Bearers of the Black Staff - Terry Brooks [150]
She stared at him, surprise reflected in her green eyes. “He sent you?”
“He did. He couldn’t come himself. Are you all right? Have you been hurt?”
She shook her head no. “What are you going to do?”
“Talk to you a minute. Ask you about weapons that your people in the valley don’t have. Pretend you’re telling me something about them. Just a quick few words. They don’t understand what we’re saying, so it’s all right. When I’m done, give me a hug. Look frightened. Can you do that? You’ll be taken back to where they’re holding you, but I’ll come for you. Understand?”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“Remember the hug,” he said.
She nodded wordlessly, eyes fixed on his face.
They talked about nothing, as he had said they would, pretending at questions and answers. It was hot inside the tent, and Deladion Inch could felt the sweat running down his back inside his heavy leathers. Outside, the rain continued to beat against the tent surface, a staccato rhythm. He tried to keep the girl’s eyes locked on his, willing her to play along, to make believe with such skill that the Trolls, who were pressing close about them, would not discover their deception. The girl kept looking at him, staring into his eyes, understanding what was needed. She never flinched.
Inch finished, gave her a quick nod, and started to stand up. As he did, she rushed to him immediately and threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him close. He patted her comfortingly and backed her away.
Then he turned to Taureq Siq. “She confirms what I already told you. But there is some good news. Not everyone has these weapons, only the Men of the larger villages. They have some small fighting forces, too, but they aren’t well trained. You can overcome them once you know how to jam their weapons.”
Taureq Siq was watching him closely. “You will explain all this to me. But not until Arik returns. He will be here by morning. You will be our guest until he arrives.”
Your prisoner, you mean. Inch had expected as much, but he was dismayed that the older son would be back so soon. He would have to act quickly if he wanted to get out of here alive. “I would be honored, Taureq.”
They were taking the girl back to where they had been holding her, the guard easing her toward the tent flaps and back outside. Inch glanced her way once, but paid no further attention. “I would appreciate some food and a place to sleep,” he told Siq. “I’ve been traveling all day.”
The Maturen nodded to the guards who had brought him in. “Give him what he wants, but stay with him.”
Taureq Siq turned away, his attention on something else, the interview over. Deladion Inch moved for the tent flaps, not waiting on his escort. He pushed through quickly, out into the rain, which had diminished from a downpour to a steady drizzle. Twilight had settled in, and torches burned through the gray haze, fighting back against the damp. Without seeming to do so, he scanned his surroundings, just managing to catch sight of the girl’s slight figure as she disappeared from view into a maze of tents and bodies. But he marked the direction in which she had gone, knowing it would help him find her later.
His guards caught up and motioned him in the opposite direction, staying well clear as they did so. Inch smiled and nodded, following their lead, taking mental notes of everything as they made their way to a small, shabby tent that was perhaps fifty yards away. The tent served otherwise as a supply dump or an animal shelter, a deliberate comment on his status. On any other occasion, Deladion Inch would have been furious. But it didn’t matter here. After tonight, he would never be back.
He ducked inside the tent and settled himself on a sleeping pad amid tent coverings and piles of ties and stays, happy to discover that at least his quarters were dry. His guards brought him food, and he sat down with his dinner. Some sort of stew and warm ale. It was sufficient.
He ate and drank and then settled back to wait.
IT WAS TWO