“So Walker knew what he was doing when he sent us to find you? He knew you’d be coming, too.”
“I’d say so.” The Dwarf’s dark eyes lifted a moment, then refocused on his work. “He wanted Truls and me both. Same as you and Bek. He likes companions, friends, and people who’ve known each other a long time and trust each other’s judgment. He knows what sorts of risks you take on a voyage like the one we’ve made. Strangers bond, but not fast and hard enough as a rule. Friends and family are a better match in the long run. Besides, if he can get two magic wielders for the price of one, why not do so?”
Quentin refitted the headband around his long hair. “Always thinking ahead, the way Druids do.”
The Dwarf grunted. “Farther ahead than you and I and most others could manage. That’s why I think he’s still alive.” He stopped whittling and looked up. “That’s why I think that sooner or later we’ll find him.”
Quentin wasn’t so sure, but he kept that to himself, as well. His attitude about things in general was less positive than when he had started the journey. Bek would be surprised at the change in him.
Not ten minutes later, Tamis reappeared. They didn’t see her until she was almost on top of them and she was not trying to hide her coming. She loped up through the rubble and into their shelter, her face damp with sweat, her short dark hair tousled, and her clothing disheveled. Quentin saw by the look on her face that all was not well.
“I followed the Mwellrets almost all the way back through the ruins.” She spoke quickly, wiping at her face with her tunic sleeve as she crouched before them. She was breathing hard. “I caught up with one of them. He was injured and lagging behind the rest so I took a chance. I knocked him down, put a knife to his throat, and asked him what had happened. It was pretty much what you would guess, the same thing that happened to us. He told me they were tracking the seer, but they never found her.”
“What about Bek?” Quentin asked at once.
She shook her head. “They don’t know anything about him. When they reached that clearing, only the seer and the Ilse Witch were there. The witch told them to hunt us down and make us prisoners and then went off to hunt someone or something by herself.” She paused. “It could have been Bek.”
The Highlander frowned. “Why would she waste time hunting Bek? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does if she knows about his magic,” Panax pointed out.
Quentin shook his head stubbornly. “She’s after the treasure in Castledown. Maybe the Mwellret was lying to you.”
“I don’t think so,” Tamis replied. “Bek was there when I left to find you and gone when the Mwellrets showed up. Something happened to him between times, and it probably involved the Ilse Witch. If we could find the seer, we might find out the truth. She must have seen something.”
Panax tucked his whittling wood and knife away. “She could have died in the maze, along with the rets.”
Tamis waved the suggestion off. “Why would she go back into the maze knowing what she does about its dangers? Besides, the ret I questioned said they didn’t find her, dead or alive.” She stood up. “That’s enough for now. We have to get out of here. They’ll be coming for us.”
“You didn’t kill the ret?” Kian asked her sharply.
Tamis wheeled on him angrily. “He was unarmed and helpless,” she snapped. “I need better reasons than that to kill a man. I knocked him senseless and left. When he wakes, we’ll be far away. Now let’s go!”
“Go where?” Quentin demanded, standing up, brushing dirt and debris off his pants legs. “Do what?”
She shrugged. “We’ll figure that out later. For now, we’ll get far enough away that we won’t be looking over our shoulders all the time. But we’ll stay here in the ruins. They’re big enough that we can hide and not be easy to track. We can keep looking for Patrinell and the others.”
She started away, and they followed without further argument, knowing she was right, that they had to find a new hiding place, farther from the maze, deeper into the city. The Mwellrets would certainly hunt them, and they were excellent trackers, relying on their highly developed senses, on their shape-shifting abilities, and on their reptilian ancestry. In any case, it was foolish to assume that staying put would help. Following along behind Tamis, the Highlander, the Dwarf, and the Elven Hunters took care to disguise their tracks, to walk on the hard slabs of metal and stone where footprints wouldn’t show. Several times, Tamis dropped back to muddy further any sign of their passing, using her special skills to conceal their trail.
Overhead, the sun had passed the midday point, easing into the afternoon, sliding through the cloudless blue toward nightfall. Within the ruins, the heat cast in the wake of its passing rose off the stone and metal in shimmering waves. Quentin loosened the buttons of his tunic and pushed up his sleeves. The Sword of Leah, strapped across his back, felt heavy and cumbersome. The magic with which it had infused him had faded, gone back into whatever dark pocket it had come from, leaving him bereft, but free, as well. He wondered if he would manage it better next time it was needed. There would be a next time, after all. He could hardly expect otherwise.
After they had gone some distance, he moved up beside Tamis. “Why are we going this way and not back toward the bay where we landed? What about Bek?”
She glanced over at him, her lips compressing in a tight line. “Two things. We have to find where Bek went before we can go after him, and we don’t want the Mwellrets knowing what we intend.”
He nodded. “We need them to believe we are doing something entirely different, running away perhaps, fleeing inland.” He paused. “But won’t they expect us to try to get back to the Jerle Shannara?”
“I expect they’re hoping we do exactly that.”
It was the way she said it that caught his attention. “What do you mean?”
Tamis rounded on him, bringing him up short. Her face was hard and set. The others closed about. “The Mwellret told me something else,” she said, “something I didn’t tell you before. I thought it could wait, since there was nothing we could do about it anyway. But maybe it can’t. We’ve lost the ship. The Ilse Witch found a way through the pillars of ice and surprised it in the channel. She used her magic to put the Rovers to sleep and made them all prisoners. She’s left Federation soldiers and Mwellrets to fly her.” She shook her head. “We’re on our own.”
They stared at her, stunned. They were all thinking the same thing. They were marooned in a strange land, and any hope of being rescued by Redden Alt Mer and his Rovers or of getting back to the Jerle Shannara was gone.
Quentin started to say something, but she cut him short. “No, Highlander, the ret wasn’t lying. I made sure. He was very definite. The Jerle Shannara is under the control of the Ilse Witch. She’s not coming back for us.”
“We have to get her back!” he replied at once, blurting it out before he could stop himself.
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Panax observed, arching one eyebrow. “All we need are wings to fly up to her. Or maybe she’ll do us the favor of coming down where we can reach her.”
“For now, what we need to do is walk,” Tamis said, dismissing the subject as she wheeled away. “Let’s go.”
They continued on for the better part of the afternoon, watching the sun descend into the west until it was little more than a bright glimmer along the horizon. By then they had crossed to the other side of the city and could see the trees of the forest ahead through gaps in the fallen buildings. Their shadows trailed behind them in long dark stains, sliding over the rubble like oil. The heat had dissipated and the air cooled. There had been no sign of the Mwellrets all afternoon. Nor had there been any sign of other survivors from their own company. The city seemed empty of life, save for themselves. Ahead, the trees formed a dark wall over which the fading sun cast its silver halo.