Tanequil

by Terry Brooks

  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.

  “I know you want me to do this right away,” he told her. “I want that, too. But I don’t know that I can help you effectively until I am better rested. Application of the magic of the wishsong requires a steady concentration that I don’t feel I can bring to bear just now. What I would like to do is eat something and get some sleep, then try in the morning, when I’m fresh.”

  “Bek!” Rue exploded angrily, gripping his shoulder so hard it hurt. “This is our son and your sister we are trying to help! What do you mean, you need to rest? You can rest later!”

  Her words made him flinch, but he looked directly at her. “I’m worried for them, too. But I don’t want to make a mistake. I’m just not sure I’m recovered enough from that fever to focus the way I need to. Not without a little food and rest first.”

  He turned away from the surprise and confusion that flashed sharply in her eyes. “Tomorrow, then?”

  Clearly unhappy with the delay, Shadea a’Ru took a moment to consider. Reluctantly, she nodded. “Tomorrow will be fine. Traunt Rowan will see you to your sleeping chambers and arrange for food to be brought. Rest well.”

  She swept out of the room without sparing him another glance, a hint of disgust reflected on her strong features. The taller of the two Druids who went with her turned briefly to study him, and Bek did not care for what he saw in the dark eyes. Then they were gone, and Traunt Rowan was saying something about arrangements for the night. Bek didn’t hear all of it; his attention was back on Rue, who was looking at him in what he hoped was a less judgmental way.

  “Come with me,” the Druid ordered, his own face dark and troubled.

  It took them only a few minutes to reach their sleeping chambers, which consisted of two rooms with a bed, a few furnishings, a single door, high windows, and a pair of unfriendly looking Gnome Hunters already positioned at the doors.

  “To keep you safe,” Traunt Rowan explained quickly. “We are taking no chances with your family, even here. Until we find out what has happened to the Ard Rhys and your son, we intend to keep close watch over all of you. I will have dinner sent right up.”

  When he was gone and the door securely closed behind him, Bek put a finger to his lips before Rue could say anything, shaking his head in warning. He motioned about the room, to the walls and ceiling, to the vents and doors and windows, where other ears might be listening. When she nodded her understanding, he took her in his arms and put his lips close to her ear.

  “Are you all right?”

  He felt her nod into his shoulder. Her mouth pressed against his ear. “What was all that about a fever? You haven’t had a fever in months.”

  “An excuse to keep Shadea at bay,” he wh
ispered. “Something about all this isn’t right. I need to think about what she’s asking me to do.”

  Another nod. “I don’t trust her, either. I don’t trust any of them. They’re lying about something.”

  “That young Druid who bumped into me in the hallway? That wasn’t an accident. He gave me a note; I have it in my pocket. He pressed it into my hand while he was helping me get up. He didn’t want Shadea and the others to see what he was doing. He took a big chance.”

  “Do you know him? Is he Grianne’s friend?”

  “I don’t know who is or isn’t her friend at this point.”

  “Have you looked at the note?”

  He shook his head. “I was waiting until we got away from the others. I didn’t want to take a chance that they might see me looking at it.” He paused, looking past her to the stone walls. “Walk with me over to the window. Stand close so we can shield what we’re doing.”

  He felt her hand press against his back. “Do you think they might be watching as well as listening? Here?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t know. But he wasn’t about to chance it. The safety of his sister and his son were at stake, and some among the Druids might not have their best interests at heart, no matter what they said.

  They moved over to the window. The sun was setting on the horizon, a bloodred orb hung against a cerulean sky. Shadows had lengthened into dark pools, and the moon was just visible along the northeast horizon. The air outside felt cool and fresh on their faces as they leaned out, resting their arms on the stone sill, hunched close together with their backs to the room.

  Bek slipped the scrap of paper from its hiding place and laid it in front of them, keeping his hands cupped about it. They bent close. Four words were printed on it in block letters.

  DO NOT TRUST THEM.

  That was all. Bek studied the note a moment more, glanced at Rue, then pocketed it anew. When he had a chance to do so, he would destroy it. But he would have to be careful how he handled it. Druids could reconstruct messages from nothing more than ashes.

  “Clearly, not everyone is in agreement about what has happened to my sister,” he said. “The young Druid, for one.”

  “Maybe others, as well.”

  He laid his hand on her arm. “We can’t trust anyone.”

  She nodded, her eyes shifting to find his. “What are we going to do?”

  He smiled. “I was hoping you could tell me.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. “I really was.”

  In bed that night, wrapped in each other’s arms, comforted by the darkness and the silence, they talked about it.

  “Do you think they are listening still?” She said it with an edge to her voice that suggested what she might do to them if she discovered they were.

  He stroked her hair. “I think they have better things to do.”

  “I hope they weren’t watching when we bathed. That makes my skin crawl. But I can imagine that ferret-faced Druid doing it.”

  “No one watched us bathe.”

  She was silent a moment, pressed up against him. “At least the meal they gave us was decent. They didn’t try to poison us.”

  “They have other plans for us. Poison doesn’t figure into things until we’ve served our purpose.”

  He felt her face turn toward his own in the dark. “Which is? You have a hunch, don’t you?”

  His voice was already a whisper, but he lowered it further. “I’ve been thinking about it. Grianne disappeared for no discernible reason, but Tagwen went outside the order to find help. That suggests he didn’t know who to trust among these Druids any more than we do. He knew he could trust Ahren, though. So he traveled to Emberen to ask for his help. Ahren would have given it willingly. That much I feel pretty certain about.”

