Bearers of the Black Staff - Terry Brooks [56]
He embraced them both, not so roughly, but every bit as enthusiastically, slapping both on the back in the bargain. Tenerife was a smaller version of his twin, lighter and shorter and less of a presence, but still unmistakable. Not so physically imposing, he was also not so rough-made, his features more finely wrought. Like his brother, he was dark-complected and wore his black hair long and tied back from his face.
“Good to see you, Tenerife,” Panterra greeted him.
“Come to the house,” Tasha invited, sweeping them up like leaves with his long arms outstretched. “We can have something to eat and drink while we talk. Xac Wen!” he shouted, noticing that the boy was trying to tag along. “That’s all for today. Go find a pack of wild dogs to play with. Go wrestle a Koden or something.”
The boy glared at him. “You wait until I grow up!” he shouted at Tasha Orullian.
“I should live so long!” the tall man shouted back, but grinned nevertheless. “He’s a handful now, that one,” he said to his guests as they walked away, leaving the boy standing at the foot of the stairs. “I can’t imagine what he’ll be like when he gets bigger.”
“The same, only more so,” Tenerife grunted. “Imagine that.”
They passed down several trails to a cottage nestled with a handful of others in a grove of towering oaks, seating themselves on benches at a table set to one side of the entry. Tasha excused himself to go inside and then returned almost immediately with tankards of ale and a platter of cheese, fruit, and bread.
“This will help us express ourselves more clearly,” he announced, distributing the tankards first. “Or at least we’ll think so.”
They ate and drank and talked of old times. The Orullians were the Elven equivalent of Trackers, although they served at the King’s pleasure and on behalf of the entire Elven nation rather than just the city of Arborlon. Panterra and Prue had met them more than three years ago, and the four had taken an instant liking to one another. The Orullian twins were fascinated by the then only twelve-year-old Prue, unable to believe that anyone could sense things unseen with such unerring accuracy and timing. They thought her better than what her people deserved and promptly declared her an honorary Elf. They made Panterra one, too, but mostly because it would have been rude to leave him out. Their standing with the brothers was what had prompted Pan to tell Xac that they were partly Elves. It seemed truer than not under the circumstances.
“Now then,” Tasha said once they had finished eating and consumed a fair amount of smooth, sweet honey-lemon ale. “To business. You’ve come to visit us, of course. But you’ve come for another reason, as well. Tell us what it is, Pan.”
So Panterra related the events that had brought them to Arborlon for refuge and help.
“There, you see?” Tasha declared to his brother, gesturing angrily. “I told you these two did not belong with the sorry excuse for human beings who occupy Glensk Wood. They belong here, with us. We are their people in more ways than they are.”
Tenerife shrugged. “He’s right. We may not be your people in terms of flesh and blood, but we are more so in our hearts and souls. You should do as Aislinne says and stay with us. Forever, if need be.”
“I would like that,” Prue declared rather a bit too boldly, and then caught herself. “I mean,” she added quickly, “that it would be nice to live in such a beautiful place.”
“Of course it would be nice!” Tasha exclaimed. “It would be wonderful! That’s settled, then!”
“Not exactly,” Panterra said, holding up both hands. “Finding a new home isn’t why we came to you. We came to ask your help about the collapse of the protective wall. If it’s really failing, we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility that whatever’s out there is coming in here.”
“We need to prepare ourselves for the possibility that we might have to go out there,” Tenerife added pointedly. He looked at his brother. “We should tell