The Gypsy Morph

by Terry Brooks

  He was asleep instantly.

  WHEN HE WOKE AGAIN, it was still daylight. But on looking out the window, he could see the shadows lengthening and the light fading. He was groggy and heavy-eyed, and wanted nothing more than to go right back to sleep. But he resisted the impulse, knowing that sleep was an escape from reality at this point. He had to clear his head and get ready for his meeting with the High Council. He walked into the other room and found Simralin asleep in one of the chairs. He stared at her a moment, and she opened her eyes.

  “Why are you so noisy?” she asked him.

  He grinned, shaking his head. Only Sim could look like she was asleep and not be. He walked over to the sink and pumped some water to wash his face. The water was cool and refreshing, and he lingered for a moment. “I’m sorry I got you involved in all this,” he told her.

  “I think I got myself involved.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, anyway. I wish you hadn’t.”

  She rose and stretched her lanky frame, loosening her head scarf to let her long blond hair fall free. She ran her fingers through the thick mass, then tossed her head back to get the hair out of her face and retied the scarf. “That would have been too bad for you, Little K. You have the heart for this, but I have the skills. Anyway, it’s good that we can look out for each other.”

  She came over to the sink to join him, washed her own face, and pumped water for them to drink, as well. She looked out into the yard and the trees beyond. “I wonder why Tragen isn’t back.”

  “Do you think something might have happened to him?”

  She shook her head. “I think he might be out tracking close to where the demons mass. They would have sent a handful of Trackers just to keep watch. He would have been a logical choice. He’s as good at it as I am.”

  Kirisin dried his face. “No one is as good as you are.”

  She laughed. “Let’s have something to eat while we wait for it to get dark. Maybe there’s some food in the pantry.”

  They sat at a little table by the front window and ate a meal of bread and cheese washed down by glasses of ale, all food and drink they found in Tragen’s small larder and stone cooler. Kirisin didn’t miss that Simralin was so familiar with the house and seemed to know where everything was. He wondered how often she came here, but left the matter alone. They didn’t say much while they ate. Kirisin thought about Erisha, remembering how committed she had been at the end of things to saving the Ellcrys. He would tell that to the King. He would make Arissen Belloruus understand how much his daughter had believed in what she was doing. He would find a way to make the King believe, too.

  “It’s dark enough,” Sim said finally, glancing out the window. “Time to go.”

  Kirisin started for the door. “Wait,” his sister called after him. He turned. “Leave your weapons behind.” When he looked doubtful, she added, “The guards don’t allow weapons in the chambers. Besides, weapons won’t help us anyway if we can’t do what’s needed with words.”

  They stripped away their long knives and Simralin’s bow and arrows and adzl, leaving them on Tragen’s small table. Then they wrapped themselves in their cloaks and went out the door of the cottage and into the trees. It was only a short distance to the High Council chambers, but Simralin was taking no chances. She chose a little-traveled path for them to follow, keeping away from the main roads to minimize the possibility of unexpected encounters. It took twice as long for them to get where they were going, and by the time they had reached their destination Kirisin was so anxious and tense that everything he had rehearsed so carefully had flown right out of his head.

  There were guards at the entrance to the building, but Simralin never hesitated. She marched right up to them, not bothering to try to disguise who she was. When they recognized her, she held up her hand to stay theirs and said quickly, “It’s all right. The King is expecting us. Is Maurin Ortish inside?”

  The guards looked at each other and nodded. “We’ve orders to take you directly to the King if we find you,” one said doubtfully.

  She smiled. “Now you don’t have to bother, Rish. We’ve found you instead, and we’re on our way to see the King. Why don’t you come with us?”

  Without waiting for a response, she moved past them and through the doors. Kirisin followed close behind, not daring to look at the guards. There were many more guards inside, and a low murmur quickly built as they realized who had appeared. Still, no one tried to interfere, perhaps uncertain as to what they should do. All of them simply stared in a mix of surprise and disbelief as Simralin cheerfully offered greetings, not once suggesting that she and Kirisin were in any sort of trouble.

