The Stiehl Assassin

by Terry Brooks

  Rocan himself remained mostly absent, off with the village elders and headmen to discuss what had brought him home again and what sorts of trouble were brewing elsewhere in the Four Lands. Shea had no idea how much Rocan was revealing and how much he was holding back, but his stature among the Rovers was such that they did not hesitate to do all he asked for the Behemoth and Annabelle.

  For the most part, Shea would have been content to stay where he was. Aperex was growing on him, quickly feeling like a place he could call home. The Rovers were a friendly, open people—despite the claims in the Borderlands that they were thieves and cutthroats who would steal the eyes from a dead man. They worked and played hard in equal measure, and they were loyal to their family and friends. In five short days, he had been able to determine that much, and it was more than he could say for those men and women he had known in the Southland.

  To reach the Apron—a broad, flat stretch of level grassland at the eastern edge of the village that had been appointed to serve as a landing area for all airships come to Aperex to do business—he had to pass through the entire village. There was a second landing area farther back in the lee of a high bluff, reserved exclusively for usage by the villagers. Hangars and storage space had been carved into the face of the bluff at various points beneath a rugged rock shelf that served as protection and concealment both. This was where the Behemoth was being fitted out and where Annabelle was hidden from prying eyes.

  Ahead, there was evidence of a crowd gathering. Curious to see what was happening, Shea made his way to the edge of the airfield and found all the attention centered on an airship that was settled close to the eastern edge, with a small group of new arrivals standing before it. One of them he recognized right away. It was the smart-mouthed girl from Varfleet who had given him so much trouble while he was trying to help the grandfather.

  And there was the grandfather, as well, standing almost next to her, deep in conversation with Rocan.

  “Grandfather!” he shouted excitedly. He rushed forward to stand before him. “I didn’t think to meet up with you again so soon. Do you need a guide to get you through the village?”

  He missed the sharp exchange of looks that passed between those assembled as the dark-robed man extended his hand in greeting. “Not this time. But it does seem we are destined to begin a new adventure, Shea Ohmsford.”

  Shea immediately released the other’s hand. “Not I, Grandfather. I’ve found what I was looking for, and have no further need of adventures. Or credits, in case you were thinking of making an offer.” He glanced at the girl. Tarsha? Was that her name? “But look. Here is my replacement—a fine young lady of impeccable virtue and the sharpest wits in all the Four Lands. Ready for anything, if I’m any judge. Look no further!”

  The girl was scowling at him. When he smiled back, she rolled her eyes and gave a massive sigh of displeasure. “This isn’t my idea!” she snapped. “I could have gone two lifetimes without encountering you again. An entire month with you is more than I can bear to think about.”

  “This is how you greet me?” Shea said, feigning shock. “After I have agreed to give you my place in whatever wild undertaking the grandfather has in mind? That’s unkind!”

  “Shea,” Rocan Arneas broke in quickly. “Remember your manners. Drisker Arc is a Druid, and this young woman is his protégée.”

  Shea started to say something clever, then stopped as he realized there had been a decided edge to the Rover’s voice. “Apologies, Grandfather.”

  Drisker Arc made a dismissive gesture. “My companions and I were sent to find you, Shea. Tarsha Kaynin you already know. Her brother, Tavo. Dar Leah. Brecon Elessedil.”

  He pointed them out one by one until he reached the most striking young woman Shea had ever seen—except perhaps for Seelah. But this young woman was not a changeling, and seemed somehow different from the rest of the company. He could not have said how he knew this, but he did.

  She was standing slightly apart from the others, holding herself at rigid attention. As Drisker Arc hesitated, she stepped forward without waiting for the Druid to speak. “I am Ajin d’Amphere, princess of the Skaar nation.”

  Shea made a clumsy bow, responding automatically to the title, not wanting to make another misstep. He had no idea who she was and had never heard of the Skaar nation, but if she was a princess, she deserved some sort of respect. Straightening again, he glanced from one face to the next, finding the expression on each more than a little puzzling—save for Tarsha, who was glaring openly at him.

  “Rocan,” he said at last, turning to the other. “What’s going on?”

  “I believe any explanation will require a little time and should not be undertaken out here in the open. Why don’t we all go up to the Commons and have something to eat while we talk? Our guests look tired and hungry, and we should not overtax them by standing around in the heat of the day.” Rocan beckoned with an expansive wave of his arm. “Come with me. Food and drink await.”

  As they started off, trudging across the Apron toward the village, Shea fell into step beside Tarsha. “Go annoy someone else,” she said irritably.

  “Did you really come all the way here to find me?” he asked, ignoring her.

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh. “A shade from the netherworld told Drisker it was necessary we do this if we wanted to accomplish our goals.”

  “A shade? A dead thing?”

  She looked away. “Do you want to learn more about this?”

  The boy nodded at once. “Of course I do.”

  “Then you’ll have to wait with the rest of us. Apparently only the ‘grandfather’ knows, and up until now he’s been keeping it to himself.”

