Jerle Shannara - Antrax Part 12

"Did I?" she asked softly.

There was such sadness in her voice, such pain, that it stopped him momentarily. He stared at her, confused. She was telling him something important, but he didn't know what it was.

"Let go of my hands," she told him.

"But if the magic-"

"I know." She stopped him with the fingers of one hand pressed against his lips. "But we need to know what happens if we do. There may come a time when it is necessary, when we have to fight. Let's test it now, while we're alone and safe."

He hesitated a moment, then did as she asked, releasing her other hand. Nothing changed. The magic continued to envelop them, cloaking them like forest mist in twilight, the swirling gray unchanged.

Ryer Ord Star put her hands in her lap and rocked back on her heels, facing him. "You told me your secret, Ahren. I will do the same for you. I will tell you mine. If you want to hear it."

There was a darkness to her words that frightened him, a promise of something unpleasant. "You don't have to tell me anything unless you want to."

"I know."

He waited a moment, then nodded. "All right."

She lifted her chin slightly, as if facing up to something she did not want to, a confession of truths she would just as soon avoid. The gesture was a telling one, defiant and brave. It made Ahren feel something for her that hadn't been there before. Respect, perhaps. Admiration.

"I'm not what you think I am," she began, holding his gaze. It seemed to him that she was forcing herself to look at him. "I'm not what anyone thought I was. I came on this journey for more reasons than one. When Walker came to find me, I already knew he was coming. I had been instructed to go with him when he did. My purpose was to act as seer, but not only that-not even primarily that. My purpose in coming with you was to spy for the Ilse Witch."

She waited to hear Ahren's reaction, but he was too surprised to respond.

She smiled bitterly. "You look stunned. Don't you believe me? It's true. I was a spy for the Ilse Witch from the day Walker came to see me and for many years before. I sold myself to her long ago. It wasn't difficult at all, really. It happened like this. I was born with the sight, and I knew I had it from an early age. I could see the futures of those around me, sometimes in detail, sometimes just bits and pieces. I was an orphan raised by caregivers who took in strays like myself. They were kind to me, but they thought me strange, and indeed I was. I told no one of my gift, for I understood right from the start that to be different was to be dangerous in the eyes of many. I kept my gift a secret and tried to forget it was there. That was impossible to do, of course. It grew even worse when I discovered, quite by accident, that I was an empath, as well, and could heal physical and emotional wounds by touch. I didn't discover that gift until later, but once it was revealed, I had to leave my caregivers and find a place where no one knew me.

"I was twelve years old when I came to Grimpen Ward with a band of Rovers. They took me in because that is the way of Rovers, and they saw no harm in seeing me safely to my intended destination. They thought me strange, as well, but they left me alone. In Grimpen Ward, I sought out the Adders.h.a.g. She was the reason I had gone there. Everyone knew she was the most powerful seer in the Four Lands, and I hoped that she would take me in and train me. I did not know she had never taken an apprentice. I did not appreciate the enormity of what it was I was seeking to accomplish.

"She set me straight quick enough. She turned me away without taking even a moment to consider what I was asking of her. I was devastated but I refused to give up. I stayed outside her door, waiting for her to change her mind. I stayed there for two months. Finally, she invited me to come in and sit with her. She tested me, asking me to do different things. When I finished doing what she wanted, she nodded and said I could stay. That was all. I could stay.

"For weeks, I did nothing but cook and clean and fetch for her. She treated me as a servant girl, and I was eager enough to be with her that I didn't mind. Finally, she began showing me something of my gift, a little only, then a little more. My instruction had begun. After a while, I became her a.s.sistant and confidante, as well. She was old and tough and dangerous. She was unpredictable, too. But I did well enough that I didn't feel threatened."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if releasing anguish she had kept bottled up for a long time. "I made a mistake, though. When I came to her and told her of my gift of sight, asking that she teach me to use it, I kept to myself that I was an empath. I was afraid to tell her, thinking that it might affect her decision to train me, that it did not matter if I was, so long as I kept it to myself. But in the third year of my training, I had a vision in which a little girl in the village was struck down in an accident. As was our custom, we gave the information to the parents for a fee of their choosing. We did that with everyone, not to make money, but so that we could live comfortably. No one ever complained. But our warning was not enough to save the little girl, and although she was not killed, she was injured badly enough that it seemed clear she would die.

