Bearers of the Black Staff - Terry Brooks [28]
Panterra hesitated, just for a second, and in that momentary pause he heard a scuffling and a quick intake of breath, tiny sounds audible only to someone with hearing and instincts as keen as his own.
Aislinne rose, then stood motionless in the dark. “Wait. Don’t move.” Seconds later there was a soft tapping at the back door. Three short raps, and then silence. “Come with me,” she said, starting for the stairs.
They went down the steps together, moving slowly and silently through the shadows. Panterra strained to hear more, but there were no further sounds. The world outside the walls of his cottage stayed silent and dark.
At the door, Aislinne motioned for them to stand behind her. She released the lock and cracked the door slightly. Then she opened it wide.
Brickey was standing there, wrapped in a black cloak. “There’s been an accident,” he told them.
Aislinne nodded as if she expected as much. “What sort of accident?”
“A man has fallen on his knife. He was hunting mushrooms or perhaps night-blooming rashia in the trees, just in back of the cottage. He must have tripped.” He glanced past her at Panterra and Prue. “Good evening, friends. You’re up late. I hear that the council session was difficult.”
A man hunting mushrooms had fallen on his knife? Panterra knew at once that the little man was lying, that what had happened had nothing to do with mushrooms. In all likelihood, an assassin had been sent to dispatch him, but had ended up being dispatched himself. He looked with new respect at Brickey, who somehow managed to look deeply saddened.
“Dangerous work, night hunting,” Aislinne observed, as if she accepted what the little man was saying without question. “Will you see that his body is taken elsewhere?”
Brickey bowed slightly. “Of course.” He paused. “This unfortunate death might bring unwanted attention. It might be well if all of you went somewhere else as soon as possible.”
“We were just discussing that,” Aislinne observed. “Thank you, Brickey.”
She closed the door and turned to the boy and the girl. “Pack what you need, Panterra, and then we’ll cross to Prue’s home and she will do the same. It will be safe enough now; another will not be sent in this man’s place right away. In any case, Brickey will continue to keep watch.”
“I thought he was merely a thief,” Panterra observed. “It seems he is something more.”
“Brickey is many things. But he keeps what he is to himself.” Aislinne motioned impatiently. “Pack, Panterra. You have to leave.”
It took them only a short time to gather the clothes, weapons, and supplies they needed to set out. They were practiced at this, good at packing on short notice, efficient at collecting what was needed. Aislinne trailed after them, glancing outside now and then, studying the darkness as if to uncover its secrets. The rustle of their packing efforts were all the noise any of them made. They saw and heard nothing further of Brickey, who had faded back into the night. Panterra found himself wondering how much of the other’s interest in him was fostered by his relationship to Aislinne. How had the little man come to know Aislinne so well? He wanted to ask her, but decided against it.
When they were ready, Aislinne walked them outside to the edge of the trees. All around them, the night provided a dark, silent cloaking. There were few lights in the windows of houses and no one about. Overhead, the sky was clear and filled with stars.
“I’ll tell your parents, Prue, and anyone else who needs to know that you have gone to visit friends and will return in a week. If you don’t come back by then, I’ll make up something else to keep them from worrying. Try to convince the Elves to help you. Perhaps events will dictate when you’ll be able to come back again. It might not be very long at all if Sider is right; another intrusion from the outside world is more likely than not if the protective wall is failing. Still, we can’t count on that; we have to rely on our own resourcefulness.”
She sounded as if she