Bearers of the Black Staff

Panterra Qu smiled and almost laughed. Sider watched the laugh surface and then disappear as the boy suppressed it. “I don’t want to carry the staff,” the boy said quickly. “I just want to be a Tracker.”

  “You would be a Tracker still. You would keep your skills and use them often. But you would do much more, too. You would serve a higher cause than Trow Ravenlock and the people of Glensk Wood.”

  “No, that’s enough for me. Besides, there’s Prue. I have to look out for her.”

  Sider took a deep breath. There it was—the crux of the matter. He gave the boy a smile. “Yes, there’s Prue. You consider her your best friend, don’t you?”

  “I do. You know that.”

  “Do you love her?”

  He hesitated, caught off guard by the question. Perhaps no one had ever asked it. Perhaps he hadn’t even considered it. He didn’t seem to know what to say. “As I would a sister, yes,” he replied finally.

  “Nothing more?”

  “Not as I think you mean.”

  “Does she love you?”

  Again, the hesitation. “In the same way. As a brother.”

  “Then there is no difficulty in doing what I suggest. You do not have to stop loving each other as friends and siblings, and you can still be together as much as you choose. Nothing about bearing the black staff prevents this. But …”

  He held up one hand, palm open toward the boy, as if to stop something he might be about to say. “But something else might prevent it. Not just if you become my successor and the next bearer of the staff, but even if you choose to remain a simple Tracker from Glensk Wood. What you had once envisioned for both of you is finished. That future is gone. It left with the collapse of the magic that warded the valley. It left when the doors opened to the outside world and our survival became a much more perilous undertaking.”

  The boy gave him a look, and he smiled in spite of himself. “I know how that sounds. But I don’t say these things only because the protective wall is down and the passes are open. I say them because I met a man while I was outside the valley, and he told me what the world was like. He described it in detail, and it is not a place that will tolerate weakness or indecision. It is populated by dangerous creatures and infused with the residue of the poisons and the resultant mutations of the Great Wars. Those of the human Race that survived did so by being tougher and stronger than those who did not. The Trolls who besiege the valley are indicative of what’s out there. But they are only one example.”

  He paused, letting the boy think it through. “It isn’t hard to see what I am trying to say, is it? A battle for survival is at hand, and it will require more than any of us have considered giving in the past. Life will not be as simple or safe. It will be hard and dangerous, and it will demand a great deal of everyone. You already have a better chance of doing something about that than most. But that chance will increase a hundredfold if you accept my offer. Not only for you, but for those whom you choose to protect.”

  The boy was silent for a while longer, and then he shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t know if I want to.”

  Sider nodded. “I don’t know, either. Neither of us will know until the moment I pass the staff to you. All we can do until then is to try to prepare you for what having the staff means. We can talk about it. We can examine it. You can ask what questions you would, and I can answer them as best I know. This will give you a chance to see if it might be something that interests you—not in the abstract, but in the practice of it. I will try to convince you that you are the right man to bear it. But I will not force you to take it, and I will not expect you to force yourself. It has to be voluntary. You have to feel the need.”

  The boy shook his head again. “I don’t like the idea of it. I don’t want to be responsible for so many people.”

  “How is that different from what you do now? You act as surrogate to an entire village and by proxy for the entire valley in most cases. They depend on your Tracker’s skills to ward them, to keep them safe, to see them right. If you fail, many times your own number will suffer as a consequence. Many more lives are in your hands now than ever before because of the danger of an invasion. You cannot pretend that taking up the staff will in any measurable way increase the nature of your responsibility. What it will do is give you a better chance of doing your job as it needs doing.”

  “Your argument suggests that as a Tracker I alone am responsible for everyone.” The boy was standing his ground, thinking it through. “There are other Trackers, equally qualified, equally responsible, and they share my burden. If I become the next bearer of the black staff, I will stand alone.”

  “You will,” Sider agreed. “But how disagreeable do you find that? Do you not see yourself as standing alone even now? Isn’t that how you approach what you do—by telling yourself the responsibility is yours and it doesn’t matter if there are others who could do it equally well or who might be called upon to share your burden? You don’t think of it that way, do you? You think of it as yours and yours alone.”

  He could see that he was right. He could see it in the boy’s eyes and feel it in his hesitation. “But it still isn’t the same,” the boy persisted.

  Sider let the answer hang a moment, and then he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed softly. “Why don’t we leave it here for now? We can talk about it again later. You can think about what I’ve said. We should eat something and then sleep.”

  The boy nodded but said nothing. Sider could tell he was already thinking it through.

  THEY PREPARED THEIR DINNER, a rabbit cooked over a fire, some day-old bread they had been given before leaving Hold-Fast-Crossing, some root vegetables foraged and sliced to cook with the meat, and cups of cold springwater. They ate in silence as the last of the light faded from the sky and the stars began to come out.

  “Tomorrow, we will reach Glensk Wood,” Sider said once the meal was done and they were sitting by the dying fire, listening to the sounds of the night as it closed about them. “I will leave you there and go on alone. I won’t be back for several days.”

