Bearers of the Black Staff

by Terry Brooks

  But today the old man does not speak to him of his lessons and their choice of camps.

  “There is something we haven’t talked about before,” he tells the boy. “Something that we have to talk about now. There is another besides myself who bears the black staff. Another who is descended from the old Knights of the Word.”

  He has the boy’s full attention as he pauses to gather his thoughts.

  “An Elf,” he says finally. He looks off across the countryside, as if across the span of his years. “There were two who came into the valley, who survived the Great Wars, carrying their staffs. Both were of the Race of Man, but one married an Elf girl; their descendants stayed with the Elven people and continued to intermarry so that eventually they were blooded Elves. Their staffs stayed with them, both Man and Elf, but because the protective mists shut out the threat of the old world there was no reason for the staffs or purpose for those who bore them. Their presence became marginalized, and they drifted into lives like my own. They were wanderers, objects of speculation and curiosity and sometimes mistrust. No one was sure what the black staffs were for or why anyone still carried them.”

  “You were sentries against the dangers that would arise when the mists faded and the world changed back to what it had been,” the boy says. “Did no one remember?”

  The old man shrugs. “A few. But most thought the world was fixed and would not change. They still think so, mostly. Or they believe in the teachings of the Children of the Hawk and wait to be saved. It is in the nature of things to want to believe that what’s familiar and comfortable will last forever.” He looks down at his hands. “In any case, there are two of us still, and the other is an Elf, and the Elf has grown dangerous. He was never as stable as he needed to be; he was a poor choice in the first place. But the choice was not mine to make, and I suppose it seemed a good one at the time.”

  “Why is he dangerous?”

  “He lacks judgment and reason. He is seduced by the possibilities of extending the staff’s magic to increase his own value and position. He has forgotten what it is he committed to. Because the Word no longer speaks to us, because we serve an ambiguous cause, we are more vulnerable to choosing paths we might otherwise avoid. The Elf has steadily lost his way, and now a kind of madness has surfaced and taken hold of him. I am afraid of what he might do, and I have to go to him and see if I can help him.”

  The boy shakes his head. “But what can you do?”

  The old man smiles. “That is what I have to discover.”

  “Isn’t this dangerous?”

  The old man nods. “But there is no one else who can reach him, and if no one tries, the danger that he will do something harmful grows stronger.”

  The boy is quiet for a time. He thinks the matter through, aware that the old man is watching him. “I will go with you,” he says finally.

  But the old man shakes his head. “No, you will wait here for me. I will have a better chance of reasoning with him if I go alone. If he sees more than one of us, he will feel threatened. He lives in fear of betrayal. He trusts no one. He has no apprentice to serve as his companion and successor and no desire to find one. He sees himself as invulnerable, his life as infinite. He is seduced by the power of the magic and will not give it up. He thinks that others wish to take it from him. Perhaps there are some who do. But he will not fear that from me because I already have power of my own and do not need to acquire his.”

  “When will you return?” the boy asks.

  The old man studies him and does not answer for a very long time. “When I can,” he says finally.

  They sit together in silence then, looking at each other and then at the countryside. The boy does not like what this last answer suggests. He does not like what he is feeling. But the decision is made, and he must accept it.

  Even though it leaves him cold and empty.

  The old man departs with the sunrise, bearing his black staff. The boy will only see him once more before the talisman, heavy with the weight of its responsibilities, passes to him.

  THE MEMORY CAME AND WENT, a reflection of his thoughts of the future he would one day face. He might have carried on to the end of things, calling up the last of those memories of the old man, but Panterra Qu was speaking to him, whispering as they neared the village of Glensk Wood.

  “What will you say to her?”

  He was suddenly exasperated with the boy. Always wanting answers to his questions, even when they should have been obvious. But he supposed that he was like that once, young and uncertain, his fate in the hands of a man who was essentially a stranger to him yet would influence his future in ways he could only begin to imagine. He had wanted answers, too. He had been impatient for things to be revealed that were kept secret, that he was expected to simply accept. He had not been as aggressive about it as Panterra was, but then he had been given considerable time to adapt to his role as student.

  And he had known from the beginning what was expected of him, which Panterra did not.

  The nature of their relationship was at the crux of his exasperation, he supposed. For he had come to a slow and painstaking conclusion since meeting this boy that he was the one who should bear the staff after him. He had the necessary skills, required temperament, and sense of responsibility. He had something indefinable, too—something that set him apart, that marked him. Sider could not have explained how he knew this; he just did. Panterra Qu was the one he had been looking for. It had taken him a while to come to terms with this, but now it felt like a foregone conclusion.

  The difficulty, of course, lay in explaining it to the boy and in persuading him that he should make the choice Sider had made all those years ago—to abandon his plans for his old life and form fresh ones for his new.

  “We will ask her for her help,” he answered the boy, keeping it short and vague. He wasn’t sure himself, after all. But he would know when they found her.

