Ilse Witch - Terry Brooks [158]
He took the key from Bek’s hand, his dark eyes heavy on the boy, hard and piercing. Overhead, the members of the ship’s company were preparing for another day’s search, not yet advised that it would not be necessary to go ashore again. The sound of their movements across the decking rumbled through the cabin’s silence, another world away from what was happening here.
“I’m sorry,” Bek managed finally, his arm dropping back to his side. “I didn’t think that—”
“Truls Rohk put you up to this, didn’t he?” Walker interrupted, new fury clouding his angry features. Bek nodded. “Tell me about it, then. Tell me everything that happened.”
To his own astonishment, Bek did not do so. He told Walker almost everything. He told him how the shape-shifter had come to him and urged him to go with him into the castle ruins and bring out the key. He told him how Truls Rohk insisted they were alike and repeated the other’s strange story of his birth and parentage. He related their approach and entry into the castle, their discovery of the key, and their escape. But he left out everything about the magic the shape-shifter claimed Bek possessed. He made no mention of the way in which his voice seemed to generate this magic. He kept his discovery to himself, deciding almost without meaning to that this was not the time to broach the subject.
Walker seemed satisfied with his explanation, and some of the fire went out of his eyes and the ice out of his voice when he spoke again. “Truls Rohk knows better than to involve you in this. He knows better than to risk your life needlessly. He is impetuous and unpredictable, so his actions should not surprise me. But you have to use better judgment in these situations, Bek. You can’t let yourself be led around by the nose. What if something had happened to you?
“What if it had?”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t intended to speak them, hadn’t planned to challenge the Druid in any way this morning, given his unexpected reaction to Bek’s recovery of the key. But the boy felt cheated of all recognition for his accomplishment and was angry now himself. After all, it wasn’t Truls Rohk who was leading him around by the nose so much as Walker.
“If I hadn’t come back,” he pressed, “what difference would it make?”
The Druid stared, a look of surprise in his dark eyes.
“Tell me the truth, Walker. I’m not here just because you needed another pair of eyes and ears. I’m not along just because I’m Quentin’s cousin.” He had gone too far to turn back, so he plowed ahead. “In fact, I’m not really his cousin at all, am I? Coran told me before I left that Holm Rowe didn’t bring me to him. You did. You told Coran his cousin gave me to you, but Truls Rohk said he pulled me from the ruins of my home and saved me from the dark fate of my family. His words. Who’s telling the truth about me, Walker?”
There was a long pause. “Everyone,” the Druid said finally. “To the extent they are able to do so.”
“But I’m not a Leah or a Rowe either, am I?”
The Druid shook his head. “No.”
“Then who am I?”
Walker shook his head anew. “I’m not ready to tell you that. You must wait a while, Bek.”
Bek kept his temper and frustration in check, knowing that if he gave vent to what he was feeling, the conversation would be over and his chance at discovering anything lost. Patience and perseverance would gain him more.
“It wasn’t by chance or coincidence that you contacted me on Shatterstone when the jungle had you trapped, was it?” he asked, taking a different approach. “You knew you could reach me with a mind-summons.”
“I knew,” the Druid acknowledged.
“How?”
Again, the Druid shook his head no.
“All right.” Bek forced himself to remain calm. “Let me tell you something I’ve been keeping from you. Something happened on the journey from Leah to Arborlon that I haven’t told anyone, not even Quentin. On our first night out, while we were camped along the Silver River, I had a nighttime visitor.”
Quickly, he related the events that surrounded