The Last Druid

by Terry Brooks

  “Belladrin,” he said. “Is it true that the Prime Minister is dead?”

  The almost dismissive way he asked it suggested how little he cared. She shifted back into character at once, showing him an expression of grief and bewilderment. “Assassinated by one of our own soldiers.”

  “Can you explain to me how this happened?”

  She nodded, tears running down her cheeks. It was why he was here ahead of the others. She had sent for him first, wanting this time with him alone, sensing she might find in this enigmatic man a much-needed ally. “To your satisfaction, Commander Benz? To the satisfaction of others? I doubt it. But here are the details anyway.”

  She told him the story she had concocted, not bothering to wait for the others. This was the man she needed to stand with her. She had seen how even the most senior commanders of the Federation army behaved in his presence. They avoided him. They kept their distance. They were clearly intimidated. While he lacked seniority, he possessed experience and skills far beyond their own. He had killed men in hand-to-hand combat. He had survived the worst possible situations time after time. He possessed an independence and self-confidence that suggested he would never be one of them, but would always be the Prime Minister’s favorite because of those abilities.

  Vause had assigned him to her, but he had done so without thinking it through. Vause believed Choten Benz to be his man, but Belladrin Rish was certain she had won him over in Crackenrood and claimed him for herself.

  “So there you are, in a few words,” she said as she finished up her explanation. “This soldier managed to gain entry to the camp and these quarters, getting past not only the guards but myself as I slept on the floor of the anteroom, and killed the Prime Minister. But by singular good fortune I woke just as he was about to make his escape, caught him by surprise, and put an end to him.”

  She allowed some of her genuine distress over causing Kol’Dre’s death to show, knowing it would bolster her charade.

  Benz nodded, one corner of his mouth quirking. “Bold work. You are to be congratulated for your bravery. Not many would have taken the risk. Lucky.”

  “Not luck,” she corrected him at once. “Determination. I was furious and terrified all at once, make no mistake. But there was no one else but me to stop him. He was absorbed in his work and did not sense my approach until he turned and found my dagger in his chest. So he died knowing I had killed him, but not quite believing I had managed it.”

  Choten Benz nodded slowly and then looked around the room. “So now you will tell this tale to the commanders. You will inform them of their leader’s regrettable demise, confront them with the reality of needing an immediate change of leadership, and do…what else?”

  “What I know the Prime Minister would have wanted me to do. Speak my mind. Provide advice for what to do next. Offer what information I have at my disposal, if asked. Suggest a course of action they might choose to embrace.”

  She made it sound as if this was something she could make happen with little effort, and she saw the mix of surprise and curiosity in his eyes. In that moment, she decided she might have overdone it.

  “Well, then,” he said, “I think perhaps you could use a man like me to stand beside you during this meeting.”

  Pleased by his response, she let her expression bubble over into a convincing display of gratitude. “That would be much appreciated. I am not one of them. I am an outsider, and it would greatly help if you were there to support me. I will be very much alone otherwise. But until a new Prime Minster can be chosen, I know Ketter Vause would have wanted us to hold the course. And I am best positioned to do that, having been his confidante for so long. At least, I hope I am.”

  Benz shook his head. “Don’t underestimate yourself. Look what you’ve accomplished since you arrived. You are the one who kept your head and saved the entire army when their leaders panicked as the Skaar attacked them. And now you’ve managed to kill the Prime Minister’s assassin—and not without great risk to yourself. You also ventured into Dwarf country and charmed the pants off Battenhyle and Lakodan, and I can assure you those two are not easily persuaded. No, I think maybe you will have the respect you seek. But there are some hungry wolves among all the sheep, and there will be an attempt to establish a claim to the leadership by at least one or two of them. What if they try to brush you aside?”

  “Oh, they will. But I will convince them it would be unwise to underestimate me.”

  He stared, disbelief evident in his eyes. “Will you? How?”

  “Because I still speak with the former Prime Minister’s voice.” She smiled. “Are you prepared to stand at my side?”

  “As opposed to standing by sheep and wolves who detest and mistrust me? I think I’ll risk choosing you.”

  He smiled back for an instant, and then something cold crept into his expression. “But let me be clear about one thing, Belladrin. For now, I am willing to support you, but I am not sure how far I can trust you, as you seem far more competent than someone with your degree of experience should be. This will work to your advantage, because many will underestimate you, but be advised that I don’t intend to allow you to sabotage my own interests. Don’t think to make me your dupe.”

  She went cold with fear as he finished. He knew. Somehow, he knew who and what she was. That put her in his power, and she saw everything falling apart in front of her.

  This time, she held herself perfectly still. “What do you mean by that, Commander Benz?” she managed.

  “I mean that you are nothing like what you pretend to be—or at least what others might think you to be. You are smart and efficient and you know how to manipulate people. You are ambitious, and you want real power. I think you will come to possess it one day, and I wouldn’t mind being there when you do, but I know the truth about you. You served the Prime Minister ably—served him much better than he deserved—but you didn’t like him. I knew that from the first. Admittedly, you had reason not to like him; he was a foolish, self-absorbed, overconfident pretender who made poor use of his position. Neither of us cares that he is dead. In fact, best that he is. It affords you an opportunity to advance yourself and that is fine, in my opinion. And if I am wrong about this and have offended you, I will leave now and not return. Just tell me to do so.”