"I asked the Adders.h.a.g to let me go to her. She refused. There was nothing we could do, nothing we hadn't already done. I went anyway. I used my empathic powers and healed the little girl. I did it so that it appeared she recovered on her own, that I was only a vessel to show her the way back. But the Adders.h.a.g knew better. She told me that my empathic gift would kill me one day, that an empath tracking fate in an effort to change its course would only end up throwing away her own life in the process. She said I was wasting my precious gift and her time, and I would do better on my own. She disowned me. She cast me out."

She pulled her knees to her chest and gave Ahren a wry, sad smile. "She was right. I did well enough. I was known and liked. Some mistrusted and challenged my talent, but not so many. I was visited often enough and kept busy. I was careful with use of my empathic abilities. Once or twice, I tried visiting the Adders.h.a.g, but she would have nothing to do with me. Her interest lay in deciphering the future; she cared nothing for the past and hence nothing for me. I grew bitter toward her, angry that she would treat me with such disdain. But I was afraid of her, too. She was very old and her enemies all lay dead and buried. I did not care to become one of them. So I stayed out of her way.

"Then the Ilse Witch came to me, and everything changed."

She looked away from him for a moment, out into the emptiness of the pa.s.sageway, into the dimly lit shadows beyond their magic-induced sanctuary, but beyond even that, he sensed, into the past.

Her eyes shifted back to his. "She showed herself to me, something it was said she never did. She was young, like me. She was an orphan, like me. She was so like me that I saw myself in her from the moment we met. She was a powerful sorceress, and I wanted her friendship and patronage. So when she proposed the bargain, I accepted. I would be her eyes and ears in Grimpen Ward and give her news of things that she should know. She, in turn, would make certain that when the Adders.h.a.g died, I would ascend to her position as princ.i.p.al seer in Grimpen Ward."

Her pale, ethereal features tightened. "I insisted I did not want the Adders.h.a.g to come to any harm. I was a.s.sured she would not. She was old, after all, and would die soon enough. Did I question this? Did I want to see her fate? The Ilse Witch handed me a scarf. She told me to use my vision by channeling it through that piece of cloth she had stolen from the old woman. I did so, and saw her dead upon her cottage floor, eyes open and staring. The Ilse Witch took back the scarf. Now I had seen for myself. All that was required, once she died, was that I step into her shoes. Why not? I was her former apprentice, the most skilled of all seers next to her. Wasn't I her logical successor?

"I believed I was, of course, and I was still hurt from her rejection of me. So I agreed to the bargain and let events take their course. The Ilse Witch became my new mentor and friend. I began reporting by carrier bird everything I saw in the village and surrounding countryside. And I waited for the Adders.h.a.g to die. It took a year, but die she did. She was bitten by a small, deadly snake that nestled in a bag of gold given to her by a patron. It was never clear who that patron was. Her lady servant was gone for a day and a night and found her dead when she returned. She buried her out back and kept the house for herself."

She sighed. "And I, I became what I had wanted to be, the new Adders.h.a.g, her successor. Her followers, her patrons, all came now to me, and no one challenged me. I convinced myself that her death had nothing to do with me, that it was simply the result of a vision fulfilling itself, and that I, by not interfering, was behaving just as she had taught me. She would not have listened to me anyway, I thought. There was nothing I could have done to change things."

She shivered violently, and she hugged her knees more tightly to chase away the chill. "But there is a price for everything, and eventually I found out what it cost to follow the Adders.h.a.g. The Ilse Witch came to me in response to a vision I had of Walker; I had been told to tell her everything I discovered concerning him. My vision showed him coming to me at night, a dark presence, an irresistible force who would change everything in my life. He came to me to discover what he could of a voyage he wished to make to a new land, of what he would find along the way. He induced my visions by giving me something to touch. It was a map.

