Obernewtyn, Page 3

I told him my one piece of knowledge about the link between animals and humans, gleaned from a Beforetime book my mother had read. It had claimed humans evolved from some hairy animals called apes, which no longer existed, but neither Maruman nor I could feel that was more than a fairy tale.

  I had heard many stories about the Great White from my parents as a child, and from the Herders once I entered the orphan home system.

  I remembered little from my childhood, but lessons about the Great White were driven into us during the daily rituals and prayers, exhorting us to seek purity of race and mind. The priest who dealt with such matters at Kinraide was old, with a sharp eye and a hard hand. His manner of preaching often reduced new orphans to screaming hysteria. He made the Beforetime sound like some terrifying concoction of Heaven and Hell, woven throughout with sloth, indulgence, and pride, the sins suffered by the Oldtimers. The holocaust itself was paraded as the wrath of Lud in all its terrible glory.

  This exaggerated picture was tempered by the quiet stories one heard from other sources, gypsies and traveling jacks and potmenders, who presented the Oldtimers to us as men who flew through the air in golden machines, and could live and breathe beneath the sea. Those stories left little doubt that the Beforetime people had possessed some remarkable abilities, but it was obvious the stories were now completely fantasized and exaggerated.

  Maruman had little to offer about the Beforetime, since what he knew had been passed on from generation to generation of his kind. He had more to say about the Great White. Unlike the Herder version, Maruman said it was believed by the beastworld that men had unleashed the Great White from things they called machines—powerful and violent inanimate creatures set deep under the ground, controlled and fed by men. Beasts called them glarsha.

  I questioned him as to how inanimate things could be violent or fed, but he could not explain this apparent paradox.

  Maruman said he "remembered" the Great White, and though that was impossible, he wove remarkably frightening pictures of a world in terror. He spoke of the rains that burned whatever they touched, and of the charnel stench of the Great White. He spoke of the radiant heat that filled the skies and blotted out the night, of the thirst and the hunger and the screaming of those dying, of the invisible poisons that permeated the air and plants and waters of the world. And most of all, he spoke of the deaths of men, children, and women, and of the deaths of beasts, and when I listened, I wept with him, though I did not know if he had imagined it all or if he were somehow really able to remember back in time.

  According to the Herder history of the Great White, the poisons were sent from Lud and only the righteous were spared.

  But Maruman said those spared had the luck of living a long way from the center of destruction where the poisons had barely reached in their most terrible forms, and that was all. If he was right, then all that the Herders told us were lies, and the Council, supposedly devised by Lud, was man-made, too.

  For the first time I began to understand what my parents had been fighting for with more than blind loyalty.

  Maruman bit me, bored with my musings, then he licked the place as demanded by courtesy. I looked fondly at him, wondering where his wandering had taken him this time.

  "Where have you been? I missed you," I told him.

  He purred. "I am here now," he answered firmly, and I knew better than to question him further. He did not like to dwell on his travels, and when he did not want to talk, the worst course was to press him. He would become stubborn and one could get nothing from him. I noticed a few places where his far had rubbed off and wondered that he had never caught the rotting disease. His way was not to tell everything at once. Gradually, over time, he would give me enough information to work out the rest. It was frustrating but that was Maruman. And since he had been to the Blacklands, he would almost certainly undergo another of his mad periods. I resolved to feed him because he did not eat at such times and was already too thin.

  "She is coming," he said suddenly, and looking at his eyes, I saw that he was already half into a fey state and his words were probably only raving.

  Nonetheless I asked, "Who is coming?"

  "She. The darkGne," he answered.

  I felt slightly disturbed, because of my own premonitions. Perhaps this was one of the times when Maruman's visions were right. "Who is she? Why is she coming?"