  He paused, waiting. There was a calmness about him that was disturbing. But she had been mistaken about what he knew, she realized, with no small measure of relief. He did not know that she was a Skaar and a spy. What he meant was that he saw her as someone looking to improve her situation, and what he sought from her was an understanding that he would not allow her to gain power over him. He would always keep her at arm’s remove.

  She almost permitted herself a smile.

  “Commander Benz,” she replied, “I have the utmost respect for you. You have helped me on more than one occasion, and I do not intend to forget that. I give you my word that if we agree to become allies, I will never deceive you about my intentions or take you for a fool. Is that assurance sufficient?”

  He nodded slowly. “For the moment. In return for what you offer, I promise I will be honest with you—assuming you will be the same with me. We are very much alike, you know. We both prefer to avoid those who see themselves as better than others, but are incapable of rising to the level to which they pretend.”

  “Agreed. And you are right; I did not care much about the Prime Minister,” she admitted. “But I did what I could to make him follow the right course. I couldn’t save him from his fate, but I can see to it that the Federation and perhaps the people of the Four Lands are saved as a result of his sacrifice.”

  “His unintentional sacrifice,” Benz corrected gently.

  She smiled and reached out her hand. “I welcome your help, Commander. I value your service as my friend and ally.”

  The other did not take her hand. “I am your ally, agreed. I wi
ll have to wait a bit longer before believing we can also be friends.”

  “Fair enough. Friendship must be earned. Simply follow my lead when the other commanders arrive and support me where you can.”

  Benz nodded. “Agreed.”

  They stood staring at each other in the half-light of the smokeless lamps, each taking the measure of the other, lost in thoughts that were deeply personal. It was enough for now, Belladrin decided. Enough to see her through what waited.

  Then, as if in response, the tent flaps parted once more, and the commanders of the Federation army trooped in one by one, impatient to hear the details of the Prime Minister’s demise.

  * * *

  —

  Belladrin had guessed wrong on how long it would take at least one of the commanders she had summoned to question whether she could speak for the now deceased Ketter Vause. She had thought she would at least get through her prepared remarks and a brief explanation about what happened to the Prime Minister, but she had assumed too much.

  “So he’s dead—assassinated while you slept nearby—but you still act as if you have his permission to address us with his authority.”

  Drusten Aarcobin was a senior officer among those gathered, and a full commander in the Federation army. He was also a man who had long since exceeded his ability to live up to the expectations of his title and position.

  She smiled sweetly in response. “How close to him were you, Commander? Close enough that he divulged his intentions for dealing with the Skaar invaders? Close enough that he confided in you how he planned to end this standoff?” She paused. “Close enough that he invited you to sleep where you might be able to protect him? If so, I will step aside and you can conduct this meeting.”

  Aarcobin turned beet red. “You are nothing but a girl who assisted him by acting as his scribe. You were never intended to be anything more. You have no experience or special abilities to call upon. Do not pretend…”

  “Excuse me, Commander,” Choten Benz interrupted from one side, where he was standing apart from the others, “but it was Belladrin whom the Prime Minister expressly asked to travel to Crackenrood to secure the Reveals from the Dwarves. And who succeeded in carrying out his orders, allowing us all to stand here with our heads still attached to our shoulders.”

  “That doesn’t mean…”

  “I might remind you, as well, that it was Belladrin who took charge during the Skaar surprise attack on our rear lines while our air fleet and our Prime Minister were elsewhere so that we could repel our enemy.”

  There was a muttering of agreement among the other commanders that Aarcobin could not miss. “He trusted both her and her advice,” Benz continued with a quick glance at Belladrin. “I witnessed it myself on more than one occasion. She knows exactly what he intended, and if you give her a chance, she might reveal it to you.”

  Aarcobin stared at him balefully, but then gave a short nod.

  “Commander Benz is right,” Belladrin affirmed. “The Prime Minister had a very definite plan in mind for how to handle our situation with the Skaar. He knew an attack was inevitable if nothing was done to forestall it. He felt such an attack would cost us many lives and resolve nothing. The Skaar are experienced, skilled soldiers with a huge number of conquests behind them.”

  She was embellishing now, trying to set the stage for what Benz and the other commanders believed Vause had confided in her.

  “The Prime Minister felt an accord needed to be reached if at all possible. His first meeting suggested there might be no chance of such an agreement, but things are different now. And not because of his death, although that changes things as well. But just before he was assassinated, he received a message from the Skaar king, Cor d’Amphere. I have that message here in my pocket.”

  She reached in and pulled out a piece of paper, but Aarcobin quickly stepped forward. “How did you come by this? Did you steal it from him?”

  Belladrin held her ground but pulled the document out of his reach. “Manners please, Commander. Of course I did not steal it! Why ever would I bother? He showed it to me, and we talked about it. Then he put it in his drawer. I retrieved it so it would not be lost, and now I intend to share its contents. Let me read it to you.”

