Part 6 (1/2)

”A Sedt is a Gnome chieftain-in this case, Spilk. He commands the patrol. A rather unpleasant fellow. Not like me, you see. Very much an Eastland Gnome. He would just as soon cut your throat as look at you. He's your problem. You'd better answer the questions he asks.”

He shrugged. ”Besides, once you've told Spilk what he wants to know, I'll do what I can to see that you're released. After all, our fight's not with the Vale people. Our fight's with the Dwarves. Not to disappoint you, but you're really not all that important. That magic of yours is what's interesting. No, you answer the questions and I think you'll be turned loose quick enough.”

Jair eyed him suspiciously. ”I don't believe you.”

Slanter drew back. ”You don't? Well, here's my word on it, then. As good as your own.”

Heavy eyebrows arched. ”It means as much to me as yours does, boy. Now take it.”

Jair said nothing for a moment. Strangely enough, he thought the Gnome was telling him the truth. If he promised he would seek Jair's release, he would do just that. If he thought Jair would be released on answering the questions asked, Jair probably would. Jair grimaced. On the other hand, why should he trust any Gnome?

”I don't know,” he muttered.

”You don't know?” Slanter shook his head hopelessly. ”You'd think you had a choice, boy. You don't answer, Spilk goes to work on you. You still don't answer, he turns you over to the walkers. What do you think happens to you then?”

Jair went cold to the bone. He didn't care to think about what would happen then.

”I thought you were smart,” the Gnome continued, wizened yellow features twisting into a grimace. ”Smart, the way you got past those others back there-even got past the walker. So stay smart. What difference does it make now what you tell anyone? What difference if you tell the Sedt why the Druid came to see you? The Druid's gone by now anyway-won't likely catch up to him this side of the Eastland. He wouldn't tell you anything all that important anyway, would he?

The magic-well, all they want to know about the magic is how you learned it. The Druid, maybe?

Someone else?” He waited a moment, but Jair said nothing. ”Well, anyway, just tell how you learned it and how you use it-simple enough and no skin off your nose. No games, just tell the truth. You do that, and that's the end of your use.”

Again he waited for Jair to respond, and again the Valeman stayed silent.

Slanter shrugged. ”Well, think on it.” He stood up, stretched, and came over to Jair.

Smiling cheerfully, he replaced the gag in the Valeman's mouth. ”Sorry about the sleeping accommodations, but I can't be taking many chances with you. You've shown me that much.”

Still smiling, he retrieved a blanket from the far side of the clearing, brought it over to Jair and wrapped it about him, tucking in the corners where the ropes bound him to the tree so that it would stay fixed. Then he walked over to the fire and kicked it out. In the faint glow of the embers, Jair could see his stocky form as it moved off into the dark.”Ah, me-reduced to chasing down Valemen,” the Gnome muttered. ”Waste of talent. Not even a Dwarf! At least they could give me a Dwarf to track. Or the Druid again. Bah! Druid's gone back to help the Dwarves and here I sit, watching this boy...

He muttered on a bit more, most of it unintelligible, and then his voice faded away entirely.

Jair Ohmsford sat alone in the dark and wondered what he was going to do when morning came.

He slept poorly that night, cramped and bruised by the ropes that bound him, haunted by the specter of what lay ahead. Considered from any point of view, his future appeared bleak. He could expect no help from his friends; after all, no one knew where he was. His parents and Brin, Rone, and Allanon all thought him safely housed at the inn at Shady Vale. Nor could he reasonably antic.i.p.ate much consideration from his captors.

Slanter's rea.s.surances notwithstanding, he did not expect to be released, no matter how many questions he answered. After all, how would he answer questions about the magic? Slanter clearly thought it something he had been taught. Once the Gnomes learned it was not an acquired skill, but a talent he had been born with, they would want to know more. They would take him to the Eastland, to the Mord Wraiths...

So the night hours pa.s.sed. He dozed at times, his weariness overcoming his discomfort and his worry-yet never for very long. Then finally, toward morning, exhaustion overtook him, and at last he drifted off to sleep.

