He studied them a moment, then turned and shambled off into the dark. “Don’t forget, first night of the new moon!” He stopped when he was just a shadow and glanced back. “Something else you’d better remember and that’s to watch yourselves.” His voice had a new edge to it. “The Shadowen aren’t just rumors and old wives’ tales. They’re as real as you and I. You may not have thought so before tonight, but now you know different. They’ll be out there, everywhere you’re likely to go. That woman, she was one of them. She came sniffing around because she could sense you have the magic. Others will do the same.”
He started moving away again. “Lots of things are going to be hunting you,” he warned softly.
He mumbled something further to himself that neither of them could hear as he disappeared slowly into the darkness.
Then he was gone.
Chapter Five
Par and Coll Ohmsford did not get much sleep that night. They stayed awake long after the old man was gone, talking and sometimes arguing, worrying without always saying as much, eyes constantly scanning the darkness against the promise that things, Shadowen or otherwise, were likely to be hunting them. Even after that, when there was nothing left to say, when they had rolled themselves wearily into their blankets and closed their eyes against their fears, they did not sleep well. They rolled and tossed in their slumber, waking themselves and each other with distressing regularity until dawn.
They rose then, dragged themselves from the warmth of their coverings, washed in the chilling waters of the lake, and promptly began talking and arguing all over again. They continued through breakfast, which was just as well because once again there wasn’t much to eat and it took their minds off their stomachs. The talk, and more often now the arguments, centered around the old man who claimed to be Cogline and the dreams that might or might not have been sent and if sent might or might not have been sent by Allanon, but included such peripheral topics as Shadowen, Federation Seekers, the stranger who had rescued them in Varfleet, and whether there was sense to the world anymore or not. They had established their positions on these subjects fairly well by this time, positions that, for the most part, weren’t within a week’s walk of each other. That being the case, they were reduced to communicating with each other across vast stretches of intractability.
Before their day was even an hour old, they were already thoroughly fed up with each other.
“You cannot deny that the possibility exists that the old man really is Cogline!” Par insisted for what must have been the hundredth time as they carried the canvas tarp down to the skiff for stowing.
Coll managed a quick shrug. “I’m not denying it.”
“And if he really is Cogline, then you cannot deny the possibility that everything he told us is the truth!”
“I’m not denying that either.”
“What about the woodswoman? What was she if not a Shadowen, a night thing with magic stronger than our own?”
“Your own.”
Par fumed. “Sorry. My own. The point is, she was a Shadowen! She had to be! That makes at least part of what the old man told us the truth, no matter how you view it!”
“Wait a minute.” Coll dropped his end of the tarp and stood there with his hands on his hips, regarding his brother with studied dismay. “You do this all the time when we argue. You make these ridiculous leaps in logic and act as if they make perfect sense. How does it follow that, if that woman was a Shadowen, the old man was telling the truth?”
“Well, because if...”
“I won’t even question your assumption that she was a Shadowen,” Coll interrupted pointedly. “Even though we haven’t the faintest idea what a Shadowen is. Even though she might just as easily have been something else altogether.”
“Something else? What sort of...?”
“Like a companion to the old man, for instance. Like a decoy to give his tale validity.”
Par was incensed. “That’s ridiculous! What would be the purpose of that?”
Coll pursed his lips thoughtfully. “To persuade you to go with him to the Hadeshorn, naturally. To bring you back into Callahorn. Think about it. Maybe the old man is interested in the magic, too—just like the Federation.”
Par shook his head vehemently. “I don’t believe it.”
“That’s because you never like to believe anything that you haven’t thought of first,” Coll declared pointedly, picking up his end of the tarp again. “You decide something and that’s the end of it. Well, this time you had better not make your decision too quickly. There are other possibilities to consider, and I’ve just given you one of them.”
They walked down to the shoreline in silence and deposited the tarp in the bottom of the skiff. The sun was barely above the eastern horizon, and already the day was beginning to feel warm. The Rainbow Lake was smooth, the air windless and filled with the scent of wild-flowers and long grass.
Coll turned. “You know, it’s not that I mind you being decisive about things. It’s just that you then assume I ought simply to agree. I shouldn’t argue, I should acquiesce. Well, I am not going to do that. If you want to strike out for Callahorn and the Dragon’s Teeth—fine, you go right ahead. But quit acting as if I ought to jump at the chance to go along.”
Par didn’t say anything back right away. Instead, he thought about what it had been like for them growing up. Par was the older by two years and while physically smaller than Coll, he had always been the leader. He had the magic, after all, and that had always set him apart. It was true, he was decisive; it had been necessary to be decisive when faced with the temptation to use the magic to solve every situation. He had not been as even-tempered as he should have; he wasn’t any better now. Coll had always been the more controlled of the two—slower to anger, thoughtful and deliberate, a born peacemaker in the neighborhood fights and squabbles because no one else had the physical and emotional presence. Or was as well liked, he added—because Coll was always that, the sort of fellow that everyone takes to instantly. He spent his time looking after everyone, smoothing over hard feelings, restoring injured pride. Par was always charging around, oblivious to such things, busy searching for new places to explore, new challenges to engage, new ideas to develop. He was visionary, but he lacked Coll’s sensitivity. He foresaw so clearly life’s possibilities, but Coll was the one who understood best its sacrifices.
There had been a good many times when they had covered for each other’s mistakes. But Par had the magic to fall back on and covering up for Coll had seldom cost him anything. It hadn’t been like that for Coll. Covering up for Par had sometimes cost him a great deal. Yet Par was his brother, whom he loved, and he never complained. Sometimes, thinking back on those days, Par was ashamed of how much he had let his brother do for him.
He brushed the memories aside. Coll was looking at him, waiting for his response. Par shifted his feet impatiently and thought about what that response ought to be. Then he said simply, “All right. What do you think we should do?”
“Shades, I don’t know what we should do!” Coll said at once. “I just know that there are a lot of unanswered questions, and I don’t think we should commit ourselves to anything until we’ve had a chance to answer some of them!”
Par nodded stoically. “Before the time of the new moon, you mean.”
“That’s better than three weeks away and you know it!”
Par’s jaw tightened. “That’s not as much time as you make it seem! How are we supposed to answer all the questions we have before then?”
Coll stared at him. “You are impossible, you know that?”
He turned and walked back from the shoreline to where the blankets and cooking gear were stacked and began carrying them down to the skiff. He didn’t look at Par. Par stood where he was and watched his brother in silence. He was remembering how Coll had pulled him half-drowned from the Rappahalladran when he had fallen in the rapids on a camping trip. He had gone under and Coll had been forced to dive down for him. He became sick afterward and Coll had carried him home on his back, shaking with fever and half-delirious. Col was always looking out for him, it seemed. Why was that, he wondered suddenly, when he was the one with the magic?