  “Me, too.”

  “But then they went to Patch Run. Maybe they did so to look for us, but they found Pen, instead. So they asked Pen where we were. He probably told them and wanted to go with them. Somehow, he persuaded them that it was a good idea.”

  “Or they had to take him because they thought he was in danger.”

  “Right. But what happened then? Did they come looking for us? If they did, why didn’t they find us? Pen would have been able to track us down. He would have known how. Ahren would have helped him, using Druid magic. Anyway, something happened to prevent that. So now these Druids who’ve brought us here are looking for them. And, ostensibly at least, for Grianne, as well. But they can’t find them.”

  “They want us to find them,” Rue whispered. “They want us to do their work for them. But maybe not to help. Maybe to do harm.”

  It made sense. While the Druids might profess that their intentions were honorable, there was good reason to think otherwise.

  They were silent again for a time, pondering their fresh insight, trying to think through what they should do about it. Bek felt his wife tighten her grip on him. “We can’t help them. We can’t put Penderrin in any more danger than he is already in.”

  “I know.”

  “I hate it that he’s become involved in this, in your sister’s life, in Druid intrigues and gamesmanship.”

  “Don’t underestimate Pen. He is smart and capable, and he has some experience in the world. He might not have magic to protect him, but he has his wits. Besides, if he’s with Ahren, he’s as protected as he would be with us.”

  “I wouldn’t agree with that. Anyway, he shouldn’t have to be protected in the first place.”

  He felt her anger building. “Rue, listen to me. We can’t change what’s happened. We don’t even know for sure what that is. That’s what we came to find out. Maybe we will, once we have a chance to talk with that young Druid. In the meantime, it doesn’t do us any good to get too angry to think.”

  “What makes you think I’m angry?”

  “Well—”

  “Don’t you think I have a right to be angry?”

  “Well—”

  “Are you suggesting I can’t be angry and think at the same time?”

  He hesitated, uncertain of his reply, then felt her begin to shake with suppressed laughter. “Very funny,” he whispered.

  She poked him in the ribs. “I thought so.”

  They lay quietly, listening to each other breathe. Bek ran his hands along his wife’s ribs and down her legs. He could feel the ridges where scar tissue had formed over wounds she had suffered twenty years earlier aboard the Jerle Shannara. They were a testimony to her strength and resiliency, a reminder of how hard her early life had been. He had always believed her to be stronger than he was, tougher of mind and body both. He had never stopped thinking of her that way. Others might think that because he possessed the use of the wishsong’s magic, he was the stronger. Some might even think that being the male in their partnership made him the stronger. But he knew better.

  “I won’t get angry until after I get Penderrin back,” she said suddenly, her words so soft he could barely hear them. “I don’t make any promises after that.”

  “I wouldn’t expect it.”

  “We will get him back, Bek. I don’t care what it takes.”

  “We’ll get him back.”

  “How?”

  “You asked me that earlier.”

  “You didn’t answer.”

  “I was thinking. I’m still thinking.”

  “Well, hurry up. I’m worried.”

  He smiled at her insistence, but was glad she couldn’t see him doing so. She was scared for her son, and he would not want her to mistake how he was treating the matter. He was worried, too. But he understood that what was needed was a calm, measured approach to untangling the puzzle surrounding Pen’s and Grianne’s disappearances. Rue’s strength might lie in her determination, but his lay in keeping his wits.

  “I’ll hurry,” he promised.

  “I would appreciate that.”

  “I know.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Minutes later
, they were asleep.

  EIGHT

  Bek and Rue were awake early, troubled enough by the challenges that lay ahead that the first inklings of light in the east were sufficient to bring them out of their fitful sleep. They washed and dressed and found breakfast waiting outside the door in the form of bread, cheese, fruit, and cold ale. When they retrieved the food tray, the hallway was deserted save for the Gnome Hunters, who were stationed across the hallway. Bek nodded agreeably but got no response.

  “I don’t think we are guests in the usual sense of the word,” he told Rue as he closed the door.

  Within an hour, Traunt Rowan was knocking, his eyes bright with anticipation. “Are you ready to try now, Bek?” he asked.

  Bek was. He had a plan, although he hadn’t confided it to Rue. He told her when they woke that he knew what to do, but that it was better if he kept it to himself. Her own response should not seem forced or planned. She must trust him even if it looked like he was doing something he should not. He understood what was needed. No one at Paranor could be trusted with Pen’s or Grianne’s whereabouts. If he was lucky enough to discover that information, it belonged to them and them alone.

  He had explained it all in a whisper as they lay together in the deep gloom of early dawn, still wary of who might be listening, determined to make no mistake that would reveal their true intentions.

  They left the sleeping chamber behind Traunt Rowan, who led them back down the hall and up the stairs to the cold chamber and the scrye waters. Bek held Rue’s hand in his own, a reassurance that transcended physical presence and touched on emotional support. He could read her feelings in her touch, in the strength of her grip. He took his cue from those. He spoke with the Druid conversationally, asking if there was any news, if the airships searching for his sister and son had returned, if the day seemed a good one. He told Traunt Rowan that their sleeping arrangements were more than adequate, better than they had been used to over the past few weeks. He praised the food. He talked to put the other at ease. He talked to calm himself.