Jarka Ruus - Терри Брукс

Ahren Elessedil shook his head in dismay. «I regret agreeing to let you listen to this conversation in the first place, Khyber. This isn't something you should be involved in.»

«It isn't something any of us should be involved in," she replied. «But we all are, aren't we? Let me come.»

He took a long time making up his mind, and Pen was certain that he was going to say no. Pen's parents would have said no to him, had they been in a position to do so. Parents didn't want their children taking the sort of risks involved here. Parents wanted their children safe at home. He didn't think it was any different with uncles and nieces.

«All right," Ahren said finally, surprising them all. «You can come with us—mostly because I can't think of what else to do with you. Sending you home will just get you in worse trouble, and whatever trouble comes of this ought to be mine. But you must agree to do as I say, Khyber. Whatever I tell you to do on this journey, you do it. No arguments, no excuses. I know you; I know how you think. Give me your word.»

She nodded eagerly. «You have it.»

Ahren sighed, tightened his fingers about the Elfstones, rose from the table, and stretched out his arm. His eyes closed in concentration, but his face remained calm.

«Stand back from me," he said softly. «Watch carefully what the magic shows. Remember it well.»

Not certain what to expect, they backed away from him, eyes riveted on his outstretched hand. Slowly his fingers opened to the light. His concentration deepened. The seconds crawled past.

Then abruptly, light exploded from the crystals in a deep cerulean starburst, brightened until the sun itself disappeared behind the enveloping blue, then shot away into the distance in a blinding flare. It arced away through the trees and beyond, through mountains and hills and the curve of the earth itself. Some of what they saw was recognizable—the Dragon's Teeth and the Charnals, the Mermidon and the Chard Rush, even the sweep of the Streleheim and the dismal emptiness of the Malg. Forests came and went, one a shelter for gardens that eclipsed in beauty and complexity anything they had ever seen, a profusion of flowers and silvery waterfalls painted against a shimmering backdrop of green.

When the light finally came to rest, somewhere so far away that the distance could barely be calculated, it was illuminating a strange tree. The tree was huge, larger than the black oaks of Callahorn, broad–limbed and wide–leafed. Its bark was smooth, a mottled black and gray. Its leaves were deepest green with an orange border. The tree was bathed in dappled sunlight and surrounded by a dense forest of more familiar trees—oaks, elms, hickories, maples, and the like. Beyond the trees, nothing was visible. The tree seemed incredibly old, even in the wash of the Elfstones' light, and Pen felt certain as he looked upon it that it was as old as Faerie. He could feel its intelligence, even in what was no more than a vision. He could sense its life force, slow and rhythmic as a quiet heartbeat.

The blue light held steady for a moment, then flared once and was gone, leaving the watchers staring at nothing, half–blind and stunned by the suddenness and intensity of the experience. They blinked at each other in the ensuing silence, the image of the tree and it surroundings still vivid in their minds.

Ahren Elessedil closed his fingers about the Elfstones. «Now we know," he said.

«Or think we do," Tagwen grumbled.

Pen swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat. He was dizzy at what seeing the tree had made him feel, deep inside where instincts governed thought. «No, Tagwen, that was it," he said softly. «I could feel it. That was the tanequil.»

Ahren Elessedil nodded. «We are settled on what we must do.» He dumped the Elfstones back into their pouch and tucked the pouch into his tunic. «Time slips away, and it doesn't favor us by doing so. Let's move quickly.»

FOURTEEN

Midday at Paranor was dark and forbidding, the skies gone black with storm clouds and the air gone as still as death. There had been no sunlight all day, only a hazy glow at sunrise before the enveloping clouds screened even that away. Birds had long since gone to roost in sheltering havens, and the winds had died away to nothing. The world was hushed and waiting in expectation of thunder and lightning and fury.

Shadea a'Ru glanced through the open window of her chambers, her face a mirror of the weather. She should have felt triumph and satisfaction, a reward for her successes. She had dispatched Grianne Ohmsford into the Forbidding and taken her place. The Druid Council, albeit with some reluctance and after considerable debate, had named her Ard Rhys. Her cohorts controlled all the major positions on the council, and Sen Dunsidan, as Prime Minister of the Federation, had officially recognized her as head of the order. The Rock Trolls under Kermadec had been dismissed and sent home in disgrace, blamed for the disappearance of the Ard Rhys and, in more than a few corners, suspected as the cause for it, as well. Everything had worked out perfectly, exactly as she had hoped, and exactly as she had planned.

Except for that boy.

She ran her fingers distractedly through her chopped–off blond hair, letting the short ends slip through her fingers like the loose threads of her perfect plan. It was all because of Terek Molt, who was the most reliable of her coconspirators and the one Druid she thought she could depend upon. To let that boy—that slip of a boy—make a fool of him like that was unforgivable. It was bad enough that none of them had thought to lock up Tagwen, who they should have known would not sit idly by and do nothing after his beloved Ard Rhys disappeared, but to lose the boy, as well, was too much. She should have taken care of the matter herself, but it was impossible for her to do everything.

