Seeker (4 page)

“I don’t want you to worry,” he told her, making her look into his eyes. “I’ll be a Seeker, just like you. Even if it takes me a little while to get there. It’s meant to be, the two of us together.”

The trouble cleared from Quin’s face a little. She almost smiled. “It’s meant to be,” she agreed. “Of course it is.” Her certainty gave him heart. “Look,” she went on. “You’re stronger than Shinobu. You’re a lot stronger than I am. You might be smarter than either of us. There are just some things you don’t do quite as well.”

“If you mean the disruptor—”

“I do mean the disruptor. We’re all scared of it.”

“I wasn’t just scared,” John answered, reliving the moment in his mind. “I couldn’t move, Quin. I imagined those sparks covering me—”

“Stop.” She said it firmly, and John realized his despair was rising again. He must focus, especially today. “You don’t want to end up in agony with your mind turning on itself,” she continued. “Of course you don’t. But you have to think of the disruptor as a weapon like any other weapon. We use our mental control to avoid it in a fight.”

“ ‘My mind is a muscle that’s always slightly tensed,’ ” John responded, quoting Alistair, who was their favorite instructor. “Only—I’m not sure that works for me when there’s a disruptor involved.”

“Try to concentrate on the higher purpose of our training,” she told him gently, “on how lucky we are to have this as our calling. Being a Seeker is bigger than you or me, bigger than personal fears.”
Her voice was growing passionate, as it often did on this topic. “We’re part of something … 
exceptional
. I get just as scared, but that’s how I fight my fear. It’s not just about disruptors, you know. You need the mental control when you go
There
. Or you’ll never come out.”

John realized he was looking at her with pity. She was a girl with stars in her eyes, born into the wrong family, and the wrong century. Yes, they were part of something exceptional, something bigger than themselves, but he would describe it in very different words—words such as “ruthless” and “vicious.” Briac was both of those things. John knew she would be going
There
tonight, and then beyond, when she took her oath. Quin might not yet realize the purpose of doing so, but John did. His mother, at least, had been honest with him, where Quin’s father had not been honest with her.

What would she feel when she discovered the truth? That there may have been noble Seekers once, but nobility was not Briac’s style? That her skills were going to be used for a very different purpose?

Softly he asked her, “What do you think you’ll be doing tonight when you take your oath?”

“Briac said it would be a task that requires all of our skills.” He watched her eyes growing distant. “Whatever it is, I feel like every generation of my family for a thousand years is waiting for me to join them,” she said. “My whole life has led up to today.”

John too felt the generations stretching behind him, waiting for him to take his oath. He had promised—
Get it back and repay them for what they’ve done. Our house will rise
.

“And what about the athame?” he asked quietly, pronouncing the word “ATH-uh-may.”

Quin was surprised, as he had expected her to be, for John was not yet privy to all of the secret knowledge that had been given to Quin and Shinobu. He watched her studying him, wondering where he’d learned the word.

“If you know about that,” she said, “then you’re already halfway to knowing everything.”

“I know it’s what Briac’s talking about when he mentions ‘the most valuable artifact in the history of mankind.’ And I know it’s a stone dagger.”

“Even I have only seen it, John. A couple of times. I’ve never used it.”

“Until tonight,” he pointed out.

“Until tonight,” she agreed. She was smiling now, her excitement at the upcoming events returning.

In the distance, they heard loud, happy shouts. Quin ducked down and leaned through the opening between the trees, and John crouched next to her. From this angle, just barely, they had a glimpse across the commons. The shouts were coming from the cottages on the far side of the meadow. It was Shinobu with his father, both yelling about how well Shinobu had done in the fight. Alistair might be gruff and brutal on the practice floor, but with his son, in his free time, he was a teddy bear of a man.

It had always seemed to John that Shinobu was in love with Quin, but since they were cousins of some sort, there was never a question of Quin feeling anything romantic toward Shinobu. And eventually, once he’d had Quin to himself, he’d been able to treat Shinobu with more friendliness.

“They’re celebrating,” John whispered. “We should celebrate.”

“What did you have in mind?” she asked softly.

John slowly pulled her toward him and kissed her. This time she didn’t turn away.

They had always stopped themselves from doing anything more. Quin was waiting. She had her oath to take and at least a year more under her parents’ guidance before they would consider her an adult. But she and John had daydreamed about camping trips across the
river, or rooms in an inn somewhere, someday, when they would finally be able to give themselves to each other.

Now, however, something was different. Maybe it was her anticipation of the evening to come, or the glow of her triumph in the fight, but John felt something more in the way she was kissing him.
She loves me
, he thought,
and I love her. I want her to be with me, even when she knows everything
. The forest floor was covered with years of fallen leaves, and John pulled her down onto that soft ground. He whispered, “Let’s go to my cottage—”

“Shh,” she said, putting a hand to his lips. “Look.”

From where they lay, they could see a figure emerging from deeper in the woods, heading toward them. John pulled Quin up, hiding them from view behind the branches. They watched as the figure got close enough to identify. It was the Young Dread, with a string of dead rabbits slung over her shoulder.

From the look of her face, they had figured her age at about fourteen, though of course, with the Dreads, age was a tricky thing. The Young Dread had arrived on the estate a few months ago, along with the other Dread, the one they called the Big Dread—a burly, dangerous-looking man who appeared to be in his thirties.