  “But what can she do? You’ve already seen how they have put her aside even as a member of the village council. If not for her marriage to Pogue Kray, she would have been banished or worse a long time ago. If she helps us now, Skeal Eile will look for a way to correct his earlier mistake.”

  True enough, Sider thought. “We won’t let that happen.” He glanced over. “My word on it.”

  The boy seemed to accept this reassurance, and they proceeded in silence, wending their way down the narrow path that took them into Glensk Wood the back way out of the mountains, avoiding the main road. Sider saw no reason to advertise their coming just yet. What he was hoping was that Aislinne would have something to say about how to proceed. She knew the village and its leaders far better than he did, and she would have a sense of what might gain their support while avoiding the machinations of Skeal Eile.

  Darker thoughts took hold. He’d had the chance more than once to put an end to the Seraphic, to make him disappear as if he had never been. But he was not trained as an assassin, and his code of conduct did not allow him to harm those who did not directly threaten him or those he protected. Skeal Eile was skirting the edges of that distinction if he was responsible for the attempted assassination of Panterra and Prue at Pan’s home. But the Seraphic’s involvement remained only a suspicion, strong as it might be. There were many at the council meeting when Panterra spoke; one of them, aroused to the point of mindless rage, might have acted on impulse.

  Still, he would have to find a way to assure himself that the Seraphic would not try to harm Aislinne after he and Panterra left. That he hadn’t done so before was no guarantee of what he might do in the future. Especially after he heard what Sider had to say. Things would be changed irrevocably after that.

  And with that thought completed, the answer to what he would do came to him in a flash of inspiration.

  Even so, he kept it to himself. They were at the edge of the village now, passing close enough to cottages to see lights in the curtained windows and movement behind the curtains. A few villagers walked the main road o
ff to their right, too far away to be recognized, but easy enough to avoid. He motioned the boy to stay close and slipped from tree to tree, from thicket to woodpile to outbuilding, steadily advancing into the heart of the village. Not long now, he thought. Her home was not more than several hundred yards farther on. He wondered if she would be alone or if Pogue would be there. In a way, it might be better if he was.

  But he knew he didn’t want that. For what brief time he was allowed, he wanted to have her alone.

  The path they were following ended at a small copse of trees bordering the rear of a semicircle of cottages, and Panterra suddenly took hold of his arm and stopped him.

  “My home,” the boy whispered, pointing at one.

  The cottage was dark and silent, and there appeared to be no one living there. But the grounds were neatly kept and the exterior of the house looked cared for. The boy stood where he was for a moment, studying the home as if he had never seen it before, and Sider wondered what he was thinking. Then the boy nodded and gestured that they could go on, apparently only wanting to take a quick look at it.

  Minutes later, they were standing in the shadows outside Aislinne Kray’s home while Sider studied it and waited for his instincts to tell him it was safe to go inside. He couldn’t be certain who was there; no movement within was discernible from where they stood.

  But he sensed that the house was not empty.

  “Wait here,” he told Panterra.

  He left the cover of darkness, walked up to the front door of the cottage, and knocked. Now he could hear movement inside, the sounds of footsteps, the lifting of a latch, the creak of hinges.

  The door opened, and Aislinne was there.

  “You’ve returned,” she said quietly.

  She did not seem surprised, but there was something in her eyes that suggested she wasn’t quite prepared, either. She was dressed, not yet ready for bed, her hair still tied up. The room behind her was empty.

  “I’m sorry for the hour,” he said.

  “No, you’re not. You’re never sorry for anything, the lateness of an hour least of all. Did you do as I asked you? Did you find Panterra and Prue? Are they all right?”

  Direct and purposeful. She was still the girl he had met when he was just fifteen. For a moment, he saw her that way again, composure in place, golden hair hanging down, her gaze fixed on him, tall enough to look him directly in the eyes. She could tell he was staring, and he didn’t care that she did.

  “I’ve brought Panterra to speak with you. Something has happened, and the people of Glensk Wood are in danger because of it.” He hesitated. “Is Pogue here?”

  She shook her head. “No. Does it matter?”

  “Can we come inside?” He avoided answering her question, not wanting to risk what he might say.

  She nodded. He looked back over his shoulder at the shadows where the boy was waiting, and beckoned. A moment later Panterra appeared, hurrying across the green space to the door and inside. “Well met, Aislinne,” he greeted as he brushed past her.

  “And you, Panterra. How is Prue? Not come with you?”

  The boy’s eyes flicked immediately to Sider, and the Gray Man knew he would have to answer the question directly, that Aislinne would not be fooled. “She stayed behind,” he said. “Let me tell it.”

  He did so, a quick and efficient recapitulation of most of what had happened to Panterra and Prue and their Elven companions after leaving the valley, and then of his own part in attempting to bring them home again. He looked for condemnation and disappointment in Aislinne’s eyes as he related how they had left Prue Liss behind, but he found none. She sat quietly as he talked and did not interrupt.

  When he had finished, she looked down at her hands for a moment. “At least you tried to help them. At least you brought Panterra back with you.” She looked up again. “Will you return for Prue? Will you try to save her, as well?”