  Then Maurin Ortish appeared through the Council chamber doors, alerted by the sounds without that something was happening. His appearance immediately calmed everyone around him, all heads turning toward him to see what he would do. He took one look at Kirisin and his sister and limped over to them, beckoning to the Home Guards who were still rooted in place.

  “Make certain they are unarmed.” He stood in front of Simralin. “I don’t know why you came back. You were safely away from here. You should have stayed so.”

  “Do you really not know why we are here?” Simralin asked him, holding his gaze with her own. “It’s because the Knight of the Word told the High Council the truth. Demons and their creatures mass within the forests of the Cintra. They threaten the city. But they do not attack. Kirisin and I know why. We also know who really killed Erisha.”

  He stared at her, assessing her words. “My orders—direct from the King—are to put you somewhere no one can find you and leave you there until he can question you personally.” He paused. “Those are not orders I can question, let alone disobey.”

  “Do I lie about the danger to the city and our people?” Simralin asked him quickly.

  “No,” he said, his soft voice almost a whisper.

  “Does anyone here know why there has been no attack?”

  “There is speculation that the enemy does not know for certain we are here, that they mass for another reason entirely.”

  “Yes, and cows fly,” she snapped at him. “You know better than to believe such nonsense, Maurin. Give us a chance to tell the Council what is happening. What is really happening.”

  “As I said, Simralin, my orders—”

  “The King is not thinking clearly,” she cut in. “He is enraged over the death of his daughter, and rightly so. But he wrongly blames us. The real killer is an enemy from without, a demon who was disguised as an Elf. Let us reveal all this. Give us a chance!”

  “If you don’t,” Kirisin added quickly, “the enemy attack will come all too quickly and you won’t be able to save anyone. You must have seen their numbers. We saw them from the air. There are thousands. Far too many for the Elves to defend against.”

  “Maurin, please,” Simralin begged, lowering her voice, leaning close. “You have known me my whole life. You have known Kirisin. We would not lie about something like this. We would not turn traitor to our own people. Do you really think we are capable of such a thing?”

  “People are capable of anything,” he replied. “Even Elves. Even good Elves, like you.”

  “If you take us away, if you do what the King has ordered, you will never know the truth.”

  “The King will extract the truth from you.”

  “What the King is looking to extract is revenge. He will not listen to the truth. He has already made up his mind, and you know it. He is half mad with grief. In there, in the Council chambers, he might be made to listen. Alone with us, he won’t bother. He will simply find a way to kill us and call the matter closed.”

  They stared at each other silently, desperation mingling with uncertainty. Maurin Ortish shook his head, and Kirisin thought, We failed. “You realize what you are asking of me?” the captain of the Home Guard said softly.

  “I am asking you to do what you have always done before,” Simralin replied. “I am asking you to do what is right.”
>
  He said nothing in response, but instead looked off into the distance. There was a hushed silence in the hall as everyone waited to see what he would do. One way or the other, Kirisin sensed, this was the turning point. He decided to try to tip the balance.

  “Can you move everyone away from us for a moment?” he asked the captain of the Home Guard.

  Ortish glanced over at him, hesitating. Then he motioned the guards to move back.

  “You were there in the Council chambers when the Knight of the Word and the tatterdemalion told the King that the Ellcrys had spoken to me,” Kirisin said quietly, keeping his voice too low for anyone but Ortish to hear. “So you remember what they said. That I was to go in search of the Loden Elfstone. That when I found it, I was to use it to place the tree and the city and the Elven population inside so that they could be taken to another, safer place. No one believed this. No one even thought an Elfstone existed after all this time. There was no record of an Elfstone, nothing to support what any of us were saying.”

  “I remember.”

