She shrugged. “As you said, you don’t want me as your enemy.”
“So, then, I can have you as neither friend nor enemy. Perhaps there is some middle ground?”
“Perhaps. Why don’t we try to find it?” She walked over and sat down beside him, taking away the advantage of height to put them on an equal footing. “I do have need of your help. You have read the situation accurately. I have lost old allies; I need new ones. The Council follows me for now, but it may shift allegiance when the opportunity arises. I can do nothing to further the Druid cause until the problem is safely eliminated. Think what you want of me, but my goal in all of this is to make the order stronger and more effective. Under Grianne, we were wallowing in discontent and ineffectiveness. That has changed already, even in the few days she has been gone.”
Gerand Cera arched one eyebrow. “How so?”
“I have gained the unqualified support of Sen Dunsidan and the Federation. That support goes beyond his openly professed acceptance of my stewardship of the order. A deeper understanding has been forged, one that will eventually give us control over him.”
He nodded slowly. “He will crush the Free-born, and you will have the order stand by and let it happen. But how will you then gain control of him?”
She smiled. “What you need to know is that I do not intend to let things proceed in the disorderly fashion allowed by my predecessor. I intend to take action and to take it now. I will change the course of history, and I will make the Druid order the spearhead for that change.”
“How ambitious of you,” he said softly.
“I won’t deny it. I am ambitious for both the order and myself. You can join me in this effort or you can continue to oppose me. If you join me, I will give you fresh standing in the order, a chance to advance at my side, equal in almost everything.”
He laughed. “Until you no longer have need of me.”
She held his gaze. “Or you of me?”
They stared at each other in silent appraisal, each measuring the other’s hidden intent against the possibility of truth contained in the words already spoken. The silence lengthened and Shadea caught a hint of uncertainty in the other’s black gaze.
“An alliance, then?” he said.
“A very close alliance. Personal as well as professional.”
He stared at her. “You don’t mean for us to become joined in that way, do you?” he asked softly.
She nodded slowly. “Oh, but I do. Why not? Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind. It crosses every man’s mind, sooner or later. I see how they look at me. I know how they think. I am offering myself to you. I understand the risk of doing so, of course. But there are always risks. What I seek is an open and obvious alliance that no one in the order will dare to challenge.”
“Well,” he said, pursing his thin lips. “I didn’t expect this. Do you find me so attractive?”
She shrugged. “Not in the way you might think. Attractive in a different way. Women and men don’t always think alike about these things. Accept my offer, and I might even explain it to you one day.”
He stared at her without answering, looking directly into her eyes and searching for what she was hiding. She let him hold her gaze, patient and unflinching. “You could move into my quarters, of course,” she said. “You could sleep with me or not, as you choose. What matters is that others see us as a couple. We would be seen as joined in all things, not necessarily by proclamation, but otherwise openly so. I am Ard Rhys, but you would be my shadow half. Your word would be mine. We would advance the cause of the order together.”
He let his eyes drop to her body, then rose and walked away and stood looking at the wall. “I will not say I am not tempted. You understand me well enough to know I am. We both crave power in all its forms. Your submission would be immensely satisfying. But where does this lead? How does it end?”
She laughed openly. “Do you need to know in order to be persuaded, Gerand Cera? Aren’t you excited by the idea that neither of us can know how this will end, that it is a gamble we must accept? Life is risk! What is the point otherwise?”
He turned back to face her. “What of your other allies? How will they view this change of plans?”
She shrugged. “They will accept it. They haven’t any choice. I am the one they answer to.” She reached up to touch his cheek. “And now to you, as well, if you accept my offer.”
He shook his head. “You would dispose of me in an instant, discard me with not a second thought.”
“You would do the same with me,” she countered. “We do not fool each other in any way about this arrangement. We make use of it until it no longer suits us, and then we see how things stand. It does not necessarily have to end in killing. It can end in any number of other ways. Are you so committed to my death that you cannot imagine any other possibility? Do I appear no different to you than Grianne Ohmsford did?”
He smiled. “You are different in more ways than I can count. I do not mistake you for her. But I do not mistake you for anything different from what you are, either. I would have to watch my back constantly were I to accept your proposal.”
She put her hands on his narrow shoulders and drew him a step closer. “Oh, come now. What would be the purpose of making this offer if all I wanted was to see you dead? There are much less complicated ways to achieve that end. Once I have joined with you openly, it immediately becomes more difficult for me to dispose of you, doesn’t it? Besides, what would be the reason? I need you alive and at my side if I am to achieve what I seek. You can see that, can’t you?”
His lean features showed nothing, impassive and unrevealing as she pressed herself close and kissed him on the mouth. “Can’t you?”
Then he was kissing her back, and she knew she had him.
