The Black Elfstone

  The old woman nodded, and Tarsha could have sworn she winked.

  Whatever the case, she hobbled into the inn and without a word to the proprietor or anyone else came over to the table and sat. She said nothing for a minute, apparently content just to rest, her eyes fixed on Tarsha.

  “Do I know you?” the younger woman asked, surprising herself with the directness of her question.

  “No. We are meeting for the first time. My name is Parlindru. Just Dru, if you please.”

  She seemed oddly younger once she was sitting close enough that Tarsha could study her. Her hair was gray and chopped short at the shoulders, her body bent with age, her limbs thin and spindly, her hands gnarled, and her shoulders hunched. But her face was almost entirely free of wrinkles and her eyes were bright and alert.

  Tarsha was aware she was waiting for a response. “Tarsha Kaynin,” she said and held out her hand.

  Parlindru took it and held it a moment, her brow wrinkling. “You carry a heavy burden, Tarsha,” she said. “And must do so for a while yet. Can you afford to buy me a glass of ale?”

  Tarsha signaled the barkeep for two fresh glasses and then turned back to her companion. “Why do you say that?”

  No response at first. Dru simply smiled. Then, inclining her head slightly, she said, “Do you know what brought me inside this place? To sit with you specifically?”

  “I thought maybe you knew me from somewhere.”

  “But now you know I don’t.”

  “A free glass of ale?”

  “Is that really what you think?”

  Tarsha hesitated. “No. I think it’s something else.”

  “But what specifically? Just say whatever comes to mind. Don’t stop to think about it. Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Tarsha declared. But she went silent again as the barkeep appeared with the ale. After he had placed the glasses on the table, she leaned forward. “My brother?”

  Parlindru, who by now Tarsha realized was something more complicated than just an old lady, smiled. “Do you know the rule of three?”

  Tarsha shook her head. “No.”

  “Everything that happens in life can be understood if you parse it into threes. All things have three distinct components, and all lives have three distinct destinies. Has anyone ever told you this? Do you believe it to be true?”

  “I’m not sure. I never thought about it. Should I?”

  Dru smiled, and the smile was so reassuring Tarsha felt all her doubts and irritations drop away. “Give me your hands. Just hold them out. Don’t worry. Nothing will happen. You won’t be harmed. Just let me hold your hands for a moment.”

  “Who are you?” Tarsha asked, determined to keep her hands to herself until she knew.

  “What I am matters more. That is the question you should be asking.”

  “All right. What are you?”

  “A seer. All my life, a seer.” She paused. “I am forty-one years old. Do I look it?”

  “You don’t.”

  “No, I look much older. The gift of seeing the future has done this to me. An irony. It steals life as a reward for revealing time’s secrets. Even then, those secrets are not always made clear. I have the gift, but it exacts its price in the way of all magic. You should know, Tarsha Kaynin. You have use of the wishsong.”

  Tarsha started to deny it but instead stopped herself, wondering how Dru knew this. “So you can read minds?”

  Parlindru laughed. “I don’t read minds. I read the future. Please listen, young miss. I came into this fine establishment because while I was passing by, your thoughts called out to me. You couldn’t have heard them, but I did. You seek answers and solutions, and perhaps I can give you a little of both. But to do that, I need to be closer to you than standing outside a window. I need to be touching you. If you want what I can give you, let me take your hands in mine.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want that.”

  Dru smiled. “Oh, but I think you do. I think you want it badly.”

  And Tarsha knew she did. Anything that might allow her to help her brother. Anything that would give her insight into her own life.

  Obediently, she held out her hands and let the other woman take them in her own. The seer held them gently but firmly, her fingers pressing into the palms as if to reassure Tarsha of her intentions. All the while, her eyes looked into the young woman’s, fixing on them but not really seeing anything, her stare vacant and detached.

  Then abruptly the pale-gray eyes became blue and the blue became violet—a slow changing each time—and the heat emanating from them was palpable. At one point, Tarsha felt a burst of warmth in her chest, a sort of spike that was painful but lasted no more than a moment. It let her know that something had happened and she had been part of it. She wasn’t sure how long the intrusion lasted; time had stopped. When it ended she could not tell what had taken place, only that something had.

  Parlindru released her hands, and there was a look of wonder reflected on her face. Tarsha knew at once the seer had seen something important.

  “Rule of three,” Parlindru whispered. “So three things shall I tell you and three things shall you know of your future. Listen, now. Hear me and remember.”

  She paused to make sure she had Tarsha’s full attention as she held up one finger.

  “First. Three times shall you love and all three shall be true, but only one will endure.”

  Another finger.

  “Second. Three times shall you die but each death shall see you rise anew.”

  A final finger.

  “Third. Three times shall you have a chance to make a difference in the lives of others and three times shall you do so. But one time you shall change the world.”

  She stood abruptly, taking her staff and looking down at Tarsha with a sad smile. “Your burden is great and will be greater still. Keep true to yourself and remember my words. One day, perhaps, we will meet again.”

