Truls Rohk grunted. "Anyway, I fell asleep when they left me. Not what I had planned, but I couldn't help myself. It was something in their voices. When I woke, I came looking for you. But the witch took care to disguise her passage in ways I couldn't immediately unravel. It didn't matter. I knew she would bring you back here. I tried the airship first thing, seeing it moored in the bay. Black Moclips, the witch's own vessel. Your smell led me right to you, locked down in that hold. I got to you just in time, didn't I?"
He waited a heartbeat, then reached out suddenly and snatched Bek by his tunic front. "What's wrong with you, boy? Why don't you say something?"
Bek wrenched himself free and pointed angrily at his neck. Then he clapped his hand over his mouth for emphasis.
"You're injured?" the other demanded. "Something's damaged your throat?"
Impatiently, Bek scratched the words in the dirt with a stick. The cowled head bent for a look. "You can't speak?" Bek wrote some more. "The witch stole your voice? With magic?"
Truls Rohk rocked back on his haunches and stood up. He made a dismissive gesture. "She doesn't have that kind of power over you. Never has. What do you think the Druid has been trying to tell you? You're her equal, though untrained yet. You have the gift, too. I knew that from the moment we met in the Wolfsktaag, months ago."
Bek shook his head vehemently, shouting soundlessly, bitterly in response.
"Think!" the other snapped irritably. "She's kept you alive so far to find out what you know. Would she destroy your voice so that you could never speak again? Huh! No, she's done what she does best. She's played a game with your mind. She's knocked you down and left you thinking what she wants you to think. It's mind-altering, of a sort. You can speak, if you want. Go ahead. Try.
Bek stared at him in disbelief, then shook his head. "Try, boy."
I've already tried! He mouthed the words angrily. Truls Rohk pushed him hard. "Try again." Bek staggered backwards and righted himself. Stop it! "Do what I say! Try again!" The shape-shifter shoved him a second time, harder than before. "Try, if you've got any backbone!
Try, if you don't want me to knock you down!" He shoved Bek so hard he almost sent him sprawling. "Tell me to stop! Go on, tell me!"
Flushed with rage, Bek charged the cloaked form, but Truls Rohk blocked his rush and pushed him away. "You're afraid of her, aren't you? That's why you won't try. You're frightened! Admit it!"
He wheeled away. "I've no use for someone who can't do more than follow at my heels like a dog. Get away from me! I'll do this alone."
Bek charged in front of him and blocked his way. Stop it! I'm coming with you!
"Then you tell me so to my face!" Truls Rohk's voice dropped to a dangerous hiss. "Tell me right now, boy!" He shoved Bek again, harder than ever. "Tell me, or get out of my-"
Something gave way inside Bek, a visceral rending of self that had the feel of tearing flesh. It gave way before a mix of rage and humiliation and frustration that engulfed him like a swollen river slamming up against a dam built for calmer waters. His voice exploded out of him in a primal scream of such impact that it lifted Truls Rohk off his feet and sent him flying backwards. It bent the branches of trees, flattened tall grasses, shredded bark, and tore up clots of earth for a dozen yards. It began with the shriek of a hurricane's winds as it sapped the forest silence, then layered it anew in a darker and more suffocating blanket.
Bek dropped to his knees in shock and disbelief, coughing out the final shards of noise, the sound of his voice dropping to a startled whisper.
Truls Rohk picked himself up and brushed himself off. "Shades!" he muttered. He reached out his hand to Bek and pulled him to his feet. "Was that really necessary?"
Bek laughed in spite of himself. It felt good to hear the sound again. "You were right. I could speak all along."
"But not until I got you mad enough to make you do so." The shape-shifter's impatience showed in his voice. "Don't let yourself get fooled like that again."
"Don't worry, I won't."
"You are her match, boy."
"I'll find out soon enough, won't I?"
The big shoulders shrugged within the concealing cloak. "Maybe you should leave her to me."
A chill of recognition rippled down Bek's neck. He reached out impulsively and gripped the other's shoulder, feeling corded muscle and sinew tighten in response, feeling knots of gristle shift. "What do you mean?"
"What do you think I mean?"
Bek's stomach clenched. "Don't do it, Truls. Don't kill her. I don't want that. No matter what. Promise me."
The other's laughter was harsh and empty. "Why should I promise you that? She was quick enough to try to kill me!"
"She's as confused about things as I was. She's been lied to and deceived. What she believes about herself and about me isn't even close to the truth. Doesn't she deserve a chance to find this out? The same chance you gave me, just now?"
He kept his grip on the other's shoulder, holding on to him as if to wring the concession he sought. But Truls Rohk didn't try to move away. Instead, he took a step closer.
"If another were to lay hands on me the way you have, I would kill him without a thought."