Later that night, when the Druids of Paranor were asleep or at work in quarters kept open for that purpose, the night fallen in a thick black veil through skies so clouded that neither moon nor stars could penetrate, she slipped from her bed to walk the empty corridors and think. She spared only a single glance back at the sleeping and sated Gerand Cera before closing the door on him. Her seduction of her most dangerous enemy had been a success. It had even been enjoyable. She had not lied to him. She found him attractive enough. His menacing look and poisonous mind drew her much the way she thought the Ilse Witch must have felt drawn to snakes. They were treacherous by instinct and unpredictable by nature and one could not trust what they would do because they frequently did not know themselves. But they were fascinating, as well. She flushed with heat and passion imagining how it would feel to hold one close to her breast and feel its deceptively silky skin sliding against her own.
She slipped down the empty corridor outside her room, hugging the shadows as she moved to the stairwell that led upward into the central tower and the parapets that ringed it. She wore her nightgown and nothing more, disdainful of clothing, of armor and weapons, of trappings that hampered and slowed. She feared nothing in this world, so why should she care how she appeared or what she revealed? Convention and conformity were for others. She would be what she liked.
For now, Gerand Cera was hers. She knew he thought otherwise. He had taken her body and would think he had taken her mind in the bargain. He had allied himself with her so that he could gain a toehold on the steps of the office she warded. He was probably already planning how he would dispose of her. But she had known all that going in, had understood that he would accept her proposition only to get what he coveted most—the position she held. He would stay close to her so that he could more easily eliminate her.
But that was a blade that cut both ways. Keeping him close allowed her the same opportunities. His plans for her were no different than hers for him. Yet the bargain favored her. She was the one who would be seen to have united the Druids, to have pulled the two central factions together, so that there would no longer be bickering and dissatisfaction. She was the one who would be seen to have allowed common sense to prevail
over pride. She was the one who would be seen as the real leader of the order, and Gerand Cera, though he might claim otherwise, would be only the consort of the Ard Rhys.
A consort, she had already decided, whose usefulness at Paranor would quickly run its course.
She climbed to the tower and walked out onto the parapet. A wind blew chilly and brisk out of the west, but anxious to feel something cold against her skin, she let it wash over her without shivering. She closed her eyes and breathed in the night, listening to its faint sounds, to its soft voice. She was at peace there, alone on the top of the Druid’s Keep, her fortress, her world. She had won it, and she would keep it. Those who could help her might do so, but they had better know their place.
In the morning, Gerand Cera would address the Council. Ostensibly, he was to speak to the state of the Four Lands and the role of the Druids in monitoring its vicissitudes. But the true purpose of his speaking was to make clear that he was now allied with her, had become her consort, her shadow self. He would do so thinking to impress upon the listening Druids that he had gained control of her. None would believe it. It didn’t matter what he said or did. None would believe.
If they did, they had better not let her find out.
SEVEN
It was late in the day when Swift Sure sailed out of the shadows enfolding the Dragon’s Teeth toward the brightly lit towers of Paranor, sharp-edged and spiraling against a horizon colored crimson and gold by the setting sun. Bek worked the rigging and sails in preparation for their arrival, while Rue stood in the pilot box, easing the big ship into position. It was a still, windless day, and sailing her required little in the way of skill, her steady progress reliant mostly on the power fed out of the diapson crystals. The journey had taken barely forty-eight hours, the weather clear and uncomplicated, the voyage made by flying day and night, the senior Ohmsfords taking turns at catching a few quick hours of sleep when needed. It was a schedule they were used to, having followed it on numerous occasions when there were weather reasons to do so. They might have anchored and slept in this instance, but both were anxious to get to their destination and find out the truth about Pen.
Of one thing they were quite certain. Traunt Rowan was holding something back, and whatever it was, it had everything to do with why they had been summoned.
Bek glanced over to where the Druid sat on a viewing bench with his back against the foremast and his safety line cinched tightly about his waist. He was not comfortable in the air, so he had spent much of his time in that position. He was friendly, though. He was more than willing to talk whenever they approached, always amenable to a discussion of the facts surrounding the disappearances of Grianne and Pen, seemingly anxious to help them find their family. Yet as Bek had observed at the start of this journey, it was what Traunt Rowan didn’t say as much as what he did that kept giving him away. There was no mention still of why the Druids had decided to go in search of Tagwen after his departure from Paranor or why that pursuit had led them to Pen. There was no mention of what had become of the Troll guard that had served his sister so faithfully from the beginning of her term as Ard Rhys. Most important of all, he offered no suggestion as to what might have happened to Grianne.
Bek was aware that he might be overreacting to omissions that were nothing more than oversights on the part of a distraught messenger, omissions easily explained once broached. But Bek had always trusted his instincts on such things, and his instincts in this case warned him that something was not right. Because Rue felt the same way, he was inclined to keep his concerns to himself and to watch his back until he had a better understanding of what had happened.