  Kirisin reached into his pocket and pulled out the Loden. He cupped it in the palm of his hand so that only Maurin Ortish could see it. “This is it. The Loden Elfstone. We found it on Syrring Rise. This is what will save us all. If you doubt my sister, if you don’t believe her, this should change your mind.”

  The captain of the Home Guard stared at the Elfstone, and then he looked up at the boy. “How could you have found something like this, Kirisin?” he asked. “Are you sure of what it is?”

  But before the boy could answer him, a familiar figure appeared in front of them, big and looming. “So there you are, Little K.”

  Kirisin looked up to find Tragen standing next to them, his dark features lined with a mix of worry and confusion. And something else. Despair? Desperation? Kirisin wasn’t sure.

  The big man tried a quick smile. “Hello, Sim.”

  “What is it, Tragen,” Maurin Ortish asked, clearly irritated by the interruption.

  Tragen looked exhausted. His clothes were torn and dirtied, and his face was scratched. “I need to speak with the King at once. Things are much worse than we thought.”

  “Give your report to me.”

  Tragen shook his head. “If I give it in the presence of the King and the members of the High Council, maybe I can say something that will help Kirisin and Simralin. About what they are telling you. About the Loden Elfstone. Please, Captain, let me come inside with you.”

  Kirisin blinked. How long had Tragen been standing there? How much of what was said had he heard? Where had he come from, for that matter? He hadn’t been there before, had he?

  Ortish glanced past the big Tracker. “Where are the others?”

  “Dead. We were discovered, attacked, and then chased. The enemy caught up to us all, one by one. I was lucky. I fell down a ravine, and they lost sight of me in the dark. I hid until they had wandered away and I was able to crawl out again. Captain, please.”

  Kirisin suddenly realized that he was standing there holding the Loden in his hand for anyone to see who happened to walk up to him. He closed his fingers around it and dropped it back into his pocket.

  “Maurin, I think we all need a chance to speak before the High Council,” Simralin repeated. “Please give it to us.”

  Maurin Ortish nodded. “I won’t promise that you’ll get two words out before the King has you hauled away. But I will take you into the chambers and let you do your best. Tragen, you might as well come with them if you’ve got something to say that bears on this.”

  He signaled over to four of the guards. “But you’ll have company, so please don’t do anything to make me regret this decision.”

  Leaving the remainder of the Home Guard without, he led the way over to the chamber doors and pushed them open.

  TEN

  A S KIRISIN ENTERED the chambers of the High Council, following close on the heels of Maurin Ortish and flanked by Simralin and Tragen, a heated debate was taking place. Various members of the Council were trying to talk over one another, and the King was shifting his dark gaze from one to the next, looking as if he would like to see all of them dropped into a deep hole and covered over. He didn’t notice the newcomers right away, his attention on something that Basselin was saying to a tall, sharp-featured woman whose name Kirisin could not remember.

  The Council chambers were layered in shadows, the light reduced to a few wall lamps and a series of glow sticks hung from the rafters. It appeared that the meeting had begun in daylight and no one had bothered to do anything about the failing light when it had gotten dark. There was an air of desperation and distraction to the proceedings, reflected on the faces of the Council members and in the intensity of their words. No one seemed to have the attention of anyone else. No one looked the least bit happy.

  Ordanna Frae glanced over and saw them, and he brought up one arm in a gesture that appeared to reflect a futile effort to ward them off rather than point them out. He tried to say something, but the arguments raging around him drowned out whatever words he spoke.

  “My King! Ministers! Your attention, if you please!” Maurin Ortish was shouting in a way Kirisin had not thought possible given his normally soft manner of speaking. Heads turned. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think you need to hear what these three have to say about the threat we are facing.” He paused as the King turned to look, and then he bowed deeply. “High Lord, your pardon.”

  Arissen Belloruus was on his feet. His voice, when he spoke, was just barely under control. “You had best beg for my mercy, Captain. You have disobeyed me! Deliberately disobeyed me, Captain! What sort of madness has taken hold of you? Do you think yourself above me and therefore able to countermand my orders?”

