The Druid of Shannara

“Yes,” Quickening agreed softly. “Patience.”


They sat silently after that until Carisman returned, detaching himself from the council, stepping back onto the platform to face them. His face told them everything. “I … I have to ask you to stay the night,” he said, struggling to get the words out, discomforted beyond measure. “The council wishes to … debate the matter a bit. Just a formality, you understand. I simply require a little time …”

He trailed off uncertainly. He had positioned himself as far as possible from Pe Ell. Morgan held his breath. He didn’t think the distance separating the two offered the tunesmith much protection. He found himself wondering, almost in fascination, what Pe Ell would do, what he could in fact do against so many.

He would not find out on this occasion. Quickening smiled reassuringly at Carisman and said, “We will wait.”

They were taken to one of the larger huts and given mats and blankets for sleeping. The door was closed behind them, but not locked. Morgan didn’t think it mattered either way. The hut sat in the center of the village, and the village was enclosed by the stockade and filled with Urdas. He had taken the trouble of asking Dees about the strange creatures during dinner. Dees had told him that they were a tribe of hunters. The weapons they carried were designed to bring down even the swiftest game. Two-legged intruders, he said, would not prove much of a challenge.

Pe Ell stood looking out through chinks in the hut’s mud walls. “They are not going to let us leave,” he said. No one spoke. “It doesn’t matter what that play-king says, they’ll try to keep us. We had better get away tonight.”

Dees sat back heavily against one wall. “You make it sound as if leaving were an option.”

Pe Ell turned. “I can leave whenever I choose. No prison can hold me.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that the others, save Quickening, just stared at him. Quickening was looking off into space. “There is magic in his song,” she said.

Morgan remembered her saying something like that before. “Real magic?” he asked.

“Close enough to be called so. I do not understand its source; I am not even certain what it can do. But a form of magic nevertheless. He is more than an ordinary tunesmith.”

“Yes,” Pe Ell agreed. “He is a fool.”

“We might think you one as well if you persist in suggesting we can get out of here without him,” Horner Dees snapped.

Pe Ell wheeled on him. There was such rage in his face that Dees came to his feet much more quickly than Morgan would have thought possible. Walker Boh, a dark figure at the hut’s far end, turned slowly. Pe Ell seemed to consider his options, then stalked to where Quickening stood looking at him from beside Morgan. It was all the Highlander could do to stand his ground. Pe Ell’s black look dismissed him with barely a flicker of a glance and fell instead on the girl.

“What do we need any of them for?” he whispered, his voice a hiss of fury. “I came because you asked me to; I could easily have chosen otherwise.”

“I know that,” she said.

“You know what I am.” He bent close, his gaunt face hawk-like above her, his lean body taut. “You know I have the magic you need. I have all the magic you need. Be done with them. Let us go on alone.”

Around him, the room seemed to have turned to stone, the others frozen into statues that could only observe and never act. Morgan Leah’s hand moved a fraction of an inch toward his sword, then stopped. He would never be quick enough, he knew. Pe Ell would kill him before he could pull the blade clear.

Quickening seemed completely unafraid. “It is not yet time for you and I, Pe Ell,” she whispered back, her voice soothing, cool. Her eyes searched his. “You must wait until it is.”

Morgan did not understand what she was saying and he was reasonably certain that Pe Ell didn’t either. The narrow face pinched and the hard eyes flickered. He seemed to be deciding something.

“My father alone has the gift of foresight,” Quickening said softly. “He has foreseen that I shall have need of all of you when we find Uhl Belk. So it shall be—even though you might wish it otherwise, Pe Ell. Even though.”

Pe Ell shook his head slowly. “No, girl. You are wrong. It shall be as I choose. Just as it always is.” He studied her momentarily, then shrugged. “Nevertheless, what difference does it make? Another day, another week, it shall all come out the same in the end. Keep these others with you if you wish. At least for now.”

He turned and moved away by himself, settling into a darkened corner.