“But that’s not it, is it? That’s not the reason.”
Truls Rohk seemed to shimmer, his blackness turning liquid, as if he might simply fade away without answering anything, as if he might disappear and never come back. But the movement steadied, and the big man went still.
“I saved your life,” he said. “When you save another’s life, you become responsible for it. I learned that a long time ago. I believe it to be so.”
He made a quick, dismissive gesture. “But it’s much more complicated. Games-playing, of another sort. I have no one in my own life-no home, no people, no place that belongs to me. I have no real purpose. My future is a blank. It is a need for direction that draws me to the Druid. For a time, he gives me one. Each message he sends is an invitation to be a part of something. Each message gives me a chance to discover something about myself. I don’t do much of that in the Wolfsktaag. There’s not really much left of me to discover there.
“You, boy-you interest me because you offer answers to the questions I’ve asked myself. I learn from you. But I can teach you, as well-how to live as an outsider, how to survive who and what you are, how to endure the magic that will always be part of you. I’m curious to see how well you learn. Curiosity is all I have, and I try to satisfy it whenever I can.”
“You’ve taught me more than I could ever hope to teach you,” Bek ventured. “I don’t see that I can do much for you.”
For just an instant, the shape-shifter went absolutely still. Then he made a low growling sound. “Don’t be so sure of that. It’s early yet. If you live long enough, you might surprise yourself.”
Bek let that pass. Truls Rohk was giving him just enough to keep him happy, but not everything. There was something more that he wasn’t revealing, some important piece of information he was keeping to himself. It was probably true that he felt a connection to Bek, that he felt it in part because of the magic and in part because he had saved the boy’s life. It was also probably true that he had come on the voyage because it gave him purpose and insight and satisfied his need to be involved with something. Living alone in the Wolfsktaag might well be too confining, too restrictive. But that was still only part of what had brought him along, and the greater part, the larger truth, lay somewhere else in his bag of secrets.
“Why don’t you ever take off your cloak?” Bek asked suddenly, impulsively.
He did it without thinking, but knowing even so that it would generate a strong response. It did. He could feel a change in the other, instantly, a chilling withdrawal that whispered of anger and frustration and sadness, as well, but he did not back off.
“Why don’t you ever show me your face?” he pressed.
Truls Rohk was silent for a moment. Bek could hear him breathing, rough and agitated within his enveloping blackness. “You don’t want to see me the way I really am, boy. You don’t want to see me without this cloak.”
Bek shook his head. “Maybe I do. What’s wrong with seeing who you really are? If we’re connected as you say, linked by our sharing of magic, then you shouldn’t need to hide how you look.”
“Hssst! What would you know of my needs? We’ve barely met, you and I. You think you’re ready for what’s hidden under these robes and within this cowl, but you aren’t. You know nothing of what I am. There isn’t another like me out there, a halfling-a shape-shifter and a human both. There’s no mold for what I am. Maybe I don’t even know what that is. Have you thought of that? We change at will, shape-shifters do, becoming what we need to be. What does that mean, when half of you is human? What happens when part of you is unchangeable and part as thin as air? Think on that before you ask me again to show you how I look!”