Traveler Page 8

  John experienced an almost physical ache when the journal was out of his own hands—it was such a precious object, and had been missing for so long—but he swallowed his discomfort and said, “Yes, of course.”

  He took Maud’s interest in his mother’s notes as a hopeful sign. John had been thinking about his grandmother’s cabin on Traveler. The airship was still in Hyde Park. The craft’s dangerous engines had to be decommissioned on site before it could be safely moved outside London to be repaired. That work was nearly done, and the move would happen in a few days. While Traveler was being fixed, the inside of the ship would be stripped, including the contents of Maggie’s cabin. There were things in that room John needed, items he didn’t want his cousins—the cousins who were already fighting for control of the family fortune—to find.

  He hadn’t wanted to speak of this to the Young Dread. She didn’t like mention of his family or his mother. She wanted him to keep his mind in the present, on his training. But tonight, after seeing those boys, she was different. He watched the careful way she was holding the journal as she looked into the fire. If she was interested in what his mother had written, maybe, he thought, she could be convinced to help him.

  “I—I need to go back to Traveler,” he told her before he lost his nerve. “Just for a short visit. But it will have to be soon.”

  Maud looked up at him.

  “Why?”

  “I have my mother’s journal, but there are other things of hers in a bedroom on the ship. I don’t want someone else to take them.”

  The Young Dread waited for a better explanation. John tapped a hand nervously against his leg. Maud had been truthful with him, and he’d never lied to her since she’d agreed to train him. He was her student, and he would honor that arrangement as far as he could.

  “In her journal my mother was keeping track of the houses that killed our relatives,” he explained quietly.

  “What you’ve shown me in the journal says nothing about dead relatives,” Maud responded. “I see only lists of locations and dates.”

  “Maybe enemies weren’t the only thing she was writing about, but they’re in there,” he answered. “When you see what’s in my grandmother’s room on Traveler, this will make sense. Whatever else my mother was doing, she was tracking those who had done us harm.”

  “You want to gather evidence for revenge?” Her voice was cutting, despite its slow cadence.

  “I’ve spoken plainly to you about the promises I’ve made,” he told her, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “While you train me, I will take no action without your permission. But I—I must retrieve these things before they’re lost.”

  Maud appeared to weigh his answer in her mind for some time. At last she said, “We can visit the airship.” Then her eyes met his. “Your mother didn’t only want revenge, you know.”

  John turned away and said nothing. But his thoughts were clear: You don’t know what my mother wanted.

  21 Years Earlier

  “What are you doing here?” The girl’s voice carried through the woods.

  “What do you think I’m doing here?” a male voice asked.

  The Young Dread heard an old cottage door being forced shut, and then there were two sets of footsteps moving through the forest undergrowth.

  “Stop following me!”

  That was the girl’s voice again, more clear this time, and Maud paused, one foot raised in the air, listening.

  The Young Dread had been in the castle ruins on the Scottish estate, practicing alone, wondering where the Middle Dread was that day. She was now moving south, through the thick woods leading downslope to the river, which was where she often hunted for their meals.

  “Go away!” the girl said a moment later.

  Something in the sound of her voice bothered Maud. She stood balanced on one foot, then after a quick moment of deliberation, she turned around and moved back uphill.

  “I want to be alone!” the girl said. She was out of breath, and judging by her footsteps, she was now running.

  The Young recognized the voice as belonging to Catherine Renart, one of the apprentices who was shortly to take her oath and become a Seeker. When Maud reached the top of the hill, she saw Catherine moving swiftly through the trees below. She’d obviously been visiting the small group of abandoned cottages that lay deep in the woods nearby.

  Another of the apprentices was chasing the girl. It was a boy called Briac Kincaid, though it was difficult to think of him as a boy. He was only fifteen, like Catherine, but he was already as tall as a man, and his face had a ruthless cast.

  Catherine reached a clearer patch of the woods, and here Briac caught up with her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. Maud saw the flush in Briac’s fair skin, which contrasted starkly with his jet-black hair.

  “What were you doing in the cottages?” he asked.

  “Why are you following me?” Catherine demanded, yanking her arm away.

  Briac took hold of her shoulders and smiled. Catherine took a step back and found herself up against a tree.

  “You know why I’m following you,” he whispered.

  Catherine looked more surprised than alarmed.

  But why am I here? the Young Dread asked herself. This was some sort of lovers’ quarrel. Hardly something that should attract her notice. And yet there were qualities about Catherine that reminded the Young Dread of herself and so held her attention. She’d watched the apprentices training over the last several days, as she and the Middle did each time they came to the estate. While most were entirely absorbed in proving themselves to their instructors, so they might be invited to take their oaths, Catherine’s manner was different. It was as though she already saw past her training to her life beyond and wanted to be taught the things that mattered. The Young herself had been like that, asking her master, the Old Dread, a thousand questions about her future, even though he would answer only a select few.

  “You wanted me to follow you out here,” Briac whispered.

  Maud looked down at the two of them from near the crest of the hill. She was concealed among trees, but she didn’t think they would have noticed her, even if she’d been standing in the open.

