“Not really.”
The shade looked rather more pleased with himself than Drisker thought reasonable. “Why don’t you wait out here, then?” the Druid suggested. “Stay out from underfoot.”
Cogline shrugged and melted into the walls. It was growing annoying to watch him do this. But then, it was worse than annoying to have him hanging about when he was of so little help.
Drisker opened the doors to the office that served the Ard Rhys and walked over to the curtained wall that hid the books. When he pulled back the covering, there was nothing to be found, only the stone and mortar of the bare wall. Drisker stepped back, summoned his magic, placed his hands on the wall, palms flat, and began to murmur softly. Light rose from where his hands moved across the wall’s surface, growing steadily in intensity until it was nearly blinding.
Then the light pulsed as if expanding, enveloping the Druid completely before sharply dying away. In the aftermath of its disappearance, the gloom and shadows closed about once more, and the silence returned. Drisker stood quietly staring at the space the wall had occupied, the wall itself gone.
Beyond, a bare room waited, its walls fashioned of materials that few had ever seen. A huge table with twelve chairs dominated the center of the room. Both table and chairs were constructed of finished pieces of timber with metal enhancements and fastenings and had an ancient, immutable look to them. But the Druid ignored both and walked to the walls. Starting on the right and working his way left, he ran his hands across the smooth surface, palms brushing lightly and moving in circles—as if to scrub clean something the eye couldn’t see. It took him a long time to circle the room entirely, and when he was finished he stepped away and waited.
Slowly, the walls began to dissolve. Their surfaces ran like melting ice and faded away, leaving rows of books bound in leather and iron cord, so clean and well preserved they looked newly made. Everything about the books and the shelves shone and gleamed, the pale light of the half-world to which Drisker had been sent catching new brightness. The Druid walked around slowly, studying the tomes, pulling out one or two to judge their place in time, and then finally settling on one that recounted the events of the era surrounding Cogline’s previous life.
He laid the book on the heavy old table, opened it, and began to read. The jolt of expectation he felt at that moment was immeasurable. Hope was at hand.
Several hours later it had all but vanished. He had scanned the book from end to end and found no mention of Cogline. In disbelief, he pulled the volumes on either side of the one he’d finished and scanned them, as well. Still no mention of Cogline.
A fresh wave of frustration swept through him. How could the old man not have been mentioned somewhere? He was a seminal figure in Druid lore and in the history of the Four Lands. A failed Druid who had survived death to come back when the Druids were gone and Paranor had been consigned to limbo by Allanon just before his own demise, he had helped persuade Walker Boh to become the next High Druid and was responsible for urging him to use the Black Elfstone in order…
He caught himself.
…in order to bring Paranor back into the Four Lands.
Wait. Maybe he had this wrong. It was Walker Boh who had used the Black Elfstone and returned Paranor, not Cogline. Cogline had helped to persuade him, but he was a failed Druid. Not even a Druid at all, really. So would he even be mentioned in the Histories?
Maybe not. But Walker Boh would. Drisker saw it clearly now. That was where he should be looking for an explanation.
He was turning back to the Histories to begin his search anew when he felt the scrye orb, ever present in his pocket, begin to tingle.
He knew without looking it was Clizia Porse.
* * *
—
Clizia had waited for what she believed to be a suitably long time before using her scrye orb to attempt to contact Drisker. She had spent most of the day until then considering what approach she should take to get the Druid to do what she wanted. She had woken that morning knowing exactly how she would use Tarsha Kaynin, but she had waited through most of the day to act. Best not to rush things. Best to think them through. It was midafternoon, and the girl was napping in her bedroom. Clizia had given her tea with a little something added to keep her out of the way while she carried out her plan. The drug she had added to the tea would keep her sleeping for several hours, so there was little reason to worry while she was using the scrye orb. The time she required was assured.
All this assuming, of course, that Drisker Arc was still alive. But she couldn’t help thinking that he was. It was an irrational conclusion, given her certainty just days ago that there was no possibility that he could have survived. But she had learned over the years to pay attention to those kinds of premonitions.
She gave herself a chance to think through again what she intended to say and how she would say it. She would only get one chance, and it was important that she not make a mistake. It would be easy enough to do so, after all. Drisker was no fool.
So she waited patiently until she could be certain Tarsha was asleep, sitting on the porch and looking out into the sun-streaked trees that allowed her brief glimpses of the surrounding homes, which housed the neighbors she never seemed to see. Her secretive watcher was absent today, off doing whatever it did when it wasn’t spying on her. The whole of the forest was filled with birdsong and flashes of brightness as reflective surfaces caught the sunlight and spun it away again in tiny bursts. Except for the watchers, she liked it here and could have stayed and been comfortable. But once she had Drisker and Paranor back, she needed to move ahead with her plans to deal with the Skaar. How she would do so remained a moving target, but one step led to another, and until you took each step you could not be entirely certain where the next would lead.
So when she was certain Tarsha slept, she brought out the scrye orb and called upon its magic, turning its all-seeing eye on Drisker. She wondered belatedly if it could penetrate the veil that enfolded both the Druid and Paranor, but she needn’t have worried. Within moments of her summoning, he appeared before her, very much alive. She allowed herself a quick, pleased smile.
“How nice of you to visit,” he said. His voice was calm enough, but his expression was dark and menacing and there was weariness visible in his eyes. “Surprised to see me?”
“I want to make a bargain with you,” she replied, ignoring the question. “How would you like to get out of there?”
He gave her a doubtful look. “What mischief are you up to now, Clizia?”
“It appears I was a bit hasty in sending you off in such a rude manner. I should have thought it through better. Perhaps you would like to come back and join me in creating my new Druid order? I find I am not quite equal to the task I have set myself.”
Now there was merriment in his eyes. “I would rather crawl across broken glass than help you. But thank you for asking.”