As Swift Sure settled down inside the broad west court, where the Druid airships were anchored when not flying, it occurred to him that he had been to Paranor only twice before in his life. It was a shock to realize that he had not come more often than that, given that Grianne had been Ard Rhys for almost twenty years. But he understood the reason for it. Both times he had visited, he had been anxious to leave. The walls of the Keep closed in on him, shut him away and gave him a trapped and helpless feeling. The stone passageways reminded him of the underground lair of the Antrax. The dark forms of the Druids reminded him of the Morgawr and his Mwellrets. His time in Parkasia still haunted him, its memories unpleasantly vivid and troubling.
His sister had been anxious to explain what it was she was trying to achieve with the order, how she envisioned it serving the Four Lands. It was Walker Boh’s dream she was seeking to fulfill, and she had dedicated her life to making it come true. But it was her vision she was following, not Bek’s, and he had trouble finding reasons to believe in it as she did. He did not share Walker’s belief in the importance of the Druids to the Races; he did not accept that a Druid Council would function any more effectively or wisely than the governments already established. He trusted his sister and believed her to be capable and committed. But she was still only one person, and however powerful she might think herself, she was diminished measurably by how she had lived her life as the Ilse Witch. Her exposure to the truth of who and what she was through contact with the Sword of Shannara had caused her psyche to suffer great damage. She might have woken from the coma into which she had fallen as a result of having faced up to that truth, but he wasn’t sure she had come back from it whole.
Her responsibilities were so overwhelming and the response of those she sought to help so disdainful that he found himself wondering whether she might revert to the dark creature she had been before he found her. He hated himself for thinking that way, but he understood the pressure she was under and the weight of the task she had given herself. It was one thing to reestablish the Druid order; it was another to lead it. He wanted to tell her to let go, to come away with him. Even while she was explaining what it was she was trying to do, he wanted to urge her to stop. But, in the end, he said nothing. It was her life, not his. It was her decision.
Standing on the foredeck of Swift Sure as Rue set the big airship down on Druid soil, he found himself wondering if he would ever see Grianne again. His concerns had all been for Pen, but it was Grianne who had disappeared first and been gone longest. Because she had a history of such disappearances and because she had always returned from them, he had given little thought to what the most recent one might mean. But it was possible, even for an Ard Rhys, to venture too far into unfriendly territory and not be able to find a way out again. It was possible, even for Grianne, not to return.
He turned his attention to dropping the anchor lines then, as the airship touched the ground, climbing down the rope ladder to secure them. The air within the Druid walls felt hot and still. He smelled the dust and the dryness; he could breathe them in. Already, he was wishing he were somewhere else. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he waited for Rue and Traunt Rowan to descend. It was pointless to dwell on his discomfort. He was here, and here he would remain until he found what he had come looking for.
With Rue beside him, he followed the Druid toward a pair of massive double-entry doors at one end of the court. But before they reached them, the doors opened and a small group of black-cloaked figures emerged into the fading light. As they moved into the courtyard, their long shadows played against the earth like wraiths, faceless and bodiless within their coverings. A chill went up Bek’s spine, a warning to be careful. He had formidable magic at his command, but his skills and experience were not the equal of these.
As the contingent approached them, Traunt Rowan turned back to Bek and Rue. “Your arrival is much anticipated,” he said with a deferential nod.
There were three of them, two leading the third, one of the two a broad-shouldered woman of some size and obvious strength. She pulled back her hood as she reached him, and he knew instinctively from the strong features and military bearing that she was the leader. “Bek Ohmsford,” she said, extending her hand. “I am Shadea a’Ru, Ard Rhys in your sister’s absence.”
She shook his hand quickly, took Rue’s in turn, then nodded
to her companions. “My First of Order, Gerand Cera, and my assistant, Pyson Wence.”
Bek nodded to them in turn, the first tall, thin, and sharp-featured, the second physically unintimidating, but with eyes that reminded him of a hunting bird’s. Deferring to the woman, neither spoke on being introduced.
“What have you learned of our son?” Rue asked at once. “Have you found him?”
“We haven’t.” Shadea met her gaze without flinching, something a lot of men couldn’t do. “We continue to search, of course, for both your son and the Ard Rhys, but we have run out of places to look. If you come with me, I will explain.”
Without waiting for their agreement, she turned and started back toward the Keep, her two companions and Traunt Rowan falling quickly into step behind her. Bek glanced at Rue, shrugged, and they followed as well. He was trying to remember if his sister had ever said anything about any of these Druids, but nothing came to mind. Aside from Ahren Elessedil, Tagwen was the only one he could remember her speaking about and the only one he could remember meeting. He wished now that he had paid better attention.
Inside the Keep, Shadea beckoned them forward to walk with her, and the other three Druids gave way as they moved ahead.
“The Ard Rhys disappeared after retiring to her chamber several weeks ago. She went into her room and never came out. There was no sign of a struggle when we found her missing. The Trolls on watch said she had not come out during the night and that they had heard nothing. I dismissed them anyway, simply as a precaution. We have many enemies, and they have many reasons to want us gone. The Trolls might have been subverted.”