stories of the Elfstones. They were an old magic, said to have all been lost long before the Great Wars. Yet you claim Allanon gave three to your grandfather and he in turn gave them to you. If that much of what you’ve told me were true…» She trailed off, her eyes fixed on his. «Would you show them to me?» she asked.
The Valeman hesitated, then reached into his tunic. He realized that she was testing him, but then he guessed that she had a right to do that. After all, she had only his word for everything he had told her, and she was being asked to place her safety in his hands. He pulled out the worn leather pouch, loosened the drawstrings and dropped the stones in his hand. Perfectly formed, their color a deep, brilliant blue, they flashed sharply in the morning sunlight.
Amberle bent close, regarding them solemnly. Then she looked back at Wil again.
«How do you know these are Elfstones?»
«I have my grandfather’s word on it. And Allanon’s.»
She did not look impressed. «Do you know how to use them?»
He shook his head. «I’ve never tried.»
«Then you don’t really know whether they’re any good to you or not, do you?» She laughed softly. «You won’t know until you need them. That’s not very comforting, is it?»
«No, not very» he agreed.
«Yet here you are anyway.»
He shrugged. «It seemed like the right thing to do.» He dropped the Elfstones back in the pouch and tucked the pouch into his tunic. «I guess I’ll have to wait and see how it works out to know whether or not I was mistaken.»
She studied him carefully for a moment, saying nothing. He waited.
«We have much in common, Wil Ohmsford,” she said finally. She crossed her arms about her knees, drawing them up. «Well, you’ve told me who you are — I think you’re entitled to the same courtesy. My family name is Elessedil. Eventine Elessedil is my grandfather. In a sense, we’re both involved in this because of who our grandfathers are.»
Wil nodded. «That’s true, I suppose.»
The wind caught her chestnut hair and blew it across her face like a veil. She brushed the strands away and looked out across the lake again.
«You know that I do not want to go back to Arborlon,” she said.
«I know.»
«But that’s where you think I ought to go, isn’t it?»
He eased back on his elbows, watching the rainbow’s arc above him.
«That’s where I think you have to go,” he replied. «Obviously you cannot go back to Havenstead, the Demons will be looking for you there. Pretty soon, they’ll be looking for you here as well. You have to keep moving. If Allanon escaped…» He paused, distracted by the implications of that statement. «If Allanon escaped, he will expect us to go on to Arborlon, and that’s where we’ll find him.» He looked over at her. «If you’ve got any better ideas, I’m ready to listen.»
For a long time, she didn’t say anything. She just kept staring out over the Rainbow Lake, watching the graceful movement of the water, letting the wind blow freely across her face. When she finally spoke again, it was just a whisper.
«I’m afraid.»
Then she looked at him, seemed about to say something more, and thought better of it. She smiled — the first genuine smile he had seen from her.
«Well, we’re a pair of fools, aren’t we? You with your Elfstones that may or may not be what you think and me about to do the one thing I swore I’d never do.» She rose, walked away a few paces, then turned as he came to his feet behind her. «I want you to know this. I think that going to Arborlon is pointless. I think that Allanon is wrong about me. Neither the Ellcrys nor the Elven people will accept me back again because, despite what the Druid may think, I am no longer one of the Chosen.»
She paused. «Still, doing anything else wouldn’t make much sense, would it?»
«Not to me, it wouldn’t,” he agreed.
She nodded. «Then I guess it’s settled.» Her child’s face regarded him soberly. «I just hope this isn’t a mistake.»
Wil sighed. «If it is, we’ll probably know soon enough.» He forced a thin smile. «Let’s collect Artaq and find out.»
They spent the remainder of that day and all of the next traveling north and west through the grasslands of Callahorn. The weather was warm, dry, and pleasant, and the time passed quickly. Dark thunderclouds appeared to the north around noon of the first day, hanging ominously over the craggy expanse of the Dragon’s Teeth, but by sunset they had blown east into the Rabb and were gone. The Valeman and the Elven girl alternated between riding Artaq and walking, doubling up when they rode, then both traveling afoot for a time in order to rest the big black. Artaq looked fresh even after several hours of being ridden, but Wil was not about to risk tiring the horse. They saw nothing of the Demons that they had lost at the Silver River, but the creatures were certainly still out there and looking for them. If they were unlucky enough to be found again, Wil wanted Artaq ready to run.
Bereft of any weapons at all, save for a small hunting knife Wil carried tucked in his belt, they were forced to eat fruits and vegetables that grew wild on the grasslands. Wil found the fare ample, if somewhat less than satisfying, but Amberle seemed not to mind at all. If anything, she seemed quite pleased with their meals. She showed the Valeman a talent for discovering food where he would not have guessed food existed, pulling from the most unlikely places edible plants and roots that she readily identified and described in quite thorough detail. Wil listened attentively and asked questions from time to time, finding this the one topic of conversation she seemed willing to pursue. Initially, he had tried to draw her out on other subjects, but had met with little success. So they talked of plants and roots and the rest of the time traveled in silence.
They slept that first night in a grove of cottonwood near a small spring that provided them with clean drinking water. By midafternoon of the second day, they reached the Mermidon and began following it north. Up until that point, they had seen no one, but thereafter passed half a dozen travelers, some afoot, some on horseback, one riding in a small wooden cart drawn by oxen. All exchanged with them a word of friendship and a wave before continuing on their way.
At sunset they made camp along the Mermidon, west and south of the city of Tyrsis, finding shelter in a grove of white pine and willow. Using a willow branch, a length of twine, and a hook from his clothing, Wil fashioned a crude fishing pole. Within half–an–hour he had landed a pair of striped bass. He was cleaning the fish by the river’s edge when a caravan of wagons swung into view from the south and wound its way down toward the far bank. Gaily painted houses on wheels, with peaked roofs of cedar shingles, hand–carved wooden doors, and windows studded with brass, the wagons flashed brightly in the setting sun. Teams of finely groomed horses pulled the wagon, their traces laced with bits of silver. Several riders kept pace, their graceful forms cloaked in silk and trailing streamers of color from their throats and from the bridles of their mounts. In spite of himself, Wil stopped what he was doing and watched the strange procession approach the river, wagon axles groaning, leather harness creaking, voices calling and whistling encouragement. Almost directly across from where the Valeman sat, the caravan swung into a loose circle and lurched to a halt. Men, women, and children climbed from the wagons and began unhitching the teams and setting up camp.
Amberle appeared from the trees behind Wil and joined him. The Valeman glanced over at them briefly, then followed her gaze back across the river to the gathering on the far bank.
«Rovers,” he announced thoughtfully.
She nodded. «I’ve seen them before. The Elves don’t have much use far them.»
«No one has.» He went back to cleaning the fish.
«They’ll steal anything that isn’t nailed down, or if it is, find a way to talk you out of it. They have their own rules and they don’t pay any attention to anyone else’s.»
Amberle touched his arm and he looked up to watch a tall man, dressed all in black save for a cloak and sash of forest green, accompany two older women in long, multicolored skirts and blouses as they carried water buckets down to the water’s edge. As the women stooped to fill the buckets, the tall man removed a wide–brimmed hat and, with a flourish, bowed low to Wil and Amberle, his darkly tanned face flashing a broad smile through a shading of black beard. Wil raised one arm and waved back cordially.
