The First King of Shannara - Terry Brooks [61]
They were silent a moment. Tay tried not to look at her.
“You will be going west in a few days when the king gives you leave to search for the Stone,” she said finally. “Maybe you will feel better when you do that.”
He smiled. “Jerle told you.”
“Jerle tells me everything. I am his life companion, even if he doesn’t acknowledge it.”
“He is a fool not to.”
She nodded absently. “I will be coming with you when you go.”
Now he looked directly at her. “No.”
She smiled, enjoying his discomfort. “You can’t tell me that, Tay. No one can. I don’t allow it.”
“Preia...”
“It is too dangerous, it is too hard a journey, it is too something or other.” She sighed, but the sound did not chide. “I have heard it all before, Tay — although not from anyone who cares about me like you do.” She met his gaze. “But I will be going with you.”
He shook his head in admiration and smiled in spite of himself.
“Of course. And Jerle won’t object, will he?”
Her smile was dazzling, her face bright with undisguised pleasure. “No. He doesn’t know yet, you understand, but when he does he will shrug like he always does and tell me I am welcome.” She paused. “He accepts me for who I am better than you do. He treats me as an equal. Do you understand?”
Tay shifted on the bench, wondering if he did. “I think he is very lucky to have you,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Tell me a little more about what you found at Paranor, anything you think might be of interest, anything you think I might want to know.”
She tucked her legs beneath her on the bench, as if to ward off the unpleasantness of the words she must speak, and did so.
When Preia left him, he remained sitting for a time trying to picture the faces of the Druids he would never see again. Strangely enough, his memory of some was already beginning to fade. It worked like that, he supposed, even with those that mattered most.
It was approaching evening, and he rose and walked along the edge of the Carolan and watched the sunset, the sky coloring gold and silver as the light faded toward darkness. He waited until torches began to brighten the city behind him, then turned and walked back toward his parents’ home. He felt alienated, disconnected. Paranor’s destruction and the death of the Druids had cut him loose from his moorings, leaving him adrift. All that remained for him was to fulfill Bremen’s admonition to seek out the Black Elfstone, and he was determined to do that. Then he would start his life over again. He wondered if he could do that. He wondered where he would begin.
He was approaching his destination when a king’s messenger stepped out of the shadows and advised him that he was to come at once. The urgency of the summons was apparent, so Tay did not argue. He turned from the pathway and followed the messenger back toward the Carolan and the palace that housed the king and his considerable family. Courtann Ballindarroch was the fifth of his line, and the size of the royal family had grown larger with each new coronation. Now the palace housed not only the king and queen, but five children and their spouses, more than a dozen grandchildren, and numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins. Among them was Jerle Shannara, although he spent most of his time at the Home Guard quarters, where he felt decidedly more comfortable.
The palace came in sight, a blaze of light against the darker backdrop of the Gardens of Life. But as they neared the front entry, the messenger took him left down a pathway that led to the summerhouse at one end of the compound. Tay glanced across the broad, dark sweep of the grounds, searching for the Home Guard that kept watch. He could sense them, could count their numbers if he chose by using his magic, but could see nothing. Inside the palace, framed against the lighted windows, shadows came and went like faceless wraiths. The messenger showed no interest, directing him past the main house to where Ballindarroch had chosen to receive him. Tay wondered at the abruptness of the summons. Had something new occurred? Had there been another tragedy? He forced