When his uncle was gone, he looked at Wren. “What of
you?”
The Rover girl shook her head slowly. “I haven’t Walker’s
prejudices and predispositions to contend with, but I do have
his doubts.” She walked over to a gathering of rocks and seated
herself.
Par followed. “Do you think the shade spoke the truth?”
Wren shrugged. “I am still trying to decide if the shade was
even who it claimed. Par. I sensed it was, felt it in my heart,
and yet. . .” She trailed off. “I know nothing of Allanon be-
yond the stories, and I know the stories but poorly. You know
them better than I. What do you think?”
Par did not hesitate. ‘ ‘It was Allanon.”
“And do you think he spoke the truth?”
Par was conscious of the others moving over to join them,
silent, watchful. “I think there is reason to believe that he did,
yes.” He outlined his thoughts as far as he had developed them
during the walk back from the valley. He was surprised at how
convincing he sounded. He was no longer floundering; he was
beginning to gain a measure of conviction in his arguments. “I
haven’t thought it through as much as I would like,” he finished.
“But what reason would the shade have for bringing us here and
for telling us what it did if not to reveal the truth? Why would
it tell us a lie? Walker seems convinced there is a deception at
work in this, but I cannot find what form it takes or what purpose
it could possibly serve.
“Besides,” he added, “Walker is frightened of this busi-
ness-of the Druids, of the magic, of whatever. He keeps some-
thing from us. I can sense it. He plays the same game he accuses
Allanon of playing.”
Wren nodded. “But he also understands the Druids.” When
Par looked confused, she smiled sadly. “They do hide things,
Par. They hide whatever they do not wish revealed. That is their
way. There are things being hidden here as well. What we were
told was too incomplete, too circumscribed. However you
choose to view it, we are being treated no differently from our
ancestors before us.”
There was a long silence. “Maybe we should go back into
the valley tonight and see if the shade won’t come to us again,”
Morgan suggested in a tone of voice that whispered of doubt.
“Perhaps we should give Cogline a chance to reappear,” Coil
added.
Par shook his head. “I don’t think we will be seeing any more
of either for now. I expect whatever decisions we make will have
to be made without their help.”
“I agree.” Wren stood up again. “I am supposed to find the
Elves and-how did he put it?-return them to the world of men.
A very deliberate choice of words, but I don’t understand them.
I haven’t any idea where the Elves are or even where to begin to
look for them. I have lived in the Westfand for almost ten years
now. Garth for many more man mat, and between us we have
been everywhere mere is to go. I can tell you for a fact that there
are no Elves to be found there. Where else am I to look?”
She came over to Par and faced him. “I am going home.
There is nothing more for me to do here. I will have to think on
this, but even thinking may be of no use. If the dreams come
again and tell me something of where to begin this search, then
perhaps I will give it a try. But for now . . .”
She shrugged. “Well. Goodbye, Par.”
She hugged and kissed him, then did the same for Coil and
even Morgan this time. She nodded to the Dwarves and began
gathering up her things. Garth joined her silently.
“I wish you would stay a bit longer. Wren,” Par tried, quiet
desperation welling up like a knot in his stomach at the thought
of being left alone to wrestle with mis matter.
“Why not come with me instead?” she answered. “You
would probably be better off in the Wesdand.”
Par looked at Coil, who frowned. Morgan looked away. Par