  The old woman motioned to something off to her right, causing Tarsha to look where she gestured, searching for what had drawn her attention. A quick search revealed nothing. But by the time Tarsha looked back again, Parlindru was passing through the front door in a whisper of colored fabric to disappear into the night.

  Tarsha sat where she was and finished her ale, thinking over what the strange woman had told her. Rule of three. She guessed she would find out at some point if it was true. She downed the last of her drink and walked over to the barkeep. The man looked up as she set her glass on the bar. “Another?”

  Tarsha shook her head. “Have you seen that old woman before?”

  “What old woman?”

  “The one I was sitting with. The one I bought the ale for.”

  The barkeep grinned. “You’re having me on, young lady, aren’t you? There wasn’t no old woman sitting with you. Look for yourself. You still got that extra glass of ale you ordered sitting there full up. No one’s touched it. You might want to go back and finish it.”

  Tarsha stared at the full glass sitting at the table and shook her head. “No, I think I’ll just leave it.”

  She exited the room, went up the stairs to her sleeping chamber, closed and locked the door, and slept soundly through the night.

  But there were dreams, and the old woman was in them.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Drisker Arc and Dar Leah departed Emberen in a rush, not long after the Blade had arrived. Normally, the trip would have required three days, but by traveling straight through the night the Druid believed they could reach Paranor late the following day. It would be an arduous journey, but Drisker was concerned that things at Paranor were spiraling out of control. Ober Balronen’s strange behavior was too similar to what Clizia had induced in that other Druid years earlier to be ignored. If this was the result of Clizia’s machinations, Drisker had to know.

  Because whatever the truth about her involvement with both Balronen’s and Quince’s strange behavior, her involvement with Kassen Drue could no longer b
e disputed. She had deliberately lied to Drisker about knowing who Kassen was, and Dar had revealed that lie. Clizia had led the team examining the newcomer for admission. She had witnessed a clear demonstration of his ability to disappear and then reappear somewhere else. When Dar had returned from the ill-fated encounter with the invaders to give his report to Balronen and his inner circle, she could hardly have missed noting the similarity between Kassen’s demonstration and what Dar had described the invaders doing. Yet she had done nothing about this, even after recommending Kassen’s admission into the order and becoming his adviser. Instead, she had kept all of it to herself and told Drisker nothing. That this was anything but deliberate was impossible.

  Drisker knew Clizia Porse well. She seldom did anything without a purpose, and there was no reason to believe she lacked one now, even if he did not yet understand what it was. What he wondered was how much she had to do with the attempts on his life. Had she known Orsis Guild was coming for him? Was she aware that Kassen had hired these assassins? Had she, herself, been behind the attacks, with her own reasons for wanting him dead? He had to assume the worst at this point, and the urgency he felt as a result persuaded him to leave sooner rather than later, and to travel east as fast as he could.

  Drisker and Dar Leah flew through the rest of the day and night, taking turns piloting the little two-man—one manning the controls while the other slept. It was an efficient way to make the journey and still arrive at least somewhat rested. Although Drisker thought more than once, as he tossed and turned in the confines of the passenger’s seat, that an airship this small was never intended to provide anything approaching comfortable sleep.

  Still, he managed to get some rest, as did the Blade, and by early evening they were nearing the jagged spires of the Dragon’s Teeth. The day had been cloudy and gray, the air moist with the prospect of rain, and the winds out of the north were crisp and steady. A storm was coming, and they would likely be outside when it struck. But a storm was the least of their problems. Drisker was already worried that any form of entry into the Keep would prove impossible without the use of force.

  They landed in a clearing less than a mile from Paranor, the shadows of massive old trees deepening as what was left of the sun sank away.

  “We’ll walk from here,” Drisker announced. “I don’t want anyone to discover we’re present before we get inside the Keep. If they do, our chances of finding a way in will be minuscule.”

  They disembarked and began working their way through the heavy forest. It took them only a little while to complete their journey, and soon they were crouched in the concealment of the trees at the western edge of Paranor, staring up at the top of the Keep’s walls where a pair of dark figures patrolled the battlements.

  “What now?” Dar said quietly.

  Drisker shook his head. “Now we look for a way to get inside and speak with Balronen. And try to avoid ending up locked in the cellars.” He studied the walls a moment longer. “At least the Keep doesn’t appear to be in any imminent danger.”

  The Blade was sitting back on his heels, his brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t be that certain, Drisker. The Druids might be in more danger than they suspect. There’s something I haven’t told you. Something that happened to me at the end of the battle with the invaders, when our ships were gone and the others were dead and I was all that was left.”

  Then he told the Druid the entire story of how he had thrown himself from the wreckage of the burning Druid warship to a perch in the rocks of the cliff face, trying to hide from any pursuit. Yet the leader of the invaders had found him anyway, lowering his flit into position with its weapons trained on him, giving him no real chance to fight back—and then left him unharmed, backing off and flying away.

  “I’m still bothered by why he was so ready to spare me when he had me trapped like that. He just hung his flit in midair, studying me as you would a bug, and then dismissing me. He could have killed me on the spot. It just seems, thinking back on it, that he really didn’t think it mattered if he left me alive. That I was no threat to him. That whatever I did if I made it back to Paranor wouldn’t matter.”

