Bearers of the Black Staff: Legends of Shannara (6 page)

“Will you come to my house and eat with me?” Pan asked finally.

Prue shook her head. “No, I think I’ll just go home and find something there. I want to go to bed.”

They didn’t say anything more until their lane, with its neat row of cottages, appeared through the trees. Lights flickered in a few windows, but none of them were theirs. Prue’s parents were visiting her mother’s sister in the neighboring community of Fair Glade End. Panterra’s parents were two years dead from a wasting sickness that no one had known how to treat.

They stopped in front of Prue’s cottage, looking at everything but each other. “I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Panterra told her. “I’m sorry I did.”

She shrugged. “I know that. You don’t have to apologize to me. I don’t need you to do that ever, Pan.”

“Maybe I need to hear myself say it.”

She gave him a small smile. “See you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

She turned and walked down the path to her doorway. Panterra
waited until she had entered and closed the door, then turned and started for his own home. His older brother and sisters had shared the house with him until the last of them married and moved away. Now he lived alone, not quite certain what to do with either the house or himself when he wasn’t tracking. Trow was right about that much: tracking was his life, and he didn’t want to do anything that would force him to give it up.

He was almost to his doorstep when he heard someone call out in a low voice. He turned to find a small figure darting out of the trees to catch up to him. At first he thought it might be Prue—even though there was no reason for her to be appearing out of the forest when he had seen her go into her house. But as the figure neared, he realized who it was.

“Brickey,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “I was just going to bed.”

The little man slowed to a walk but continued to approach until he was close enough that his whispers could only be heard by Pan. “Big day, I imagine, tracking monsters and what-have-you. Tiring work. Can you tell me what they looked like?”

Panterra snatched him by his tunic front and hauled him close. “That was you I heard outside the longhouse, listening in!”

Brickey managed a crooked smile, his features twisting uncomfortably. “Another wouldn’t have heard me at all, Panterra. You are to be commended for your sharp senses.”

Pan held him fast. “How did you even know we were back?”

“I saw you coming through the woods and decided to follow. I have an instinct for that sort of thing. Like you and the lovely little Prue, my instincts tell me what to do and I tend to listen to them.”

Panterra studied him silently for a moment. Brickey had a shock of black hair, knotted, unattractive features, a gnarled little body, and scruffy clothes. They all screamed
thief
and they weren’t lying. Brickey was a thief down to the soles of his boots, and the best that could be said about him was that he was very good at what he did. No one knew where he came from; he had just appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, a little more than two years ago. He had taken a liking to Pan for reasons that escaped the latter, showing up on his doorstep and at places
he frequented, always acting as if they shared something approaching a friendship.

Pan let him get away with this because it appeared that Brickey had few friends, and there wasn’t any harm in letting him act as if he were an exception. Brickey was in trouble a good deal of the time, his reach exceeding his grasp more often than not, but he never involved Pan and never asked for his help. Mostly, he just seemed to want someone he could talk to now and then.

“Let me give you some good advice, Brickey,” Pan said, releasing his tunic front and brushing out the wrinkles. “Don’t repeat anything you’ve heard tonight. Not to anyone. If anyone hears it, I better know that it came from me.”

Brickey held up his hands defensively. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that! I won’t breathe a word of it.” He raised a cautionary finger. “But listen now. Let me give you some good advice in return for yours. Pay attention to what Trow Ravenlock told you. Don’t give this report. Let things be for now—until you have hard evidence of what you claim to have seen.”

“What I
did
see, you mean!” Pan snapped.

“Yes, yes, what you did see. But what no one else saw, you might want to remember.” He leaned close. “I know Skeal Eile and his kind. I know how they think. You anger them, and you will live to regret it. You don’t want to find out what that means by giving this report. Leave it with Trow.”

Panterra nodded. “I appreciate your advice, but I’ve made up my mind.”

Brickey backed away, shaking his head with disappointment. “Strong-willed and stubborn is what you are, Pan. But I can admire that in a man. Even when it’s wrongheaded. Good night.”

He gave a perfunctory wave and disappeared back into the trees. Pan watched him go, then turned back to his home and went inside.

It took him a long time to get to sleep.

P
ANTERRA WOKE AT SUNRISE
.
THE AIR WAS BITTER
cold and he could see his breath cloud the air in front of his face. He rose quickly, walked to the front windows and looked out. The ground was thick with frost, a white coating of icy powder that sparkled in the faint first light. He moved to a different position, where he could see part of the upper stretches of Declan Reach. The snow line was down far enough that it was below the false horizon created by the cover of the trees.

He stared out at the mountains and the snow and the mist that hung like gauze across both and wondered that spring was so slow in coming.

Then he turned and hurried to the big stone hearth to make a fire, thinking back to another time. When he was a boy, his mother rose early to make the fire. It was always burning long before Pan woke, so that the house was warm and welcoming for him. His mother would be in the kitchen cooking, making him cakes or fry bread or some other sweet he favored. He’d smell sausage or a side of ham cooking,
and there would be cold milk and hot ale set out on the table in large pitchers.

His mother would leave what she was doing and come to him at once, hugging him close, telling him good morning and letting him know how happy she was to have him.

He shook his head. It all seemed so long ago.

He knelt by the hearth, nursing sparks from the flint and tinder until the fire was going, and then added larger logs so that it would burn hot while he cooked. He brought out bread and meat and cheese and set them out. He boiled water for hot tea and set out two plates, cups, and cutlery. Everything was almost ready by the time Prue knocked on the door and peeked inside, as he knew she would.

“Is that for me?” she asked, indicating the second plate.

She knew it was, of course. It was their morning ritual when they were home after a long tracking. But she liked asking the question and he liked hearing her do so, so they continued to play the game long after it had grown familiar. Besides, he thought, there was no one else who would come to eat with him. Not uninvited, at least.

