Tanequil (8 page)

She slipped down the empty corridor outside her room, hugging the shadows as she moved to the stairwell that led upward into the central tower and the parapets that ringed it. She wore her nightgown and nothing more, disdainful of clothing, of armor and weapons, of trappings that hampered and slowed. She feared nothing in this world, so why should she care how she appeared or what she revealed? Convention and conformity were for others. She would be what she liked.

For now, Gerand Cera was hers. She knew he thought otherwise. He had taken her body and would think he had taken her mind in the bargain. He had allied himself with her so that he could gain a toehold on the steps of the office she warded. He was probably already planning how he would dispose of her. But she had known all that going in, had understood that he would accept her proposition only to get what he coveted most—the position she held. He would stay close to her so that he could more easily eliminate her.

But that was a blade that cut both ways. Keeping him close allowed her the same opportunities. His plans for her were no different than hers for him. Yet the bargain favored her. She was the one who would be seen to have united the Druids, to have pulled the two central factions together, so that there would no longer be bickering and dissatisfaction. She was the one who would be seen to have allowed common sense to prevail over pride. She was the one who would be seen as the real leader of the order, and Gerand Cera, though he might claim otherwise, would be only the consort of the Ard Rhys.

A consort, she had already decided, whose usefulness at Paranor would quickly run its course.

She climbed to the tower and walked out onto the parapet. A wind blew chilly and brisk out of the west, but anxious to feel something cold against her skin, she let it wash over her without shivering. She closed her eyes and breathed in the night, listening to its faint sounds, to its soft voice. She was at peace there, alone on the top of the Druid's Keep, her fortress, her world. She had won it, and she would keep it. Those who could help her might do so, but they had better know their place.

In the morning, Gerand Cera would address the Council. Ostensibly, he was to speak to the state of the Four Lands and the role of the Druids in monitoring its vicissitudes. But the true purpose of his speaking was to make clear that he was now allied with her, had become her consort, her shadow self. He would do so thinking to impress upon the listening Druids that he had gained control of her. None would believe it. It didn't matter what he said or did. None would believe.

If they did, they had better not let her find out.

 
S
EVEN
 

It was late in the day when
Swift Sure
sailed out of the shadows enfolding the Dragon's Teeth toward the brightly lit towers of Paranor, sharp-edged and spiraling against a horizon colored crimson and gold by the setting sun. Bek worked the rigging and sails in preparation for their arrival, while Rue stood in the pilot box, easing the big ship into position. It was a still, windless day, and sailing her required little in the way of skill, her steady progress reliant mostly on the power fed out of the diapson crystals. The journey had taken barely forty-eight hours, the weather clear and uncomplicated, the voyage made by flying day and night, the senior Ohmsfords taking turns at catching a few quick hours of sleep when needed. It was a schedule they were used to, having followed it on numerous occasions when there were weather reasons to do so. They might have anchored and slept in this instance, but both were anxious to get to their destination and find out the truth about Pen.

Of one thing they were quite certain. Traunt Rowan was holding something back, and whatever it was, it had everything to do with why they had been summoned.

Bek glanced over to where the Druid sat on a viewing bench with his back against the foremast and his safety line cinched tightly about his waist. He was not comfortable in the air, so he had spent much of his time in that position. He was friendly, though. He was more than willing to talk whenever they approached, always amenable to a discussion of the facts surrounding the disappearances of Grianne and Pen, seemingly anxious to help them find their family. Yet as Bek had observed at the start of this journey, it was what Traunt Rowan didn't say as much as what he did that kept giving him away. There was no mention still of why the Druids had decided to go in search of Tagwen after his departure from Paranor or why that pursuit had led them to Pen. There was no mention of what had become of the Troll guard that had served his sister so faithfully from the beginning of her term as Ard Rhys. Most important of all, he offered no suggestion as to what might have happened to Grianne.

Bek was aware that he might be overreacting to omissions that were nothing more than oversights on the part of a distraught messenger, omissions easily explained once broached. But Bek had always trusted his instincts on such things, and his instincts in this case warned him that something was not right. Because Rue felt the same way, he was inclined to keep his concerns to himself and to watch his back until he had a better understanding of what had happened.

As
Swift Sure
settled down inside the broad west court, where the Druid airships were anchored when not flying, it occurred to him that he had been to Paranor only twice before in his life. It was a shock to realize that he had not come more often than that, given that Grianne had been Ard Rhys for almost twenty years. But he understood the reason for it. Both times he had visited, he had been anxious to leave. The walls of the Keep closed in on him, shut him away and gave him a trapped and helpless feeling. The stone passageways reminded him of the underground lair of the Antrax. The dark forms of the Druids reminded him of the Morgawr and his Mwellrets. His time in Parkasia still haunted him, its memories unpleasantly vivid and troubling.

