Bearers of the Black Staff - Terry Brooks [123]
Hadrian Esselline was the sort of King that justified this line of thinking. A seasoned veteran of skirmishes with his neighbors, a warrior and a statesman, he embodied all the best of what people expected in a ruler. Esselline was the strongest of the southern community leaders and the one to whom the others were most likely to look for direction—which was why Sider Ament was here. If Esselline were to agree to send soldiers to help defend the pass at Declan Reach, the other communities would be more inclined to do the same.
And if he did not agree …
But Sider pointedly refused any consideration of that possibility, and so Panterra did, too.
Coming to Esselline last was a calculated risk, Sider admitted, confiding in the boy the nature of his strategy. It could be argued that going to Hold-Fast-Crossing first made more sense since its influence among the southern towns and villages was strongest. But Sider believed they would get only one chance at this, and he wanted to come to Esselline without any other commitment in place, giving the King the opportunity to lead by example. The King had a vain side, a sense of pride in his stature, and Sider wanted to play off that in making his case. Esselline would be given a chance at assuming the pivotal role in this matter; to a measurable degree, Sider believed, this would influence his decision, whether he recognized it or not.
But time was slipping away, and whatever impact Esselline might have on the leaders of the other communities must be brought to bear quickly. Still, some things could not be rushed. Having arrived at Esselline’s home and been placed in this room, which they had now occupied for the better part of two hours, the man and the boy could only wait patiently for the King’s appearance.
It came in dramatic fashion, with Hadrian Esselline bursting through the doors unannounced, robes billowing out behind him, arms extended in greeting.
“Sider Ament!” he boomed out, his voice filling the room. He went to the other man and embraced him warmly. “Look at you! No grayer than the day we met, in spite of all those ugly rumors of your association with wraiths! Sorry to keep you waiting! Matters of state keep me constantly occupied and much less pleasantly so!”
Hadrian Esselline was a big man, tall and broad through the shoulders, a shock of dusky hair falling down about his shoulders, a beard of the same color, eyes as quick and bright and lethal as arrowheads. He was wearing all black with the blood-red crest of his family’s coat of arms emblazoned on his chest. Everything about him was bigger than life and twice as real, and when he entered a room it seemed as if he took up all the available space.
“Thank you for agreeing to grant me an audience,” Sider replied, gripping the other in return. “I know you are busy.”
“Not as busy as you, from what my runners tell me.” He glanced over at Panterra. “Who is this boy you’ve brought with you? Word is, you always travel alone. Don’t tell me you’ve produced an issue?”
Panterra was mortified. He could feel the flush in his neck and cheeks. Sider was grinning. “No issue of mine, though I could do much worse. This is Panterra Qu; he’s a Tracker from Glensk Wood and a good one. He was the first to discover what sort of creatures we might be forced to deal with once the mists had failed. He and a friend were tracking two of them when I caught up to them.” He gave the King a look. “This boy was held captive by the Troll army that threatens us. He knows about them firsthand.”
Esselline gave Pan an appraising look. “Then he needs to be part of our discussion, I think. Is it true, then? Have the mists receded and the protective wall collapsed?