He motioned for Amberle to join them, and the three hunched down together in the gloom. Quickly Wil explained to the Rover girl the truth of who Amberle was, who he was; why they had come into the Wilderun, and what it was that they were really seeking. He left nothing out of his narration, for it was necessary now that Eretria appreciate the importance of their search for the Bloodfire. They were in grave danger in this tower, but the danger to them would not lessen, even if they were to get clear of it. If anything were to happen to him, he wanted to be certain that the Rover girl would do what she could to see that Amberle escaped the Hollows.
He finished, and Eretria stared at him wordlessly. She turned to Amberle.
«Is all this true, Elven girl? I trust you better, I think.»
Amberle nodded. «It is all true.»
«And you are determined to stay until you find this Bloodfire?»
Amberle nodded a again.
The Rover girl shook her head doubtfully. «Can I see this seed you carry?»
Amberle withdrew the Ellcrys seed, carefully wrapped in white canvas, from within her tunic. She unwrapped it and held it forth, silver–white and perfectly formed. Eretria stared at it. Then the doubt faded from her eyes, and she turned again to Wil.
«I go where you go, Wil Ohmsford. If you say we must stay, then the matter is settled. Still, we have to get out of this cell.»
«All right,” Wil agreed. «Then we find Wisp.»
«Wisp?»
«We need him. He knows where Mallenroh has hidden the Elfstones and all about Safehold, its tunnels, and its secrets. He knows the Hollows. If we have Wisp to guide us, then we have a chance to do what we came here to do and still escape.»
Eretria nodded. «First we have to escape from here. It will take me a while to figure out this lock. Be as quiet as you can. Watch the stairs.»
Carefully she inserted the hooked metal rod into the keyhole and began to work it about.
Wil and Amberle moved to the far end of the iron bars, where they could watch more closely the darkened passageway leading down the flight of stairs from the tower. The minutes slipped away, and still Eretria did not open the cell door. Faint scrapings cut through the deep silence as the hooked rod moved about within the lock, the Rover girl muttering as time and again the latch mechanism slipped free. Amberle crouched close against Wil, and her hand rested loosely on his knee.
«What will you do if she fails?» the Elven girl whispered after a time.
Wil kept his eyes on the passageway. «She won’t.»
Amberle nodded. «But if she does — what then?»
He shook his head.
«I do not want you to give Mallenroh the Elfstones,” Amberle announced quietly.
«We have been over that. I have to get you out of here.»
«Once she has the Stones, she will destroy us.»
«Not if I handle it right.»
«Listen to me!» Her voice was angry. «Mallenroh has no regard for human life. Humans serve no purpose in her eyes beyond the uses she may put them to. Hebel did not understand that when he met her that first time on the rim of the Hollows sixty years ago. All he could see was the beauty and the magic with which she cloaked herself, the dreams she spun with her words, the impressions she left by her passing — all fabrication. He did not see the evil that lay beneath — not until it was too late.»
«I am not Hebel.»
She took a deep breath. «No. But I worry that your concern for me and what I have come here to do is beginning to color your judgment. You have such determination, Wil. You think that you can overcome any obstacle, however formidable. I envy you your determination — it is something that I sadly lack.»
She took his hands in her own. «I just want you to understand that I depend on you. Call it what you wish — I need your strength, your conviction, your determination. But neither that nor what you feel for me must be allowed to distort your judgment. If it does, we are both lost.»
«Determination is just about all I have to work with,” he responded, eyes shifting momentarily to find hers. «Nor do I agree with you that you lack that same determination.»
«But I do, Wil. Allanon knew that when he chose you to be my protector. He knew, I think, how important your own determination would be to our survival. And without it, Wil, we would have been dead long ago.» She paused, her voice softening further until she could barely be heard. «But you are wrong when you say that I do not lack that same determination. I do. I always have.»
«I do not believe that.»
She caught his sudden glance down. «You do not know me as well as you think, Wil.»
He studied her face. «What do you mean?»
«I mean that there are things about me…» She stopped. «I mean that I am not as strong as I would like to be — not as courageous, not even as dependable as you. Remember, Wil, when we began the journey from Havenstead? You did not think much of me then. I want you to know that I did not think much of me either.»
«Amberle, you were frightened. That does not…»
«Oh, I was frightened all right,” she interrupted quickly. «I am still frightened. My being frightened is the reason for everything that has happened.»
By the cell door, Eretria muttered angrily and sat back, eyeing the still tightly locked barrier. She glanced once at the Valeman and went back to work.
«What are you trying to tell me, Amberle?» Wil asked quietly.
Amberle shook her head slowly. «I suppose I am trying to work up enough courage to tell you the one thing that I have been unable to bring myself to tell you since we began this journey.» She stared back into the gloomy interior of their little cell. «I suppose I want to tell you now because I do not know if I will have another chance.»
«Then tell me,” he encouraged.
Her child’s face lifted. «The reason that I left Arborlon and did not continue as a Chosen in service to the Ellcrys was that I became so frightened of her that I could no longer bear even to be around her. That sounds foolish, I know, but hear me out, please. I have never told this to anyone. I think that my mother understood, but no one else ever has. I cannot blame them for that. I might have explained myself, but I chose not to. I felt that I could not tell anyone.»
She paused. «It was difficult for me once I had been chosen by her. I knew well enough the uniqueness of my selection. I knew that I was the first woman to be chosen in five hundred years, the first woman since the time of the Second War of the Races. I accepted that, though there were many who questioned it and questioned it openly. But I was the granddaughter of Eventine Elessedil; it was not then altogether strange that I should be chosen, I thought. And my family — especially my grandfather — were so proud.
«But the uniqueness of my selection went beyond the fact that I was a woman, I discovered. From the first day of my service, it was different for me from what it was for my companion Chosen. The Ellcrys, it was well known, seldom spoke to anyone. It was virtually unheard of for her to converse with her Chosen after the time of their selection, save in very rare instances. Even then, a conversation with her might take place once during the entire time of a Chosen’s service. But from the first day forward, she spoke to me — not once or twice, but every day; not in passing, not in brief, but at length and with purpose. Always, I was alone; the others were never there. She would tell me when to come, and I would do so, of course. I was honored beyond belief; I was special to her, more special than anyone had ever been, and I took great pride in that.»
She shook her head at the memory. «It was wonderful at first. She told me things that no one else knew, secrets of the land and the life upon it that had been lost to the races for centuries — lost or forgotten. She told me of the Great Wars, of the Race Wars, of the birth of the Four Lands and their peoples, of all that had been since the beginning of the new world. She told me something of what the old world had been like, though her memory failed her as she went back in time. Some of what she told me, I did not understand. But I understood much. I understood what she told me of growing things, of planting and nurturing. That was her gift to me, the ability to make things grow. It was a beautiful gift. And the talks were magical — just being able to hear about all those wonderful things.
