for him? He can nowt keep the town closed away forever, and as soon as anyone can leave, they will complain to the Council of Chieftains in Sutrium.”
“Perhaps he hopes that whoever is voted head of the Council of Chieftains will refuse to hear any complaints against him,” I said.
“There is something else odd,” Zarak went on. “Dardelan mun have heard about the blockade from people turned away. Why hasnae he sent up a force of armsmen to investigate?”
He was right, and I could think of no reason for Dardelan’s failure to deal with the blockade unless his grip on power was a good deal more fragile than we had been led to believe. Zarak continued. “As for the election, as soon as we tell Dardelan what Vos intends, he mun send some of his armsmen to make sure the votes are nowt tampered with.” Zarak warmed to his idea and began to elaborate on how Dardelan might disguise his true intentions under a festive façade.
Suddenly eager to reach Rangorn, I bade Zarak prepare the wagon to leave. I took the plate inside, and some impulse made me ask the woman if the rebel chieftain Malik ever came by.
This time fear flashed in her eyes, but anger, too. She glanced around before saying, “His men have camps set up all along this coast to keep watch for any Herder ships that try to land, but they spend most of their time at inns buying ale and gaming with the local layabouts. Those two who left earlier drink with them regularly, and there is always trouble when they come.” She hesitated and then said, “Anyone foolish enough to speak against Chieftain Malik or in favor of his enemies or rivals in their hearing is like to find their houseburned down around their ears. By robbers and brigands, of course,” she sneered. Then she added uneasily, “I hope I haven’t made a mistake and you aren’t one of Malik’s spies.”
“You can be sure that Malik is the last person I would serve,” I said.
A S WE SET off again, I told Darius what we had learned, suggesting he might not want to come into Saithwold with us. But to my surprise, he insisted.
“There may be danger,” Zarak pointed out hesitantly.
The crippled healer smiled peaceably and said, “It was ever dangerous to be a Twentyfamilies gypsy, and there is a thing in Saithwold I wish to see.”
At these words, I struggled to keep my composure.
Khuria had once told me of a magnificent statue of a man in Noviny’s garden, and his description had made me wonder if it had been carved by Cassy Duprey, when she had been D’rekta to the Twentyfamilies. Swallow had told me enough of the ancient promises that bound the Twentyfamilies to make me aware that their first leader had charged his people with the maintenance and protection of the carvings she had created to communicate with the Seeker. If I was right, the statue in Noviny’s garden might very well be a message to me. Darius’s interest certainly suggested it.
So far, I had found only one of the signs mentioned in the clues carved on the original Obernewtyn doors: an enormous glass statue with my face in the sunken city under Tor. I had dived to see the statue, convinced that I would find concealed in it one of the keys mentioned on the Obernewtyn doors. But instead of a key, I had found only an inscription and theartist’s name: Cassy Duprey. Soon after, water had filled the protective airlock, shattering the statue, and I had been devastated, convinced that I had failed my quest at the first test, because I had not found the key.
But later, the teknoguilder Reul had mentioned that Beforetimers communicated with their computermachines by pressing on scribed letters built into the machines, spelling out sentences. This, he had explained in his dry crisp way, had been called “keying in a command.” Seeing my rigid attention, he elaborated, saying that a key word or phrase might also be required before a computermachine would accept a command or offer any information.
This had made me realize
“Perhaps he hopes that whoever is voted head of the Council of Chieftains will refuse to hear any complaints against him,” I said.
“There is something else odd,” Zarak went on. “Dardelan mun have heard about the blockade from people turned away. Why hasnae he sent up a force of armsmen to investigate?”
He was right, and I could think of no reason for Dardelan’s failure to deal with the blockade unless his grip on power was a good deal more fragile than we had been led to believe. Zarak continued. “As for the election, as soon as we tell Dardelan what Vos intends, he mun send some of his armsmen to make sure the votes are nowt tampered with.” Zarak warmed to his idea and began to elaborate on how Dardelan might disguise his true intentions under a festive façade.
Suddenly eager to reach Rangorn, I bade Zarak prepare the wagon to leave. I took the plate inside, and some impulse made me ask the woman if the rebel chieftain Malik ever came by.
This time fear flashed in her eyes, but anger, too. She glanced around before saying, “His men have camps set up all along this coast to keep watch for any Herder ships that try to land, but they spend most of their time at inns buying ale and gaming with the local layabouts. Those two who left earlier drink with them regularly, and there is always trouble when they come.” She hesitated and then said, “Anyone foolish enough to speak against Chieftain Malik or in favor of his enemies or rivals in their hearing is like to find their houseburned down around their ears. By robbers and brigands, of course,” she sneered. Then she added uneasily, “I hope I haven’t made a mistake and you aren’t one of Malik’s spies.”
“You can be sure that Malik is the last person I would serve,” I said.
A S WE SET off again, I told Darius what we had learned, suggesting he might not want to come into Saithwold with us. But to my surprise, he insisted.
“There may be danger,” Zarak pointed out hesitantly.
The crippled healer smiled peaceably and said, “It was ever dangerous to be a Twentyfamilies gypsy, and there is a thing in Saithwold I wish to see.”
At these words, I struggled to keep my composure.
Khuria had once told me of a magnificent statue of a man in Noviny’s garden, and his description had made me wonder if it had been carved by Cassy Duprey, when she had been D’rekta to the Twentyfamilies. Swallow had told me enough of the ancient promises that bound the Twentyfamilies to make me aware that their first leader had charged his people with the maintenance and protection of the carvings she had created to communicate with the Seeker. If I was right, the statue in Noviny’s garden might very well be a message to me. Darius’s interest certainly suggested it.
So far, I had found only one of the signs mentioned in the clues carved on the original Obernewtyn doors: an enormous glass statue with my face in the sunken city under Tor. I had dived to see the statue, convinced that I would find concealed in it one of the keys mentioned on the Obernewtyn doors. But instead of a key, I had found only an inscription and theartist’s name: Cassy Duprey. Soon after, water had filled the protective airlock, shattering the statue, and I had been devastated, convinced that I had failed my quest at the first test, because I had not found the key.
But later, the teknoguilder Reul had mentioned that Beforetimers communicated with their computermachines by pressing on scribed letters built into the machines, spelling out sentences. This, he had explained in his dry crisp way, had been called “keying in a command.” Seeing my rigid attention, he elaborated, saying that a key word or phrase might also be required before a computermachine would accept a command or offer any information.
This had made me realize
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