After a time, Panax dropped back to walk with Quentin, letting the Elves walk ahead of them a few paces. He did so quite deliberately, and the Highlander let him choose his own pace.
"The Rindge believe that Antrax controls the weather," the Dwarf told him quietly, keeping both his head and voice lowered.
Quentin looked at him in surprise. "That isn't possible. No one can control the weather."
"They say Antrax can. They say that's why the weather in their region of Parkasia never changes like it does everywhere else. He says he knows of the glaciers and ice fields on the coast. He says it snows inland, farther north and west, on the other side of the mountains. There are seasons there, but not here."
Quentin shifted the weight of the Sword of Leah on his back. "Walker said something to Bek about the weather being odd. I thought it must be a combination of wind currents and geography, an anomaly." He shook his head. "Maybe Antrax is a god after all."
The Dwarf grunted. "A cruel god, according to the Rindge. It preys on them for no discernible reason. It uses them for fodder and then throws them away, minus a few parts. I keep asking myself what we've gotten ourselves into."
"I keep wondering how much of all this Walker knew and kept to himself," Quentin replied softly.
Panax nodded. "Truls would tell you Walker knew everything because Druids make it a point to find things out and then keep them concealed. I'm not so sure. We walked right into that trap three days back, and the Druid seemed as surprised as any of us."
They walked on in silence, passing into the midday calm and heat, winding along a well-used trail that took them through ancient hardwoods whose boughs canopied and interlocked overhead in such thickness that the light could penetrate only in slender threads and narrow bands. Birds flew overhead, singing cheerfully, and there were squirrels and voles in evidence. The sun traveled slowly west across a cloudless sky, and the air smelled of green leaves and dry earth.
Then Tamis dropped back to walk with them. "I've been thinking," she said quietly. "Something is wrong about this."
They both stared at her. "What do you mean?" Panax asked, looking around as if he might find the answer hidden in the forest green.
Tamis glanced from one to the other. "Ask yourself this. Why are the Rindge being so helpful? Out of the kindness of their hearts? Out of a sense of obligation to help strangers from other lands? Out of compassion for our obvious misery at losing our friends and finding ourselves stranded?"
"It's not unheard of," Quentin replied, an edge to his voice.
She glared at him. "Don't be stupid. By helping us, the Rindge are risking their lives and possible retaliation by Antrax, whatever it is. They wouldn't do that unless there was something to be gained from doing so, something that would benefit them."
Panax scowled, no happier than Quentin upon hearing this accusation. "What would that something be, Tamis?"
"I've been thinking," she advised, keeping her voice low, her eyes on the Rindge. "You told them we came here seeking a treasure, and they know we went into the ruins very deliberately to find it. They must assume we knew something about what we were getting ourselves into before we tried that-however misguided that assumption might be. At the very least, that suggests to them that we have a means of dealing with Antrax. Now think about this. They haven't said so, but what if they were watching us the first time we went in and know about Quentin's sword and Walker's Druidic powers? They've been looking for a way to rid themselves of Antrax for hundreds of years, and now, finally, they may have found one. Us. What if they're using us as a weapon?"
"To destroy Antrax," Quentin finished. "So they're taking us right to it and turning us loose, hoping for the best. They won't stand and fight with us, if it comes to that. They'll run."
She shrugged. "I don't know what they'll do. I just think we'd better watch our backs. They have to wonder about us-where did we come from and what do we intend to do when this is over? Perhaps they're thinking that the best thing that could happen would be for Antrax and us to destroy each other and leave the Rindge in peace. They have to have considered that. They don't want to swap one form of tyranny for another. They know that's a possibility, and nothing we say is going to convince them otherwise."
"Obat doesn't seem like that," Quentin ventured after a moment.
Tamis sneered softly. "You haven't been out in the world as long as I have, Quentin Leah. You haven't seen as much. What do you think, Panax?"
The Dwarf glanced at Quentin, his gruff features set. "She's right. We'd better be ready for anything."