The Sword of Shannara - Terry Brooks [59]
Balinor nodded and looked about for some sign of the rescuer.
“He left for the assembly hall to make his report,” the Dwarf responded to the unasked question.
Motioning the two Valemen to follow him, Balinor made his way out of the courtyard through the crowd and across the main street to the large assembly hall. Inside were the offices of the governing officials of the village and the assembly room, in which they found the Dwarf Hendel sitting on one of the long benches, eating ravenously while a scribe took down his report. Hendel looked up as they approached, glanced curiously at the Valemen and nodded briefly to Balinor, continuing to devour his meal without interruption. Balinor dismissed the scribe, and the three men sat down across from the disinterested Dwarf, who appeared both exhausted and starved.
“What an idiot, tackling one of those Sirens with a sword,” he muttered. “Got spunk though. How is he?”
“He’ll be fine after he’s treated,” replied Balinor grinning reassuringly at the uneasy Valemen “How did you find him?”
“Heard him yelling.” The other continued to eat without pausing. “I had to carry him almost seven miles before I ran into Pahn and the search party along the Silver River.”
He paused and looked again at the two Valemen, who were listening intently. The Dwarf appraised them curiously and looked back at Balinor, eyebrows raised.
“Friends of the highlander — and of Allanon,” responded the borderman, cocking his head meaningfully. Hendel merely nodded to them curtly.
“I’d never have known who he was if he hadn’t mentioned your name,” Hendel informed them shortly, indicating the tall borderman. “It might help matters if now and then someone would tell me what was going on before it’s happened, not after.”
He declined to comment further, and an amused Balinor smiled over to the puzzled brothers, shrugging slightly to indicate the Dwarf was irascible by nature. Shea and Flick were a bit uncertain about the fellow’s temperament and had purposely kept silent while the other two conversed, though both Valemen were eager to hear the full story behind Menion’s rescue.
“What’s your report on Sterne and Wayford?” Balinor asked finally, referring to the large Southland cities immediately south and west of the Anar.
Hendel ceased eating and laughed abruptly.
“The officials of those two fine communities will consider the matter and send along a report. Typical bungling officials, elected by the disinterested people to juggle the ball until it can be passed onto some other fool. I could tell five minutes after I opened my mouth that they thought I was crazy. They don’t see the danger until the sword is at their own throats — then they scream for assistance from those of us who knew it all along.” He paused and resumed his meal, obviously disgusted with the whole subject.
“I should have expected that, I suppose.” Balinor sounded worried. “How can we convince them of the danger? There hasn’t been a war in so many years that no one wants to believe it could happen now.”
“That’s not, the real problem, as you well know,” interjected the irate Hendel. “They simply don’t feel they should be involved in the matter. After all, the frontiers are protected by Dwarfs, not to mention the cities of Callahorn and the Border Legion. We’ve been doing it up to now — why can’t we keep doing it? Those poor fools...”
He trailed off slowly, finished with his statement and his meal, feeling tired from the long trip home. He had been on the road for almost three weeks, traveling to the cities of the Southland, and it all seemed to have been for nothing. He felt keenly discouraged.
“I don’t understand what’s happened,” Shea announced quietly.
“Well, that’s two of us,” Hendel replied sullenly. “I’m going to bed for about two weeks. See you then.”
He stood up abruptly and walked out of the assembly room without even a short farewell, his broad shoulders stooped wearily. The three men watched