Brooks, Terry: High Druid's Blade : The Defenders of Shannara (9780345540713)

It was not a particularly reasonable expectation, but nothing about any of this was reasonable at this point.

He was so deep in thought he almost missed hearing the approach of the roving guard, and only barely managed to flatten himself within the narrow recessed space of a closed doorway before the man appeared. Jayet kept walking, pretending nothing was wrong, that she belonged and was on her way to somewhere specific.

“No walking around after hours,” the guard snapped at her as she reached him. “You know the rules.”

She slowed, moving just past him, causing him to turn so that he was looking away from Paxon. “I must have lost track of time. I was thirsty.”

“There is water in your room. Are you new here?”

She nodded. “Just got in. You’re kind of cute.”

Then Paxon clubbed him from behind, and he dropped like a stone. Jayet slowed the man’s fall enough to muffle any noise, and after trying a few doors found a closet and helped drag him inside. Using cleaning rags, Paxon bound and gagged him and lashed him in place to some iron shelves. Not a perfect solution, but it would have to do.

Leaving the closet, they continued down the hall until they found a set of stairs. They climbed to the next floor and stopped when they heard signs of activity behind the doors of the rooms down the hall. When it was quiet again, they continued up to the top floor. It was an attic space, and there were only three doors: two to either side and one at the end. The last was padlocked and chained.

Paxon moved over to it quickly, put his ear against the door, and listened. No sound came from within.

He exchanged a quick glance with Jayet and shook his head. But it was the only door locked, so there was reason to think it was the right one, and he had to take a look. Which meant he had to smash the lock and break it down. But first he decided to peek inside the other two, just to be sure. He moved over to each as quietly as he could, cracking the doors and peering inside. Bedrooms, both of them, sparsely furnished, walls bare, windows shuttered.

The one on the right was empty.

Chrysallin was in the one on the left.

So was Arcannen.

F

OUR

PAXON FROZE, AND FOR AN INSTANT HE WAS UNDECIDED ABOUTwhat he should do. It had never occurred to him that Arcannen might be with his sister when he found her. She was tied to the bed, spread-eagled and lashed in place, her mouth gagged. Her gaze found his, eyes wide and staring and frightened. She was dressed in the clothes she had been wearing when taken and did not appear to have been harmed.

But appearances could be deceptive, he reminded himself.

Jayet was still outside the room, so he moved to block the entry to hide her from Arcannen. He was trying to think of something to say to warn her when the sorcerer saved him the trouble.

“Don’t look so surprised, Paxon. We’ve been waiting for you since nightfall. She said you would come, and I believed her. Too bad for you, isn’t it?”

Paxon closed the door behind him. Smokeless lamps on the nightstand and on the wall bracketing a large mirror across from the bed lent sufficient light for him to see clearly. Arcannen was sitting on the bed next to his sister, his black robes wrapped about him. His small, pinched features were crinkled with amusement, his black eyes bright and eager.

“You should have taken my advice and stayed home, boy. This probably won’t end well for you.”

Paxon held his gaze. “Maybe you are the one it won’t end well for.”

“That seems unlikely. Have you discovered who I am? Did the boy at the airfield catch you? He was supposed to give you directions.”

Paxon ignored the questions. “What do you want with my sister, anyway? Isn’t this going to an awful lot of trouble for one girl?”

Arcannen smiled. “Depends on how you value things. I value young women. I insist they keep their word when they make bets with me. This one made a bet and couldn’t pay when she lost. Bringing her here isn’t all that much trouble. Putting her to work is easy enough. Maybe she will like it well enough that she will want to stay on.”

He shrugged. “You, on the other hand, are a bit of a problem. I have no work for you. I would have preferred it if you had stayed in the Highlands, but since you have failed to do even that much I have to deal with you more harshly than I wanted to. I hoped the beating would be enough to keep you from coming here. But your sister was right. You are beyond stubborn.”

Paxon noticed the deep bruise across the far side of his sister’s face for the first time. She had been struck and struck hard. He felt his anger resurfacing, crowding out his fear. He had to get Chrys out of here, no matter what it cost him.

Arcannen seemed completely at ease. He didn’t appear to have any weapons, and none of his men seemed to be about. His confidence was troubling. It suggested that whatever magic he had was more than enough to disable or kill Paxon.

“Did you bring any money?” Arcannen asked suddenly.

Paxon shook his head. “I don’t have any money.”

“So you decided you would steal her back? That’s not very honorable of you. Didn’t your parents teach you better?”

“I don’t think you should be talking to me about honor. Why don’t you just let me have my sister back?”

Arcannen shook his head. “We are covering familiar ground. I think I’ve made my position clear on the matter. There’s no reason to talk about it any further.”

He got to his feet, still smiling. Then he stopped suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him. “I have a thought. Perhaps you would be willing to trade me something for your sister, something you don’t value as much as you value her. For instance, that sword.”

Paxon automatically glanced over his shoulder at the handle of the black blade. The Sword of Leah. “Why would you want that?”

Arcannen shrugged. “I collect old weapons, especially blades. That one seems very old and might have some real value. I could be wrong, but if I’m right I will make back what I would lose by letting you have your sister. You, on the other hand …”

He let the rest of what he was going to say hang. But it didn’t need saying. Which was more valuable to Paxon—his sister or the sword?

But he hesitated anyway. Something about this felt wrong. Instinctively, he sensed that Arcannen recognized the weapon and knew something about it he didn’t. He was awfully quick to give up on Chrys after refusing even to consider releasing her before.

“The offer is only good for the next ten seconds,” Arcannen threw in, looking suddenly bored. “I am already beginning to lose interest. After all, I can do so many more interesting things with your sister than I can with an old sword.”

Paxon was certain something wasn’t right now. Arcannen was pressing too hard. “All right, but only if you release my sister first.”

The sorcerer gave him a sharp look. “Why would I agree to that?”

“If I give you the sword, you will have both the sword and my sister—here, in your own building. I’d be a fool.”

Arcannen studied him further, then shrugged. Pulling out a knife, he severed Chrysallin’s bonds and removed the gag. She scooted off the bed and stood uncertainly, as if perhaps she hadn’t gotten her balance back. Then she moved over to stand beside her brother, ignoring Arcannen.

“Are you all right?” Paxon asked. “Are you hurt?”

His sister shook her head. She was almost as tall as he was, though still gangly and awkward in the way of very young fillies, but there was such determination in her eyes that it gave him pause.