She had been wise not to bring Cree Bega or any of his Mwellrets for support. In that situation, they would be underfoot, a hindrance to her progress. More important, they would pose a threat; she no longer trusted them with her safety, despite the assurances of the Morgawr and their pledge to obey her. She could feel their resentment and anger every time she was in their presence. They hated and feared her. Sooner or later, they would try to eliminate her. It would be necessary for her to eliminate them first, but that was a task she was not yet ready to undertake. Until the Druid and his followers were accounted for and she had possession of the books of magic, she had need of the Mwellrets and their peculiar skills. But she didn't want them watching her back.
She shifted the weight of the Sword of Shannara where it hung from its strap across her shoulder. She wished she had left it behind, but she had been reluctant to leave it within reach of either the boy or the Mwellrets. She had considered hiding it, but was fearful it might be found. If real, it was a powerful magic, and she wanted it for herself. So she was stuck with hauling it about until the business was finished and she was on her way home. She supposed it was a small price to pay for the uses it might later serve, but she could not get past the resentment at having to endure the ache it caused her shoulders.
Unslinging the sword, she laid it on the ground and stretched her arms over her head. She had not slept for a while, and although sleep was not particularly important to her physical well-being, she felt mentally drained. It was that boy, in part, with his incessant chatter and clever reasoning, trying to persuade her to his cause, trying to trick her. Sparring with him had taken more out of her than she had realized. He was relentless in his insistence of who and what he was, and she found that fighting him off had wearied her.
She yawned. Sleep would give her mind and body rest, but there would be no sleep that night. Instead, she must find a way into Castledown, retrieve the books of magic, and avoid a confrontation with the Druid in the process.
It was a much different mandate than before, she thought ironically, when she had determined to kill Walker. But things had changed, as things had a way of doing.
She picked up the sword and fitted it back across her shoulders, adjusting its weight to gain a measure of comfort. She stood quietly for a time, her gray robes hanging loosely from her slender form, her hood drawn back, her pale face lifted slightly as she concentrated on what lay ahead. Her eyes closed, and she sent the magic of her wishsong into the labyrinth of the ruins. It was there that the Druid had disappeared underground. It was there that the Mwellrets had encountered the creepers. There would be an entrance somewhere close, probably more than one. She need only find it. The rest would be child's play.
It did not take long to accomplish her goal. There were trapdoors and hidden entryways everywhere, some larger than others, all leading down ramps or steps to the safehold. She used her song to cloak herself in the shape and feel of the maze, cold metal plates and fastenings, wire and machines. Her eyes opened once more. She studied the darkness ahead, then walked in. No creepers or fire threads appeared. She didn't expect them to. When she used the wishsong in that way, it gave her the feel and appearance of whatever lay around her. Only the magic was detectable, and only by something that could recognize its presence.
She did not take a subtle approach to gaining entry; the longer she took, the more risk she assumed. A safehold built in the Old World would employ technology she did not understand. One safeguard or another would detect her eventually. It was best not to give it a chance to do so.
She placed herself against a wall next to one of the larger hidden doors and used her magic to shatter a smaller port across the way. Almost instantly, the door she stood beside slid open and creepers wheeled into view. She kept herself concealed, letting them move quickly past, then froze the last, holding it in place, breaking down its systems as she swiftly recorded its look and feel, both within and without. It took her only seconds, then she was through the door and inside the keep.
There were lights inside, flameless lamps attached to the walls of a handful of corridors that fanned out from an atrium in which dozens of creepers stood frozen in racks. She held herself motionless for a few seconds, testing her new disguise, waiting to see if there would be a reaction to her presence. There wasn't. She gave it a few seconds more, then started ahead.