The First King of Shannara - Terry Brooks [148]
He waited, letting the impact of his words sink in, letting her see what was in his eyes. He wanted her to decide that he was not the enemy she sought, for seek her enemy she did. He wanted her to accept that he might be her friend if she would let him. He wanted her to confide in him, to reveal at last the truth she kept so carefully hidden.
“You know,” she replied softly.
He shook his head. “No. I only guess, nothing more.” He smiled wearily. “But I would like to know. I would like to offer some comfort to you if I could.”
“Comfort.” She said the word in a dull, hopeless way.
“You came to me to discover the truth about yourself, Mareth,” he continued gently. “You may not have thought of it that way, but that is what you did. You came to seek help with your magic, with a power you can neither rid yourself of nor live without. It is an awesome, terrible burden, but no worse than the burden of the truth you hide. I can feel its weight from here, child. You wear it like chains wrapped about your body.”
“You do know,” she whispered insistently. Her dark eyes were huge and staring.
“Listen to me. Your burdens are inextricably bound together, the truth you hide and the magic you fear. I have learned that much in traveling with you, in watching you, in hearing of your concerns. If you would rid yourself of the magic’s hold, you must first address the truth you have hidden in your heart. Of your parents.
Of your birth. Of who and what you are. Tell me, Mareth.”
She shook her head dully, her gaze falling away from his, her arms coming about her small body as if to ward it from a chill.
“Tell me,“ he pressed.
She swallowed back the advent of her tears, fought down her sudden shaking, and lifted her face to the starlight.
Then slowly, tremulously, she began to speak.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I’m not afraid of you” was the first thing she said to him. The words came in a rush, as if by speaking them she might tap it a hidden reservoir of strength. “You might think so after hearing what I have to say, but you would be wrong. I am not afraid of anyone.”
Bremen was surprised by her declaration, but he did not let it show. “I make no assumptions about you, Mareth,” he said.
“I might even be stronger than you,” she added defiantly. “My magic might be more powerful than yours, so there is no reason for me to be afraid. If you were to test me, you might regret it.”
He shook his head. “I have no reason to test you.”
“When you hear what I have to say, you might think differently.
You might decide you must. You might feel it necessary to protect yourself.“ She took a deep breath. ”Don’t you understand? Nothing between us is what it seems! We might be enemies of a sort that will demand that one of us hurt the other!”
He considered her words in silence for a moment, then said, “I don’t think so. But say what you must to me. Hold nothing back.”
She stared at him without speaking, as if trying to decide the depth of his sincerity, to uncover the truth behind his insistence.
Her small body was coiled into itself, and her large, dark eyes were deep, liquid pools in which the reflection of her roiling emotions was clearly visible.
“My parents were always a mystery,” she said finally. “My mother died at my birth, and my father was gone even before that. I never knew them, never saw them, had no memory of them to carry with me. I knew of them because the people who raised me made it clear enough that I was not theirs. They did not do so in an unkind way, but they were hard, determined people, and they had worked all their lives for what was theirs and thought that it should be so for everyone. I was not theirs, not really, and so they laid no claim to me. They cared for me, but I did not belong to them. I belonged to people who were dead and gone.
“I knew when I was very little that my mother had died giving birth to me. The people who raised me made no secret of it. They spoke of her now and again,