Bearers of the Black Staff - Terry Brooks [100]
“Enough,” the King said finally, as the brothers Orullian repeated their argument for mobilization for what must have been the third or fourth time. “I think you’ve said all that needs saying and I have heard enough to give thought to what is needed.
“Phryne, clean up and wait on me. Tasha and Tenerife, take the Troll to your home and keep watch on him until I decide what needs doing. Eat, drink, and bathe yourselves. Better take Panterra Qu, as well. Go.”
He gestured them up from their seats and ushered them out the doors into the hallway beyond, where Arik Sarn was sitting and the Home Guard were waiting to escort them out. No one said anything. They barely looked at one another. There was a shared feeling of uncertainty and dismay as they departed the building and emerged outside once more.
Panterra noticed that Sider Ament did not come with them.
OPARION AMARANTYNE WAITED until the others were gone, and then he took the Gray Man out of the reception chamber and down the halls of the palace to the small library that served as his private reception room. It was not entirely unexpected. The looks they had exchanged earlier had told Sider that the King would speak to him alone when the others were finished. They were not friends in the common sense, but had grown up in their valley world at the same time and were of a like age. They had been boys when Sider had become bearer of the last black staff and Oparion had been made King. The deaths of a mentor and a father had brought them together under awkward and difficult circumstances, which they had managed to surmount. An unconventional friendship had developed, one founded for the most part on mutual respect and a willingness to meet halfway. That friendship had lasted now for more than twenty years.
Even so, the Gray Man could not be certain what stance Oparion would take in this business.
When they reached the King’s reception chamber, they took seats by a cold fireplace across from each other, sitting close in a wash of gray light that filtered through cracks in draped windows.
“I will tell you up front that I find this tale more than a little incredible,” the King began. “But not so incredible that I don’t believe it. Perhaps it is rather that I find it overwhelming. Five hundred years of safekeeping and now the protective walls are down. Without warning. Without apparent reason.”
“Not a reason we can discern, although the Seraphic will tell you it signals the return of the Hawk.”
The King made a dismissive gesture. “It signals the end of an age. It signals the beginning of a fresh struggle.”
Sider nodded. “That it does. What will you do?”
“In truth? I don’t know.” The King leaned back in his chair. “The boy’s promise to the Drouj that he would arrange a meeting is worthless. Even if I could identify who our leaders are, I could never manage such a thing. Most of them barely speak to one another. We’ll have to think of something else.”
“Agreed. The boy’s promise was made under duress. Given the circumstances, he gave the best response he could manage.”
The King shook his head. “Forgive me for asking, but is the threat from this Troll army as great as the boy thinks? Can we believe him?”
The Gray Man shrugged. “The threat is real enough. I saw the army, measured its size. It’s as Panterra Qu described. Still, it’s hard to be sure what to believe. The boy is young, and he doesn’t have the wisdom and experience to see things as clearly as I’d like. He sees too much with his heart. Losing the girl as he did makes his observations less than reliable. But he is no fool, either. On the face of things, what he’s told us makes sense.”
“But you are not certain?”
“I’m not.”
“About the Troll?”
“Not only the Troll, but the whole of what’s happened. The boy showed courage and quick thinking in making the Trolls think us much stronger and more united than we actually are. But he is still only a boy. He may be seeing things that aren’t really there, reaching conclusions that he shouldn’t. I don’t know. I