  She waited for him to step back again, ignoring the expression of frustration on his face, before bringing the letter back in front of her. In a clear, steady voice, she read the contents to those assembled.

  To the Honorable Prime Minister Ketter Vause:

  I have reviewed my position and demands regarding any settlement of our current occupation of the lands north of the Mermidon River and any claims to lands of the Federation to which we might feel entitled. A prolonged standoff and eventual war between our peoples will satisfy no one and settle nothing. My daughter overstepped the authority she was granted, and by doing so unfortunately created the impasse that now exists.

  Permitting our occupation of the lands to the north is more than sufficient to satisfy our needs, and no other claims will be pursued. Mutual respect and accord between our peoples is what we seek to achieve.

  I ask you to engage in a discussion with me, one-on-one, at your earliest convenience, so that we might achieve that goal.

  With respect,

  Cor d’Amphere, King of Skaarsland and Eurodia

  She handed the letter to Aarcobin, who quickly scanned its contents and handed it to the others. “Why would we do this?” he snapped.

  Progress, Belladrin thought. I have him asking my opinion now.

  “Why not, Commander? What have we to lose by engaging in a discussion? We might actually be able to achieve something without bloodshed. We might find a solution to our impasse, even with the Prime Minister gone.”

  Audin Messit, another full commander, cleared his throat. “This man sent an assassin to kill our Prime Minister and the attempt succeeded, in spite of your heroics. Why should we agree to do anything he asks?”

  “Well, for one thing,” she replied, “the blame for the Prime Minister’s assassination is not his.”

  Heads turned, all looking at one another in disbelief. “Nonsense!” Aarcobin exclaimed at once. “Who else could be responsible?”

  “Why not us? Why not a disgruntled member of the military? How else could he have gotten close enough to kill the Prime Minister if he was not one of us? He bypassed half a dozen guards without being noticed. And I will tell you something more—something I have held back until now. The assassin was wearing a Federation uniform. And his skin was dark, not fair like the Skaar. So it seems far more likely that he was a soldier, if the uniform and his appearance are any indication.”

  She paused to let that sink in as the assembled commanders frowned and muttered among themselves, then said, “Ask yourselves this. If Cor d’Amphere intended to assassinate Ketter Vause, why bother with this request for a meeting? Again, what would be the point?”

  Fresh muttering rose among the assembled Federation officers, but again Messit took the floor. “I think we have to postpone any action until the Coalition Council chooses a new Prime Minister. We need new leadership before we make a decision of this magnitude.”

  But now a few of the younger officers were looking at him as if he were insane. “Postpone any action?” Lieutenant Commander Carrison Oberion asked incredulously. “We cannot afford to do that! The Skaar will realize something is wrong with our command structure if we delay when he has offered a chance for a truce. Our country is threatened, Commander Messit. The whole of the Four Lands is in danger. We cannot abrogate our responsibility to protect them by doing nothing!”

  Messit tried to argue the point, but the majority of the commanders shouted him down. “Young woman!” Oberion called over to Belladrin. “You said you had a plan for dealing with this situation. Why don’t you tell us what it is?”

  Belladrin had them where she wante
d them now. “We have an offer of negotiation in the form of a letter from the Skaar king. Let’s take advantage of it. Let’s arrange a meeting and talk to him.”

  “But Ketter Vause is dead!” Aarcobin shouted angrily. “Who will do the negotiating, if not our Prime Minister?”

  Belladrin had already caught Choten Benz watching her, and she gave him a small nod. Benz, no stranger to intrigue and manipulation, knew at once what she wanted and nodded back with approval.

  “Fellow Commanders,” he bellowed, interrupting a renewed round of arguing, and the weight of his voice silenced the room. “We no longer have our Prime Minister and may not have a new one for months, given the speed with which the Coalition Council addresses such matters. Constant bickering, debate, secret negotiation, and other forms of maneuvering are sure to be the order of the day. But while we do not have Ketter Vause, we do have someone who filled his shoes quite ably in negotiating with the Dwarves—someone who knew his mind and was privy to his thoughts.” He paused for effect. “We have Belladrin.”

  “No!” screamed Aarcobin.

  “That is ridiculous!” echoed Messit.

  “It makes perfect sense,” Benz insisted. “Why do you keep trying to denigrate or ignore her many accomplishments? This young woman had the Prime Minister’s ear and acted ably on whatever task she was given.”

  He wheeled back to Belladrin. “Would you act for us now?” he demanded.

  “I would if I had the blessing of all present,” she replied. “But I would want a few of you to accompany me, were I to accept. I do not pretend to be a skilled negotiator, and I would welcome guidance. Also, I will step aside, should you ask, once matters get under way. Commander Aarcobin, I would desire your presence particularly. And you, Commander Benz. And you, Commander Messit. Will you agree to this?”

  She knew the answer to the question before she asked it, and was rewarded with an uneasy round of muttering that told her she was right. It was a difficult decision for them to make, but they saw no better solution to the problem. Belladrin had given them an easy way out by suggesting that others should take responsibility for any possible consequences. It was an old story with the military: kick the matter upstairs and let someone else deal with it.