Terry Brooks - Witch Wraith

“Is someone after you?” Seersha asked jokingly, cocking one eyebrow at him.

He shook his head. “No, someone is after you.”

She took a closer look and saw that his lean face was fatigued and his clothes rumpled. More troubling was the haunted look in his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked. “Who’s after me?”

“I am. I’m here to arrest you.”

She started to grin and then realized he was serious. “Why would you do that?”

“I wouldn’t, as a matter of fact. But that’s why I am here.” He glanced around the darkness of the room. The moon was down, but dawn was not far away. “Can we move away from the door and the windows to a place where someone looking in won’t see us talking?” he asked.

She took him into her bedroom where the curtains were still drawn. “I woke up feeling sick, so I’ve been trying to rest.” She gestured at the rumpled bedclothes and the cluttered floor. “Excuse the mess.”

He shook his head. “I have a bigger mess than this one to deal with, Seersha,” he said. “Emperowen was murdered last night. Stabbed to death. His brother Ellich was found on the floor of his bedroom next to him, blood on his clothes and a knife in his hand. He’s been charged with murder and locked up.”

Seersha stared. “That makes no sense at all! Why would Ellich kill his brother?”

The Captain of the Home Guard moved over to the bed and sat down, rubbing his face wearily with his hands. “He wouldn’t. He didn’t. But someone made it look like he did, and Ellich can’t explain what he was doing there. He claims he was asleep one moment, and on the floor of his brother’s bedroom the next. He denies everything, but that’s not going to save him.”

Seersha started to ask why, and then realized who was behind this. “Phaedon,” she said.

The Elf nodded. “With his father dead, he declared himself King. His father had already designated him as his successor, so crowning him is a formality. No one has a better claim, and the Elves don’t deviate from tradition without a very good reason. It’s unfortunate, but it won’t be the first time something like this has happened. In any event, he was quick to make the decision to lock up his uncle. A few objected, myself included, but he paid no attention to us.”

“Doesn’t he have to answer to the High Council? He isn’t King yet, after all.”

Sian Aresh shook his head. “Not in a situation like this. This is an emergency, a crisis. No one is going to object. People are frightened. First the demon breakout and the attack on Arishaig, and now the King is dead. Phaedon has taken advantage of this to claim the throne and to demonstrate his ability to lead by example. Unfortunately for Ellich, his example is not well considered.”

“Should you be talking to me about this?” she asked him.

“I shouldn’t be talking to you at all. I should be hauling you off to join Ellich. Phaedon has decided this is a Federation plot to subjugate the Elves and that you are a part of it. Your insistence on marching the Elven army to Arishaig’s aid is evidence of your complicity.”

“But first I decide to murder the King?” She almost laughed. “That makes no sense at all.”

“Not much of anything makes sense at the moment, which is why I am here. I am supposed to arrest you and bring you before the Prince to answer the charges, and afterward I am to lock you up until he decides what to do with you.” He paused. “That could be a very long time.”

“Maybe until it is too late to do anything about it?”

He nodded. “Of course, in order for me to do this, I have to find you, and so far I haven’t been able to do so. If you were to leave right now, I imagine I would have a great deal of difficulty tracking you down.”

“But that would suggest I am guilty of something,” she snapped. “I should stay and defend myself.”

Aresh shook his head. “I don’t think the rules of fair play are going to apply in this situation. Phaedon has waited a long time to be King; he is intent on elevating his stature in the eyes of the Elves. Bringing those involved in the death of his father to justice would be a good start.”

“And few would be troubled if one of those judged guilty was a Druid,” she finished. “But his own brother? Why would anyone believe Ellich would do such a thing?”

“Phaedon will come up with a reason and find a way to make others believe it. He is good at that sort of thing. I’ve watched him at work in the High Council for years. He is an accomplished manipulator.”

He stood up abruptly. “We’ve already talked for too long. You have to go now. Find Crace Coram, get down to the airfield before the search for you begins in earnest, and steal one of the smaller airships. Do it quickly.”

Seersha rose, shaking her head. “I don’t like this. It feels wrong.”

Aresh walked from the bedroom to the living quarters and peered out the window. Already, dawn had begun to lighten the eastern sky in a wash of silver and rose.

“Away from here, maybe you can do something useful. If nothing else, maybe you can warn Aphenglow of what’s happened. Phaedon has no use for her, either.”

Seersha was appalled. “He wouldn’t do anything to her. Arling wouldn’t stand for it, and she carries the Ellcrys seed! Without that, we are all as good as dead. Even Phaedon must know that.”

“Is there a back door?” he asked.

She turned away abruptly and strode through the house to the rear entry. “I’ll find her and warn her,” she said.

“Do so quickly.” He peered through the window and then opened the door. “Don’t assume anything about Phaedon and what he might or might not do. That is still unexplored country.”

She started outside and then turned back. “What will you do, Sian?”

He smiled sadly. “Whatever I can. Good-bye, Seersha.”

Then he slipped past her and was gone.

Seersha dressed at once, did what she could to tamp down her fever, shook off her lethargy, and slipped from her cottage into the new day. She went quickly from there to where Crace Coram was staying in a block of old barracks at the edge of the airfield. By his own request, he had kept himself out of the city proper, preferring woodland surroundings to clustered buildings. He was more mountain man than city dweller in spite of his designation as Chieftain of his village, and he could not come to terms with being settled in the midst of so many people—even Elves, whom he held in high regard.

But she did not find him in the quarters assigned to him. Nor were any of his belongings there. Everything seemed to have been cleared out, as if he had already moved on. She was immediately worried that something had happened to him, and that she was already too late to save him from Phaedon. Even though Sian Aresh hadn’t said anything about him being in danger, she couldn’t assume he wasn’t.

She hurried from there to the practice field, aware that by now they might be looking for her and that she was risking her freedom by showing herself so boldly. But when she got to the field, she found Crace Coram sparring with one of the Home Guards while the rest stood watching and waiting for their turns. She took a quick look around to see if there any indication of a trap, but found nothing.

Taking a deep breath, she walked right up to the Dwarf Chieftain, calling his name. “Crace! Leave off. We have to go.”

He backed away from his opponent, his bluff features nonplussed. “Go where?”

“I’ll tell you on the way, but you have to come right now.”

He didn’t seem inclined to do that, so she made a hand gesture familiar to Dwarves everywhere, one that warned him he was being stupid or worse. He gave her a surprised look, read the expression on her face, and finally realized something was wrong. He put down his weapons, stripped off his protective gear, and came over.