*Should I notify any of the others of this discovery?*
Quickly Gareth decided. He didn’t wish Belcher knowing any more than necessary, and the more that knew what Gareth was doing, the more chance Belcher would channel into a mind and steal the information. “No. Let me find what I can and then you can spread the word of this. I must leave you now.”
The connection between minds broke and Gareth looked to Tad in wonderment. “How did you know to do that?”
“I was just helping.”
“But, how did you know we could combine our powers?”
Tad appeared confused and acted as if he may have done something wrong. He said defensively, “It was what you needed. Belcher does it all the time.”
The response stilled Gareth. “How do you know that?”
“I hear two voices when he’s trying to break into your mind. One is his, the other is a boy who is traveling with him. Like a piggy-back ride.”
Gareth didn’t answer as he considered what else Tad might know, or know how to do. They needed time to spend together, exploring and learning. Tad’s abilities might even exceed Gareth’s—or perhaps the boy was simply free to use them in more ways, unlike Gareth’s youth. That was the most obvious answer, but the raw power Tad had demonstrated couldn’t be denied.
“Help me send a message to your mother that all is well.”
Tad nodded eagerly and joined minds again. This time, Gareth allowed the boy to take the lead and he tried to support Tad’s attempts in the same way. It took a few tries, but finally, Tad found her and assured her they were well. He asked her to tell the whole family they were well, then his mother shared the news of them reaching the farm in Vespa and the trials of settling in.
Belcher’s mind came to them with the sting of a sneer and dripping self-satisfaction. *Have you managed to cross the mountains to my homeland yet?*
The mental touch was unexpected. Gareth closed down the mental link to Tad’s mother, but not before the laughter erupted. It went on and on, diminishing as Gareth pulled the umbrella of protection over the three of them, shutting out all mental communication from the outside.
Ann said, “That was him again, wasn’t it?”
“You heard?”
“I heard evil and laughter that was taunting and vicious instead of humorous.”
“It was him.” Gareth said, “Did just the three of us hear it?”
She shook her head.
“Everyone?”
“Even those without powers heard him, Gareth, even if they don’t know what it was, they had a horrible feeling inside. A chill just went up the backs of every person you’ve ever met, seen, or dreamed of.” The tone of Ann’s voice was so flat she might have been drugged with the medicine she’d given to Ramos. Her eyes watched his, probably searching for information.
“Ann, there are only ten people here.” Her puzzled expressions told him all he needed to know before continuing, “Ten people besides us on this side of the mountains, yet at least eight boys with my abilities traveled to our home and killed my father. How can that be?”
“Maybe you cannot sense the people here.”
That made some sort of sense and sounded far more reasonable than any ideas he’d had. If the people were different, he could only sense those who had crossed the mountains before him, and ten was a reasonable number in that case. He drew in a relieved breath. The information should have been shared with her earlier and saved him the worry.
But it also brought forth other questions. Why couldn’t he hear them? If Belcher and his band of youths could communicate with others, why couldn’t he? The answer might be as simple as asking Tad. Perhaps Tad could hear them.
Too quickly, he turned and said too sharply, “Tad, can you hear others in your mind?”
“Yes.”
Gareth let the breath out. But the next thought still him. Tad answered only what was asked, as all young children. “How many other voices do you hear?”
“Not many.” He held up all ten of his fingers, “Maybe this many.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Tad had held up ten fingers, one for each mental voice he heard. Gareth was back the beginning. Only ten people in total, unless Ann’s guess about not being able to communicate with them was correct. Neither of the two choices struck him as desirable.
Ann still faced him, her posture telling him she waited for a response. He said, “We have to go see for ourselves.”
“We may not like it.”
“Meaning?” Gareth demanded.
She shrugged, “Meaning that right now there only appears to be two answers, and you’re not going to like either of them. If there is a third, it may be worse.”
“What do we do?”
“Prepare for the worst and hope for the best.” Ann shrugged and stood as if the issue was not a priority for her. She shook out her hair and began unrolling blankets and spreading supplies on them. A remarkably large pile of firewood had been gathered while he had been thinking and speaking. A few droplets of rain fell, and the heavy clouds promised more. A hot fire would be needed to warm and dry them. Of course, as the temperature fell the rain might turn to snow.
Maybe she didn’t understand the problem. Or, more likely, she did understand and was more pragmatic in her thinking process. She knew the issues, and possible options, including accepting that there may be an option neither of them had yet considered.
Instead of helping, Gareth allowed his mind to open slightly and found a tendril of inquiry waiting for him. At the slightest touch, the identity made itself known. It was Belcher—waiting. Gareth searched for the other voice, the piggy-backed one, as Tad described it. He couldn’t identify it.
*Gareth, we should talk.*
His first impulse was to shut down the communication. Instead, he said in his most reasonable and nonjudgmental tone, “What subject would that be?”
*The future. OUR future.*
Belcher had changed his usual tone to one oily and slick, his thoughts overly sweet and indicating unstated promises and close friendships. It was a new tactic. Again, Gareth compared it to a child offering another child false friendship if they could share a sweet. He almost expected Belcher to offer a life-long friendship. But all the same, Belcher was talking, and maybe Gareth could learn something useful. He held up his index finger and let it remain in the air, telling Tad and Ann he needed quiet while he talked.
“What do you think the future might be?” Gareth kept his tone civil.
*You and me. We rule like kings. Equals.*
“What do you mean, we ‘rule’? Explain that to me, please.”
There was a pause as if Belcher was trying to think of an answer Gareth might like in advance of speaking. *Equals. Like partners.*
“I get that part. What about ‘ruling’?”
*We live in a big castle and when we want something people will bring it to us.*
The response revealed far more information than Gareth expected. Belcher did not understand what ruling meant in the sense of a leader. There were times when the King had the most difficult job in the kingdom and worked the hardest for his people. Belcher’s answer revealed that he understood none of that. It also revealed he knew nothing of caring for those he ruled. It was all about Belcher and his comfort, and if he thought he could convince Gareth that they would share equally in their rule, he was mistaken. At the first disagreement, or before, Belcher would try to kill him. It was as simple as that.