Tanequil

by Terry Brooks

  A Druid began to climb down the ladder, dark-robed and hooded, swaying unsteadily as he carefully placed one foot below the other. A big man, Bek saw, powerfully built and strong, but unfamiliar with airships and flying. He stepped off the ladder, pulled back his hood to reveal his face, and started toward them. Bek had never seen him before, but then most of the Druids at Paranor were unfamiliar to him. Except for his sister and Ahren Elessedil, who was no longer at Paranor, he had met only one or two others over the years, and those he barely remembered. The Druid life was his sister’s life, not his, and he had kept himself deliberately apart from it. Sometimes he felt badly that he was not doing more to help her in her work, but it was not work he had ever cared to involve himself in and so he thought it better not to pretend he did.

  The man who approached was younger than they were, though not by much, and his careworn face suggested he might be aging in other ways. Their lives filled with secrets, their work clandestine and often unknowable, Druids always troubled Bek. It was a role that fit his sister well, the clothes of her life as the Ilse Witch, where she had perfected the art of subterfuge and dissembling. Such skills were necessary in the world of the Druids, even though intended for good and not for evil. Druids were not well liked in the Four Lands. It was not a prejudice he shared, understanding them as he did, but it was a fact of life. Power fostered fear, and fear mistrust. The Druid order was for many the genesis of all three.

  “Aren’t those Gnome Hunters crewing the Athabasca?” Rue asked suddenly. “Where are the Trolls?”

  It was too late for speculation. “Bek Ohmsford?” the Druid asked as he came up to them. He held out his hand without waiting for a reply. “My name is Traunt Rowan.”

  He shook Bek’s hand, then took Rue’s as well. His grip was firm and reassuring. He spoke in even, measured tones that radiated sincerity and concern.

  “I was sent by the Druid Council to bring you back with me to Paranor,” he continued, looking at them in turn. “The Ard Rhys has disappeared. We don’t know what happened to her, but she’s gone, and we haven’t been able to find out why.”

  Bek nodded. His sister had disappeared before, many times. She was known for going off without warning on undertakings she wished to keep secret. “You must have reason to be worried about her beyond what you’ve told me. She has gone her own way without advising others many times in her life. Why is this time any different?”

  “Her personal assistant, Tagwen, always knows where she is. Or at least he knows when she is leaving. This time, he didn’t know anything about what happened. Nor did the Troll guard. No one did. This is where matters become a bit more complicated. Tagwen was concerned enough that he sought out Ahren Elessedil to help search for her. Together, they traveled to Patch Run to find you. But they found you gone and spoke with your son instead. When they left, they took him with them. Now we can’t find any of them.”

  Bek felt a stab of fear. Rue’s fingers reached out to find his and tightened sharply. “How did you find all this out? You haven’t received any messages, have you?”

  The Druid shook his head. “None. We found out what we did by asking those who knew bits and pieces of the truth. Tagwen left word where he was going. We followed him to the Westland village of Emberen. We discovered that he spoke with Ahren Elessedil and that they left together. From there, we tracked them to Patch Run. But we don’t know what happened after that. We only know that your son is gone, as well.”

  He grimaced. “I’m embarrassed we don’t know more. We have been searching for them for days. We have been searching for you, too. We think that the disappearance of the Ard Rhys might indicate that her entire family is in danger. There is some indication of this being so. She has many enemies, and everyone knows you are close to her and are possessed of the Shannara magic, as well. Some of those enemies might consider you as dangerous to them as she is.”

  “Penderrin would never go off with anyone, even Ahren Elessedil, without leaving word for us,” Rue broke in suddenly. “Did you look for a message?”

  “We did,” Traunt Rowan said. “We looked everywhere. But we didn’t find one.”

  You searched our house, Bek thought. That was bold. Why did you feel the need?

  “If Pen failed to leave a message, it was because he didn’t have enough time to do so.” Rue was sliding into her protective mother role, and Bek could see the anger in her eyes. “Why wasn’t he offered your protection earlier?”