"When I told the Ilse Witch of my vision, she became very excited. She wanted that map, and she said I must find a way to steal it for her. But then she changed her mind. Instead of stealing the map, I must insist on going with him. I must convince him I was indispensable so that he would take me. I was to reveal to him what I had seen in my vision and a few things more that she would tell me so that he could not refuse my request. I would be his shadow, and she would be mine. Everywhere I went, everywhere that Walker went, she would track us. She possessed a magic that gave her a way to see through my eyes. She a.s.sured me it was necessary that I do this. She insisted that Walker was our common enemy, the enemy of all those possessed of magic in the Four Lands."

She laughed without humor, without kindness. "I knew enough by then to be wary of such statements. Walker was not my enemy.

He had done nothing to me or to anyone else so far as I knew. But I was in no position to refuse. When I suggested that the task was beyond me, she brushed my concerns aside and warned that it would take only a casual word dropped here or there to make the villagers of Grimpen Ward believe that it was I who had given the bag of gold with the snake in it to the Adders.h.a.g. Besides, the Ilse Witch was my patron, my mentor. I was afraid of her, but I felt a kinship to her, as well. I agreed to do as she asked. I became her spy aboard the Jerle Shannara."

Tears filled her eyes, sudden and unexpected in the wake of her self-reproaching laughter. "But an odd thing happened, Ahren. Something neither she nor I had planned. Even before he came to see me, before I had touched the map or discovered anything more of what the voyage would require, I began to have other visions." She leaned close to him, the tears spilling down her cheeks. "They were of Walker and me. They were so strong, so overpowering, that I could not ignore them. They were of a blue ocean and of islands, a flying ship, and battles being fought and men dying. It was the voyage Walker sought to make, and I was seeing small parts of it. Most were so vague and jumbled that I could not sort them out, but one was very clear. Of those who traveled with Walker, these would be among them-one who would save his life and one who would try to take it; one who would love him unconditionally and one who would hate him with unmatched pa.s.sion; one who would lead him astray and one who would bring him back again."

She paused. "I saw no faces to connect to any of these acts. Only my own, standing outside the vision, watching Walker- always very close, observing and waiting. But for what? I couldn't tell. Yet I was there each time, shadowing him."

"But now you know who these people are, who it is who will do these things to Walker," he interrupted, speaking for the first time, wanting to help her. "Now you can identify each one."

She laughed anew, and this time her laughter was so bitter and raw that he flinched from it. Her eyes turned wild, and she tossed back her hair in a defiant gesture. "Oh, yes! Yes, Ahren, I know who these people are! It is so ironic, so fitting! I knew these people from the start, but I didn't read the vision carefully enough! I was blinded by my own needs and wants and concerns! Who are all these people to Walker, who would take his life and save it, who would lead him astray and bring him back again, who would love and hate him both? Who are they, Ahren? I'll tell you. They are all the same person. They are all me!"

She seized his arms, gripping him so tightly he could feel her nails digging into his skin. "I did all those things to him and felt those ways about him! I almost caused him to die on Shatterstone by keeping from him that part of my vision that warned of poison thorns, and then I saved him with my empathic talent because I could not bear to let him die! I've loved and hated him both, sometimes without quite knowing which was which! He brought me with him when he shouldn't have, he put me in this terrible, hateful position because he trusts me, and he thinks even now that I will save him from whatever's trapped him down here! And I will, Ahren! I've led him astray so many times I've lost count! Each time, he's found his way back on his own. But this time, this one time, I will be the one to bring him back or I will die trying!"

She was crying so hard she was shaking, racked with sobs, her silvery hair a pale curtain reflecting her tears in threads of gleaming dampness. Her hands loosened their grip on his arms, and he took hold of her in turn, not wanting to break the contact.

"Now you know my secret," she whispered roughly. "It's much worse than yours, much uglier. I am consumed by it. I can't ever be forgiven for what I've done. I can't ever redeem myself."

He shook his head and bent close. "Everyone can be forgiven, Ryer Ord Star. Of anything and everything. It isn't always easy, but it is possible."

