to agree with you. He was a monster. We’re glad he’s dead. But you need to understand that we think your aunt is a monster, too. A monster of another sort.» He paused. «Do you know what we did with her?»
Pen nodded. «You sent her into the Forbidding.»
He saw the surprise in both men’s eyes. He knew more than they had thought he knew. «How do you know that?»
« She told me so,” he said. «She came to me in a dream and told me she was being held prisoner by Druids. She asked me to help her. I didn’t know what to think, but then Tagwen came to Patch Run and told me she had disappeared, so I decided to do what she had asked.»
« Which was?»
« To travel to the ruins of Stridegate. To seek help that could only be found there.»
Pyson Wence scowled. «What sort of help? Why would she ask help of you and not her brother?»
Pen’s thoughts raced. «I don’t know. Or, at least, I didn’t know at first. 1 didn’t think it was real. But I was afraid to ignore it, too.»
« So you just decided to set out on your own?»
He took a deep breath. «Tagwen came to ask my father to help him find the Ard Rhys. Tagwen thought that my father could use his magic to discover where she had gone. But my father and mother were traveling, and I was the only one home. Then that other Druid appeared, the Dwarf, on theGalaphile, so we ran. He chased us all the way into the Black Oaks before we lost him. Then we flew my skiff to the Westland to ask Ahren Elessedil for help, and he got us a larger airship and took us north to Anatcherae. But theGalaphile found us again, and tracked us across the Lazareen and into the Slags, and there was a fight, and theGalaphile exploded and Ahren and the Dwarf were both killed.»
He paused, trying to gauge their reaction. Did they believe any of this? He was trying to stay as close to the truth as possible without giving anything vital away.
« Terek Molt was always impatient,” Pyson Wence growled, waving his hand dismissively. This time it cost him more than he expected.»
« What did you do after that, Pen?» Traunt Rowan asked.
« We continued north out of the Slags. We still had the airship. We flew all the way to Taupo Rough. We met Kermadec, and he agreed to guide us to Stridegate. Then you appeared and we started running again.»
There was a long silence as the two men stared at him, weighing the truth in his story. Pen faced them squarely, meeting their eyes, willing them to believe.
« And all this time Aphasia Wye was hunting you?» the South–lander asked quietly.
Pen shook his head. «1 didn’t know anything about him, at first. He appeared for the first time in Anatcherae, after we had gotten away from the Dwarf. He chased us along the docks to the ship. Then we didn’t see him until we were in the country beyond the Slags. He caught up to us again there. But we lost him. Then he appeared in the ruins. No one saw him that time but me. He crossed over to the island somehow, looking for me.»
He paused. «If you didn’t send him to find me, who did?»
Traunt Rowan pursed his lips. «Your aunt has many enemies, Pen. Not all of them are Druids.»
An answer that wasn’t an answer to the question, Pen thought.
« This doesn’t feel right,” Pyson Wence announced suddenly. «Aphasia Wye tracks you all the way to Stridegate, but twice you escape him along the way, something no one else has ever done. Then you confront him on the other side of a bridge that you say no one but you can cross, and you are able to kill him? You? A boy? Do you think we are fools?»
Pen shook his head quickly. «I didn’t kill him. The spirits did. The ones who live on the island. They are called aeriads. They tricked him, lured him to the edge of the chasm. In the dark, he was confused. He fell, and the fall killed him. It is a long way to the bottom of the chasm. There are lots of rocks and tangled roots.»
Pyson Wence was on him in a second, snatching him up by the front of his shirt and holding him pinned against the bulkhead. «Aphasia Wye could see better in the dark than most cats,” the Gnome spit. «He was a skilled hunter. Nothing would have confused him. Nothing would have distracted him once he had the scent. Certainly not the dark! You are lying to us, little man!»
The Gnome’s fist was jammed so tightly against Pen’s throat that the boy could barely breathe, let alone talk. «It was the magic!» he finally managed to gasp.
Pyson Wence dropped him to the floor and kicked him hard. «Magic? What magic? Magic from these spirits you talk about? What sort of magic would they have that would stop Aphasia Wye? You’re making this up, boy!»
Pen was shaking his head as hard as he could in denial, both hands clutching at his injured throat. «No, it’s the truth! 1 didn’t know they were there when I went to Stridegate. 1 didn’t know anything except what my aunt told me in the dream. I was to go there and find out what 1 could do to help. So 1 went. The spirits were her means of communicating with me from within the Forbidding. She came to me on the island through them and told me that there was still a chance for her to escape so long as some of the Druids believed in her. She said that belief formed a connection to her and would help her find a way back!»
Pyson Wence kicked him harder still. «Belief in her? That’s going to get her out of the Forbidding? That’s what she told you?» He kicked Pen again, then looked over at Traunt Rowan. «Let’s kill him now and be done with it!»
The tall Southlander seemed to consider the idea, then shook his head. «1 don’t think so.» He walked over, moved the smaller man out of the way, then reached down and helped Pen back to his feet. Steering him by his shoulders, he led the boy back to the bench and sat him down.
Kneeling, he looked Pen squarely in the eye. «He’s right about one thing,” he said softly. «You’re lying to us. I thought we agreed that there weren’t to be any games played in this business.»
Pen felt his throat tighten and his stomach clench. He thought for a minute he was going to be sick, but he kept it from happening by refusing to give them the satisfaction. «1 wasn’t lying!»
Traunt Rowan shook his head in disappointment. «Your aunt summoned you all the way to Stridegate to tell you that belief would help free her? Why didn’t she just tell you that in your dream, Pen? For that matter, why didn’t she just tell your father, who might have been able to do something about it? Why choose to tell you, a boy with no way to do much of anything without help?»
Pen looked down at his clenched hands. «All right. There was something else. While I was on the island, I had to do something. I had to find this tree, a kind of tree 1 had never seen before. I had to find it and carve her name into its trunk. The tree bled sap into the letters, and there was a kind of magic released. It was what saved me from Aphasia Wye. It kept him from me, confused him, sent him off into the dark so that he fell into the ravine. The magic was a part of her, brought back from the Forbidding by the carving of her name. It wasn’t her body or mind or anything you could touch. It was her spirit, I guess.»
It was a plausible enough story, given the nature of magic and its workings, much of which was elemental and released through nature’s children. It even bordered on the truth.
Traunt Rowan smiled. «Strange, though. Your father couldn’t do all this? It had to be you. A boy not out of his teens, Pen?»
Pen nodded. «I have the use of a kind of magic my father doesn’t. It isn’t much. I can understand the thinking and intent of birds and plants and animals from their movements and sounds. It isn’t communication exactly, but it’s something like it. My aunt understood that I would know how to carve the letters in the tree in a way that wouldn’t hurt it, that would allow it to permit her to reach through the Forbidding.»
A total lie this time, but he was too deep in to back away and he needed to buttress his story with reasons for how things had come about. He felt his credibility was slipping away, and he threw up his hands in mock disgust.
« I don’t understand it, either. You can believe me or not, I don’t care! But I love my aunt, and I did what I had to do to help her. I’d do it again, if she asked me! She isn’t a monster, no matter what you say.» He glared at Traunt Rowan fiercely. «I’ve had enough of this! You don’t believe anything I’ve told you! Fine! I don’t have to tell you anything else!»
From the other side of the room, Pyson Wence snorted. Traunt Rowan remained where he was, studying Pen’s face in a way that the boy found disturbing. The Druid could tell he was lying, he realized. He didn’t know how he understood that, but he did.