  A flicker of irritation appeared on Traunt Rowan’s handsome face and then quickly disappeared. “We did what we thought best at the time. We were a little disorganized, confused. We didn’t know what had happened at that point.”

  “You still don’t, it seems,” she snapped.

  The Druid turned to Bek. “If you will return with me to Paranor, perhaps we can find them together. We know you have a strong connection to your sister, that you share the use of her magic. We were hoping that you might find a way to apply your talents to help us with our search. If we can find either your sister or your son, we have a chance of finding both.”

  He hesitated. “I admit that we are growing desperate. We need a fresh approach. We need any help that we can get.”

  He sounded sincere and his plea had merit, but something troubled Bek. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he couldn’t quite make himself dismiss it, either.

  “What of the expedition?” he asked, trying to think it through.

  “I will see that everything is taken care of. Another ship, paid for by the order, will fulfill your obligation to your passengers. With your permission, I will fly back with you aboard your airship to Paranor. The Athabasca can continue her search. We have all of our airships out looking, crisscrossing the Four Lands. I don’t want to take any of them out of service until this matter is settled.” He paused. “We are doing everything we can to find your son.”

  He directed this last comment at Rue in what was surely an effort to reassure her, but Bek was pretty certain it was too late for that.

  “We have to find him, Bek,” Rue said quickly. “We have to do whatever it takes.”

  She was right, of course. But that didn’t mitigate his sense of uneasiness. Why would Pen, who was always so dependable, disappear without a word to anyone? Where would Ahren Elessedil have taken him that required such secrecy? Looking at it from every conceivable angle, he kept coming back to the same two possibilities—that his son had been forced to flee or that Traunt Rowan was lying.

  “Let me talk with our passengers and tell them what’s happening,” he said to the Druid. “Then we’ll come with you.”

  He took Rue’s hand and led her over to where the six who had hired them were standing in the shadow of Swift Sure. Quickly, he told them a version of the truth—that an emergency had arisen that required them to leave immediately for home, that another airship with another Captain and crew familiar with expedition work would come to allow them to complete their outing. There were a few disappointed looks, but everyone took it well. None of them asked for their money back. They shook hands and wished one another well.

  After giving a wave of reassurance to Traunt Rowan, Bek walked over to the crates of supplies stacked on the ground at the airship’s stern and began checking through them. Rue, who had hesitated before following him over, bent close. “What are you doing?”

  “Pretending that I’m doing something useful,” he said. “Gaining us a little space and time so that we can think.”

  She joined him in poking through the crates, her eyes never leaving his face. “You don’t trust him, either.”

  He glanced back at the Druid, who was leading their passengers over to the Athabasca in preparation for boarding. “Why do you think Tagwen felt the need to seek out Ahren Elessedil when there are more than a hundred other Druids at Paranor whom he could have turned to? Why would he choose to seek help outside Paranor’s walls? That doesn’t feel right.”

  “No,” she agreed, “it doesn’t.”<
br />
  “But let’s assume he had a good reason for traveling all the way to Emberen to find Ahren. Why did Traunt Rowan and the other Druids suddenly feel a need to follow him? If they were worried about our family, why wouldn’t they go straight to Patch Run to warn us? They’ve thrown Pen into the mix as a reason for their search, but they didn’t know anything about a connection to us before they started looking for the other two.”

  Rue’s mouth tightened. “He said Pen might be in danger, that we all might. But he never said from whom, did he?”

  “I take your point. Whatever the case, I don’t think we are being told the truth.”

  She straightened abruptly. “Then why are we going back to Paranor? If this is some sort of a trap, we shouldn’t be so quick to step into it.”

  He shook his head. “They want something from us. If they didn’t, they would have taken a different approach. Besides, if we don’t go to Paranor, we lose our best chance of finding out what is really going on.”

  She brushed back loose strands of her long red hair and looked off into the distance. “I could make him tell us everything in about ten minutes if you left me alone with him.”

