“I’m not sure how I feel about all this,” he admitted, locking eyes with Sebec. “Even the thought of going to Paranor makes me uneasy.”
Sebec nodded. “I understand. But I can assure you that you will be in no danger if you come and will be brought back whenever you are ready. The Ard Rhys only desires a chance to talk with you, nothing more.”
Paxon thought about leaving Chrys behind, about the risk that might be involved if he did. Arcannen might discover he was gone and take advantage of it. But he didn’t want to say anything to Sebec about that particular concern because the Druids might not know about those events after all. Sebec didn’t even seem to know the truth about his sword.
He looked away. He could simply refuse to go. He probably should. But what if what Aphenglow Elessedil wanted to talk to him about was important? What if it concerned Arcannen and might give him a way to help protect Chrys? What if it did have something to do with the Sword of Leah, and he would anger her by refusing even to discuss it?
What if he were simply being foolish and cowardly by imagining all sorts of things that weren’t real? Wasn’t he better off just going and getting it over with?
“All right, I will come,” he said. “But I’ll need time to say good–bye to my mother and sister. I need to make sure they will be all right without me.”
The young Druid smiled. “Why not let me speak with them? I can reassure them that they won’t have to worry about you.” He climbed to his feet. “I shall start immediately with your mother.”
And before Paxon could collect his wits sufficiently to question the suggestion, Sebec was walking into the house, calling his mother’s name.
SIX
PAXON WAS ASTONISHED AT HOW AMENABLE BOTH HIS MOTHER and sister were to the prospect of his traveling to Paranor. This felt entirely wrong, but the matter was settled almost immediately. Once Sebec had made the suggestion and explained how important it was to the Ard Rhys, neither said a word in opposition. Perhaps it was the young Druid’s earnest demeanor that convinced them. Perhaps he used magic. Whatever the case, his persuasive skills exceeded anything Paxon had ever seen this side of Arcannen. His mother, so reticent about the Druids beforehand, was suddenly excited at the prospects she envisioned would be generated by her son’s newfound importance. His sister, in typical fashion, seemed more interested in Sebec himself than in his news, and dismissed Paxon’s departure with a casual wave and a cryptic remark about staying out of trouble.
As if he were the one who needed to worry about that particular problem.
At least he got his mother and sister to agree to take a few days to visit his mother’s sister in the town of Agave, at the eastern edge of the Highlands. It would take them away from the capital city while he was gone, hopefully removing them from any immediate danger of another visit from Arcannen.
“Are you sure about this, Mother?” he asked her when Sebec had finished speaking with her and had gone back out onto the porch with the fresh glass of ale she had pressed on him. “You don’t mind my going? You won’t worry about me?”
“I will always worry about you, Paxon,” she said, “but I don’t think there is any risk to you here. I don’t sense any duplicity in this young man. On the contrary, I think him honorable. He intends you no harm. You will be fine, and so will we.”
So he went, walking down to the airfield with his sword strapped across his back and his travel pack slung over one shoulder, less certain of what he was doing than either his sister or his mother, but doing his best not to show it. Sebec’s vessel was a Rover–crafted double–mast with good lines and black–dyed light sheaths bearing the emblem of the Fourth Druid Order emblazoned in gold. A crew of three awaited them–Trolls serving in the Druid Guard, chosen by the Ard Rhys herself from among volunteers who all came from the same village in the Northland and whose ancestors had served in the guard before them. Big, hulking men, they spoke not a word to either Sebec or Paxon, but simply went about their business, hoisting sails, tying off lines, powering up the diapson crystals in their parse tubes, and setting out.
They flew through the remainder of the day, crossing the broad expanse of the Rainbow Lake, navigating the blunt peaks of the Runne Mountains, sliding down the jagged length of the Dragon’s Teeth to the Kennon Pass, and completing their journey to Paranor by midnight.
By then, Sebec had recounted to Paxon a great deal about the work of the current Druid order, which far exceeded anything Paxon might have imagined. Most of what he knew had to do with the order’s ongoing efforts to find and retrieve errant and lost magic throughout the Four Lands. Sebec mentioned this in passing and quickly moved on. Those who joined the order did so to learn magic and to assist with its care and protection, but they were required to complete many other duties, as well. Upkeep of Paranor was a major effort, much of it undertaken by the Trolls of the Druid Guard, but some tasks required the more skilled and talented hands of the members of the order themselves, particularly in the rooms where the records and books were stored and in such chambers as the cold room and the Tower Watch. The older members of the order offered daily instruction, and the younger were required to attend and practice what they learned. Reading the Druid Histories was a part of training, mandating a familiarity with the events that had led the order to its present state, from the inception of the First Druid Order to the present.
“Before anyone can begin to master the use of magic–even in the smallest of ways–they first have to understand the nature of its usage,” Sebec explained. “How was it created in the first place? What was its intended use? Does it always function as it should? Is it reliable? Are there ways to keep it in check that will protect not only the user but also those nearby?” He smiled. “It’s complicated, but fascinating.”
It didn’t work that way for me with the sword, Paxon thought.
There were visits to the cities of the Four Lands to learn of their histories and cultures, including meetings with their leaders and governing councils. Avenues of communication were opened and maintained, with an emphasis on a sharing of information and ideas. The secrecy that had once shrouded the Druid order was slowly but steadily being removed as an obstacle to better relations with all of the Races, and cooperation was being fostered on all fronts.
“We don’t hide behind our walls anymore,” Sebec continued. “We work side by side with people and governments in all of the Four Lands. Even the Federation.”
But Paxon had heard that relations with the Federation and most of the lower Southland were still tense. There was a willingness to communicate, but mostly he sensed that both Druids and Federation officials wanted to keep an eye on each other. It didn’t help that the Federation had outlawed all use or possession of magic in the Southland or that its avowed goal was to do away with magic entirely and turn back the clock to the days when science was the dominant tool for stimulating progress in the world.
That view wasn’t universally shared, as the other lands remained reticent about both, but there were indications that opinion was swinging in that direction.
The hours passed and the young Druid talked on about the work of the order while Paxon listened and considered. After it started to get dark, they ate a dinner of meat and vegetables heated over a small brazier along with bread and ale, all of it shared with the Trolls. Paxon had seen enough of Trolls in his lifetime not to be taken aback by being in their midst, but he was intimidated nevertheless, by both their size and their rough look. They wore tunics with the Druid insignia woven into the fabric on the left panel with scarlet thread, and all of them carried weapons.