to condemn all those in a family tainted by one Misfit birth. Jes might not be burned, but he would not like to be sentenced to the Councilfarms to process whitestick until he died. As long as it was safer for him to keep my secret, I was safe, but if it ever appeared that I would be exposed, I feared Jes would denounce me at once.
Suddenly I wondered if he had engineered my inclusion on the whitestick expedition. As a favored orphan, he had some influence. He was too pious to kill me himself, though that would have been his best solution, but if I died seeking whitestick, as many did, then he would be innocently free of me.
Elii called us to move. This time I positioned myself near him, where Rosamunde would not dare chatter. The Herder priest walked alongside, muttering his incantations. We had not gone far when a rushing noise came through the whispering greenery. We arrived shortly thereafter at a part of the path that curved steeply down. Here a subterranean waterway, swollen with the autumnal rains, had burst through the dark earth, using the path as its course