She shuddered in response. "Do you want to know something, Ahren?" Her voice was so small he could barely hear it. "When I used my empathic talent to heal Walker after he was poisoned on Shatterstone, I became linked to him in a way that has never happened before. It was as if our magics joined in some way, and I could see all the way into his soul. It was so painful! I knew that pain was there-I'd seen it in his eyes when we first met, felt it in his hands-but I didn't realize it was so vast! It overwhelmed me and by doing so, opened me up to him as he had been opened to me. He saw what was hidden inside of me; he saw everything. He knew what I was, what I had come to do. He understood the danger I presented to him and to the others."

She shook her head in wonderment. "But he kept it all to himself. He never spoke of it. He put it all aside as if it no longer mattered, and he let me stay. I think he hoped that by doing so he would make me an ally instead of an enemy. And he did. I quit doing anything of importance for the Ilse Witch. She could still track the airship's progress through me, but I guess Walker did not think that was very important. She already knew where we were going; she had read the mind of the castaway to learn what waited. What I would no longer do, what he was counting on me not to do, was to hide any truths from him, any parts of visions experienced, any secrets that might cause him injury. I was his now, willingly. I will be his always, so long as he needs me. Our connection transcends everything. It is strong enough that I feel his need for me, down here in this dark place, in these pa.s.sageways and chambers, in all this metal. I can feel him reaching out to me, when there is no one else he can touch." She swallowed her tears. "It is why I go to him now. It is why I have to find him."

She broke their embrace and wiped at her eyes with both hands. Then she began to cry anew, hugging herself, rocking back and forth on her heels. "Isn't it sad that I might be all he has?" she asked, her voice breaking. "So pathetic."

He took her in his arms and held her while she cried, not trying to stop or soothe her, but just holding her. He thought several times to say something comforting or wise, but nothing he considered felt right. Silence seemed best, and so he kept it. Around them, the magic of the phoenix stone swirled like murky water, steady and somehow rea.s.suring, an escape that gave them s.p.a.ce and time to let their emotions settle. Ahren looked out through the haze to the corridor beyond, where it was empty and silent. It felt as if they really were alone down there, abandoned and forgotten by everyone.

Ryer stopped crying, disengaged from his arms, and looked directly at him. "Are you still coming with me?"

He nodded. He had never thought to do otherwise.

"You don't have to," she said. "I wouldn't expect you to honor your promise, not after knowing that I-"

"Stop it," he interrupted quickly, remonstratively. "Don't say any more."

She studied him a moment, then leaned forward to kiss his cheek. In the warmth and softness of her lips, he could feel a measure of his self-worth and respect return.

I hey rose then and continued through Castledown's endless corridors and chambers, shrouded by the magic of the phoenix stone, guided by their instincts and need. The young seer was still warring with her inner demons, but her pale, ethereal features were tight with resolve. She had taken Ahren's hand again, even though they had determined she did not need to do so. Ahren was glad. Her touch did at least as much for him as his did for her. He felt as if they were children lost in a dark forest, with night coming on and wolves all about, blindly trusting in a talisman he neither understood nor controlled. The magic of the phoenix stone was protecting them, but how much longer would it last? He did not want to be caught unprepared or short of their goal.

Or goals, he corrected himself. There was Walker on the one hand and the missing Elfstones on the other. He had not spoken of the latter to Ryer Ord Star, but once they found the Druid, he intended to search for the Stones. It might be that he was asking too much. It was possible that after locating Walker, the magic would vanish. He had no way of knowing. He could only plan for contingencies and hope and do the best he could with whatever happened.

They walked for a long time, but encountered neither creepers nor fire threads. If Antrax was hunting for them, it was doing so another way. They were descending at a steady rate now, down ramps and stairways alike, farther underground than they had gone before. It made sense to Ahren that Antrax would keep the magic it h.o.a.rded deeper down and better hidden. He thought there was a better than even chance that Walker would be there, too.

Ahead, not far away, machinery thrummed and chugged softly, a steady cadence, one that reverberated through the steel of the tunnels into his bones.