  "She seeks you but does not know you," said Maruman. A thrill of fear coursed through me. His thoughts seemed to tally with my own deep unease and my persistent visions of being sought. "She comes soon. The whiteface smells of her." Maruman spat at the moon, which had risen in the day sky. It was full. I wondered again why he hated the moon so much. It had something to do with the coming of the Great White, I knew. He snapped at nothing above his injured ear, then yowled forlornly.

  "When does she come?" I asked again, but Maruman seemed to have lost the thread of the conversation. I watched his mind drift into his eyes. He would be impossible now and I very much wanted to know what he meant. But Maruman growled and the hackles on his back rose. He shook his head as if to clear it of the fogs that sometimes floated there.

  "When I was in the Oldplaces, I dreamed of the Old One. She said I must follow you. It was my task. But I am:., tired."

  I gulped, for a horrible notion had come to me. ''Where does the darkOne come from? Where will she take me?"

  "To the mountains," Maruman answered. "To the mountains of shadow, where black wars with white, to the heart of darkness, to the eyrie above the clouds, to the chasm underearth. To the others." Suddenly he pitched sideways and a trickle of saliva came from his mouth.

  I sat very still because none lived in the mountains save those at Obernewtyn.

  A keeper from Obernewtyn would come; if Maruman was right, a woman who would find out the truth about me.

  IV

  Like every orphan, I had heard stories about Obernewtyn. It was used by parents as a sort of horror tale to make naughty children behave. But in truth very little was known about it.

  An ancient institution in the wilds of the Western Mountains, it was ringed on all sides by Blacklands and savage peaks. In its early days the Council had been approached by Lukas Seraphim, who had built a huge holding in the mountains on land only just free of the Blacklands. He had offered his holding as a solution to the problem of where to send the worst afflicted Misfits and those who were too troublesome for use on the Councilfarms.

  At first the Council had refused, for little was known of the man. He was thought to be slightly mad himself, but relatively harmless. In the end, an agreement had been made to send some Misfits to Obernewtyn where they would be put to work for their new master. Some said it was just like another Councilfarm, and that the master there had only sought labor for an area too remote to interest normal laborers. Others said Lukas Seraphim was himself afflicted in some way, and pitied the creatures, while still others claimed he was a doctor and wanted subjects to practice on.

  Those Misfits taken there were never seen again, so none of these stories had ever been authenticated properly. But such was the legend of Obernewtyn, grown over the years because of its very mystery, that it was feared by all orphans, not least because in more modern times it sent out its own keepers to investigate the homes, seeking undisclosed Misfits among the inmates.

  It was said these keepers were extraordinarily skillful at spotting aberrations, and that the resultant Council trial was a foregone conclusion.

  If what I feared was true, Maruman's garbled predictions and my own premonitions could only add up to a visit by a keeper from Obernewtyn. In the past I had been fortunate enough never to have been present at a home under review by these keepers, but it was an occasion I had dreaded.

  When official word of an Obernewtyn keeper's imminent arrival was circulated, my worst fears were realized and I felt a sense of dread of what was to come. All the omens implied disaster, and even Jes was worried enough to catch me alone in the garden and warn me to be careful.


  His warning did not surprise me for my exposure would affect him too, but he looked scared and, oddly, that made him more approachable. Impulsively I told him of my premonition, but that only made him angry. "Don't start that business now," he begged. "This whole thing is enough of a mess. I have heard these keepers have an uncanny instinct for anything out of the ordinary."

  I shuddered. "I'm afraid," I said in a small voice.

  His eyes softened, and to my surprise, he took one of my hands in his and squeezed it reassuringly. "She can't possibly know what you are unless she is like you.'' I stared because that was the first time in many years he had been able to talk about my powers without bitterness.

  He mistook my look. "Look, why do you think everyone finds out she's coming before she get there? No one tell us anything, but everyone knows. They do it deliberately to scare people. If they're nervous, they're more likely to give themselves away."

  His unexpected kindness was almost my undoing, and wanting badly to please him, I nodded in agreement. He looked surprised and rather pleased. We had done nothing but argue for a long time. We smiled at each other, hesitantly.