  “I did not,” Catherine said.

  “Come on. Going out alone to the empty cottages?” he asked softly. “Let’s go back inside one of them…”

  “I was looking at Emile’s things,” she told him. She tugged one of her shoulders out of his grasp.

  “Emile?” he responded. “Why would you spend time on him? A failed apprentice who’s quit and left.”

  Catherine tugged free her other shoulder and looked at Briac angrily.

  “He was our friend,” she said. “He was training with us.”

  “He was a little boy.”

  “He was fourteen. Only a few months younger than we are. And I liked the things he wanted to do after he took his oath.”

  “Like what? Getting rid of corrupt politicians? Helping the poor?” Briac said these things as though they were a naive joke.

  “Why do you say it like that?” Catherine asked. “We’re supposed to do those sorts of things. It’s our purpose.”

  “Is it, now?”

  “My grandfather got rid of an Afghani warlord, we’ve freed innocent—”

  “Bravo, Catherine. You must have a perfect family. But Emile wouldn’t have made it to his oath.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He picked bad company,” Briac said.

  “Who do you mean?”

  Briac shrugged. “I don’t really know, and there’s no reason for me to care.” His voice dropped back to a harsh whisper: “Forget Emile. That’s not why we’re out here.”

  “It’s why I’m—” Catherine began, but Briac cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. The girl recoiled, her light hair tangling in the bark of the tree as she pulled her head away. From the short distance between them, she studied Briac, as though analyzing an unexpected natural phenomenon in
a laboratory.

  “Come on,” the boy pressed. “We’ve been beating each other up in the training barn for three years. Haven’t you wanted…?”

  A look of suspicion crossed Catherine’s face, chased away a moment later by an expression of mild curiosity. She shoved him away from her, then put a hand behind his head and pulled him back. They kissed again.

  Maud turned away. There was no reason she should be involved in this moment, and she had dinner to hunt. She had gone a few dozen paces when their voices came to her again. She realized she had extended her hearing to keep watch on them.

  “This is…too much,” Catherine said.

  “No, it’s good, it’s good…”

  “You’re cruel when we train. Half the time I hate you.”

  “It’s only because I want you,” he whispered. “Don’t you want me?”

  A moment later, Maud heard a violent scuffle and without conscious thought found herself turning back. When she regained the crest of the hill, she saw that Briac had managed to pin both of Catherine’s arms behind her. Catherine struggled as he pressed her against the tree, kissing her, one of his hands tugging at her waistband.

  “No!” Catherine said, ripping her head away from his at last.

  “It’s all right,” Briac told her, his words barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted you all year…”

  He pushed his lips against hers, and his hand disappeared beneath her waistband. Maud felt her feet speed up as she moved down the hill toward them.

  Catherine twisted her head back, then swung it forward. Her forehead cracked into his nose. He cried out and let go.

  “Get off me!” she yelled, pushing him.

  Briac was stunned by the head butt, but only for a moment. In the next instant, he hit Catherine across the face, his open hand making a loud crack as it connected with her cheek.

  Catherine fell to the side, but Maud saw at once that this was a feint. Halfway through the fall, her hands took hold of Briac’s shoulders and her knee came up into his groin with enough force that he gasped and stepped backward, clutching himself. Catherine came after him, shoving him down onto the ground and hitting him about his head. Briac raised his arms to fend her off, and she took the opportunity to bring her knee into his groin again.

  Maud had stopped walking. Catherine was fighting back ably and did not need help. Of course not, she thought. The girl is almost a full Seeker.

  As Briac rolled over on the ground, Catherine drew a knife from the small of her back and cut the waistband of his trousers. She ripped the material down, exposing his underclothes.

  “How do you like it?” she whispered, out of breath.

  The boy clutched himself and watched her from the forest floor as she stood and brushed herself off. He didn’t try to get up as she jogged away.

  After some distance, Catherine caught sight of Maud and came to a stop. The Young Dread realized she was standing completely in the open, and her right arm was cocked back, a knife blade still clutched in her fingers, ready to throw at Briac Kincaid. Catherine looked surprised.

  I have surprised myself, the Young thought. These apprentices can take care of themselves. We Dreads must keep ourselves apart.

  In one fluid motion, Maud tucked the knife back into its place and turned, continuing on her original path south, toward hunting. But Catherine’s footsteps were following her now. When the Young Dread did not turn or change her pace, she heard Catherine coming faster, and then the girl was at her side.

  “You were going to help me?” she asked, walking along with the Young Dread. “Why?”

  Maud glanced at her. Up close, she was struck by the girl’s resemblance to one of the other apprentices, a girl named Anna. Of course, that must be Catherine’s older sister. They had the same light hair and the same blue eyes. But Anna was more like every other apprentice—she lacked Catherine’s inquisitiveness.

  Catherine said, “I thought you weren’t supposed to interfere in fights between Seekers.”

  “You’re not a Seeker yet,” Maud replied evenly.

  “I can handle myself.”

