«I’m just as glad that they’re on that side of the river,” he muttered to Amberle as they rose to return to their camp.
They enjoyed a savory meal of fish, fruit, vegetables and spring water, then settled back next to the campfire and gaze out through breaks in the forest to the glimmer of the Rover fires as they blazed up from out of the darkness across the river. They were quiet for a time, lost in their own thoughts. Then Wil looked over at the Elven girl.
«How is it that you know so much about growing things — the gardens at your cottage in Havenstead, the roots and plants you found for us during our journey? Did someone teach you all that?»
A look of surprise crossed her, face. «For being part Elf, you certainly don’t know very much about us, do you?»
Wil shrugged. «Not really. The Elven blood is all on my father’s side, and he died when I was very young I don’t think that my grandfather has ever gone into the Westland — at least he never speaks about it. In any case, I guess I’ve just never thought that much about being part Elf.»
«It is something that you should have thought about,” she said quietly. Her green eyes found his. «We first need to understand who we were before we can understand who we are.»
The words were spoken not as a criticism of the Valeman, but almost in self–reproach. Wil found himself suddenly wishing that he knew more about this girl, that he could find a way to persuade her to confide even a small piece of herself in him, rather than keeping it all so tightly locked away.
«Maybe you could help me gain at least a part of that understanding,” he offered after a moment’s thought.
There was instant doubt in her eyes, almost as if she believed that he was playing some game with her. She hesitated a long time before answering him.
«Very well, maybe I can.» She squared herself around so that she was seated facing him. «You must first understand that the Elven people believe that preservation of the land and all that lives and grows upon it, plant and animal alike, is a moral responsibility. They have always held this belief foremost in their conduct as creatures of the earth. In the old world, they devoted the whole of their lives to caring for the woodlands and forests in which they lived, cultivating its various forms of vegetation, sheltering the animals that it harbored. Of course, they had little else to concern them in those days, for they were an isolated and reclusive people. All that has changed now, but they still maintain a belief in their moral responsibility for their world. Every Elf is expected to spend a portion of his life giving back to the land something of what he has taken out of it. By that I mean that every Elf is expected to devote a part of his life to working with the land — to repairing damage it may have suffered through misuse or neglect, to caring for its animals and other wildlife, to caring for its trees and smaller plants where the need to do so is found.»
«Is that a part of what you were doing in Havenstead?»
She nodded. «In a way. The Chosen are exempt from this service. When I ceased to be one of the Chosen and no longer felt welcome in my homeland, I decided that I should do service to the land. Most of the work done by the Elves is carried out in the Westland because that is the Elven homeland. But we believe that the care of the land is not simply an Elven responsibility, but the responsibility of all men. To some extent the Dwarves share our concern, but the other races have never been much persuaded. So some of the Elves go out from the Westland to other communities, trying to teach the people living there something of them responsibility for the care and preservation of their land. This is what I was trying to do at Havenstead.»
«And you were working with the children of the village,” Wil surmised.
«Primarily the children,, for the children are more receptive to what I teach and have the time to learn. I was taught of the earth when I was a child; it is the Elven way. I was more adept than most at translating the lesson into use — one of the reasons, I guess, that I was selected to be a Chosen. The skills of the Chosen in the preservation and care of the earth and its life forms are of the highest order; the Ellcrys has some sense of this. She has this ability…»
Amberle seemed to catch herself in the middle of a thought she did not wish to express. She stopped abruptly, shrugging. I was very good at teaching the children of Havenstead, and the people of the village were very kind to me. Havenstead was my home, and I did not want to leave.“
She shifted her gaze abruptly to the fire between them. Wil said nothing, leaning forward to add several pieces of stray wood to the flames. After a moment’s silence, Amberle looked up at him again.
«Well, now you know something of the Elven feeling for the land. It’s a part of your heritage, so you should try to understand it.»
«I think I do understand it,” the Valeman replied, reflecting. «At least in part. I have not been trained in the Elven manner, but I have been trained by the Stors as a Healer. Their concern for human life is much the same as the Elven concern for the land. A Healer must do whatever is in his power to do to preserve the lives and health of the men, women, and children whom he treats. This is the commitment I made when I chose to become a Healer.»
The Elven girl looked at him curiously. «Somehow that makes it seem even stranger that you were persuaded by Allanon to look after me. You are a Healer, dedicated to preserving life. What will you do if you are placed in a situation where, in order to protect me, you must harm others, perhaps even cause them to die?»
Wil stared at her wordlessly. He had never even considered the possibility that such a thing might happen. Thinking on it now, he experienced an unpleasant feeling of doubt.
«I don’t know what I’ll do,” he admitted uncomfortably.
They were silent for a moment, staring across the fire at each other, unable to break through the awkwardness of the moment. Then Amberle rose abruptly, came over to the Valeman, and sat next to him, impulsively clasping his hand in her own. Her winsome face looked out at him through the shadow of her hair.
«That wasn’t a fair question to put to you, Wil Ohmsford. I’m sorry I asked it. You came on this journey because you believed that you might help me. It is wrong of me to doubt that you would do so.»
«It was a fair question,” Wil replied firmly. «I just don’t have an answer to it.»
«Nor should you,” she insisted. «I, of all people, should know that some decisions cannot be made in advance of the time that will demand them. We cannot always anticipate the way in which things will happen and therefore cannot anticipate what we will do. We must accept that. Again, I am sorry. You might as well ask me what decision I will make if the Ellcrys tells me that I am still one of the Chosen.»
Wil smiled faintly «Be careful. I am tempted to ask exactly that.»
She released his hand instantly and rose. «Do not. You would not like the answer I would give you.» She shook her head sadly. «You think my choice in this is a simple one, one that you could make easily. You are wrong.»
She walked back to the other side of the fire and reached down for her travel cloak, shaking it out upon the ground. As she prepared to roll herself in it to sleep, she turned back to him one final time.
«Believe me, Valeman, should our decisions become necessary, yours will be the easier of the two.»
She lowered her head to the folds of the cloak and was asleep in moments. Wil Ohmsford stared thoughtfully into the fire. Although he could not begin to explain why, he found that he believed her.
Chapter Fourteen
When they awoke the following morning, Artaq was missing. At first they thought that he might have wandered off during the night, but a quick check of the woods in which they were camped and the open grasslands beyond filed to turn up any sign of the big black. It was at this point that an unpleasant suspicion began to form in the back of Wil’s mind. Hurriedly, he examined the area in which Artaq had been left to graze, moving from there along the perimeter of their campsite, dropping to his knees from time to time as he went to smell the earth or touch it with his fingers. Amberle watched him curiously. After a few minutes of this, the Valeman seemed to find something. Eyes still fixed on the ground before him, he began walking southward through the small stand of timber and into the grasslands — one hundred feet, two. He began to angle toward the river. Wordlessly, the Elven girl trailed after. Moments later, they both stood at the edge of the Mermidon, staring out across a series of shallows several hundred yards downstream from their camp.