“Sit,” he invited, pulling over a thick cushion and tossing her a throw his mother had made.

She was still wearing the same clothes from last night, and she looked as if sleep might have been as difficult for her as it had been for him. She closed the door and hurried over, arms wrapped about her slender body.

“It’s freezing out there. Not like yesterday.” She sat, holding her hands out to the fire. “Do you think spring will ever get here? Or is nature just playing games with us?”

He shrugged. “Can’t be sure, but my guess is that winter’s pretty much done. You saw how the leaves were budding on the hardwoods lower down off the high country. Faster than usual and thicker. You saw the sky at sunset. The cold still deepens each morning, but I don’t expect it to be like that much longer.”

He poured hot water from the pot into a cup and held it out for her, then took one for himself. They sipped in silence, taking pleasure in the warming air of the cottage and in the comfort they found in the presence of each other. There was no reason to say much of anything right away. There would be time for talking later.

He served up the food and they ate it in silence, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire. Panterra was fully awake now and alert, thinking about what lay ahead come nightfall. He would go before the council and speak of what had happened yesterday. He would ask Prue not to speak, just to support him by her silent presence so that perhaps she would not be tainted by the remarks he would make. But he knew she would refuse. Keeping silent was the coward’s way, and Prue was never a coward. She would stand up for him and herself and for what she knew was right. That was how she was, how she had always been.

After breakfast was finished, they took the dishes to the kitchen and washed them in the old metal sink, using water that was hand-pumped from the well out back. The water was good in Glensk Wood. Wells were plentiful and tapped into a large aquifer that lay just to the northwest, toward the foothills. Food was easy to come by, too. Most of it grew wild, both fruits and vegetables, and hunting was a skill acquired by most at an early age. The balance of what was needed was grown in gardens and on small farms. Some of the communities struggled a bit more than Glensk Wood in the matter of food, but they had developed the skill to make tools and implements and so exchanged their goods for what they required. Trade among the villages of Men satisfied everyone’s needs, and when it didn’t there were always the Elves and the Lizards to provide what was missing. When the valley was first settled, it had taken a while for the communities to establish an order to things, to find their places in a supportive construct that let everyone live reasonably comfortably. But once they had settled in, trade had flourished.

Pan thought about the history of his valley world, a history that every child was taught nearly from birth. Not the part about the Hawk and his role in the past and future of the Saved, but of the way the relationships among the Races had evolved. The Races had separated shortly after their arrival, moving away from one another to establish their own boundaries within the confines of their new home. Men had settled in the south and west, the Elves had gone northeast, and the Lizards and Spiders, with their numbers much smaller, had made their homes in small corners in between.

The valley allowed for this separation because it was actually more than a single valley. It was a series of smaller valleys separated by
natural barriers—woods, hills, lakes, and rivers, some smaller mountain ranges—all of it enclosed by the high peaks around which the mists formed their impassable barriers. The enclosure ran more than fifty miles west to east and almost a hundred north to south. Not an imposing distance, but one that allowed for territorial claims. It was said that there were countless more miles of land beyond the mists, and great bodies of water, as well. But no one living had ever seen them because no one living had ever been outside the mists.

This confinement had troubled no one for most of the time the Races had lived together. But that was changing. Even given the long period of adjustment and the strong network of relationships created through trade, a steady number had begun to wonder what lay beyond and if it could somehow be reached. The Children of the Hawk were a creation of Men, after all, and the other Races did not subscribe to its teachings. That was a reason for some of the tension that had built among the differing peoples. The Elves, for instance, believed it was their duty to go out into the world and restore it to what it had been before they were driven here by the massive destruction of the Great Wars. The Lizards were nomads, and the Spiders deeply reclusive. It was a poor fit, these disparate Races confined as they were, even given their acceptance of their fate. Their network of alliances and interdependencies would fly apart in a moment once they discovered the mists were breaking down.

As they were sure to do, Pan thought, if the Gray Man was right about what was happening.

“I’ve been thinking,” Prue said suddenly. They were putting away the last of the dishes they had washed. “Maybe we ought to reconsider speaking before the council.”

Her suggestion was so out of character that for a moment he just stared at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, frowning. “I don’t much like the idea, either. But it might be better to do as Trow suggested and to wait and see. Saying the wrong thing now could land us in a lot of trouble, Pan.”

She was right, of course, but they had known this from the first. “You’ve been speaking with Brickey, haven’t you?” he said.

“He came to the door last night, after talking with you.”

“I hope you didn’t let him in.”

She gave him a look. “He’s not dangerous, Pan. But no, I didn’t let him in; it was too late for that and I was tired. I did listen to what he had to say, though, and it makes some sense. Whatever else he is, he’s not stupid. He sees things pretty clearly. And he’s right about Skeal Eile. It’s dangerous to question his teachings.”

Pan had heard the rumors. Those who opposed the Seraphic almost always ended up changing their minds. Some were threatened with banishment from the community. Some suffered unfortunate accidents. Some went missing altogether. He looked down at his hands, still holding one of the plates. He set it down carefully. “I don’t intend to question his teachings or his beliefs. I don’t intend to do anything but repeat what Sider Ament told us. I promised to give his warning, that’s all.”

“I know you. It won’t stop there. You’ll be questioned on your story and you’ll fight back. It won’t help; it will only make things worse.”

He sighed. “So you want me to do nothing, Prue? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I want you to think about asking Trow for Trackers to go up into the passes. If we had evidence, we could go before the council with a little more assurance that we wouldn’t be dismissed as children.”

“You think that’s how we’ll be seen?”

She nodded slowly. “I do.”