The young King folded his arms defensively. “Perhaps your concerns in this matter are overstated. Perhaps they are not as important as you would have me believe. I do not see the future of the Westland Elves tied to a magic that may not even exist, may not be able to be traced if it does, and may not even be useful if found. I see it tied to a war being waged with the Federation. The enemy I can see is a more recognizable threat than the one I can imagine.”
Walker shook his head. “Why are we arguing? We have covered this ground before, and there is nothing to be gained by covering it again. I am committed to this journey. You have determined that your father’s wishes should be followed regarding any support from the Elves. What we are arguing about is the inclusion on this expedition of a youth who is untested and inexperienced. Shall I tell you why I think you want me to take him?”
Kylen Elessedil hesitated, but Walker began speaking anyway.
“He is your younger brother and next in line for the throne. You are not close. You are the children of different mothers. If you were to be killed in the fighting on the Prekkendorran, he would be named Regent, if not King. You wish to secure the throne for your children instead. But your oldest boy is only ten. Your brother, if available, would be named his protector. That worries you. To protect your son and heir to the throne, you would send your brother with me, on a journey that will consume months and perhaps years. That removes your brother as a possible successor, either as King or Regent. It removes him as a threat.”
He spoke calmly, without malice or accusation. When he was finished, Kylen Elessedil stared at him for a long time, as if weighing carefully his response.
“You are awfully bold to speak those words to me,” he said finally.
Walker nodded. “I am only telling you this so that I may better understand your thinking on the matter. If Ahren Elessedil is to go with me, I would like to know why.”
The young King smiled. “My father never liked you. He respected you, but he never liked you. Were you this bold with him?”
“More so, I would guess.”
“But it never helped you, did it? He never agreed to support you in your bid for an independent Druid Council, convened anew at Paranor. I know. He told me.”
Walker waited.
“You risk all that now by challenging me. Part of your bargain with my father was his agreement to support a new Council of Druids on your successful return. You’ve worked twenty-five years for that end. Would you give it all up now?”
Still Walker waited, silent within his black robes.
Kylen Elessedil stared at him a moment more, then judging that nothing further was to be gained, said, “Ahren will accompany you as my personal representative. I cannot go, so he will go in my place. This is an Elven expedition, and its goals and concerns are peculiarly Elven in nature. Kael Elessedil’s disappearance must be explained. The Elfstones, if they can be found, must be returned. Any magic that exists must be claimed. These are Elven matters. Whatever happens, there must be an Elessedil in attendance. That is why my brother is going, and that is the end of the matter.”
It was a firm decision, one rendered and dismissed for good. Walker could see that nothing was to be gained by arguing further. Whatever his convictions and concerns on the subject of Ahren Elessedil, Walker knew when it was time to back off. “So be it,” he acknowledged, and turned the discussion to other matters.
It was after midnight when Quentin shook Bek awake from the sleep that had claimed him an hour before. With no further word from Walker on the fate of the expedition and its members, they had retired from the palace gardens and been shown to their sleeping quarters by another of the silent Home Guard. Panax was snoring in another room. Ard Patrinell and Hunter Predd had disappeared.
“Bek, wake up!” Quentin urged, pulling on his shoulder.
Bek, still catching up on sleep lost during their journey west out of the Wolfsktaag, dragged himself out of his cottony slumber and opened his eyes. “What’s the matter?”
“Hunter Predd just returned from the palace, where he’s spoken with Walker.” Quentin’s eyes were bright and his voice excited. “I heard him come in and went to see what he’d learned. He said to tell you good-bye for now. He’s been sent to the coast to recruit two more Wing Riders from the Hove. The decision’s been made. We leave in two days!”
“Two days,” Bek repeated, not yet fully awake.
“Yes, cousin, but you didn’t hear me clearly. I said we are going, you and I!” Quentin laughed gleefully. “Walker kept us both! He’s leaving behind three of the Home Guard and taking only a single Healer. I don’t know, maybe there was someone else left off the list, as well. But he kept us! That’s what matters! We’re going, Bek!”
Afterwards, Quentin fell into bed and off to sleep so quickly that Bek, now awake, was unable to measure the time lapse between the two. It seemed somehow inevitable that he should be going. Even when Hunter Predd had warned that there were too many chosen for the voyage and some would be left behind, it had never occurred to him that he would be one of them. It was logical that he would be, of course. He was the youngest and the least skilled. On the face of things, he was the most expendable. But something in the Druid’s insistence that he come, coupled with his encounters with the King of the Silver River and Truls Rohk, had convinced him that his selection was no afterthought and was tied inextricably to secrets of the past and to resolution of events yet to be determined. Bek was there because it was necessary for him to be so, and his life was about to change forever.
It was what Quentin had wanted for them both. But Bek Rowe was inclined to wonder if one day soon they would have cause to remember the danger of getting what you wish for.
18
Bek Rowe woke the following morning to sunshine and blue skies and no sign of Quentin Leah. He took a moment to orient himself, decided he was still in Arborlon, and jumped out of bed to dress. When he checked the adjoining bedrooms, he found that Panax was missing as well. A quick glance out the window revealed the sun at midmorning height, a clear indicator of how late he had slept. There was grain cereal, cheese, and milk on the table in the anteroom, and he wolfed them down hungrily before charging out the door in search of his friends.
He was running so fast and so hard he ran right into the black-cloaked figure coming in.
“Walker!” he gasped in shock and embarrassment, and jumped back quickly.
“Good morning, Bek Rowe,” the Druid said formally. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Did you sleep well?”
“Too well,” Bek answered, chagrined. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a layabout—”
“Please, young traveler, don’t be so anxious to apologize.” Walker was chuckling softly now. He put his big hand on Bek’s shoulder. “You haven’t missed anything. Nor have you neglected any obligations. You were right to sleep. That was a long journey up to Depo Bent and then west to here. I would rather have you rested when we set out from here.”
Bek sighed. “I guess I just assumed that since Quentin and Panax are already up and gone I was lagging in some way.”
Walker shook his head. “I passed the Highlander on my way here. He had just gotten up. Panax rose a little earlier, but he doesn’t sleep much. Don’t think on it again. Did you eat?”
Bek nodded.
“Then you’re ready to go out to the airfield and have a look around. Come with me.”
They left the sleeping quarters and walked through the palace grounds, moving away from the city and out toward the south end of the Carolan. They passed any number of Elven Hunters and Home Guard on the way, but few regular citizens. No one paid them any attention. It was quieter where they walked than in the main sections of the city, less traveled by those who lived and worked there. On the backside of the Gardens of Life, they passed a pair of Black Watch guarding one of the entrances. The pair stood as if frozen, towering over everyone in their sleek black uniforms and tall hats, everything smooth and clean and trimmed in red. Within the gardens, birds darted and sang, and butterflies flitted from bush to bush, as bright as the flowers they touched upon, but the Black Watch might have been carved from stone.