  She picked up her pace and hurried ahead, leaving him thoroughly perplexed. Seconds later Rocan dropped back to walk with him, leaving Sartren to guide the others.

  “Watch what you say when we get there.”

  Shea grimaced. Now what? “What do you mean?”

  “The Druid is here for something more than a visit. I want to know what it is, and until I do I don’t want you saying one word about Tindall and Annabelle. Not one. He’ll ask you what you are doing here, but you make something up that doesn’t involve the real reason. Understand?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he moved away, hurrying to catch up with the others.

  Shea lagged behind, perplexed and irritated and wondering what he was getting himself into this time.

  * * *

  —

  Dispositions improved once they were inside the Commons and seated around a table laden with food and drink that had been prepared and served by members of the village. The Commons was a large chamber that served as a gathering place for feasts and meetings but was empty now, according them the privacy they needed for their discussion. Without preamble, Drisker Arc asked Shea to tell them how he had managed to get all the way from Varfleet to Aperex, and what sort of guide work he was finding among the Rovers. He asked in a relaxed, almost joking way, but Shea was already on guard about something—Drisker could tell. So although he spoke freely and at length, relating a questionable version of how he had met Rocan and been offered a job as his personal assistant, the boy was omitting something critical.

  What surprised the Druid, as he sat listening, was how little of substance Shea Ohmsford had to say. Mostly it was devoid of anything but the sketchiest of details, and failed to adequately explain what had compelled him to leave the city he had lived in his entire life. Drisker was hoping for a fuller explanation, something that would point to whatever it was that made the boy so crucial that Grianne Ohmsford had insisted he must be found. Although he had kept her identity a secret from the others for reasons that had as much to do with his reluctance to let them know whom they were relying on as anything else, he never
theless found himself convinced that she had not misled them. At this point, he could not afford to lose their support, and there was a real danger he would if they discovered the truth.

  “And that’s pretty much the whole of it,” Shea finished up, sitting back and watching him.

  Watching to see if he convinced me, the Druid thought.

  “Now you must tell us why you have come all this way to see the boy,” Rocan announced, jumping in to take control of the conversation. “Surely it was for more than a simple visit?”

  “There is a war coming,” Drisker replied, keeping his eyes on Shea. “You may have heard we have been invaded by a people called the Skaar, who come from the continent of Eurodia on the other side of the Tiderace. Their home is beset by an endless winter that has killed their crops and starved their people. There is apparently no indication that it will end anytime soon, so they began searching for a new home and discovered the Four Lands. Now they have established a foothold by destroying a couple of Troll tribes and a sizable Federation response force. All this was accomplished by an advance party of no more than a thousand.”

  “One moment,” Rocan interrupted. “If the Skaar are invaders and Princess Ajin is a Skaar, what is she doing here? Shouldn’t she be with her own people?”

  Drisker shook his head. “She is not welcome there at present. Her own father, the king, dismissed her from his service. I am hoping she might at some point provide a bridge to speaking with him.”

  “Isn’t that something of a reach?” Rocan persisted. He gave Ajin d’Amphere a shrug. “No offense meant, Princess.”

  She smiled. “None taken.”

  The Druid gave momentary thought to offering a further explanation and then shook his head. “For now, we are keeping her with us. The Skaar king is camped with his entire army on the north banks of the Mermidon just west of Varfleet. They are engaged in a standoff with a Federation army of equal or greater size camped to the south. A battle is almost certain unless something changes. As Druids, speaking with the shades of the dead is one way we discover how to change the future—in this case, preventing the Skaar from occupying the whole of the Four Lands. I was told to find Shea Ohmsford, if I wanted the solution.”

  “That’s crazy!” the boy exclaimed. “How am I supposed to do anything about this war?”

  “It may not be you who does anything personally,” Drisker replied. “It may be something you will do or have done, someone you know or something you know, that will provide us with the direction we need. But it does all start and end with you.”

  He stopped there, realizing that saying more was pointless. He had not missed the flicker of surprise in the boy’s eyes at his last comments. Shea Ohmsford was holding back. Something was preventing him from saying more.

  “We can certainly ponder this,” the Rover offered, rising from his chair just a bit too abruptly. “It might be that either Shea or I will stumble over what you are looking for.”

  Shea or I, Drisker noted. “I have an idea that might help, if you are willing to give us a few hours of your time. Would you be willing to guide us about the village, just so that we could see for ourselves if there might be anything here that could help us? I know it is an inconvenience…”

  He let the thought hang. After a long few moments, Rocan nodded. “Why not? If it will help you in your efforts, the few hours you ask are a gift I am pleased to offer. Finish your lunch, and we can be off.”

  Drisker waited until they were all rising from their seats and moving outside the Commons once more before he pulled Tarsha aside. “Shea knows something. I want you to find out what it is.”

  She gave him a look. “We don’t even like each other!”