His sister had been anxious to explain what it was she was trying to achieve with the order, how she envisioned it serving the Four Lands. It was Walker Boh's dream she was seeking to fulfill, and she had dedicated her life to making it come true. But it was her vision she was following, not Bek's, and he had trouble finding reasons to believe in it as she did. He did not share Walker's belief in the importance of the Druids to the Races; he did not accept that a Druid Council would function any more effectively or wisely than the governments already established. He trusted his sister and believed her to be capable and committed. But she was still only one person, and however powerful she might think herself, she was diminished measurably by how she had lived her life as the Ilse Witch. Her exposure to the truth of who and what she was through contact with the Sword of Shannara had caused her psyche to suffer great damage. She might have woken from the coma into which she had fallen as a result of having faced up to that truth, but he wasn't sure she had come back from it whole.

Her responsibilities were so overwhelming and the response of those she sought to help so disdainful that he found himself wondering whether she might revert to the dark creature she had been before he found her. He hated himself for thinking that way, but he understood the pressure she was under and the weight of the task she had given herself. It was one thing to reestablish the Druid order; it was another to lead it. He wanted to tell her to let go, to come away with him. Even while she was explaining what it was she was trying to do, he wanted to urge her to stop. But, in the end, he said nothing. It was her life, not his. It was her decision.

Standing on the foredeck of
Swift Sure
as Rue set the big airship down on Druid soil, he found himself wondering if he would ever see Grianne again. His concerns had all been for Pen, but it was Grianne who had disappeared first and been gone longest. Because she had a history of such disappearances and because she had always returned from them, he had given little thought to what the most recent one might mean. But it was possible, even for an Ard Rhys, to venture too far into unfriendly territory and not be able to find a way out again. It was possible, even for Grianne, not to return.

He turned his attention to dropping the anchor lines then, as the airship touched the ground, climbing down the rope ladder to secure them. The air within the Druid walls felt hot and still. He smelled the dust and the dryness; he could breathe them in. Already, he was wishing he were somewhere else. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he waited for Rue and Traunt Rowan to descend. It was pointless to dwell on his discomfort. He was here, and here he would remain until he found what he had come looking for.

With Rue beside him, he followed the Druid toward a pair of massive double-entry doors at one end of the court. But before they reached them, the doors opened and a small group of black-cloaked figures emerged into the fading light. As they moved into the courtyard, their long shadows played against the earth like wraiths, faceless and bodiless within their coverings. A chill went up Bek's spine, a warning to be careful. He had formidable magic at his command, but his skills and experience were not the equal of these.

As the contingent approached them, Traunt Rowan turned back to Bek and Rue. “Your arrival is much anticipated,” he said with a deferential nod.

There were three of them, two leading the third, one of the two a broad-shouldered woman of some size and obvious strength. She pulled back her hood as she reached him, and he knew instinctively from the strong features and military bearing that she was the leader. “Bek Ohmsford,” she said, extending her hand. “I am Shadea a'Ru, Ard Rhys in your sister's absence.”

She shook his hand quickly, took Rue's in turn, then nodded to her companions. “My First of Order, Gerand Cera, and my assistant, Pyson Wence.”

Bek nodded to them in turn, the first tall, thin, and sharp-featured, the second physically unintimidating, but with eyes that reminded him of a hunting bird's. Deferring to the woman, neither spoke on being introduced.

“What have you learned of our son?” Rue asked at once. “Have you found him?”

“We haven't.” Shadea met her gaze without flinching, something a lot of men couldn't do. “We continue to search, of course, for both your son and the Ard Rhys, but we have run out of places to look. If you come with me, I will explain.”

Without waiting for their agreement, she turned and started back toward the Keep, her two companions and Traunt Rowan falling quickly into step behind her. Bek glanced at Rue, shrugged, and they followed as well. He was trying to remember if his sister had ever said anything about any of these Druids, but nothing came to mind. Aside from Ahren Elessedil, Tagwen was the only one he could remember her speaking about and the only one he could remember meeting. He wished now that he had paid better attention.

Inside the Keep, Shadea beckoned them forward to walk with her, and the other three Druids gave way as they moved ahead.

“The Ard Rhys disappeared after retiring to her chamber several weeks ago. She went into her room and never came out. There was no sign of a struggle when we found her missing. The Trolls on watch said she had not come out during the night and that they had heard nothing. I dismissed them anyway, simply as a precaution. We have many enemies, and they have many reasons to want us gone. The Trolls might have been subverted.”