  The arguing ceased abruptly as the remaining members of the Council turned to look at what was happening.

  The King wasn’t finished. His hand shook as he pointed at Ortish. “There is no excuse for what you have done. None, Captain. I am shocked and disappointed in you. Have these traitors taken out of my sight and locked up until I can deal with them! When that is done, you are relieved of your command and confined to your rooms!”

  Maurin Ortish straightened. “My lord, I understand your anger. But young Kirisin has found the Loden Elfstone, and he and his sister claim to be able to shed light on the truth about your daughter’s death—”

  “Enough!” the King shouted, fists clenched, face contorted. “Don’t say another word, Captain Ortish, or by everything the Elves believe in I’ll have you—”

  “My lord, we are in need of knowing more! Look at what threatens us! Tragen returns to give us his report on the size and intentions of the enemy. His entire command was killed, all five of them. If you will just listen to what young Kirisin . . .”

  He kept talking, but his words were drowned out by the King’s roar of fury as he charged down off the dais. He might have reached his captain of the Home Guard and attacked him, but Ordanna Frae stepped directly into his path and took hold of his arms.

  “My King, please.” He blocked the other physically, smaller and older than the King, but determined. The King tried to shove him aside, but other members of the Council had risen to their feet to block his way, as well. He slowed, and then stopped, breathing hard, glaring at Ortish.

  “My King,” Ordanna Frae repeated. He waited for the other man to look at him, flinching at the rage mirrored in his eyes. “No one here blames you for your anger over Erisha’s death. But our city and our people are threatened, and we must find a way to save them. To do that, we need to hear anything—anything—that might bear on the subject. If young Kirisin has something to tell us, we should hear him out. It cannot hurt us at this point. It cannot hurt you.”

  There was a general murmur of agreement from the rest, save for Basselin, who was looking at Maurin Ortish as if he would welcome the chance to find out exactly what form the King’s wrath might take.

  For another instant Arissen Belloruus looked as if he
might try to break free. Then the tension fled his body and he stepped back. “We cannot trust anything they say, Minister Frae. You should know that as well as I do. What is the point in listening?”

  “We can measure truth and falsehood, my King. Even in lies there are sometimes truths revealed. Let us listen to what the boy has to say and judge the matter when he is finished.” Ordanna Frae released his grip. “If our captain of the Home Guard was convinced that he should bring them before us—knowing full well your likely reaction—then I think we must accept that he saw something of importance in what they said to him. We need to hear what that was.”

  “We need to hear nothing!” Basselin interjected, moving over to insert himself between the King and Frae. “The King is right. We are wasting our time. We already know the truth of things. The boy was seen bending over Erisha Belloruus with a knife. They fled the city afterward rather than stay to explain. They allied themselves with a human, a treacherous Knight of the Word who aided them in their efforts to undermine Elven authority. We know enough to make up our minds about them without hearing more.”

  “But they returned voluntarily to speak to this Council,” Maurin Ortish declared. “They were safely away from us, and they came back. Why would they do that if they were guilty of the crimes with which they have been charged? If we want to be sure of what we think is true, we need to hear their explanation.”

  “Lies, all of it!” shouted Basselin.

  There was renewed arguing as the ministers took sides for and against the idea of listening to anything Kirisin and Simralin wanted to tell them. The boy shrank from the heat and fury of their words. He was the youngest person in the room, but he wasn’t so young that he didn’t realize what was happening. Somebody had to do something right away or this would get too far out of hand.

  “Wait!” he shouted suddenly. “Wait! Listen to me!”

  Surprisingly, they did. The arguing died away, and they all turned toward him, their faces mirroring their feelings about what they believed to be true. He did his best not to read what was there, but instead reached into his pocket and brought out the Loden. “This is what the Ellcrys sent me to find. This is what will save the Elves. The army that waits in the trees waits only for me to use it. Listen to me. Listen to the truth about what happened to us.”