The First King of Shannara - Terry Brooks [25]
She hesitated, and for the first time her gaze fell momentarily before lifting again to meet his own. When she spoke, he thought he detected a hint of desperation in her low voice. “I must be wary of everything I do. I am constantly hiding bits and pieces of myself, keeping careful watch over my behavior, my reactions, even my most innocent habits.” She compressed her lips. “I cannot continue to live like this. I came to Paranor for help. I have not found it. Now I am turning to you.”
She paused and then added, “Please.”
There was a poignancy in that single word that surprised him.
For just a moment she lost her composure, the iron-willed, hardened appearance she had perfected in order to protect herself.
He didn’t know yet if he believed her; he thought that maybe he did. But he was certain that her need, whatever its nature, was very real.
“I will bring something useful to your company if you take me with you,” she said quietly. “I will be a faithful ally. I will do what is required of me. If you should be forced to stand against the Warlock Lord or his minions, I will stand with you.” She leaned forward in a barely perceptible morion, little more than an inclining of her dark head. “My magic,” she confided in a small voice, “is very powerful.”
He reached for her hand and held it between his own. “If you will agree to wait until after sunrise, I will give this matter some thought,“ he told her. ”I will have to confer with the others, with Tay and Risca when they arrive.”
She nodded and looked past him. “And your big friend?”
“Yes, with Kinson also.”
“But he has no skill with magic, does he? Like the rest of you?”
“No, but he is skilled in other ways. You can sense that about him, can you? That he is without the use of magic?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me. Did you use magic to find us here in this concealment?”
She shook her head. “No. It was instinct. I could sense you. I have always been able to do that.” She stared at him, catching the look in his eye. “Is that a form of magic, Bremen?”
“It is. Not a magic you can identify as easily as some, but magic nonetheless. Innate magic, I might add — absent acquired skill.”
“I have no acquired skill,” she said quietly, folding her arms into her robes as if she were suddenly cold.
He studied her for a moment, thinking. “Sit there, Mareth,” he said finally, pointing to a spot behind her. “Wait with me for the others.”
She did as she was asked. Moving to a patch of grass that had grown up where the trees did not shut out the sun, she folded her legs beneath her and seated herself in the huddle of her robes, a small dark statue. Bremen watched her for a moment, then moved back across the clearing to where Kinson waited.
“What did she want?” the Borderman asked, turning away with him to walk to the edge of the trees.
“She has asked to come with us,” Bremen answered.
Kinson arched one eyebrow speculatively. “Why would she want to do that?”
Bremen stopped and faced him. “She hasn’t told me yet.” He glanced over to where she was seated. “She gave me reasons enough to consider her request, but she is keeping something from me still.”
“So you will refuse her?”
Bremen smiled. “We will wait for the others and talk it over.”
The wait was a short one. The sun rose out of the hills and crested the forest rim minutes later, spilling light down into the shadowed recesses, chasing back the last of the gloom. Color returned to the land, shades of green, brown, and gold amid the fading dark, and birds came awake to sing their welcome to a new day. Mist clung tenaciously to the darker alcoves of the brightening woods, and through a low curtain that yet masked the walls of Paranor walked Risca and Tay Trefenwyd. Both had abandoned their Druid robes in favor of traveling clothes. Both wore backpacks