  “You don’t need to. You just need to get him alone. Use the wishsong if you have to, but find out. Rocan is keeping him quiet, but once he is alone, he might be more willing to open up.”

  Tarsha made a dismissive gesture. “I doubt he will choose to reveal anything to me. But all right, I’ll try to find out what he is hiding. What happens to Tavo while I’m doing this?”

  “He comes with me. I’ve seen his interest in the airships. I don’t think he will object to leaving you.”

  * * *

  —

  Shea Ohmsford was just approaching as Drisker moved away, and Tarsha reached out to grab his arm. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Hey, no rough stuff, lady.”

  She scowled. “Do you have any idea how insufferable you are?”

  He started to answer and then stopped, shrugging. “I’ll give you that minute, if it will make you stop being so angry with me.”

  Tarsha gave him her sweetest smile. “Oh, I think it might go a long way toward improving my mood. Come on. You can show me around while we talk. I have a few questions for you.”

  Allowing the others to leave without them, Shea and Tarsha lingered behind and then set out in the opposite direction, with the boy leading the way. Neither spoke as they walked. Tarsha was absorbed by thoughts of how she might extract anything from Shea Ohmsford, and Shea was simply staying silent. After they had reached the north edge of the village, the boy veered off into a pretty tree-shaded park filled with flowers and birds that flitted from limb to limb in flashes of bright reds and blues.

  “I thought you might like to see something as pretty as you are,” he said, and this time there was not a shred of joking or teasing in the way he said it.

  Tarsha stared at him to make sure, then added, “That was a very nice thing to say.”

  The boy shrugged. “You don’t need me giving you a hard time. I can tell things have been difficult enough. Do you want to sit down?”

  They sat on a bench at the center of the park, closer than Tarsha would have ordinarily allowed. She was already revising her approach, thinking that using threats or magic felt wrong. She might get what she wanted that way, but she didn’t want to live with the knowledge that she might have caused harm to someone who didn’t deserve it.

  “So why are we out here?” he asked after a minute or so. “I know you’re after something.”

  She nodded. “No one could ever accuse you of being dim. I was impressed by the way you handled things back in Varfleet, and how you helped Drisker. And me, as it happened. So thank you. I didn’t say that before.”

  The boy shrugged. “He paid me well enough that thanks weren’t necessary.” He smiled. “But it’s nice to hear the words. Now, what’s going on?”

  “Drisker was watching you during our meeting, and he knows you are hiding something. I’m supposed to find out what it is, even if I have to use magic against you. And I can, you know. I have a very strong magic, and I can probably use it to make you tell me everything I want to know. But I don’t want to. I just want you to tell me.”

  “Maybe your magic wouldn’t work with me. I’m pretty talented when it comes to resisting things. Maybe even magic. But say I risk it and tell you no. What happens then?”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “What you need to understand is that Drisker Arc is trying to save the Four Lands from an all-out war. If it starts, I’m not sure where it will stop—or even if stopping it is possible. But a Druid’s connection with the dead is very strong, and when a shade tells you that this is what you must do, then it’s what you must do. So coming here was not a whim. And your name being mentioned in particular means you have the answer we need. And an obligation to everyone in the Four Lands to provide it.”

  “Even at the cost of betraying a promise?”

  Tarsha leaned close. “If a promise is given out of context, it lacks validity. You made a promise without knowing all the facts, didn’t you? So now that you know them, you have to reassess the reason for that promise and the nature of the consequences if you keep it.”

  “Breaking it might not do anything to help you,” he said, a note of stubbornness in his voic
e.

  “Not breaking it might lose us the Four Lands.” She leaned back again. “You have to decide, Shea. You have to make the choice and live with it. I told you what I know to be at stake. If what you reveal does not harm Rocan Arneas—and I am pretty certain it was he you made the promise to—then how much trouble can you be in?”

  The boy looked away momentarily. “A whole lot more than you think. He is my benefactor. Without his help, I’d be back on the streets of Varfleet, struggling to make my way.”

  Tarsha gave it a moment before replying. “I think Drisker would help you, if that was how things worked out. But I also think that once Rocan understands why you did it, he will forgive you breaking your promise.”

  “Yeah, when pigs fly. Look, I like you and all, but I have to think about this.”

  “You might not have that kind of time. We might not—any of us. What else can I say to persuade you?”

  He gave her a funny look. “Nothing. But there is something you can do.”

  “Name it.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “What?”

  “Kiss me. Once, on the lips. Give me something I’ve been thinking about since we first met. Something to take with me when I get thrown out on the streets. And don’t ask me to explain.”

  “I am not going to kiss you!”

  Shea nodded. “I know. And now you know how I feel about breaking my promise. So you do something you don’t want to do, and I’ll do the same. Otherwise, we can just walk on back to the Commons and wait for the others to return.”

  Tarsha stared at him for long moments. “Why are you asking me to do this? You don’t even like me.”