  Bek smiled in spite of himself. “He’s a Druid, Rue. He’s too powerful to play games with. Anyway, if we scare him, he won’t be so eager to tell us anything. Even when he lies, he gives us small glimpses of the truth. Let’s make use of that for now. We can skin him and hang him out to dry later.”

  She reached over and took his hand. “I want Penderrin safe, Bek. If this involves your sister, it probably involves her enemies, and her enemies are too dangerous for a boy to deal with.” She glanced over at the Druid airship. “I hate it that we’ve become involved in her life again.”

  He straightened and took her in his arms. She let him do so, but her body remained stiff and angry as he held her. “Don’t be too quick to blame this on Grianne,” he whispered. “We don’t know anything for sure yet. We don’t even know that Pen is missing. All we know is what we’ve been told, and we can’t really trust that.”

  She nodded and inclined her head into his shoulder. “What if he’s telling the truth? We can’t dismiss that possibility, either. Just because he hasn’t told his story well doesn’t mean it isn’t true. We can’t take chances with Pen’s safety.”

  He pressed her against him reassuringly. “Nothing will happen to Pen. Remember who raised him. He isn’t without resources or skills. If he’s disappeared, it may be because he wants it that way. What we need to do is to discover the reason. But we have to go to Paranor to do that. Are you willing to take the chance?”

  She backed out of his embrace, and he saw the familiar resolve reflected in her green eyes. “What do you think?”

  SIX

  Shadea a’Ru walked alone down the lower west corridor of the Druid’s Keep, listening beyond the soft scrape of her footfalls for other sounds. The air was warm and stultifying outside the walls of the Keep, but cool and resonant inside. A barely audible whisper of faraway voices reverberated off the stone walls like motes of dust dancing in the light.

  She listened to those voices carefully, but only to make certain they did not follow her.

  They would be serving the noon meal now, and a period of rest would follow for those who cared to take advantage of it. Few would. The Druids she led knew there were consequences for any failure to complete their work. She kept them guessing as to what those consequences might be or when to expect them. She let them work without supervision or deadlines because her unpredictability was all the incentive they required. A little uncertainty and a few object lessons were strong motivators.

  She did not visit acts of reprisal on those who disappointed her; she knew better than to do that. She did not use her office to punish outright. She had learned a long time ago that consequences must be administered in more subtle ways. A few well-chosen examples set the tone. She provided them early on, within days after gaining the position of Ard Rhys, a clear indication of her expectations. She chose two younger Druids, ones lacking in broad support, ones whose presence would not be missed. She called them into her office and simply dismissed them. She sent them home without offering them even the smallest clue as to how or why they had failed. They might apply for reinstatement, she advised, once they had determined the nature of their shortcomings. It was a fair and just approach to the strict demands of the order’s disciplines, and no one could find fault with how she had handled things.

  Yet the underlying message was unmistakable. If one failed, whether one understood how or why—one paid the price. The best way to avoid such consequences was to work hard and not make trouble.

  Of course, the more powerful of the Druids were not so easily intimidated. Their dismissal would result in confrontations of the sort she was trying to avoid. Yet she was determined that they all be brought into line, that they be made to accept her leadership and her control. She did not require that they make a public display of their loyalty; she needed only to know it was understood that she was Ard Rhys in more than name.

  Hence, this clandestine meeting with the most powerful of those whose support she required. If Gerand Cera would agree to back her openly, if she could gain his support for her efforts, then the rest would be easier to persuade. The problem was that Cera hated her almost as much as he had hated Grianne Ohmsford. If she was to have any success in gaining his support, she must first find a way to change his feelings.

  She paused at the entry to a rotunda that served as a hub for a series of connecting corridors. Light from narrow slits cut high up in the circular walls reflected off the stone blocks, measuring sticks for the single stairway that led upward to the west watchtower and its parapets. She had chosen this remote and private spot to test Cera’s resolve. If he feared to meet her there, alone and unprotected by his followers, he was not the ally she needed. If he appeared, it would reinforce her belief that he would serve the purpose she had set for him.