  The boy was silent for several moments. “Is this because I won’t agree to be your apprentice?”

  Sider almost smiled, but managed with some effort to keep a straight face. “It has nothing to do with that. I am going out of the valley to find Prue and bring her back.”

  The boy looked over quickly. “Then you have to take me with you. I can help.”

  “Not this time. I know you want to come with me, but I will have a better chance of saving her if I go alone.”

  The boy shook his head. “It doesn’t seem right letting you do this when I was the one who left her. I should be the one to go back.”

  Sider leaned forward, wrapped his arms around his knees, and looked off into the trees. “You have to trust me on this. You have to defer to my judgment.”

  He said it kindly, keeping his voice deliberately soft, but he could see the boy wince anyway. He was sorry he had to tell him like this, but time was running out for all of them, especially the girl. Taureq Siq would find out soon enough that no meeting between himself and the leaders of the valley was going to take place. When that happened, he would have no further use for Prue Liss and likely dispose of her quickly.

  “What do you want me to do while you’re gone?” the boy asked finally.

  This was the right question to ask, Sider thought. “I want you to go to Aislinne and tell her what’s happened so that she can pass the information along to Pogue. She must let him know that help is on the way. In the meantime, be certain that the pass at Declan Reach is being fortified against an attack. I expect it to come at Aphalion, but we can’t take that chance.”

  The boy nodded. “Will you come back through Declan Reach when you find her?”

  “I will.”

  “Then I’ll be waiting for you there. I’ll work on the defenses with the others while I do.”

  There was a momentary pause as th
e two stared at each other, neither knowing what more to say. “Don’t worry,” the Gray Man said finally. “I’ll bring her back safe and sound.”

  The boy did not respond, but in the following silence Sider Ament could all but hear the words he was thinking.

  You’d better.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  JUST TWO DAYS AFTER VISITING HER GRANDMOTHER, Phryne was summoned before her father and told that the restrictions placed upon her were being lifted. Her father did not seem either happy or unhappy about this decision, simply resigned. His explanation, however, said everything that needed saying.

  “Your grandmother seems to feel that you’ve been punished enough,” he began after sitting her down across from him. “She has sent me repeated notes to that effect. She wants me to put you back to work in a more useful way; she wants me to give you a fresh chance to demonstrate your sense of responsibility.”

  He paused. “I agree with her thinking, which is saying something. Mistral Belloruus hasn’t exactly endeared herself to me over these past few years. She would have me be a widower in mourning for your mother until I die, and even your mother, could she communicate as much, would disagree with her. Life is for the living, and the living have an obligation to carry on.”

  He paused again, suddenly uncomfortable with what he had said. “Not that I didn’t love your mother more than I will ever love any other woman, Phryne. No one will ever replace her in my heart. You might think otherwise, but that’s how it is.”

  She did think otherwise, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She loved him enough for that.

  “So I am giving you back your old life, free of any restrictions,” he continued. “With the understanding that you will not violate my trust and will exercise good judgment when temptation suggests you do otherwise. No running off on some wild impulse, no throwing caution to the winds to satisfy curiosity, and no going outside the valley for any reason whatsoever. Are we agreed?”

  She nodded. “We are.”

  “This is important, given what I am about to ask of you. Are you certain you can live by these rules?”

  “I can live by them.”

  “Good. Then we will put the last two weeks behind us, and hope that Sider Ament finds a way to rescue that unfortunate Glensk Wood girl from the Trolls.”

  She cringed inwardly as he said it, but kept her face expressionless.

  “As I said, I have something I want you to do. No more work at the healing center for now. Let’s leave that to Isoeld.”

  She cringed anew. That and a few other things she couldn’t bring herself to mention.

  “I want you to go back up to Aphalion Pass,” he finished.

  She started, surprised. “But I thought you just got through saying you didn’t want me to—”

  “Go out of the valley,” he finished. “That is exactly right. I don’t. What I want you to do is go up to the pass and find out how things are going. Talk to the Orullians and ask them what they think. They’re both up there, helping with the barricades. Take a good look around. I need an independent judgment of matters, and you are the most independent-minded person I know. Which is to say, among other things, that you are good at seeing what others miss because you keep an open mind.”

  He saw the look of uncertainty that crossed her face. “I mean all this as a compliment, Phryne. You won’t tell me something just to try to please me. And the truth is what I need. How is the work coming? How strong do the defenses look? What is the attitude of the Elves working on the barriers, now that they know the protective wall is down? That’s what I want here. The truth of things. Will you go?”

  She rose, walked over to him, bent down and kissed his cheek. “Of course I’ll go. Thank you for trusting me to do this.”

  “Who do I trust, if not you and Isoeld?” he said.

  She bit off the reply that was on the tip of her tongue and listened to the rest of his explanation. One of the conditions of her going was that Elven Hunters acting as escorts and bodyguards would accompany her. She agreed without argument; she understood why her father would think it was too dangerous for her to make the journey alone. She was somewhat mollified when he added that she would be allowed to choose their route both coming and going so long as her escort did not think it presented any danger. She would make her own conclusions and deliver her own report when she returned. She was to take no more than three days to do this.

