Bearers of the Black Staff: Legends of Shannara (18 page)

When he had finished explaining what it was that he meant, everyone was smiling.

F
OUR HOURS LATER
,
PHRYNE AMARANTYNE SAT SILENTLY
across the table from the Orullian twins and the boy and girl from Glensk Wood, studying their faces. She let them wait on her, not wanting to respond too quickly. Their story was outlandish and dangerous, and she hadn’t yet decided how much of it she believed. If it had been the Orullians telling it, she would have dismissed it out of hand. Cousins or not, they were well known for tall tales and clever pranks, and this wouldn’t be the first time they had tricked her into believing something that wasn’t true.

But the story had come from Panterra Qu, a boy she had met only once before and didn’t know much about. That he was friendly with the Orullians didn’t invest him with much credibility. But his demeanor and his presence suggested that tall tales and clever pranks were not something he engaged in. So she had listened until his story was finished. She liked the girl, too. Prue Liss. A tiny thing, but obviously self-possessed and able. She did not seem the sort to engage in foolishness, either.

It was late in the evening by now, the sun two hours gone, the moon up, and the sky ablaze with stars. Neither clouds nor mist obscured the view this night, something exceedingly rare. Phryne was enjoying it, even knowing that she might be wasting her time at this meeting. But it was her time to waste, and she had discovered years ago that an Elven Princess could do pretty much what she wanted. Her parents had told her otherwise, but she quickly came to understand the reality of her situation. If she was discreet and caused no harm, she didn’t need to answer to anyone.

She sighed as she gazed off into the trees, still keeping them waiting. It wasn’t that simple, of course. Never had been. And certainly wasn’t now, with her father married to the stepmother from the black pits of the dead. Sometimes she could barely make herself believe that things had come to this. She had loved and revered her mother. She still loved and revered her father, even after his remarriage. Her stepmother was a different story.

“This is all true, is it?” she asked Panterra Qu suddenly, shifting her eyes to his, pinning him against the darkness. “All of it?”

He didn’t flinch. “It is.”

“I would not like it very much if this turned out to be another Orullian trick performed at my expense.”

He looked confused. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“It is all true, cousin,” Tasha Orullian assured her, reaching out to pour a little more ale into her tankard. “This is no joke.”

She thought about it a moment more. The possibility of the protective wall giving way, of the valley suddenly vulnerable to whatever lived without, whatever had survived the horrors of the Great Wars, was overwhelming. She imagined for a moment what might be out there, and her thoughts were not pleasant.

She was a practical girl—well,
girl
was not really the right term anymore—a practical young
woman.
She had become more so since her mother’s death and her father’s remarriage. She had grown up quickly in that new environment, learned how to adapt to unfavorable situations and difficult people. She had grown to accept unpleasantness as a part of life rather than to struggle futilely against truths that could not be changed. Admittedly, this new truth was of a different
sort than anything she had encountered before, and she was still not quite sure she believed it. But the possibility of its existence was not something that could be dismissed out of hand.

“So your plan is to go up into the passes and find out if the barrier is still in place or if it is crumbling?”

“Yes,” Panterra responded, and she liked it that he didn’t equivocate.

“Just the four of us,” Tenerife added. “A quick survey and a solid determination of what’s happened. Once we know, we report back to the King and the High Council.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s stopping you?”

“We can’t go without the King’s permission.”

“Then ask it of him!”

There was a collective hesitation. “We hoped maybe you could do that for us,” Tenerife said finally.

She stared at him. “Why me instead of you, cousin?”

“Because we think whoever tells him needs to ask him to keep it to himself for a while and not confuse the matter by allowing other individuals to become involved,” Tasha blurted out. “Cousin.”

She hesitated only a moment. “You mean my stepmother and her lover. You’re worried about them.”

Panterra and Prue exchanged a quick glance. “‘Her lover’?” the boy repeated carefully.

“Phryne, that sort of talk can get you in a lot of trouble,” Tenerife said quietly. “Those are rumors, nothing more.”

She made a dismissive gesture. “Maybe that’s what you think, but I know the truth. I have to live with it every day. And I don’t have to pretend it doesn’t exist. My father may choose to do so, but that is his affair.”

She turned to Panterra and Prue. “I better explain, since this obviously comes as a surprise. My beloved stepmother has taken a lover. First Minister Teonette, a man in a position of power second only to my father. The choice was calculated. Their affair is a carefully guarded secret from most, but not from me. My father knows, I think, but he pretends not to. At least, that is how I intuit things, since we have never discussed the matter openly. But I see it in his eyes. He is hurt and
ashamed, but he chooses not to make it public. Maybe he thinks she will come back to him someday and be the good wife he thought she was.”

She shrugged. “I’m not holding my breath. But back to the business at hand. You believe that I might better be able to persuade my father to keep your plans a secret from others, is that it?”

Tasha nodded. “In a word or two.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know that he will, Tasha. I can’t depend on him that way anymore.”

“But you could at least ask him. If we ask, he will not only stop us from going but likely refuse even to see us again for a very long time.”

“Probably true.” She thought about it. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what it is that you’re afraid of, though. What is it that you think my stepmother and the first minister might do? Why would they even care?”

“I’ve been wondering that, too,” Panterra cut in.

