No.
“Do you know yet what it is?”
No.
“Nothing? Nothing about it at all?”
He shook his head. She was irritated by the obvious frustra-
tion she had allowed to creep into her voice. She wanted to be
as calm as he was, as clear thinking as he had taught her to be.
She wanted to be a good student for him.
She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Is it coming
for us yet, Garth? Or waiting still?”
Waiting, he signed.
He shrugged, his craggy, bearded face expressionless, care-
fully composed. His hunter’s look. Wren knew that look. It ap-
peared when Garth felt threatened, a mask to hide what was
happening inside.
Waiting, she repeated soundlessly to herself. Why? For
what?
Garth rose, strode over to his pack, extracted a hunk of
cheese and an aleskin, and reseated himself. Wren moved over
to join him. He ate and drank without looking at her, staring
0ff at the black expanse of the Blue Divide, seemingly obliv-
IOUS 0f everything. Wren studied him thoughtfully. He was a
giant of a man, strong as iron, quick as a cat, skilled in hunt-
ing and tracking, the best she had ever known at staying alive.
He had been her protector and teacher from the time she was
a little girl, after she had been brought back into the Westland
and given over to the care of the Rovers, after her brief stay
with the Ohmsford family. How had that all come about? Her
father had been an Ohmsford, her mother a Rover, yet she
could not remember either of them. Why had she been given
back to the Rovers rather than allowed to stay with the
Ohmsfords? Who had made that decision? It had never really
been explained. Garth claimed not to know. Garth claimed that
he knew only what others had told him, which was little, and
that his only instruction, the charge he had accepted, was to
look after her. He had done so by giving her the benefit of his
knowledge, training her in the skills he had mastered, and
making her as good at what he did as he was himself. He had
worked hard to see that she learned her lessons. She had. What-
ever else Wren Ohmsford might know, she knew first and fore-
most how to stay alive. Garth had made certain of that. But this
was not training that a normal Rover child would receive-
especially a girl-child-and Wren had known as much almost
from the beginning. It led her to believe Garth knew more
than he was telling. After a time, she became convinced
of it.
Yet Garth would admit nothing when she pressed the mat-
ter. He would simply shake his head and sign that she needed
special skills, that she was an orphan and alone, and that she
must be stronger and smarter than the others. He said it, but he
refused to explain it.
She became aware suddenly that he had finished eating and
was watching her. The weathered, bearded face was no longer
hidden by shadows. She could see the set of his features clearly
and read what she found there. She saw concern etched in his
brow. She saw kindness mirrored in his eyes. She sensed deter-
mination everywhere. It was odd, she thought, but he had al-
ways been able to convey more to her in a single glance than
others could with a basketful of words.
“I don’t like being hunted like this,” she said, signing. “I don’t
like waiting to find out what is happening.”
He nodded, his dark eyes intense.
“It has something to do with the Elves,” she followed up
impulsively. “I don’t know why I feel that is so, but I do. I feel
certain of it.”
Then we should know something shortly, he replied.
“When we reach the caves of the Rocs,” she agreed. “Yes.
Because then we’ll know if the Addershag spoke the truth, if
there really are still Elves.”
And what follows us will perhaps want to know, too.
Her smile was tight. They regarded each other wordlessly
for a moment, measuring what they saw in each other’s eyes,