  “This is all the time I can give you,” he finished. “The deadline for this meeting with the Trolls expires in eight. I will need the balance of that time to muster and dispatch a force adequate to hold the passes. I will have to tell our people something soon. I can’t put it off any longer, much as I might like. Time slips away from us, Phryne.”

  She wouldn’t disagree, and since it didn’t do any good just talking about it, she left things where they were and went off to pack. Shoving clothes and personals into her backpack, she had a momentary twinge of regret that her companions of the last trip would not be going with her, especially Panterra Qu, about whom she had not stopped thinking since he had departed Arborlon more than a week ago with the Gray Man. Certainly thinking about Pan was preferable to thinking about her stepmother, but her thoughts were generated less as a matter of choice than of fascination. Even now, she remained intrigued with this boy, and although she had tried repeatedly she could not explain it.

  She sighed, pondering on it anew as she stood there in her bedchamber, staring at her backpack. Some of her odd attraction to Panterra had to do with his unavailability, she knew. He was human, she was Elven, and the two did not mix when you were a member of the royal family. He was unavailable to her, and that made him desirable. Some of it had to do with the singular nature of his profession, how remote he kept himself from the rest of the world, how isolated he was. How he could do what he did and be happy, living on his own with no one to talk to but Prue Liss, separated from the rest of his people, immersed in reading sign and interpreting the behavior of nature’s creatures.

  She knew plenty of Elven Trackers, understood their lives and their need to live free. She had talked with some and listened to their explanations. But Panterra Qu was different, and she could not explain how. Something in the way he viewed the world. Something in the way he spoke and moved. Something in the Tracker part of him that made her feel he could manage in any given situation—which was part of why she had been so quick to cajole him into investigating the campfire that had led to Prue Liss’s captivity.

  Something in the way he looked at her.

  She stopped suddenly, just at the end of closing up her backpack and preparing to set out, struck by a shocking possibility.

  Was she in love with this boy? Was that what this was?

  She rolled her eyes at the very idea of it and went out the door and down the walkway to the quarters that housed the Elven Hunters. Once there, she inquired after her escort and found that they had assigned Rendelen and Dash to go with her, two who had accompanied her on previous outings in the valley. The former was a veteran, small and tough and smart. The latter was younger, bigger and full of good cheer. They greeted her with friendly waves, their packs already in place, ready to leave.

  The morning had not yet reached midday when they set out for Aphalion Pass.

  As they walked to the edge of the bluff and started down the Elfitch, she was surprised to find Arik Sarn coming up. The Troll was carrying writing instruments and paper, his head lowered, his mind elsewhere. He did not see her until he was almost on top of her, and when he did he was visibly startled.

  “Princess,” he greeted in his guttural voice, bowing deeply.

  Too deeply to suit her. She still didn’t like him. But it didn’t much matter because she hadn’t seen him once in the time he had been there. Until now, of course.

  “Good morning to you,” she said in reply. “Taking a walk?”

  “Just to the ramp’s end and back. I’ve come from your gardens. We have no such flowers w
here I live.”

  “They are beautiful,” she agreed. “The gardeners work very hard to keep them so.” She glanced at the notebook. “Writing something down about those flowers?”

  “Drawing them,” he said. He showed her several pages of very good sketchings of early-spring flowers. He smiled. “Helps me pass the time. We don’t have these plants outside.”

  She found it surprising that he liked to draw flowers, but who could tell about Trolls? She left him there with a smile of encouragement and a wave of her hand. She could feel him studying her back.

  With Dash and Rendelen as companions, she walked through the remainder of the day at a steady pace, passing out of Arborlon and down through the Eldemeres, making her way across the lowlands to the forest that lay just at the base of the mountains leading up to the pass. The day was cloudy and gray, but the air was warm and the ground soft and dry. As nightfall approached, the trio made camp and ate dinner, and then afterward sat around a small fire drinking ale and telling stories. Phryne might have been born to a privileged and high-ranking family with expectations for her future, but she had not been raised that way. In fact, she had pretty much spurned all of it since she was very young, insisting that she be allowed to spend her time with whomever she wished—which in her case meant with the rough-and-tumble boys and girls being raised as Elven Hunters and Trackers. Her mother and father, seeing how set she was on choosing her own playmates and lifestyle, gave up on trying to manage that aspect of her life early on, settling instead for teaching her what they thought important about deportment and manners and court life in the privacy of her own home. She endured their lessons stoically and structured her life pretty much as she chose.

  That became more the case than ever after the death of her mother, when her father, alone now and preoccupied, let her go her own way. Had he known half of the things she did during that time period, even a quarter of the escapades in which she had engaged or the dangerous situations into which she’d put herself, he would have locked her away until she was old enough to know better. Phryne, as her grandmother correctly surmised, had never been very good about knowing better, only knowing what she wanted.