High druid of Shannara_ Jarka Ruus - Terry Brooks [70]
Since then, there had been only one other woman — a sorceress, who had loved him desperately. Khyber had seen them together only once, and it was frightening how determined the other woman was that Ahren Elessedil should be hers. But he had decided otherwise and never spoke of her now. Apparently, she was as exiled from his life as he was from Arborlon’s.
“Have you ever thought about returning to Paranor?” she asked impulsively, pausing on her way into the house with the dishes.
He looked at her. “Now and then. But I think I belong here, in the Westland. Paranor is a place for study and Druid politics. Neither is for me. What are you really asking, Khyber?”
She made a face. “Nothing. I just wondered if you ever missed the company of other Druids, the ones who still remain at Paranor.”
“You mean her,” he said, his smile sad and ironic. He was too quick, she thought. He could read her mind. “No,” he said. “That’s done.”
“I just think it would help if you had someone living here with you. Someone to help you. So you wouldn’t be lonely.”
It sounded stupid, even to her. He laughed. “Well, it wouldn’t be her, in any case. She isn’t the kind to help others when she has herself to worry about. Why are you so eager to see me partnered? I don’t see you looking around for someone to marry.”
She stalked into the house without replying, thinking that her good intentions were wasted on her uncle. He was right about her, of course, but that was beside the point. She was too young to marry, and he would soon be too old and too set in his ways. In fact, he already was, she decided. There was no room in his life for anything but his work. She didn’t know why she thought that it might be otherwise. He would live alone until he died, and she might as well accept it. She would just have to do the best she could for him on her visits and hope he got by the rest of the time.
She had just returned for the rest of the dishes when she heard a shout from the other end of the village, and Elves came running out of their houses and workshops and down the street, looking skyward.
“An airship,” Ahren said, getting to his feet at once.
No airships ever came to Emberen. It was too small and too isolated. There was only one road, and much of the year it was sodden and rutted and virtually impassable by wagon or cart. Khyber always came on horseback, knowing that she could be assured of getting in and out again that way. Flying vessels in that part of the world were rare. Some of the Elves who lived in the village had never even seen one.
She followed Ahren down the road and through the village toward the sound of the shouting, joining the flow of the crowd and trying to make out the ship through the heavy canopy of limbs. She had no idea where it might find a place to land in woods as heavy as those surrounding Emberen, but she supposed there must be a large-enough clearing somewhere nearby. Ahren was striding ahead, gray Druid robes whipping about his ankles, and she thought from the purposeful nature of his walk that he was concerned that whoever had taken the trouble to fly an airship to Emberen might not have their best interests at heart. A rush of excitement flooded through her at the prospect of whom it might be.
Maybe the routine of her studies was about to take an unexpected, but rather more interesting turn.
The crowd reached the end of the road and turned down a pathway that led into the trees. Overhead, she caught a glimpse of movement. The airship appeared momentarily and was gone again, circling the trees. It wasn’t very big — a skiff at best.
She broke into a narrow clearing just as the airship started down, a slow looping motion that brought it in line with a narrow opening in the forest