Then abruptly she appeared, walking to the edge of the tree-line across the flats and stopping. The caull materialized beside her. She stared out into the night for a long time, just a vague shape in the star-brightened darkness, just a shadow in the woods. After a moment, she disappeared again, and the caull with her, then reappeared a bit later somewhat farther along the edge of the trees, still staring out into the flats. What was she doing? He watched her carefully, measuring her progress as she appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared once more, several times. She seemed to be looking for something, for a way across perhaps. But why was she going to such trouble? Once she had shown herself, why not simply cross and be done with it?
Time slipped away. Tails Rohk grew steadily more uneasy with what he was seeing. She was there, but she wasn't doing anything. She hadn't even bothered sending the caull ahead to investigate whatever disturbed her. She was losing time she did not have to give. Appearing and disappearing, coming and going, she was like a wraith that had wandered out of—
He caught himself, lifting off the branch on which he lay with a start, a chilling realization flooding through him. She was a wraith. A wraith made out of magic. He wasn't seeing her at all. Even if she couldn't sense his presence, she had guessed at it. She had smelled out the possibility of a trap and decided to turn it around on him. She had used images to deceive him into believing she was still there and had gotten around behind him. She was already past him on her way to the boy.
He knew it as surely as he knew he was already too late to stop her.
Fool! You fool!
He was down out of the tree in a heartbeat and racing back through the night the way he had come.
When his sister walked out of the trees, Bek was still sitting on the ground where the shape-shifters had left him. He was not panicked by her appearance and did not try to escape. He had known she would come. The shape-shifters had told him so, and he had believed them. He had thought about running from her, fleeing deeper into the mountains, but had decided against it. Do not run away from her again, they had said. He did not know why, but he believed them to be right. Running would solve nothing. He must stand and face her.
He rose as she approached, staying calm, oddly at peace with himself. He wore the Sword of Shannara strapped across his back, but he did not reach for it. Weapons would not serve his cause; fighting would not aid him. His sister, the Ilse Witch, would react badly to either, and he needed her to want to keep him safe. Perhaps it was his encounter with the shape-shifters that left him feeling as if no harm could come to him in the mountains. Whatever harm she might do to him, she would wait to do elsewhere. That would give him time to find a way to make her see the truth.
"You don't seem surprised to see me," she offered mildly, moving fluidly within her tied-up robes, her face lost in shadow beneath her hood. Her eyes were on him, searching. "You knew I would come, didn't you?"
"I knew. Where is Truls Rohk?"
"The shape-shifter?" She shrugged. "Still looking for me where I can't be found. He'll come too late to help you this time."
"I don't want his help. This is between you and me."
She stopped a dozen paces away, and he could feel her tension.
"Are you ready to admit to me that you lied about who you are? Are you willing to tell me why you did so?"
He shook his head. "I haven't lied about anything. I am Bek. I am your brother. What I told you before was true. Why can't you believe me?"
She was silent a moment. "I think you believe it," she said finally, "but that doesn't make it true. I know more of this than you do. I know how the Druid works. I know he seeks to use you against me, even if you don't see it."
"Let's say that's true. Why would he do so? What could he hope to gain?"
She folded her arms into her robes. "You will come with me back to the airship and wait for me there while I find him and ask him. You will come willingly. You will not try to escape. You will not try to harm me in any way. You will not use your magic. You will agree to all this now. You will give me your word. If you do so, you have a chance to save your life. Tell me now if you will do as I ask. But be warned-if you lie or dissemble, I will know."
He thought about it, standing silent in the night, facing her through a wash of moonlight, and then nodded. "I'll do what you ask."
He felt her humming softly, her magic reaching out to him, surrounding and then infusing him, a small tingle of warmth, probing. He did not interfere, simply waited for her to finish.
She came forward and stood right in front of him. She reached up and lowered the hood so he could see her strong, pale, beautiful face. Grianne. His sister. There was no anger in her eyes, no harshness of any sort. There was only curiosity. She reached out and touched the side of his face, closing her eyes momentarily as she did so. Again, he felt the intrusion of the wishsong's magic. Again, he did not interfere.
When she opened her eyes again, she nodded. "Very well. We can leave now."
"Do you want my weapons?" he asked her quickly.
"Your weapons?" She seemed startled by the question. She glanced at the sword and long knife perfunctorily. "Weapons are of no use to me. Leave them behind."
He tossed the long knife aside, but left the Sword of Shannara in place. "I can't give up the sword. It isn't mine. It was given to me in trust, and I promised I would look after it. It belongs to Walker."