  She needed a fresh ally. Terek Molt was dead, Iridia Eleri had abandoned Paranor, and Traunt Rowan and Pyson Wence were beginning to show signs of vacillation. Though the latter two did her bidding, they failed to command the respect and fear of the Dwarf and the sorceress. She was incensed about Iridia, who had simply disappeared after the death of her beloved Ahren Elessedil, but there was nothing Shadea could do about it. Searching for Iridia would consume time and resources. Worse, it would demonstrate weakness. Better to deal with her later.

  She thought fleetingly of Traunt Rowan, who should by then have been deep in the Eastland and close to making contact with Bek Ohmsford and his wife. If he succeeded in bringing them to Paranor, she would have new leverage in her search for the boy and his companions should the unthinkable happen and Aphasia Wye fail. She would also have a means for reconfirming that Grianne Ohmsford was safely imprisoned within the Forbidding, where she could cause no further harm. The brother’s magic could be put to that use. It was dangerous to use him that way, but it was a risk she felt she had to take. When she was done with him, when she had hunted down the boy and verified that his aunt was dead and gone, it would be easy enough to dispose of the entire Ohmsford family.

  But first things first. She must concentrate on the task at hand, the manipulation of Gerand Cera. She glanced around the rotunda, their appointed meeting place. There was no sign of him.

  “I am here, Shadea,” he said from the shadows behind her.

  She turned with a start. Tall and menacing in his black robes, he was standing just inside the same hallway she had come down. He must have followed her all the way to their meeting place, and she had not heard him do so. It was a clear demonstration of his skill, given so that she would not mistake his coming as an indication of weakness. It was typical of him; he had survived over the years by making certain no one ever misjudged what he was capable of doing.

  “Gerand Cera,” she greeted him, holding her ground.

  He came up to her, lean and hatchet-faced, his nose and cheekbones nar
row and chiseled, his mouth a thin line of disapproval. His expression was unreadable, as if his mind had emptied of thought and his heart of emotion. He was a formidable opponent, and there were few at Paranor who would dare to challenge him.

  “Are we alone?” he asked.

  He would already know the answer to that question, she thought. He only wanted to let her think he trusted her not to lie to him. “Of course. What I have to say to you is not meant for other ears.”

  “I didn’t think so.” He glanced around, as if come for the first time to a new place. “No one is likely to pass down these corridors, I suspect. Nevertheless, we are too much exposed to suit my taste. We should not be seen meeting like this, even by accident.”

  She nodded. “Come this way.”

  She led him into another of the passageways and from there into an unmanned guardroom fronting the outer wall.

  “Here?” she asked. He nodded, and she closed the door behind them. “This should serve our needs.”

  He walked over to a bench set against the far wall and sat down. “Let me save you some time and effort, Shadea. You have summoned me because you require my help. Your own allies seem to be disappearing rather more rapidly than I think you anticipated in the wake of what’s happened. Some won’t be returning, I suspect. You are Ard Rhys in name, but your grip on the title is tenuous. Allies are necessary. I would be the one whose support you covet most. Am I right?”

  She was angered by his presumptions, but kept her feelings in check. He was right, of course. That was one of his strengths—the ability to analyze a situation quickly and accurately. “Your support would be welcome,” she acknowledged.

  His sharp features tightened. “Why should I give it to you?”

  “I could suggest the obvious—that it would be safer for you to have me as a friend than an enemy.”

  His smile was bitter. “You could never be a friend to me, Shadea. You could never be a friend to anyone you viewed as a potential rival. I accept that. I don’t want you as a friend, in any case. As well, I don’t want you as an enemy. Your successful elimination of Grianne Ohmsford demonstrates sufficient reason for that. Such an impressive piece of work. So unexpected. No one knows how you did it. Gone almost as if she never existed. Care to explain how you managed it?”