Then the corridor branched left and right into a series of arched, doorless openings, all of them leading onto a catwalk that overlooked a cavernous room filled with huge metal cabinets and cl.u.s.ters of blinking lights set into panels. Wheels spun behind smoky windows; brilliant silver disks reflected the soft light of flameless lamp tubes that ran up and down the walls and across the room's high ceiling. The hum of machinery was everywhere, punctuated by beeps and chirps and other strange sounds, all of it coming from the chamber below.

It was an eerie sight, a surreal vision of something that hadn't existed for thousands of years beyond these walls. They paused on the catwalk, looking down at the contents of the room, searching for something that made sense. Nothing they saw was familiar to either of them, but an instant later Ryer gasped sharply, spoke Walker's name, and pulled on Ahren's hand, dragging him after her toward a metal stairway leading down. He went without questioning her, already knowing what was happening. They descended the stairs and made their way through the maze of fifteen-foot-high cabinets filled with rows of spinning silver disks. At least some of the machinery they had heard from the catwalk was behind the panels. Ahren glanced up at their smooth surfaces, certain they had come out of the Old World, wondering if they contained the magic the company of the Jerle Shannara had come searching for. What sort of magic, he wondered, is kept in a metal sh.e.l.l of spinning disks and blinking lights? It was books they had come to find, but there were no books here-at least, none that he could see. Perhaps they were deeper underground, and the cabinets and their machinery served as protectors of some sort.

Then he caught sight of the creepers. Several of them were working their way down the rows of cabinets, stopping every so often to manipulate the spinning disks and blinking lights. If they saw Ahren and Ryer, they gave no indication of it. The creepers were different from the ones they had encountered before. Larger than the so-called sweepers, they were nevertheless more of that sort-tenders of Castledown rather than defenders. They were equipped with strange metal limbs that reached out in all directions, touching here and there, inserting odd-shaped digits into slots and openings, causing the sound of the machinery or the blinking of the lights to alter, changing now and again the cadence or speed of the disks.

Fascinated, Ahren slowed to take a closer look, but Ryer Ord Star was having none of that. She jerked him ahead, pulling at him anxiously. Her destination was the far end of the chamber. One of the creepers was moving the same way, somewhat ahead of them, as if antic.i.p.ating what she intended. The seer shot Ahren a frantic glance over her shoulder, then broke into a run, dragging him with her. Wrapped in the protective cloud of phoenix-stone magic, they rushed after the creeper toward a series of metal doors that stood closed on dimly lit chambers that could just be distinguished through a line of tall, dark windows.

The creeper was quicker and got there first, touching a panel that caused the door to one of the chambers to slide open. Fresh light spilled through the doorway to reveal panel after panel of blinking lights and dozens of tubes that snaked inward toward the center of the room. The creeper disappeared inside, rolling soundlessly on its wheeled base.

Ahren and Ryer came up behind it in a rush, the girl still leading the way. They were through the open doorway and into the room before she stopped so suddenly that he ran into her from behind. Struggling to keep them both from falling over, he followed her gaze across the room. His breath left his body in a rush.

They had found Walker.

But maybe it would have been better if they hadn't.

SEVENTEEN.

Night descended on the land like a great silken cat, its shadow darkening the woods in steadily deepening layers, stealing away the daylight with stealth and cunning. Bek sat across from his sister and watched her cut slices of cheese from a wedge and toast bread on flat rocks made hot by coals. She had already cleaned and portioned out berries on broad leaves culled from tropical plants that shouldn't grow so far north but somehow did. She worked steadily and purposefully and did not look up at him. She did not look at him, anyway, most of the time. She treated him very much the way Quentin treated his hunting dogs: she fed, watered, and rested him, and expected him to do what he was told and to keep up with her when she traveled. She showed just enough interest in him to let him know she was keeping watch, nothing more. The wall she had erected between them was thick and high and very st.u.r.dy.

"Go down to the steam and bring us fresh water," she said without lifting her head.

He rose, picked up the nearly empty water skin, and walked into the trees. She didn't worry about him trying to escape. He had given his word, after all. Not that he believed for a moment that his word counted for anything with her. But he was forbidden to leave her presence carrying the Sword of Shannara, and he knew she could track him easily should he choose to stray. He did not like to think about what she would do to him if he did. If he had needed further evidence of how ruthless she could be, she had provided it by telling him what she had done to Truls Rohk.

