The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [98]
I had read from his thoughts that he was a novice, or apprentice, priest. After his initial training in the main cloister in Sutrium, he had been sent to Darthnor’s cloister to serve out his apprenticeship in the highlands. It was only the town’s proximity to Obernewtyn that had made it possible for Zarak to stumble upon the novice’s thoughts. Ironically, he had become aware of his powers under the rigorous mental training of the priesthood. But Herder teachings said that anything outside normal abilities was a mutation. The boy had tried to refuse his abilities, refusing to accept that he might be a Misfit.
Despite all his reactions, he was no hardened fanatic. And the Herder boy’s youth was a mark in his favor. We rescued few older folk, since most were unable to accept that their mutant abilities might not be evil. Those we encountered whom we judged a bad risk, we simply blocked, making it impossible for them to use their powers. This horrified the healers, but, in truth, the Misfits were happier to seem normal. Many believed Lud had cured them.
It was this boy’s youth that stopped me from simply having Domick expunge the memory and block his mutant powers. That and an instinct that told me he was worth rescuing. But because he was a Herder, I had to be sure he would respond the right way. I had promised Rushton I would do nothing until I was certain he could be trusted.
“How do you know I am a demon?” I asked, curious to see how much dogma he had swallowed.
The response was immediate. “You are a greater demon. The other was a lesser novice. Only demons can talk inside a man’s head. My master says many are driven mad by such things, but you will not find me easy to break.”
I sensed Ceirwan’s amusement. “A puppy,” he sent in ardent relief.
“If we can bring him in, we would have an insight into the Herders’ world,” I said. “It’s always possible those men asking questions about Obernewtyn were from the Herder Faction.”
Ceirwan looked unconvinced. “He is a novice, unlikely to know their inner secrets.”
“He is one of us,” I insisted stubbornly. “If we leave him, the Herders might end up finding out what he is anyway, sooner or later. Then he might betray us at their behest. He is not fully committed to their way, and I believe he would do well among us.”
“A rescue would have to be completely foolproof,” Ceirwan warned.
“Are you still there, demon?” the boy sent.
The wistful inquiry in his voice reminded me of my own long-ago loneliness, thinking myself a freak, living in fear of disclosure.
“Do others of your kind speak to demons?” I asked.
There was a significant hesitation in his mind before he answered evasively. “Demons test many priests.”
“They do, but I have not encountered any other human who could communicate with me,” I sent, trying to sound like a demon.
Still probing his lower mind, I thought again of my childhood in the orphan home system. I had not known at once that I was a Misfit, but some instinct of self-protection had kept me silent about my developing abilities. My brother, Jes, had been even more frightened. His hatred of my mutant abilities had warred with his love for me. He had spent a lifetime suppressing, even from himself, the fact that he, too, was a Misfit. In the end, he had been killed trying to escape from an orphan home after I was sent to Obernewtyn.
“I want to bring him out,” I told Ceirwan aloud.
The memory of Jes made me determined to rescue the boy before leaving for the lowlands. With this in mind, I contacted him for several consecutive nights, working on his buried fears. At last he broke down, confessing that he was a Misfit—and his fear that his masters had begun to suspect him.
“Surely such a small mutation would not matter,” I said, at the same time evoking an old nightmare in the boy’s mind based on a burning he had once witnessed.
I was startled at the strength of his reaction. He screamed.
The noise brought an older Herder. Fearing the worst, Domick struck to wipe the boy’s mind clean. I deflected his blow with an