  The Druid stared at him. “I agree it’s odd. Certainly there’s more to this than we know. It would have been safer just to kill you and put the matter to rest.”

  He looked up again at the sentries patrolling the walls, thinking of all the men and women inside, wondering if any of them even suspected the danger they were in. He was inclined to think not. At the very least, he had to warn them of what was coming.

  “I’m going to try contacting Clizia,” he said at last, turning to face the highlander. “I have a scrye orb to summon her; let’s see if she will speak with us. If she does, maybe we can learn something about what’s happened. I know the danger she might pose to us; I know we can’t trust her. It’s clear she’s lied about Kassen. But we have to do something, and trying to get inside without being seen and without help is a last resort. Still, we need to be cautious about this. I want you to stay out of view while I use the orb. I don’t want her to know you’re with me just yet. Sit where she cannot see you while I invoke the magic of the orb, and do nothing to give yourself away.”

  They moved deeper into the trees, safely out of hearing from the guards patrolling the battlements. Dar took up a position facing the Druid after backing away perhaps fifteen feet from where he sat, placing himself where Clizia would not be looking at him when she spoke to Drisker. The Druid waited until he was settled, then produced the orb—a perfectly round milky stone—and held it up in front of him cupped in his hands, warming it to ready the magic.

  “Clizia?” he whispered, when he felt the surface of the orb begin to give off heat.

  The stone began to glow, and he took one hand away, holding it so that the open side was facing him.

  Her face appeared, gaunt and lined and fierce. “Drisker? What is it? I thought I told you to wait until you heard back from me!”

  “There’s no time left. Paranor may already be compromised!”

  “Compromised? What are you talking about? Where are you?”

  “Just outside the walls of the Keep. Have you spoken to Balronen?”

  “I spoke to a wall that wears our beloved leader’s face,” she answered, her voice as tightly drawn as her face. “He does not choose to listen to me. He ignores my reasoning. In his skewed worldview, my concerns lack any real merit. Your concerns, really, even if I was the one who voiced them. I did what I could, but he continues to play the fool.”

  “He is displaying irrational and quixotic behavior, would you say, Clizia?”

  The sharp eyes fixed on him, suddenly suspicious. “What is this about Paranor being compromised? What is it you know that I don’t?”

  Drisker glanced at Dar and back at the orb. “There is a man within the Keep, newly arrived, a Druid-in-Training. His name is Kassen. He has abilities that mirror those of the enemy that we suspect marches against Paranor. But you already know this, don’t you? I described him to you when last we met. He was the man who hired Orsis Guild to kill me. Why did you lie to me about knowing him?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. “What are you talking about, Drisker? Yes, I know this Kassen. A new initiate. I was there for his examination and saw what he could do. But your description did not call Kassen to mind. It did not match what I know of him closely enough. Be sensible. Why would I send someone to kill you? Why would I bother? I would come after you myself if I wanted you dead.”

  “Well, that’s comforting to know. So you claim not to have made the connection in any way? Not even after hearing that his ability is so similar to that of the invaders?”

  “I considered it, yes. I have taken steps to try to convince Balronen of the danger that Ruis Quince may have put us in, though you’ve already heard what our beloved leader thinks of my opinions. But the similarity in ability is one thing, and connecting your description of the man who hired Orsis is another. Do not confuse them when casting blame on
me!”

  She leaned closer to the orb. “I am doing what I can. You have to trust me. You have to be patient, Drisker. I have put a watch on Kassen and alerted some of those within the Keep who can be trusted of the danger we might be facing. There are a few—if only a few—who are not fools.” She paused. “Now tell me more about the danger to Paranor. Do you have reason to think these invaders are somewhere close to the Keep?”

  Drisker shook his head. “I don’t think anyone knows where they are just now. Can you arrange for a scouting party to fly out and search for them, perhaps find out where they are?”

  She sighed. “I suppose. Prax Tolt controls the airships and their fliers, and he bears no love for me. But he is more sensible than Balronen. He may be willing to listen.”

  “One thing more…”

  Her face darkened and her voice turned shrill. “Not now! I told you, you have to wait! I will make contact with you as soon as I know something more. Meanwhile, stay out of sight. I need time to look into this. Be patient while I do so!”

  And the scrye orb went dark.

  Drisker stared at the sphere for a moment and then tucked it back into his pocket.

  “She’s lying,” Dar said, coming over again to sit next to him.

  “Yes, she is,” Drisker agreed. “Now what do we do about it?”

  —

  The day passed slowly for Allis, who spent her time anticipating the arrival of nightfall. Unbidden, with no warning whatsoever, Kassen had asked if he might come to her bedchamber after hours to see her. He said nothing more, promised nothing, and offered no explanation for this request. But she knew the truth of it, as every young girl does. He could have only one thing in mind, and it was something she welcomed. She had always known he would be right for her, that they would be lovers and partners in life. She had been waiting for a chance to broach the matter to him, but he had saved her the trouble.