Tasha took a long pull on his tankard of ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s the nature of the beast,” he said. “The lady and the man in question are ambitious and looking for opportunities to advance their own interests. This bit of news, if true, will change the lives of everyone living in the valley. All people, all Races. I don’t want to give anyone a chance to exploit that before the King and the High Council are prepared to deal with it. That’s all.”

Phryne made a face. “I find it hard to argue with your logic. Very well, cousin, I will do it—but on one condition. I’m going with you.”

She had made up her mind instantly, not bothering to think it through, just knowing that this was something she wanted to be a part of. If they wanted her to be their foil, they were going to have to make her a full member in their conspiracy.

“You most certainly are not,” Tenerife declared at once.

“How quickly do you think the King will turn us down if he finds out you’re involved?” Tasha added.

She gave them a look. “Leave that up to me. You trust me enough to speak to my father on your behalf. You’ll have to trust me enough to persuade him to let me come with you.”

They stared at one another in heated silence for a moment, their faces saying everything.

“I think it’s a very good idea,” Prue said finally, breaking the silence. “If I can go, Phryne ought to be able to go, too.”

There were all sorts of arguments against such thinking, but no one was about to make them. Tasha threw up his hands, and his brother slumped back in his chair, frowning. Panterra, entirely on impulse, smiled encouragingly at Phryne Amarantyne, and she smiled back.

She found she was liking the boy and the girl from Glensk Wood better all the time.

P
HRYNE WAITED UNTIL THE FOLLOWING MORNING
to approach her father, not wanting to disturb him when he might be sleeping. She had always been close to him and mindful of his needs, no more so than in the weeks right after her mother’s death. But in the months after that, when both father and daughter began to find a new path through life, they had drifted apart. It was not done consciously or even with any real understanding at first that it was happening. At least, not on Phryne’s part. She was never really sure about her father. But gradually he began to spend less time with her. There were obvious reasons for this. He was King, and as such he was busy with the affairs of the Elven people. After the death of her mother, he had immersed himself in work as a way to avoid dwelling on his loss. She had done the same, after all. She knew, as well, how difficult her father found it to be around her. She was a constant reminder to him of what he had lost, of how like her mother she looked—small-boned, fine-featured, her auburn hair a perfect match, her favorite expressions ones she had learned from her mother. It was likely that her father found her presence too painful to endure for more than short periods of time. It should have been the opposite, she had told herself when she realized what was happening. But then things didn’t always work out the way you wanted them to.

As she’d discovered when, out of nowhere, Isoeld Severine appeared. Young and beautiful, she was a baker’s daughter from Kelton Mews, a tiny village off to the far west, with a population that would
barely make up half a dozen large families. How her father had met her was open to question; he told one story after another, charmed by the idea that it was their secret and no one else’s. Isoeld had manners and poise as well as beauty, and she won over her doubters much more quickly than any objective measure would have found reasonable. After all, this was the King who was so besotted, and there were many reasons to wonder at how this had happened. Phryne had never been fooled; from the beginning, she had questioned what was happening. The age difference was troubling. The mysterious circumstances of their meeting were troubling. The way that Isoeld went so quickly from friend to lover to wife went so far beyond troubling that it brought Phryne and her father to their one and only shouting match.

But her father had made up his mind, and his daughter was not about to change it. He made it plain to her that this was his life and therefore his choice. If marrying Isoeld made him happy and if Isoeld proved a proper Queen for the Elven people, then no one had any right to object.

For a while, Phryne had left the matter alone, half willing to reconsider her dislike of this interloper, this marital bed thief who sought to take her mother’s place. She knew she was jealous and protective and entirely unreasonable in her insistence that Isoeld was the wrong choice. She also knew that no one could ever be the right choice because in her heart no one could ever replace her mother.

Then, through a series of small recognitions and deductions, she had decided that Isoeld had taken a lover. First Minister Teonette was handsome and available; he was also ambitious and politically driven. They were right for each other—more so than she and the King—and the looks they directed at each other said as much. Such looks were few and cautiously exchanged in moments when they thought no one was looking, but Phryne was always looking because she had never stopped being suspicious.

She had thought to tell her father on more occasions than she cared to think about, but each time she pulled back. It was not her place. It would sound wrong coming from her, and her father would in all likelihood not believe her. After all, she had no real proof. She had never caught them in a compromising situation; she didn’t know of anyone who had. Anyway, perhaps her father already knew, she de
cided. Perhaps he had chosen to let it be and expected others to do the same if they loved him.

Now too much time had passed for any real chance of ruining Isoeld. Phryne had waited too long. The relationships of all parties concerned were too settled for any of them to tolerate disruption. Her father loved Isoeld, and Isoeld loved being Queen. She had a good idea what the first minister loved as well, but she didn’t care to ponder that.

Well, that last was a lie. Of course, she pondered it. She thought about it all the time. She just didn’t know what to do.

Thinking back on all this, she walked out into the gardens and sat on a stone bench, staring down into the still waters of the lily pond that provided a focal point for the surrounding beds. Trees cast dappled shadows across the green sweep of the grounds, reaching beyond the gardens to the lawns and hedgerows, giving all of it an oddly secretive look on a day that was sunny and warm in spite of winter’s lingering hold. She watched birds flit from branch to branch, everything from wrens and sparrows to tiny hummingbirds. She could hear their songs mix with the buzzing of dragonflies and bees and the rustle of leaves. In the solitude of the moment, she found she could forget everything.