Briac had been vague in describing the Dreads’ purpose for being there, but they were, apparently, to oversee the taking of oaths. Briac, who showed deference to almost no one, seemed strangely respectful toward the Big Dread. The apprentices had decided a Dread was a kind of judge of Seeker training, with a history at which they were forced to guess, since their instructors gave no more than hints.

If the Young Dread was indeed fourteen, she was short for her age. Her body was slender to the point of looking underfed, but her muscles told a different story. They were like delicate ropes of steel holding together her small frame. She had hair of an unremarkable dishwater brown, but it was thick and hung almost to her waist. It
looked as though it had never been cut and had rarely been brushed, as though she’d received all her grooming advice from the Big Dread, who obviously knew nothing about raising girls.

She walked toward them with the strange gait shared by both Dreads. Her movements seemed slow, almost stately, like a ballet dancer during a particularly sad or serious part of the performance. And then, without warning, she would move at an entirely different speed. As they watched, there was a bird call from the meadow, and the Young Dread’s head whipped around, almost too fast for their eyes to follow the motion. When she had identified the source of the noise, she continued on her way, as steady and fluid as a marble sculpture brought to life.

“Watch this,” Quin whispered, so softly that John could barely hear her, though his head was still only inches from hers. Silently, she pulled her knife from her waistband. She waited until the Dread had walked into a patch of sunlight that would make her momentarily blind to motion in the shadows. Then Quin drew back her arm and threw the knife at the Young Dread as hard as she could.

The blade arced through the shadows expertly, aimed just ahead of where the Dread was walking, so she would carry herself straight into its path and it would impale the side of her head.

Yet that was not what happened.

The Young Dread continued her steady approach until the weapon was almost upon her. Then her whole body exploded into action. Her right arm whipped forward and caught the knife out of the air. She spun around so quickly, she almost appeared to blur against the forest backdrop, and she released the blade back toward them much like a thundercloud releases a bolt of lightning. It was propelled at such high speed that they could hear it whistling through the air, and both John and Quin ducked.

It made a perfect arc from the Dread, around the edge of the
cluster of trees, and buried itself to the hilt just inches from where Quin’s hand still rested against the tree trunk. The vibration of its impact traveled all the way down the tree, and John could feel it in his feet.

“Nice shot,” Quin called, waving at the girl. “Maybe you’ll teach me how to do that sometime.”

The Dread’s eyes traveled slowly over their hiding spot, almost as if she were examining them minutely, even from that distance. Something about her gaze made them uncomfortable, and instinctively Quin and John moved a step away from each other, as though their intimacy could not survive her fierce stare. The Young Dread looked as if she might say something, but she never got the chance.

There was a new noise above the forest. The Dread and Quin and John looked up to see an aircar, throwing off a low vibration, circling to land in the commons. An aircar was such a rare sight on the estate that even the Dread stared at the vehicle for several seconds before turning away and resuming her steady walk.

John and Quin hurried to the edge of the meadow in time to see a man get out of the car and head toward Briac’s cottage on the far side of the commons. When John caught sight of the man, he began to run, sticking to the trees but moving quickly, trying to get a better view.

Quin caught up with him. “What is it?”

The visitor turned for a moment, looking around the estate. John stopped running. Was he imagining things? The man’s face looked familiar. But sometimes, when he was on the estate for months at a time, far from London and crowds, he found that every new face looked familiar.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Do you think you can find out who he is?”

“I’m sure Briac will tell us if it’s important.”

“I’m not,” John said quietly. He glanced at Quin and said mischievously, “But if eavesdropping makes you nervous …”

“Nervous?” She pushed him indignantly, and he was pleased to notice her now studying the visitor with more interest. John wanted as few surprises as possible when it came to Briac. “Hmm,” she said. “I’ll come find you if I learn anything.” She kissed John lightly on the lips. “I know Briac will do right by you tonight. He’ll say something harsh, but he’s not going to stop your training. Of course not.”

With that, she ran ahead of him, toward the cottages. John could already feel himself bracing for the coming confrontation with Briac. He watched Quin go, her dark hair swinging, her body graceful—but not the slow grace of the Young Dread. Quin was full of life.

Quin glanced back at John as she ran from the woods and through the high grass of the commons. He was still standing where she’d left him at the edge of the meadow, in the shadow of a large elm tree. His eyes were following her, but his gaze had retreated within himself, as though he were thinking about something entirely other than her as he watched her go.

John’s eyes were deep. That was how Quin had always thought of them. When he was with her, they would flash with humor and love, but at other times they were desolate and hungry, as though searching for something far away and out of reach.

It was his eyes that had first drawn her to him. Though John had only been twelve when he’d come to the estate, Briac had made him stay in a separate cottage out in the woods, all alone. Quin and Shinobu would visit him there often, intrigued by having another child on the estate, especially one so worldly, who lived in London and had been to many other places besides.

John had seemed wary of their company at first, and his look warned them away. He’d spoken very little of anything personal, but
eventually, Quin had decided the storms in his blue eyes were not anger or fear of betrayal, as she’d at first thought, but simple loneliness. They’d begun to spend more time with each other, and she’d seen his look slowly change to something almost like happiness.

Now, moving across the commons, she could still feel the press of his lips on hers, his arms at the small of her back. She stole a final look as she neared her cottage, but he was gone.

A few minutes later she’d climbed through a window in the back wall of her parents’ house. Crouching inside the pantry, which shared a wall with the cottage sitting room, she could hear the visitor from the aircar deep in conversation with Briac.