  The keeper arrived three days later and by then the atmosphere in the home was electric. Even the guardians were jumpy and the Herders' lectures grew longer and more dogmatic. A keeper could not have wished for more. My headpains had almost gones though I had told the guardians they had gone away some time ago because I did not want to call attention to myself.

  like myself, many of the orphans had never seen one of the Obernewtyn keepers. I was amazed to see how beautiful she was, and not at all threatening. It was impossible to look at her petite, fashionably attired form and credit the gothic horror stories that abounded in connection with Obernewtyn.

  She was introduced to us at a special assembly as Madam Vega. As the head keeper she would have absolute say and a great deal of power in her own institution, and that frightened me all the more, although I saw no particular sign of power or special perceptive abilities. She only nodded and smiled when the head of Kinraide said she would be observing us over the next few days; then would talk to one or two of us individually before she left. Everyone knew what that meant, but even this seemed a more rational possibility given her appearance.

  The orphans she spoke to as she walked about and watched us spoke of her beauty and her sweetness and gentle manner. Nothing was as we had imagined, and I felt confused. In the normal course of things, a keeper would leave before her choices were announced, if there were any, later sending a carriage for those she had selected. These were taken to Sutrium and redesignated as Misfits.

  Nothing happened in those few days to cast any suspicion on. me. I was even able to convince myself that both Maruman and I must have been mistaken. Even so, I greeted the morning of her departure with a kind of relief.

  At the farewell assembly, she thanked the Kinraide head for her kindness and all the guardians and orphans for their help. A few of us even clapped. Smiling sweetly she then bade us good-bye.

  I was working in the kitchen when one of the guardians instructed me to prepare a tea tray for the head and her guest. It was an innocent enough request, but as I wheeled the laden tray to the front interviewing chamber, I felt uneasy. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

  The Kinraide head was standing near the door when . I entered, and gestured impatiently for me to transfer the tea things from the tray to a low table. I did this rather awkwardly, peering around trying to see where Madam Vega was. My mind was open and unguarded as I used my abilities to locate her. Sensing that she was up the other end of the room, I turned to see her standing with her back to the room, looking out over Kinraide's broad formal gardens.

  Then, slowly, she turned around.

  The room was a long one but never before had it seemed so long. At the farthest end was a desk and the purple-draped window. She stood to the left and when she turned it seemed to me she went on turning for an eternity, gradually showing more of herself. Struck with the dreadful curiosity of fear, unable to look away, I became convinced that when her movement was completed eons from now, I would be looking into the face of my most terrible nightmares.

  Yet she was smiling at me, and her eyes were blue like the summer sky. She hastened to where I stood. "I hope I have not kept you waiting?"

  I swallowed because it sounded like she meant me. I was too scared to say anything in case I was mistaken. The Kinraide head assured her the tea things had only just come. She gestured to me to pour the tea. My hands shook.

  "My dear child," said Madam Vega, taking the teapot from me with her own lovely white hands, "you're trembling." Then she turned to the head with a faint look of reproach.

  "She has been ill," the other woman said with a shrug. I prayed she would dismiss me but she was sugaring her tea.

  The keeper looked at me. "I would swear" you are frightened. Now why would that be, I wonder? Are you afraid?"

  I shook my head but of course she did not believe me.

  "You need not fear me. I know of all the silly stories. How they began, I really don't know. I am simply here to take away those children who are afflicted with mental problems. Obernewtyn is a beautiful place, though cold I admit," she added confidingly. "But there is nothing there to frighten anyone. And my good Lord Seraphim, the master there, seeks only to find a cure for such afflictions. He thinks it is possible to do this before the mind is full grown."

  "A noble purpose," murmured the other woman piously. Madam Vega had been watching me very closely as she spoke. I felt as if I were drowning in the extraordinary blueness of her eyes. There was something almost hypnotic in them.