  “I have already promised that I would. But I had to come here first. I have to make certain that warning is given. Have you sent messengers to the other villages?”

  She shook her head. “No one would go. Not without more than your word. They are afraid, Sider. Afraid of Skeal Eile, afraid of the sect. You can’t blame them.”

  “No, I don’t suppose I can.” He gave her a wan smile. “I don’t suppose assigning blame in this business serves any good purpose. Those who haven’t seen it for themselves will find it hard to believe anything of what I have told you. But they will have to find a way to do so. The dangers they face will not allow them to do otherwise.”

  “Even then, what can anyone do?”

  “If they are attacked by the Trolls, they must fight,” he answered. “If they are fortunate enough to prevail, they must still find a way to fit themselves into the larger world. They must assimilate. They must adapt. They must forget everything they thought was true about their safe haven and rethink what it will take for them to survive.”

  She nodded. “What do you intend to do to help?” She paused. “By coming here, I assume that you intend to speak with Pogue.”

  “I intend it. And once I have done so, I intend to get word to those other villages. But I would ask your thoughts first. We already know how Skeal Eile and his followers will react. How should I go about this so that they cannot undermine me? I have to be certain that someone will listen to me and then act on what I am saying. Glensk Wood sits closest to Declan Reach. If the Trolls find the pass through, they will come here first.”

  She thought about it a moment. “A public announcement invites trouble. Something private might be better.” She gave him a look. “What if I were to bring Pogue and Skeal Eile to you tonight. Just the two.”

  “Eile won’t come,” said Panterra, standing off to one side.

  “He will if he doesn’t know the reason he is being summoned.”

  “Bring Trow Ravenlock, as well,” Sider said. “His Trackers are the closest thing you have to an organized fighting force, and two of them are directly involved in what’s happened.” He glanced at the boy. “Ravenlock will stand up for you, won’t he? He believes in you and the girl?”

  Panterra Qu nodded doubtfully. “But he believes in the teachings of the Children of the Hawk, as well. I don’t know.”

  “Well.” The word was a sigh of resignation. “We have to start somewhere.”

  “I’ll go now.” Aislinne stood. “Panterra, there’s food in the kitchen. Go in and have something to eat and drink. Sider, I would speak with you alone for a minute.”

  She took him outside without further explanation, closing the door tightly behind them. She stood on the porch without looking at him for a moment, staring out into the night, but seeing something else entirely. Then she took him down the steps, across the yard, and into the shadows where they could not be easily seen. All around them, the village was dark and silent. Even the lights in the windows were beginning to disappear.

  When she turned to face him, there was no friendliness in her eyes. “Why did you bring Panterra back with you?”

  The question took him by surprise. “He’s seen things I haven’t; he brings another perspective and another voice to the discussion. I thought it would help.”

  She gave him a sardonic smile. “You are such a poor liar, Sider. All you say is probably true, but that isn’t why he’s come with you. I don’t need you to tell me the reason, either. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you look at him. You want him for yourself. You’ve decided he’s the one.”

  Sider hesitated, considering a lie. Then he gave it up. Not with her, he decided. “That’s true. But he doesn’t know it yet; I haven’t spoken to him. I have no way of knowing what he will say.”

  She stepped close. “I know that boy. And the girl who partners with him. They aren’t exactly like you and I once were, but close enough that I won’t let you do this. Separating them would be worse than what you did in separating us. Do you realize what they mean to each other?”

  He shook his head. “I know h
ardly anything about that. I only know what he makes me feel, and what he makes me feel is why I plan to speak to him.”

  “I forbid it!” she hissed sharply.

  “It isn’t your place to do that.” The words were out before he could think better of them, too late to take back. “Aislinne, I don’t want this, either. But if I am killed in this business, in this transition from the old world to the new, that boy will be needed to take the staff and go on. There must be someone to follow after me.”

  “Then find someone else.”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t time for that. I haven’t even got a place to start. I’ve been looking all these years, waiting, but there’s been no one. Now I have to—”

  “Stop.” She spit out the word as if to rid herself of its bitterness, one hand lifting to emphasize her wish to silence him. “No more. I have to go. But we aren’t finished. Do you understand me?”

  He took a deep breath. “All too well. I’ll wait on you. I can promise that much.”

  She stared him down, and then nodded. “I’ll bring you your audience. Practice your speech to them while you wait. And practice one to me, as well.”

  Then she was gone.

  TWENTY-ONE

  WHEN SIDER CAME BACK INSIDE THE COTTAGE, Panterra Qu could feel the anger radiating off him. The Gray Man’s face was rigid with it, and his posture warned against saying anything. So Pan sat quietly, ate the food he had found in the kitchen in the cold box, and waited for the anger to dissipate, the familiar calm to return.

  After a while it did. “That looks good,” Sider offered absently.

  He rose, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with a plate of his own. He ate hurriedly, obviously anxious to finish before Aislinne and the men returned, saying nothing further to Pan.