  “I’m sure Briac Kincaid understands that now as well.”

  “I’ve never liked him,” the girl said, almost conversationally, keeping up with Maud. “We’re supposed to put aside family grudges while we’re here—you know, the estate’s neutral ground. But I shouldn’t have let him get so close.” Catherine examined her hands. One of her knuckles was bleeding. She put it to her mouth as she glanced around the forest, then let out a small, joyless laugh. “You’d be surprised at the different people you meet in these woods.”

  “You will be sworn soon, and free to go where you will,” Maud told her.

  “But how much of a Seeker will I be?”

  The Young Dread wondered what the girl meant, but she was not inclined to ask. Already she’d inserted herself too much into this apprentice’s life, made herself too accessible. The Dreads must keep separate. That was the oath of the Dreads: to uphold the three laws of Seekers and to stand apart from humanity, so their heads were clear to judge.

  “My family’s athame has been missing since…a hundred years or something,” Catherine went on, as though Maud had invited her to elaborate. “The estate is missing tools we’re supposed to have for training. So how much of a Seeker will I be when I take my oath? I’ll be half of what Seekers used to be. Less than half, since I’ve got no athame. My sister and I will have to ally with some other family, beg use of their athame, like most apprentices—Briac too. Do you think another family will risk loaning me their athame so I can go off to South America or something, to help get rid of drug lords? They’re going to roll their eyes at me like Briac just did.”

  The words were spilling out of the girl as though she’d been waiting months to tell someone. Perhaps she’d been waiting months to speak to Maud in particular.

  “What training tools do you speak of?” the Young Dread was spurred to ask, despite herself. She knew that some athames were no longer in the possession of their original houses and many had disappeared altogether, though she did not know why. But what else was missing?

  “I’m not even sure,” Catherine said. “I’ve heard mention of a helmet for training—but other tools as well. You’d know better than I would.”

  Maud’s job with apprentices was only to oversee the administering of their oaths, and she hadn’t paid much attention to the specifics of their training for a very long time. Yet now that Catherine mentioned it, she realized she hadn’t seen a focal since…when? When had she last seen an apprentice using one? At least fifteen wakings ago? And even then, they had been extremely rare, where once they’d been common. There were other implements, not strictly necessary in creating a good Seeker but certainly useful, that she hadn’t seen employed on the estate for a few generations at least.

  The Young Dread shook her head, to tell Catherine no, but also to dispel her own thoughts in this matter. “You speak of Seeker problems. If Seekers have lost track of their own possessions, it is no concern of the Dreads.”

  “It’s not just our possessions that are missing, though, is it?” Catherine asked quietly, looking back toward the abandoned cottages now far behind them. “My friend Emile—Emile Pernet, house of the boar—didn’t come back this year. And others haven’t come back. Look at all the empty cottages.”

  “Not everyone finishes the training,” the Young Dread told her. “It is hard.”

  “I’ve tried to reach Emile lots of times, and he doesn’t answer,” Catherine said distractedly. “He’s gone, and no one seems to care.”

  “Many apprentices drop out of training,” the Young Dread said. “Why concern yourself, or me?”

  “You seemed concerned. Earlier.” Catherine nodded toward the location where Briac had attacked her. “You’re not like the other one. The Middle. He isn’t at all concerned about Seekers’ lives.”

  The Young gave her no response. It was not the place of a Seeker, much less an apprentice S
eeker, to pass any sort of judgment on a Dread. If Maud had not just seen this girl attacked, she would have rebuked her. But as it was, the Young Dread simply continued walking and picked up her pace.

  “Does it bother you?” Catherine asked, speeding up to match Maud’s steps. She was either oblivious to the Young’s dislike of this conversation or determined to press on regardless. “Does it bother you—not becoming involved? Always being separate from the rest of us?”

  “That is the duty of a Dread.”

  “Have you ever regretted it…what you are?”

  Maud’s eyes flashed a warning, and Catherine fell back a step. She clarified, more quietly, “I only meant—would it be hard for someone like me? A life like yours?”

  “There are already three Dreads, so your question is meaningless.”

  The girl was quiet for several paces, but still she kept up with Maud. “But—but there’s more than one Young Dread.”

  Maud stopped walking and stared at the girl. “Explain yourself,” she said. “There are no other Dreads.”

  “My great-great-grandfather saw the Middle Dread training others.”

  Despite her better judgment, the Young Dread asked, “Your great-great-grandfather?”

  “He wrote it down. I have his letter.”

  “No. There are no other Dreads,” Maud said again. Of course there were not. “Only the Old Dread himself could create another Dread, and he hasn’t done so since he trained me.”

  “Really? Are you sure?” Catherine looked crestfallen at this news. She cast her gaze down at the forest floor. Then, as though she hardly had the nerve to speak, she blurted, “But if there are only three Dreads…do you—do you think the Middle Dread deserves his position?”

  On reflex, Maud’s right arm flashed up and slapped Catherine’s cheek smartly. The girl’s hand went to her face. Maud continued walking, this time increasing her pace so that Catherine couldn’t keep up without running.