Dwarf and Weapons Master eyed each other in silence. «I’ll have to make a request,” Foraker said at last, his lack of enthusiasm evident.
«Now seems like a good time to do it.» Garet Jax rose to his feet.
Foraker sighed and stood up with him, glancing down at Jair and Slanter as he did so. «You two can eat your meal and stay put. Don’t try wandering off.» He hesitated. «I don’t know anything about a Druid passing through, but I’ll look into it for you, Ohmsford.» He shook his head. «Come along, Garet.»
The Dwarf and the Weapons Master left the eating hall. Jair and Slanter sat alone at the table, lost in thought. Where was Allanon? Jair asked himself in silent desperation, head lowered to study his hands as he clasped them before him. The Druid had said he was going into the Eastland. Wouldn’t he come through Culhaven? If he hadn’t, then where had he gone? Where had he taken Brin?
A Dwarf in a white bib apron brought them plates of hot food and cups of ale, and they began to eat. No one said anything. The minutes slipped past as they consumed the meal, and Jair felt his hopes fading with each bite he took — as if somehow he were consuming the answers his questions demanded. Pushing the plate back from where he sat, he scuffed one boot against the plank flooring nervously and tried to decide what he would do if Elb Foraker were right and Allanon and Brin had indeed not come this way.
«Stop that?» Slanter growled suddenly.
Jair glanced up. «Stop what?»
«Stop rubbing your boot against the floor. It’s annoying.»
«Sorry.»
«And quit looking like you’d lost your best friend. Your sister will turn up.»
Jair shook his head slowly, still distracted. «Maybe.»
«Humph,” the Gnome muttered. «I’m the one who should be worrying — not you. I don’t know how I ever let you talk me into this fool’s errand.»
Jair propped his elbows on the table and cupped his chin in his hands. There was determination in his voice. «Even if Brin didn’t come through Culhaven, even if Allanon went another way, we’ve still got to go into the Anar, Slanter. And we’ve got to persuade the Dwarves to help us.»
Slanter stared at him. «We? Us? You’d better take a moment and rethink that `we and us’ nonsense! I’m not going anywhere but back to where I came from before I got involved in this whole mess!»
. «You’re a tracker, Slanter,” Jair said quietly. «I need you.»
«Too bad,” the Gnome snapped, his rough yellow face suddenly dark. «I’m also a Gnome, in case you hadn’t noticed! Did you see the way they looked at me out there? Did you see those children looking at me like I was some sort of wild animal brought in from the forest? Use your head! There’s a war going on between Gnomes and Dwarves, and the Dwarves aren’t likely to listen to anything you have to say so long as you persist in making me your ally! Which I’m not, in any case!»
Jair bent forward. «Slanter, I have to reach Heaven’s Well before Brin reaches the Maelmord. How am I going to do that without someone to guide me in?»
«You’ll find a way, knowing you.» The Gnome brushed the matter aside. «Besides, I can’t go back there anymore. Spilk will have told them what I did. Or if not him, then that other Gnome that ran off. They’ll be looking for me. If I go back, someone will recognize me. When I’m caught, the walkers…» He stopped abruptly and threw up his hands. «I’m not going and that’s that!»
He went back to eating his food, his head lowered to his plate. Jair regarded him silently, wondering if perhaps he were making a mistake in seeking Slanter’s help in the first place; perhaps the King of the Silver River hadn’t intended him as an ally after all. Slanter didn’t really seem like much of an ally when you thought about it. He was altogether too clever, too opportunistic, and his loyalty changed as often as the wind. He wasn’t one to be depended on, was he? Yet despite all that, there was still something about the Gnome that Jair liked. Maybe it was his toughness. Like Garet Jax, Slanter was a survivor, and that was the sort of companion fair needed if he were to reach the deep Anar.
He watched as the Gnome drank down the last of the ale in noisy gulps, then said quietly. «I thought you wanted to learn about the magic.»
Slanter shook his head. «Not anymore. I’ve learned all I care to know about you, boy.»
Jair frowned in annoyance. «I think you’re just scared.»
«Think what you like. I’m not going.»
«What about your people? Don’t you care what the Mord Wraiths are doing to them?»
Slanter’s eyes snapped up. «I don’t have a people anymore, thanks to you!» Then he shrugged. «Doesn’t matter, though. I haven’t really had a people since I left the Eastland. I’m my own people.»
«That’s not true. The Gnomes are your people. You went back to help them, didn’t you?»
«Times change. I went back because it was the smart thing to do. Now I’m not going back because that’s the smart thing to do!» Slanter was growing angry. «Why don’t you just give it up, boy? I’ve done enough for you already. I don’t feel obliged to do anything further. After all, the King of the Silver River didn’t give me any Silver Dust to help clean up his river!»
«That’s fortunate, isn’t it?» Jair flushed, a bit angry now himself. «A fat lot of good you’d be, changing sides every five minutes when things got a little rough! I thought you helped me back in the Oaks because you’d made a choice! I thought you cared what happened to me! Well, maybe I was wrong! What do you care about, Slanter?»
The Gnome was nonplussed. «I care about staying alive. That’s what you’d care about, too, if you had any brains.»
Jair went rigid with indignation. He came halfway out of his seat, arms braced on the table. «Staying alive! Well, just exactly how are you going to do that when the Mord Wraiths poison the Eastland and then move west into the other lands? That’s what’s going to happen, isn’t it? That’s what you said! Where will you run to then? Plan on changing sides one time more — become a Gnome again long enough to fool the walkers?»
Slanter reached up and shoved Jair back. «You have a big mouth for someone who understands so little about life. Maybe if you’d been out in the world looking after yourself instead of having someone do it for you, you’d not be so quick to point the finger at others. Now, shut up!»
Jair lapsed into immediate silence. There was nothing to be gained by pushing the matter any further. Slanter had made up his mind not to help, so that was the end of it. He was probably better off without the Gnome anyway.
The two were still glowering at each other when Garet Jax returned a few moments later. He was alone, and he came directly to where they sat. If he noticed the tension between them, he gave no indication of it. He took a seat next to Jair.
«You’re to go before the Council of Elders,” he said quietly.
Jair shook his head slowly. «I don’t know about this. I don’t know if this is the right thing to do.»
The Weapons Master pinned him with his eyes. «You don’t have a choice.»
«What about Brin? And Allanon?»
«There is no news of them. Foraker checked, and they haven’t been to Culhaven. No one knows anything about them.» The gray eyes studied the Valeman intently. «Whatever help you’re to find in this quest of yours, you’ll have to find it on your own.»
Jair glanced quickly at Slanter, but the Gnome refused to meet his gaze. He turned back to Garet Jax. «When do I go before the Council?
The Weapons Master stood up. «Now.»
The Dwarf Council of Elders had convened in the Assembly, a large and cavernous hall settled within the bowels of a squarish building that housed all of the offices governing the affairs of the village of Culhaven. Twelve strong, the members of the Council sat behind a long table on a dais at the head of the chamber and looked down upon rows of benches separated by aisles that ran back to a pair of wide double–doors leading in. It was through these doors that Garet Jax brought Jair and Slanter. Shadows cloaked all but the very forefront of the Assembly, where oil lamps cast their harsh yellow light across the dais. The three who entered made their way to the edge of the light and stopped. A gathering of others occupied seats on the benches closest to the dais, and heads lifted and turned at their approach. A haze of pipe smoke hung over the men gathered, and the pungent smell of burning tobacco filled the air.
«Come forward,” a voice called.
