it.»
Then he bent to kiss her lightly on the mouth, and her arms came up to hold him close. «We’ll be all right;” she heard him say.
And she answered, «I know.»
But she was no longer sure.
Chapter Six
When Jair Ohmsford regained consciousness, he found himself trussed hand and foot and securely lashed against a tree trunk. He was no longer in the hunting lodge but in a clearing sheltered by closely grown fir that loomed over him like sentinels set to watch. A dozen feet in front of him, a small fire burned, casting its faint glow into the shadowed dark of the silent trees. Night lay over the land.
«Awake again, boy?»
The familiar, chiding voice came from out of the darkness to his left, and he turned his head slowly, searching. A squat, motionless figure crouched at the edge of the firelight. Jair started to reply, then realized that he was not only tied; he was gagged as well.
«Oh yes, sorry about that,” the other spoke again. «Had to put the gag in, of course. Couldn’t have you using your magic on me a second time, could I? Do you have any idea how long it took me to get out of that wood bin?»
Jair sagged back against the tree, remembering. The Gnome at the inn — that was who had followed him, caught up with him at Rone’s hunting lodge, and struck him from behind…
He winced at the memory, finding that the side of his head still throbbed.
«Nice trick, that thing with the snakes.» The Gnome chuckled faintly. He rose and came into the firelight, seating himself crosslegged a few feet from his prisoner. Narrow green eyes studied Jair speculatively. «I thought you harmless, boy — not some Druid’s whelp. Worse luck for me, eh? There I was, sure you’d be so scared that you’d tell me right off what I wanted to know — tell me anything just to get rid of me. Not you, though. Snakes on my arms and a four–foot limb bashed up against my head, that’s what you gave me. Lucky I’m alive!»
The blocky yellow face cocked slightly. «Course, that was your mistake.» A blunt finger came up sharply. «You should have finished me. But you didn’t, and that gave me another chance at you. Suppose that’s the way you are, though, being from the Vale. Anyway, once I got free of that wood bin, I came after you like a fox after a rabbit. Too bad for you, too, because I wasn’t about to let you escape, after what you’d put me through. Not by a whisker’s cut, I wasn’t! Those other fools, they’d have let you outrun them. But not me. Tracked you three days. Almost had you at the river, but you were already across and I couldn’t pick up your trail at night. Had to wait. But I caught you napping at that lodge, didn’t I?»
He laughed cheerfully and Jair flushed with anger. «Oh, don’t be angry with me — I was just doing my job. Besides, it was a matter of pride. Twenty years, and no one’s ever gotten the best of me until now. And then it’s some nothing boy. Couldn’t live with that. Oh, knocking you senseless — had to do that, too. Like I said, couldn’t be taking chances with the magic.»
He got up and came a few steps closer, his rough face screwed up with obvious curiosity. «It was magic, wasn’t it? How’d you learn to do that? It’s in the voice, right? You make the snakes come by using the voice. Quite a trick. Scared the wits out of me, and I thought there wasn’t much left that could scare me.» He paused. «Except maybe the walkers.»
Jair’s eyes glistened with fear at mention of the Mord Wraiths. The Gnome saw it and nodded. «Something to be scared of, they are. Black all through. Dark as midnight. Wouldn’t want them hunting me. Don’t know how you got past that one back at the house…»
He stopped suddenly and bent forward. «Hungry, boy?» Jair nodded. The Gnome regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then rose. «Tell you what. I’ll loosen the gag and feed you if you promise not to use the magic on me. Wouldn’t do you much good anyway trussed up to that tree — not unless those snakes of yours can chew through ropes. I’ll feed you and we can talk a bit. The others won’t catch up until morning. What about it?»
Jair thought it over a moment, then nodded his agreement. He was famished.
«Done, then.» The Gnome came over and slipped free the gag. One hand fastened tightly to Jair’s chin. «Your word now — let’s have it. No magic.»
«No magic,” Jair repeated, wincing.
«Good. Good.» The Gnome let his hand drop. «You’re one who keeps his word, I’m betting. Man’s only as good as his word, you know.» He reached down to his waist for a hard leather container, released the stopper and brought it up to the Valeman’s lips. «Drink. Go on, take a swallow.»
Jair sipped at the unknown liquid, his throat dry and tight. It was an ale, harsh and bitter, and it burned all the way down. Jair choked and drew back, and the Gnome recapped the container and returned it to his belt. Then he sat back on his haunches, grinning.
«I’m called Slanter.»
«Jair Ohmsford.» Jair was still trying to swallow. «I guess you knew that.»
Slanter nodded. «I did. Should have found out a bit more, it appears. Quite a chase you took me on.»
Jair frowned. «How did you manage to catch up to me? I didn’t think anyone could catch me.»
«Oh, that.» The Gnome sniffed. «Well, not just anyone could have caught you. But then I’m not just anyone.»
«What do you mean?»
The Gnome laughed. «I mean I’m a tracker, boy. It’s what I do. Fact is, it’s what I do better than just about anyone else alive. That’s why they brought me, the others. That’s why I’m here. I’ve been tracking.»
«Me?» Jair asked in astonishment.
«No, not you — the Druid! — The one they call Allanon. It was him I was tracking. You just happened to cross my path at the wrong time.»
A look of bewilderment crossed the Valeman’s face. This Gnome was a tracker? No wonder he hadn’t been able to escape him as he would have another man. But tracking Allanon… ?
Slanter shook his head helplessly and climbed to his feet. «Look, I’ll explain it all to you, but first let’s have something to eat. I had to carry you down from that hunting lodge two miles distant, and you may look small but you weigh better than your size. Worked up a pretty good appetite while you rested. Sit still, now — I’ll put something on the fire.»
Slanter retrieved a knapsack from the other side of the clearing, pulled clear some cooking utensils and within minutes had a beef and vegetable stew simmering over the fire. The smell of the cooking food wafted through the night air to Jair’s nostrils, and his mouth began to water. He was beyond famished, he decided. He had not had a decent meal since he had left the inn. Besides, he needed to keep his strength up if he was to have any chance of escaping this fellow, and he had every intention of doing so at the first opportunity.
When the stew was finished, Slanter brought it over to where he was tied and hand–fed him mouthfuls, sharing the meal with him. The food tasted wonderful, and they ate all that there was, together with an end of bread and some cheese. Slanter drank more of the ale, but gave Jair sips from a cup of water.
«Not a bad stew if I do say so myself,” the Gnome remarked afterward, bent next to the fire to scrape clean the pan. «Learned a few useful things over the years.»
«How long have you been a tracker?» Jair asked him, intrigued.
«Most of my life. Began learning when I was your age.» He finished with the cookware, stood up and came back over to the Valeman. «What do you know about trackers?»
Briefly Jair told him about the old tracker who had boarded at the inn, of their conversations, and of the tracking games they’d played while the man’s leg had healed. Slanter listened quietly, obvious interest reflected in his rough yellow features. When Jair had finished, the Gnome sat back, a distant look in his sharp eyes.
«I was like you once, long time ago. Used to think about nothing but being a tracker. Left home with one finally — an old Borderman. I was younger than you. Left home, went right out of the Eastland into Callahorn and the Northland. Gone better than fifteen years. Traveled all the lands at one time or another, you know. As much of them in me as Eastland Gnome. Odd, but I’m kind of a homeless sort because of it. Gnomes don’t really trust me,