  "I know a great deal about Misfits," she said.

  I wanted to look away but I couldn't, and an urge grew within me to find out what she was thinking. I let the edge of my shield fade.

  In an instant a dozen impressions pierced me like blades, but beneath the blue compulsion of her eyes they faded.

  "Well, well," she said, and stepped away from me.

  I stood for a moment half dazed.

  "Well, go along then," said the Kinraide head impatiently.

  I turned on shaking legs, willing myself not to run. As I closed the door behind me, I heard Madam Vega's sweet voice utter the words that spelled my doom. "What did you say that girl was called?"

  V

  "Jes!"

  I stumbled into the kitchen sending out a cloud of panic and urgency.

  "Jes. Jes. Jes!"

  I almost fell over the astonished Rosamunde who was working there. "Elspeth?" she said disbelievingly.

  Jes charged through another door, his face contorted with fury. "What are you doing?" he shouted. Noticing Rosamunde, he stopped to stare at us in confusion.

  "For Lud's sake, Jes, don't yell at her. It's one of her fainting fits again." Rosamunde looked uncertainly at me. "That water must have been tainted, despite what the Herder said."

  "Water?" Jes whispered incredulously.

  "Of course," she said sternly. "And stop glaring at her. She's just been in with the Obernewtyn keeper. I'll get a powder," she added, and departed.

  "Is it true?" he asked, fear looking out of his eyes.

  I nodded numbly.

  "But why?"

  "I think it was only chance. I don't know ... perhaps it wasn't. She read the records. That might have made her wonder and ask for me. I had to serve tea. But she knows."

  "How can you be sure?" he pressed. "You didn't..."

  I shook my head emphatically. I wanted to explain how I knew, but now it all seemed too elusive. I thought of myself staring mesmerized into her eyes.

  "What did you do? Tell me what they said," he asked urgently. "Did they speak of me?"

  "They said nothing. But at the end, when I was leaving, she asked who I was," I said.

  He gaped. "That's all?"

  But I shook my head. There was no point in letting him hope. I knew. He saw that in my face and the light died in his eyes. He might desp
ise my powers, but he did not doubt they existed.

  "Even so, you could be wrong," he said, stroking his precious armband. "They might not know everything. If she just put things together from the records and then saw that you were scared .. .There must be some pretty queer comments about you in those papers. That must be what happened I told you fear would be our undoing."

  "Jes!" It was Rosamunde. She frowned at him and came onto the veranda. "Don't keep on at her like some idiot guardian. Help her into the kitchen porch. Some fresh air will soothe her."

  "She's all right," Jes snapped, but he carried me onto the veranda and set me on a couch. Ignoring him, Rosamunde handed me a powder. I swallowed it without demur, hardly noticing its bitter aftertaste.

  "I am sorry," I told Jes, suddenly remorseful.

  He made no reply. His face was grim. I could not blame his hatred of my abilities. At that moment I hated them myself.

  "It's all right," Rosamunde soothed me. But I knew nothing would ever be all right again.

  She had noticed the look on Jes's face and sat on the couch beside him. "What is the matter? Tell me. You know you can trust me. I'll help if I can."

  He looked at her, and to my astonishment, I could see that he did trust her. Lying to this girl would not come easily to him. I looked at her properly. She was a plain, sensitive-looking girl, pale as most orphans were, with a mop of brown curls neatly tied back. I wondered that I had been so blind as to miss the thawing of my self-sufficient brother.

  Jes turned to face me. "Are you all right, Elf?" he asked. That had been his pet name for me in happier days, but he had not used it for a long time. How odd that it had taken a disaster to show me that there was still some bond of affection between us. His face was thoughtful and as often before, I wished I could read his mind. He was not like me, yet his was one of the rare minds that seemed to have a natural shield.

  "I must think," he said to himself.

  Rosamunde gazed at us both in consternation. She sensed something dreadful had happened. "Tell me, please," she urged.