The High Druid's Blade (The Defenders of Shannara, #1)(45)

When he knocked, she called out at once. “Come in, Paxon.”

He did, and found her at her desk, immersed once more in paperwork. The trussed-up feed bag containing the gemstone sat to one side. His eyes went to it immediately, and she gave him a tired smile. “You want to know what I will do with it?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“It will be sealed away in a special compartment in the catacombs beneath the Keep. We have others of this sort down there, as well.” She paused. “We would destroy it, if we could, but such magic released from the confines of the stone would spread to other places and take other forms. We could end up with more than one dark magic, and it might even prove more dangerous than it is now.”

“So you can’t destroy it?”

She shook her head no. “Only contain it. But that’s usually enough. Sit down.”

He sat, waiting for her to say something more.

“As you know, we sent someone to keep watch over your sister and mother, just in case Arcannen returned. Sebec made the arrangements himself. He sent one of our own, a young Druid with only a year’s experience in using magic, but life skills that made him a good choice. He was to shadow your sister and mother, and he was to make sure nothing happened to them.”

She paused. “Yesterday, he was found dead on the streets of the city. It was made to appear as if he was the victim of a theft, but those who found him and reported back to us say it was something more. Whatever else it was, it wasn’t a robbery. There were signs of magic in play. He was deliberately killed.”

“My sister?” he asked quickly.

She gave him a steady look. “She’s disappeared.”





[page]THIRTEEN




CHRYSALLIN LEAH WOKE TO A ROOM FILLED WITH SHADOWS and emptiness, the only light seeping in through narrow cracks in a tightly shuttered window, the only sounds those she made when she stirred far enough to discover she was chained to the bed she was lying on. Her head was filled with cotton and her mouth was dry, but there was no cure on hand for either condition. She tested her limbs against the chains and found the former drained of strength and the latter secure. She was not going to change either condition right away no matter what she tried.

She lay back reluctantly, stretching her long legs and torso and waiting for her lethargy to fade, wondering where she was.

Or how she had gotten there, for that matter.

The events leading up to her present situation were far from clear. She remembered going to the Brew Tide to help Jayet. That had been later in the afternoon, when the tavern was just starting to fill up. The crowd had been boisterous and impatient. Everyone wanted to get served at once, and no one was prepared to wait. She was flying around the room, caught up in the excitement and laughter of the drinkers, smiling and joking with them, and loving every minute. Later that night, she and Jayet would go down to the river for a private swim. The cool water would wash away the sweat and the smoke and the tavern smells, and the day would come to a pleasant, relaxing close.

But the swim had never happened. What had? She had been serving the customers, carrying trays with tankards of ale and bowls of soup and plates of bread, and then …

She had gone outside. Just for a moment, to get a breath of fresh air, to escape the din.

And that was the last thing she could remember.

Now she was a prisoner in a dark room, snatched away from her friends and home without explanation, brought here for no apparent reason, chained to a bed in this dark room.

Except that right away she thought of Arcannen and the last time this had happened. Even if it had happened in a slightly different way, it still felt the same and she could not help thinking that once again this was the sorcerer’s doing. She pondered the idea for long minutes. If it was Arcannen, was this still about the gambling debt she hadn’t settled? Or was this an attempt to get at her brother? Was the sorcerer using her to get revenge on Paxon for what had happened at Dark House? She still wasn’t sure what it was all about the first time. Had the sorcerer been after her for making a bet she couldn’t pay and wanting to teach her a lesson, or was he after Paxon for reasons that were never made clear?

Whatever the case, she was beginning to grow steadily more certain that it was the sorcerer who had snatched her away.

She glanced down at herself in dismay, aware suddenly of a chill she hadn’t noticed before. Sure enough, beneath the thin sheet that covered her, she was naked. Every last stitch of clothing had been removed. She gritted her teeth. Very likely she was back in Dark House, and whatever Arcannen’s intentions, it would be a lot more difficult for Paxon to come to her rescue this time.

Chrysallin might have been only fifteen, but she was tough-minded and confident, more a young woman than a girl. She had grown up wild and reckless, and there wasn’t much she hadn’t tried. Constantly in trouble for one thing or another, she had learned much of what she knew the hard way. She had taught herself how to stand up to anyone, how to behave when she was threatened, and how to accept punishment when it was unavoidable. So she was not about to start panicking now. She was less than pleased that her clothes had been removed, but it was not cause for losing control.

Not yet, at least.

She took a deep breath and released it with a shudder. Someone was fumbling with the door handle. A key was being fitted into a lock and turning. She heard the lock release and watched the door open.