‘One day when we’ve more time I’ll explain it to you. All you need to know now is that the bandage will fall off in a few days when your arm is well again and, in the meantime, you should be able to use your hand perfectly normally.’ He looked at Hawklan strangely. ‘I’ll be honest though. I don’t know what saved you from that trap. It certainly wasn’t just me and the bird. There’s more to you than meets even my eye. We must talk urgently.’ He seemed to come to a decision. ‘Come over here,’ he said, seriously.
Over here proved to be yet another room, the door of which appeared when Andawyr made a movement with his hands against the wall of the tent. Hawklan ducked through the low opening and turning round was surprised to see Andawyr closing a heavy wooden door. Again, in anticipation of his curiosity, Andawyr spoke.
‘My personal quarters,’ he said, as if that explained all. ‘Only a travelling model I’m afraid, but fairly secure.’ Then looking at his guest’s face, ‘I’m sorry if all this is bewildering, Hawklan, but we do have a great deal to talk about and not a great deal of time. I must make the most of what we have before we have to leave. My little trick on the tent door will keep most ordinary searchers away, but whoever set that trap for you will open it with no trouble, and they’ll be after me now as well. Either for revenge because I’ve done them a hurt they didn’t expect, or because I’ve seen too much. Either way, they’ll want to know who I am just as much as I want to know who they are, and now we’ve no longer got the element of surprise, they’ve the greater strength.’
He put his hand to his head.
‘But you destroyed that pavilion,’ said Hawklan, trying to follow the little man’s conversation.
Andawyr shook his head and laughed grimly. ‘De-stroy. Would I had. Would I could. By some miracle you slew its heart and I managed to throw dust in its keeper’s eyes to stop him running completely amok.’ He shook his head. ‘But he’s almost totally out of control now. Who could have given him such Power? Taught him to use it like that?’ he said to himself.
Hawklan could contain himself no longer. ‘Andawyr, what on earth’s happening? I thought I’d no curiosity in me, but this evening has shown me otherwise. Who are you? What was that place I was in, and what was that appalling… chair?’ He shuddered. ‘What happened to me in there? And to my arm? And how did you find me?’
Andawyr lifted both his hands to ward off further questions.
‘In a moment young fellow, in a moment. I can only tell you a few things, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to spend our time asking questions, not answering them. Will you please trust me?’
Hawklan looked into the man’s eyes for a long time, then glanced at Gavor. The raven nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said abruptly.
‘Good,’ said Andawyr. ‘Now sit down and make yourself comfortable.’
Hawklan looked dubiously at the various chairs scattered about the room.
Andawyr smiled. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘None of these chairs will harm you-besides, you’re better armed than you realize.’
Hawklan sat down cautiously on the edge of a very hard upright chair and Gavor hopped onto his shoulder. Andawyr chuckled.
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘I can understand your con-cern. But that was no chair you were sitting on in that… place. Still, another time maybe.’ Then he became very serious, and his oval punchbag face looked searchingly into Hawklan’s. Occasionally as he spoke, Hawklan thought he saw a bright white light flickering through his stained old smock, so that he looked like a worn cover over a brilliant lantern. And always, Hawklan sensed a barely controlled excitement in the little man. Excitement mixed with doubt and fear.
‘The question,’ Andawyr began, ‘is not who I am, Hawklan, but who you are. But I’ll answer some of your questions first… briefly. Don’t interrupt. I’m Andawyr, leader of the Cadwanol.’ He looked carefully at Hawklan to see his reaction to the name, but there was none, although Gavor bent forward intently. ‘We’re a group of… teachers. Dedicated, amongst other things, to studying and preserving ancient lore. It’s a very old Order, and we’ve accumulated much knowledge and many skills over the centuries. I was here just to buy supplies, but I’ve had a feeling there’s been something amiss for a long time now and the Gretmearc’s such a hotchpotch of a place there’s always some useful gossip to be picked up.’
Hawklan shifted on his chair, struggling to contain his patience. Andawyr continued.
‘As for where you were, that was all too easy to find once they started.’ He leaned forward and put his head in his hands as if in pain.
‘Are you all right?’ Hawklan asked.
Andawyr nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, looking up and smiling slightly. ‘I’m a little shocked that’s all. I didn’t think this morning that I’d ever be called upon to face such a trial as that… ’ His voice tailed off and his face became thoughtful. Hawklan waited.
After a moment, Andawyr straightened up. ‘The slowest apprentice couldn’t have missed them. They positively shouted their whereabouts to anyone with the ears to hear. And the pavilion? Well… put simply, that was a trap-an appalling trap for a considerable prey. And that brings us back to the real question. Who are you that so much effort should be expended on your behalf? Why are they so frightened of you that you have to be so bound?’
He peered deep into Hawklan’s face again. ‘Show me your sword.’
Hawklan drew it and laid it gently in Andawyr’s extended hands. ‘Careful, it’s very sharp,’ he warned.
The old man did not move, but stared down at the sword, slowly moving his eyes along its length. Then he let out a long slow breath.
‘When I heard Gavor’s tale, I couldn’t believe it,’ he said, softly. ‘But it’s here. Actually here. In my hands. I still can’t believe it.’ He looked up at Hawklan. ‘You don’t know what this is, do you?’ he said.
‘It’s a very fine sword I believe,’ Hawklan offered, tentatively.
Andawyr shook his head in amused amazement. ‘A fine sword,’ he echoed to himself. Then his voice fell to a whisper as if the walls themselves should not hear. ‘This is his sword. Ethriss’s sword. Left at Anderras Darion when he went to face Sumeral at the Last Battle. Small wonder it slew the heart of that… trap, and protected your arm.’
Abruptly, his face broke up as if he were in great pain or about to weep uncontrollably. Gavor flapped his wings uneasily.
‘Why me?’ said Andawyr. ‘Why me? Why now?’
Hawklan watched him uncertainly, then carefully lifting the sword from the still outstretched hands, replaced it in its scabbard.
‘What’s the matter, Andawyr?’ he asked.
The pain in Andawyr’s face faded into some kind of resignation and he bowed his head away from the gaze of the green eyes.
‘Everything’s the matter, Hawklan. You may be our greatest hope, but at the moment I’m your greatest hope, and you, along with everyone else, are in great danger.’
Despite Andawyr’s obvious distress, Hawklan’s impatience broke through again. ‘Andawyr, what are you talking about? Tell me what’s happening. I’m a simple healer; who would want to harm me?’
Andawyr started at Hawklan’s unexpectedly au-thoritative tone and, leaning forward, took hold of his hands.
‘Someone who appears out of the mountains-im-passable mountains in mid-winter if I recall Gavor’s tale correctly. Someone with no memory. Someone with the key and the word to open Anderras Darion. Ethriss’s own castle. Someone who knows the castle as he walks through it, even the passage through the labyrinth that guards the armoury. Someone who sees an ancient corruption in a tinker’s toy, and then has the Black Sword of Ethriss fall at his feet. That someone is more than a simple healer, Hawklan. Isn’t he?’
‘Who am I, then?’ Hawklan almost shouted.
‘Close your eyes and relax,’ Andawyr said, abruptly and decisively. ‘Trust me.’ Hawklan hesitated, but Gavor closed his claw reassuringly on his shoulder.
Hawklan nodded and closed his eyes. As he did so he thought he glimpsed again the flickering white light within the old man. Andawyr reached up and placed the palms of his hands on Hawklan’s temples then he too closed his eyes.