She stalked to the door and stood staring at it a moment, thinking to go out again to calm herself. She had walked the corridors earlier, an intimidating presence to the Druids she now commanded. They would obey her because she was Ard Rhys, but also because they were afraid of her. No one would challenge her openly while she had the backing of Molt and the others and the Ard Rhys was gone, though some would plot behind her back, just as they had plotted against Grianne Ohmsford. She could do nothing about them until they tried to act, but she could let them know she was watching and waiting to catch them out.

She walked back to the window and looked out again. The first sharp gusts of wind were rippling the tree limbs, signaling the approach of the rainstorm. She had half a mind to put all of them out into it, every last Druid—to make them hike to the Kennon Pass and back again as an exercise in deprivation and humility. Some of them might not come back, and it wouldn't make her unhappy if they didn't.

Her thoughts returned to Tagwen and the boy. They might have escaped her for the moment, she thought, but sooner or later she would find them again. The parents, as well. She had Druids and airships looking for all of them and had put out the word to all corners of the Four Lands. She had kept it simple. The ones she sought were members of Grianne Ohmsford's family and they were in danger. Help could be given them at Paranor, where their Druid protectors would keep them safe. Anyone seeing them was to send word. As incentive, she had offered a substantial reward. Most would ignore the offer, but the greedy among them would look around. Someone would see the boy and his Dwarf companion and report them. And when they were found, she would deal with them herself.

She was contemplating the satisfaction that enterprise would give her, when a sharp knock sounded, and without bothering to wait for her to respond, Terek Molt barged in.

«What do you think you are doing?» she snapped at him. «Rooms have doors for a reason, Molt!»

«We've found them," he rumbled in his deep, subterranean voice, ignoring her. «West, across the Mermidon.»

She started. «Tagwen and the boy?»

«Only moments ago, someone used Elfstone magic. It was visible on the scrye waters in the cold chamber. Iridia was there to see it. There is no mistaking what it is.»

The cold chamber was where the Druids read the lines of power that crisscrossed the Four Lands. The scrye waters were the table of liquid on which all uses of magic revealed themselves as ripples that indicated the extent of the power expended. Grianne Ohmsford herself had implemented it at Paranor more than a dozen years ago, a tool she had employed as the Ilse Witch.

«Elfstones?» she asked. She did not yet understand the connection.

«Of course, Shadea," he said, smiling with such satisfaction that she wanted to tear his face off. «They've escaped us and gone for help from the one Druid who might actually give it.»

«The Elven Prince!» she hissed. «But he doesn't have the use of the Elfstones. His brother keeps them.»

«Not so well protected that he couldn't get to them if he chose. He would do so to save the Ard Rhys. No, it has to be him. The readings come from that part of the Westland where he keeps his home. Tagwen would know to go there and take the boy with him.»

«I am surprised they chanced using the Stones. Ahren Elessedil must know we will be watching for any use of magic.»

«But how else can he find the Ard Rhys?» Molt pointed out. «He has no choice but to use the Stones.»

She nodded slowly, thinking it through. «True enough. He can't know what we've done to her, even if he suspects we're responsible, unless he uses the Stones.» She hesitated. «Wait. Did you say that Iridia was the one who discovered this use?»

Terek Molt's laugh was low and rough. «I thought of that, too. I asked her if she was certain. She insisted there was no mistake. It was Elfstone magic. I told her she had better be sure, since you would question it. She is waiting to speak with you in the cold chamber.» He paused, a faint smile twisting his mouth at the corners. «She wants to be the one to go after him.»

«I would expect nothing less. Such a fool.»

She walked to the window and stared out at the darkening skies. She could not leave the matter to Iridia, but then Terek Molt had not proved particularly adept at settling things, either. She should do this herself, yet she did not think it wise to leave Paranor just yet. She was too newly settled in as Ard Rhys. Someone else must make certain that Tagwen and the boy, and now Ahren Elessedil, as well, did not succeed in their efforts.

«Perhaps we should let this matter lie," Terek Molt said quietly. «After all, even if they know what we have done with the Ard Rhys, there is nothing they can do to help her.»

«Is that so?» she asked without bothering to look at him. «Are you so certain?» «Certain enough.» «You assume too much. Besides, they can cause us a great deal of trouble, even if they cannot reach her. I don't want to chance it. Better that we remove them from the picture.»

«That could cause us more trouble still. Others will know what we have done. Killing a boy and an old man is one thing. Killing a Druid is something else again. That's what you intend, isn't it?» «I intend to do whatever is necessary to make certain our efforts do not fail. I expect you to do likewise.» She turned back to him. «Ready the Galaphile, but do not tell Iridia. I don't trust her in this matter, not where Ahren Elessedil is concerned. She may think she can blind herself to her feelings, but I don't care to chance it. Better that she remain here. I will tell her after you are gone. Given the look of the weather, you won't leave today. If the storm passes by nightfall, leave then.»