Garet Jax looked back at the fire. «Later, maybe. The journey’s not done yet.» He seemed totally without interest.
«Is that why you’re taking me with you to Culhaven?» Jair pressed.
«In part.»
He let the words hang. Jair glanced over at him uneasily.
«What’s the rest?»
The Weapons Master did not respond. He did not even look at the Valeman. He just leaned back against the fallen log, wrapped himself in the black travel cloak and watched the fire.
Jair tried a different approach. «What about Slanter? Why did you help him? You could have left him to the Log Dweller.»
Garet Jax sighed. «I could have. Would that have made you any happier?»
«Of course not. What do you mean?»
«You seem to have formed an opinion of me as a man who does nothing for anyone without some personal benefit. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. You’re young, not stupid.»
Jair flushed. «Well, you don’t like Slanter very much, do you?»
«I don’t know him well enough to like or dislike him,” the other replied. «I admit that for the most part I’m not particularly fond of Gnomes. But this one twice was willing to place himself in danger for your sake. That makes him worth saving.»
He glanced over suddenly. «Besides, you like him and you don’t want anything to happen to him. Am I right?»
«You’re right.»
«Well, that in itself seems rather curious, don’t you think? As I said before, you interest me.»
Jair nodded thoughtfully. «You interest me, too.»
Garet Jax turned away. «Good. We’ll both have something to think about on our way to Culhaven.»
He let the matter drop and Jair did the same. The Valeman was by no means satisfied that he understood what it was that had persuaded the Weapons Master to aid either Slanter or himself, but it was obvious he would learn nothing more this night. Garet Jax was an enigma that would not easily be solved.
The fire had almost died away by now, causing Jair to remember that Slanter had gone in search of wood and not yet returned. He pondered for a moment whether or not he should do anything about it, then turned once more to Garet Jax.
«You don’t think anything could have happened to Slanter, do you?» he asked. «He’s been gone quite a while.»
The Weapons Master shook his head. «He can look after himself.» He rose and kicked at the fire, scattering the wood embers so that the flames died. «We don’t need the fire any longer, anyway.»
Returning to his spot next to the fallen log, he rolled himself in his travel cloak and was asleep in seconds. Jair lay silently for a time, listening to the man’s heavy breathing and staring out into the dark. Finally he, too, rolled into his cloak and settled back. He was still a bit worried about Slanter, but he guessed that Garet Jax was right when he said the Gnome could look out for himself. Besides, Jair had grown suddenly sleepy. Breathing the warm night air deeply, he let his eyes close. For a moment, his mind wandered free and he found himself thinking of Brin, Rone, and Allanon, wondering where they were by now.
Then the thoughts scattered and he was asleep.
On a rise that overlooked the Silver River, lost in the shadows of an old willow, Slanter was thinking, too. He was thinking that it was time to move on. He had come this far because that confounded boy had shamed him into it. Imagine, offering him a bribe — that boy — as if he would scoop to accepting bribes from boys! Still, it was well meant, he supposed. The boy’s desire to have his company had been genuine enough. And he did rather like the boy. There was a lot of toughness in the youngster.
The Gnome pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms about them thoughtfully. Nevertheless, this was a fool’s mission. He was walking right into the camp of his enemy. Oh, the Dwarves weren’t a personal enemy, of course. He didn’t care a whit about Dwarves one way or the other. But just at the moment, they were at war with the Gnome tribes, and he doubted that it made a whole lot of difference what his feelings were about them. Seeing that he was a Gnome would be enough.
He shook his head. The risk was just too great. And it was all for that boy, who probably didn’t know what he wanted from one day to the next, anyway. Besides, he had said he would take the boy as far as the border of the Anar, and they were almost there now. By nightfall of the coming day, they would probably reach the forests. He had kept his part of the bargain.
So. He took a deep breath and hauled himself to his feet. Time to be moving on. That was the way he had always lived his life — the way trackers were. The boy might be upset at first, but he would get over it. And Slanter doubted the boy would be in much danger with Garet Jax looking after him. Fact was, the boy would probably be better off that way.
He shook his head irritably. No reason to be calling Jair a boy, either. He was older than the Gnome had been when he first left home. Jair could look after himself if he had to. Didn’t really need Slanter or the Weapons Master or anyone else. Not so long as he had that magic to protect him.
Slanter hesitated a moment longer, thinking it through once more. He wouldn’t find out anything about the magic, of course — that was too bad. The magic intrigued him, the way the boy’s voice could… No, his mind was made up. A Gnome in the Eastland had no business being anywhere near Dwarves. He was best off sticking to his own people. And now he could no longer do even that. Best thing for it was to slip back to the camp, pick up his gear, cross the river, and head north into the borderlands.
He frowned. Maybe it was just that the Valeman seemed like a boy…
Slanter, get on with it!
Quickly he turned about and disappeared into the night.
Dreams flooded Jair Ohmsford’s sleep. He rode on horseback over hills, across grasslands, and through deep and shadowed forests, with the wind screaming in his ears. Brin rode at his side, her midnight hair impossibly long and flying. They spoke no words as they rode, yet each knew the other’s thoughts and lived within the other’s mind. On and on they raced, passing through lands they had never seen, vibrant and sprawling and wild. Danger lurked all about them: a Log Dweller, massive and reeking of the swamp; Gnomes, their twisted yellow faces leering their evil intentions; Mord Wraiths, no more than ghostly forms, featureless and eerie as they stretched from the dark. There were others, too — shapeless, monstrous things that could not be seen, but only felt, the sense of their presence somehow more terrible than any face could ever be. These beings of evil reached for them, claws and teeth ripping the air, eyes gleaming like coals in blackest night. The beings sought to pull Jair and his sister from their mounts and to tear the life from them. Yet always the things were too slow, an instant too late to achieve their purpose, as the swift horses carried Jair and Brin beyond their reach.
Yet the chase wore on. It did not end as a chase should end. It simply went on, an endless run through countryside that swept to the horizon. Though the creature’s hunting them never quite managed to catch up to them, still there were always others lying in wait ahead. Exhilaration filled the pair at first. They were wild and free and nothing could touch them, brother and sister a match for all that sought to drag them down. But after a time, something changed. The change crept over them gradually, an insidious thing, until at last it lodged itself fully within them and they knew it for what it was. It had no name. It whispered to them of what must be: the race they ran could not be won for the things they ran from were a part of themselves; no horse, however swift, could carry them to safety. Look at what they were, the voice whispered, and they would see the truth.
Fly! Jair howled in fury, and urged his horse to run faster. But the voice whispered on, and about them the sky went steadily darker, the color faded from the land, and everything turned gray and dead. Fly! he screamed. He turned then to find Brin, sensing somehow that all was not well with her. The horror sprang to life before him and Brin was no longer there; she had been overtaken and consumed, swallowed by the dark monster that reached… that reached…
Jair’s eyes snapped open. Sweat bathed his face, and his clothing was damp beneath the cloak in which he lay wrapped. Stars twinkled softly overhead, and the night was still and at peace. Yet the dream lingered in his mind, a vivid, living thing.
Then he realized that the fire was burning brightly once more, its flames crackling on new wood in the dark. Someone had rebuilt it.
