«You’re here, aren’t you?» Hebel pointed out. «Talk all you want.»
«And share your fire?»
Hebel shrugged. «I don’t have the food to feed you all — wouldn’t if I did. Maybe you brought something with you, huh?»
Cephelo gave an exaggerated sigh. «We did. Tonight you shall share our dinner.»
He called back to the others. The riders dismounted and began caring for the horses. An old woman had been driving the wagon in the company of a young couple. She climbed down now, removed provisions and cookware from the rear of the wagon, and shuffled wordlessly to the cooking fire. The two who sat with her hesitated momentarily, then came forward at Cephelo’s invitation. They were joined by a slim, dark–haired girl who had been one of the riders.
Hebel turned away wordlessly and reseated himself in the rocker. There was something peculiar about the two who had come down off the wagon seat, but he could not quite put his finger on what it was. They looked like Rovers and yet at the same time they didn’t. He watched them approach with Cephelo and the dark–haired girl. All four seated themselves on the grass about the old man — the dark–haired girl slipping suggestively close to the young man and giving him a bold wink.
«My daughter, Eretria.» Cephelo shot the girl an irritated look as’ he introduced her. «These two are Elves.»
«I’m not blind,” Hebel snapped, recognizing now why they appeared to be something more than Rovers. «What are they doing with you?»
«We have undertaken a quest,” the Rover announced.
Hebel leaned forward. «A quest? With you?» He glanced at the young man, his aged face wrinkling. «You seem like a bright sort. What made you decide to take up with him?»
«He requires a guide through this miserable country,” Cephelo answered for him — rather too quickly, Hebel thought. «Why is it, Hebel, that you insist on making this forsaken wilderness your home? One day I’ll pass by and find your bones, old man, and all because you were too stubborn to take your worthless hide to safer regions.»
«Much you’d care,” Hebel grunted. «For a man such as myself, this land is as safe as any other. I know it, know what walks and breathes and hunts it, know how to keep my distance and when to show my teeth. I’ll outlive you, Rover — mark my words on that.» He pushed back in the rocker, watching Drifter’s dark shadow settle in behind him. «What do you want with me?»
Cephelo shrugged. «A bit of talk, just as I’ve said.»
Hebel laughed hoarsely. «A bit of talk? Come now, Cephelo — what do you want? Don’t waste my time — there isn’t that much of it left.»
«For myself, nothing. For these young Elflings, something of the knowledge stored in that balding old pate. It has taken me a great deal of effort to reach you up here, but there are causes that merit special…»
Hebel had heard enough. «What are you cooking over there?» He allowed himself to be distracted by the smell of the food simmering in the cooking kettle. «What’s in there?»
«How should I know?» Cephelo snapped, irritated by the old man’s seeming inattention.
«Beef, I think. Beef and vegetables.» Hebel rubbed his weathered hands. «I think we should eat before we talk. Got some of that Rover ale with you, Cephelo?»
So they ate plates of stew, day–old bread, dried fruit, and nuts, with glasses of ale to wash it all down. Not much was said while they ate, though a considerable number of glances were exchanged, and those glances told Hebel a good deal more about the situation than whatever words his visitors might have spoken. The Elves, he decided, were there because they had run out of choices in the matter. They cared nothing more for Cephelo and his band than he did. Cephelo, of course, was there because there was something in all of this for him, but what that might be would undoubtedly be kept carefully concealed. It was the dark–haired girl, the Rover’s daughter, who puzzled him most. The way she looked at that Elf lad told him something of what she was about, yet there was more to her than that, more than she was willing to let on. The old man grew, increasingly curious as to what it might be.
At last the food was gone and the ale was drunk. Hebel produced a long pipe, struck flint and tinder to its contents, and puffed a broad wreath of smoke into the night air. Cephelo tried again.
«This young Elf and his sister need your help. They have already come a long way, but they won’t be able to go any further if you don’t give them that help. I told them, of course, that you would.»
The old man snorted. He knew this game. «Don’t like Elves. They think they’re too good for this country, for people like me.» He lifted one eyebrow. «Don’t like Rovers either, as you well know. Like them even less than Elves.»
Eretria smirked. «There seems to be a lot you don’t like.»
«Shut your mouth!» Cephelo snapped, his face darkening. Eretria went still and Hebel saw the anger in her eyes.
He chuckled softly. «I don’t blame you, girl.» He looked at Cephelo. «What will you give me if I help the Elflings, Rover? An even trade now, if you want what I know.»
Cephelo glowered. «Do not try my patience too severely, Hebel.»
«Ha! Will you cut my throat? See, what words you find then! Now speak again — what will you give me?»
«Clothes, bedding, leather, silk — I don’t care.» The Rover brushed aside the question stiffly.
«I got all that.» Hebel spat.
Cephelo controlled himself only with a monumental effort. «Well, what is it that you want, then? Speak up, old man!»
From behind the rocker, Drifter growled in warning. Hebel reached back and gave the dog a cuff.
«Knives,” he announced. «Half a dozen good blades. An axe head and wedges. Two dozen arrows, ashwood and feathered. And a cutting stone.»
The big man nodded, looking less than pleased. «Done, thief. Now give me something back for all that.»
Hebel shrugged. «What is it you want to know?»
Cephelo pointed at the young man. «The Elfling is a Healer. He looks for a root that produces a rare medicine. His books of healing say that it can be found here, within the Wilderun, in a place called Safehold.»
There was a long moment of silence as the Rover and the old man stared at each other and the others waited.
«Well?» Cephelo demanded finally.
«Well what?» the old man snapped.
«Safehold! Where is it?»
Hebel grinned crookedly. «Right where it’s always been, I imagine.» He saw the surprise in the other’s face. «I know the name, Rover. An old name, forgotten by everyone but me, I’d guess. Tombs of some sort — catacombs beneath a mountain.»
«That’s it!» The young man came to his feet, hip face flushed. Then he saw that everyone was staring at him and he sat down again quickly. «At least that is the way that the books described it,” he added lamely.
«Did they now?» Hebel rocked back, puffing. «Did they speak as well of the Hollows?»
The young man shook his head and glanced at the Elf girl, who shook her head as well. It was Cephelo who leaned forward sharply, his eyes narrowing.
«You mean that Safehold lies within the Hollows, old man?»
There was an edge to Cephelo’s voice that did not escape Hebel. Cephelo was frightened.
Hebel chuckled. «Within the Hollows. Do you still seek Safehold, Rover?»
The young man hunched forward. «Where can the Hollows be found?»
«South, a day’s walk,” the old man answered It was time to put an end to this foolishness. «Deep and dark they are, Elfling — a pit in which anything that drops falls from sight and is lost forever. Death, Elfling. Nothing that goes into the Hollows comes out again. Those who live there choose to keep it so.»
The young man shook his head. «I do not understand.»
Eretria muttered something under her breath, her eyes darting quickly to the face of the young Elf. She knew, Hebel saw. His voice dropped to a whisper.