That was one explanation, Bek thought, though it didn't feel right. “I recall my sister saying more than once how much she depended on them, how reliable they were.”

Shadea's sun-browned face turned his way sharply, and she brushed the short-cropped blond hair from her forehead. “She may have made a mistake by trusting them. We don't know.”

“No one has seen her since? No one has sent any word of her?”

“None. Tagwen seemed to have an idea about what might have happened, but then he disappeared as well. We tracked him to Emberen and to Ahren Elessedil. Then we tracked them both to Patch Run. Apparently, when they left, they took your son with them. That was the last thing we discovered that's worth talking about. We still don't know why the Ard Rhys disappeared or where she might have gone. We don't know where your son, Tagwen, and Ahren Elessedil have gone, either. Our airships continue to search, but time slips away, and that doesn't favor our efforts. I am hopeful that by coming to Paranor, you can change things.”

Bek felt Rue's hand tighten in his own. “How can I help you? I don't know anything about this.”

Shadea a'Ru nodded. “It is no secret that you are extraordinarily close to your sister. The story of how you found each other twenty years ago is common knowledge. Your inherited magic drew you in ways that nothing else could. It binds you irrevocably. I think we can make use of that in finding her and very likely your son, as well. I'll show you how.”

They passed down the shadowed corridor and ascended a series of stairs to the upper levels. In a broad, high-ceilinged hall that ran down the center of the Keep, they encountered other Druids moving about in small groups, carrying books and papers and conversing with one another. A few looked them over as they passed, taking note of the two who were clearly not of their order. But no one looked for very long, turning quickly away when they caught sight of Shadea.

They are afraid of her,
Bek thought.

He remembered that it had been the same when he had come to visit his sister—the same looks, the same quick averting of faces when she passed. Nothing had changed in her absence. It made him wonder if it was the nature of the position or of the candidates drawn to occupy it. It made him wonder why anyone would want it.

As they turned down a secondary passageway, one narrower and less heavily traveled, a young Druid rushed into their midst, colliding with Bek in a flurry of confusion and knocking him to the floor.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly, reaching down to help Bek up again. The papers he had dropped lay scattered everywhere about them. “I didn't see you. I was in a hurry. My mistake. Are you all right? Well, then. Again, sorry.”

Their hands clasped, and Bek felt a tiny piece of paper pressed into his palm. “There, no harm done,” the young Druid declared, his eyes meeting Bek's quickly before looking away. He apologized again, this time to Shadea, and bent to retrieve his papers from the floor. The big woman gave him a withering look and walked right on past, beckoning the others to follow. Bek glanced down briefly at the young Druid as he passed him. The other man did not look up.

As they continued on, Bek slid the piece of paper into his pocket. He had never seen the young Druid before. He glanced over at Rue, but she didn't seem to have noticed anything.

They climbed several sets of stairs and traversed several more corridors before coming to a room set high in the Keep. Gnome Hunters stood watch without, and the door was locked and barred. The Gnomes moved aside quickly as Shadea stepped up and manipulated the locks. When the door was open, the Druids ushered the Ohmsfords inside.

Bek glanced around. The room was empty except for a huge basin of water that sat at its center. The basin bowl was shallow and broad, and the waters it contained were a very deep green. There were lines and markings drawn on the surface of the basin below the waters, bumps and ridges, as well. It was a map, he realized, moving over to get a closer look, a map of the Four Lands.

“This is where you can help us, Bek,” Shadea a'Ru announced, moving up beside him. Rue had already taken up a position on his other side, and he could feel the anticipation radiating from her like body heat. “This room is called the cold chamber. The stone walls insulate the basin. The scrye waters in the basin monitor the lines of power that bind the earth. They reflect disturbances in those lines when a powerful magic is used. We study them in an effort to discover where magic is being used outside the purview of the order.”

She turned to him. “We had thought to use the scrye waters to track your sister's movements after she disappeared, but there have been no disturbances that would indicate the use of her magic. Still, the waters will track such magic, even its most minuscule application, if their power to interpret is enhanced. If you were to apply the magic of the wishsong to that end, we might be able to discover where she is. I know you possess the power to control its effect on things. Will you use it here?”

Bek held her gaze a moment, trying to read what was behind it. She was asking him to do something very straightforward, but he was suspicious of her motives. Traunt Rowan's omissions and shadings still troubled him; his uneasiness about the circumstances surrounding the disappearances of his sister and son hadn't lessened. He was tired from lack of sleep and worry, and he didn't trust that he was thinking clearly.