She kept it to herself for the better part of two days as they traveled back through the wooded hill country toward the ruins, brushing aside his repeated inquiries. But he pressed her stubbornly for an answer, and finally she provided one. She had left the caull in hiding to deal with the shape-shifter on his return from his failed ambush. Eventually, he would realize that she had outsmarted him and return to find Bek. She couldn't risk him then coming after her once he knew the boy was gone. He was as relentless as she was and every bit as dangerous. She respected him for that, but he would have to be eliminated. She had left the caull to finish him.

Bek was stunned, left both angry and heartsick, but there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe she had guessed wrong about the shape-shifter, and he had not come back for Bek after all. Maybe he had sensed that the caull was waiting and avoided it. But she seemed so certain that the matter was resolved, that his hopes dimmed almost immediately. He was on his own, he knew. Whatever choices he made from then forward, he would have to answer for them.

So running was out of the question. It hadn't worked the first time, and there was no reason to think it would work now. Besides, if there was any chance at all of persuading her that he really was her brother, he had to take advantage of it. He could not afford to alienate her further. Though she paid him scant attention, she let him talk, and he used every opportunity she gave him to try to convince her of who he was. Mostly, she ignored him, but now and again she would reply to his arguments, and even those small responses, those cryptic remarks, provided evidence that she was listening to what he was telling her. She might not believe him, but at least she was considering his words.

He filled the water skin, kneeling by the stream, looking out into the darkness. Nevertheless, time was running out. They were only a day away from their destination. Once back, she intended to give him over to the Mwellrets while she set out again in search of Walker. The rets would place him aboard Black Moclips and hold him prisoner until she returned. That would be the end of any chance to argue his cause and, maybe, the end of any chance to save Walker's life.

The water skin ballooned out, and he sealed it, then stood up. Walker could take care of himself, of course-if he was still alive and able to do so, which was by no means certain. But the Ilse Witch was a formidable enemy; she had proved that already. Bek didn't know if Walker was a match for her because he wasn't sure that the Druid could be as ruthless as she was, and in order to survive, he would have to be.

He walked back through the trees to the little campsite and handed the water skin to his sister. She took it without looking at him and sprinkled the berries with droplets of water. He stood looking at her for a moment, then sat down again. After they ate, they would bathe, he first, she later. They did that every night, using whatever water was at hand, washing themselves as best they could. There were no fresh clothes to change into, but at least they could keep their bodies clean. It was warm enough even at night to wash in the rivers and streams-in winter, in a land farther north than any part of the one he had come from. Bek wondered anew at the strangeness of such a thing, remembering Walker's own comment on it.

Grianne pa.s.sed him a slice of bread covered with crushed berries reduced to a sugary spread, and he chewed on it thoughtfully, eyes on her face. She was still testy from his efforts at breaking down her disbelief earlier in the day. In fact, she had told him not to speak of it again. But he could not stay silent when there was so much at stake. Nor could he afford to wait until she was more receptive.

When she made the mistake of glancing over at him, he spoke at once.

"You're not thinking clearly," he said. "If you were, you would see all the flaws in your reasoning. You would see the gaps of logic in what you've been told."

She stared at him without expression and chewed slowly.

"If I'm not Bek, how come I have the same name? You say I was mind-altered to believe that 'Bek' was my real name. But Quentin has known me all of my life. So have my adoptive father and mother. I've been Bek since I was brought to them. Are they mind-altered, as well? Is everyone in Leah mind-altered to believe I'm someone I'm not?"

She made no response, other than to lift a slice of cheese to her mouth and take a bite.

"Or is Walker so clever that he's been planning all this since he brought me to Coran and Liria fifteen years ago?"

She stared at him, an insect regarding a leaf.

"That's what you believe, isn't it? You think he's been planning this charade all these years, just to trick you. But you can't tell me why he would do this, can you?"

She lifted the water skin to her lips and drank from it, then handed it over so that he could do the same. Her eyes were as flat and dead as those of a snake.