It was not yet dawn when Slanter shook him roughly awake.

”Get up,” the Gnome ordered. ”The others are here.”

Jair's eyes blinked open, squinting into the predawn gray that shrouded the highland forest. The air was chill and damp, even with the blanket still wrapped about his body, and a fine fall mist clung about the dark trunks of the fir. It was deathly still, the forest life not yet come awake. Slanter bent over him, loosing the ropes that bound him to the tree. There were no other Gnomes in sight.

”Where are they?” he asked as the gag was slipped from his mouth.

”Close. A hundred yards down the slope.” Slanter gripped the Valeman's tunic front and hauled him to his feet. ”No games now. Keep the magic to yourself. I've let you loose from the tree so that you might look the part of a man, but I'll strap you back again if you cross me.

Understand?”

Jair nodded quickly. Ropes still bound his hands and feet, and his limbs were so badly cramped he could barely manage to stand. He stood with his back against the fir, the muscles of his body aching and stiff. Even if he could manage to break free, he couldn't run far like this. His mind was dizzy with fatigue and sudden fear as he waited for his strength to return. Answer the questions, Slanter had advised. Don't be foolish. But what answers could he give? What answers would they accept?

Then abruptly a line of shadowy figures materialized from out of the gloom, trudging heavily through the forest trees. Two, three, half a dozen, eight Jair watched as one by one they appeared through the mist, bulky forms wrapped in woolen forest cloaks. Gnomes-rugged yellow features glimpsed from within hoods drawn close, thick-fingered hands clasping spears and cudgels. Not a word pa.s.sed their lips as they filed into the clearing, but sharp eyes fixed on the captive Valeman and there was no friendliness in their gaze.”This him?”

The speaker stood at the forefront of the others. He was powerfully built, his body corded with muscle, his chest ma.s.sive. He thrust the b.u.t.t of his cudgel into the forest earth, gripping it with scarred, gnarled fingers, twisting it slowly.

”Well, is it?”

The Gnome glanced briefly at Slanter. Slanter nodded. The Gnome let his gaze s.h.i.+ft back to Jair. Slowly he pulled clear the hood of his forest cloak. Rough, broken features dominated his broad face. Cruel eyes studied the Valeman dispa.s.sionately, probing.

”What's your name?” he asked quietly.

”Jair Ohmsford,” Jair answered at once.

”What was the Druid doing at your home?”

Jair hesitated, trying to decide what he should say. Something unpleasant flickered in the Gnome's eyes. With a sudden snap of his hands he brought the cudgel about, sweeping the Valeman's feet from beneath him. Jair fell hard, the breath knocked from his body. The Gnome stood over him silently, then reached down, seized the front of his tunic and pulled him back to his feet.

”What was the Druid doing in your home?”

Jair swallowed, trying to hide his fear. ”He came to find my father,” he lied.

”Why?”

”My father is the holder of Elfstones. Allanon will use them as a weapon against the Mord Wraiths.”

There was an endless moment of silence. Jair did not even breathe. If Slanter had found the Elfstones in his tunic, the lie was already discovered and he was finished. He waited, eves fixed on the Gnome.

”Where are they now, the Druid and your father?” the other said finally.

Jair exhaled. ”Gone east.” He hesitated, then added, ”My mother and sister are visiting in the villages south of the Vale. I was supposed to wait at the inn for their return.”

The Gnome grunted noncommittally. I've got to try to protect them, Jair thought. Spilk was watching him carefully. He did not look away. You can't tell that I'm lying, he thought. You can't.

Then a gnarled finger lifted from the cudgel. ”Do you do magic?”

”I...” Jair glanced at the dark faces about him.

The cudgel came up, a quick, sharp blow that caught Jair across the knees, throwing him to the earth once more. The Gnome smiled, eyes hard. He yanked Jair back to his feet.

”Answer me-do you do magic?”

Jair nodded wordlessly, mute with pain. He could barely stand.

”Show me,” the Gnome ordered.