"Oh, that's right, he wants to break you down, to undermine your resolve, to get past your guard. That way he can subvert you, can turn you to his own uses, whatever they might be. He can steal your magic and make you his puppet. Just like he's done with me, only you're the bigger catch, because your magic is so much stronger than mine and you're a bigger threat to him." He let the sarcasm slide through his words like oil. "Shades, isn't it is a good thing you were smart enough to see this coming?"

She reached for the water skin and took it back from him. "I thought I told you not to speak of this again."

He shrugged. "You did." He finished off his bread and took a slice of the cheese. "But I can't help myself. I have to understand why you don't see the truth. Nothing you believe makes any sense at all." He paused. "What about the reason the Morgawr gave you for why Walker tried to steal you away in the first place? What about that? He said it was because Walker wanted you to become a Druid like he was, but our parents refused. They wouldn't allow it, wouldn't consider it, so he killed them and stole you away. Wasn't that a little clumsy, when there were so many more subtle ways to win you over? Why would he be stupid enough to let you witness the killing of our parents while s.n.a.t.c.hing you away? Couldn't he have just mind-altered you instead? Wouldn't that have been a whole lot easier? He's clever enough, isn't he? His magic can make you believe anything. That's how he got to me."

Her eyes were locked on his. "You are not me. You are weak and stupid. You are a p.a.w.n, and you do not understand anything." She spoke without rancor or irritation. Her words were cold and lifeless, and they mirrored the pale, hard cast of her young face as she finished her bread and cheese without shifting her gaze from his, looking so deeply into his eyes that he thought she must see everything that was hidden there.

He shook off the chill her gaze made him feel. "What I understand," he said quietly, "is that you've become the very thing you were so intent on avoiding."

She shook her head quickly. "I am not a Druid," she said. "Don't call me that."

"You're as good as. The same as, really." He leaned forward in challenge. "Explain to me how you differ from Walker. Tell me what he has done in his life that you have not done in yours. Show me where the road you have traveled branches from his."

She regarded him silently, but her eyes were angry now. "You seem intent on provoking me."

"Do I? Let me tell you a story, Grianne. While I was on my way to Arborlon, I traveled with Quentin through the Silver River country. While I slept, I had a vision. The vision was of a young girl who appeared to me, then transformed into a monster, a thing so hideous I could barely manage to look upon it. That young girl was you at six years of age and the thing you transformed into seemed very like the Mwellrets you command. I believe in visions, in portents of things to come, in foreshadowings of the future. That was one. I was being shown your past and your future. I was being told that it was up to me to change your destiny, to prevent that transformation from happening."

"You take a lot on yourself then. You presume more than you should."

He shook his head. "Do I? I didn't go looking for this. I didn't even understand what I was being shown. Not until I learned who I was. Not until I found you. But I think now that if I don't find a way to convince you of the truth, no one else will, and that vision will come to pa.s.s."

"I have nothing in common with Mwellrets or Druids," she sneered. "You are a boy with a too vivid imagination and no brains. You trust blindly in the wrong people and a.s.sume your truths should be mine, when they are nothing but deceptions. I am tired of listening to you. Don't say anything more to me. Not a word."

"I will say what I like!" he snapped back at her. Inside, he was shaking. She could be volatile, dangerous, but caution no longer served a purpose. "You are surrounded by obsequious followers and liars of all sorts. You have separated yourself from the truth for so long that you wouldn't recognize it if it jumped up in front of you. Why don't you admit that you're not sure about me? Why don't you at least confess that?"

Her face darkened. "Keep still."

"Let me go with you to find Walker. Let him help you. What can it hurt to talk with him? Just listen to what he has to say. If you would take five minutes to think-"

"Enough!" she screamed.

He leapt to his feet. "Enough of what? The truth? I'm your brother, Grianne! I'm Bek! Stop trying to deny it! Stop twisting everything around!"

She was on her feet, as well, rigid with fury. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't. "Do you want me to tell you what really happened to our parents? Do you want me to tell you what's been done to you? Do you want me to speak the words out loud, so that you can hear how they sound? You're so blind you can't-"