A voice spoke at his elbow. “I always wonder if she is watching me, if by virtue of having been given responsibility over all of her people I require her constant vigilance. I always wonder if I am living up to her expectations.”
Walker turned to find Allardon Elessedil standing beside him. It had been many years since he had seen him last, yet he recognized him at once. Allardon Elessedil was older and grayer, more weathered and careworn, and the robes he wore were pale and nondescript. But he carried himself in the same regal manner and exuded the same rocklike presence. Allardon Elessedil was not one of the great Elven Kings; he had been denied that legacy by a history that had not given him reason or need to be so and by a temperament that was neither restless nor inquisitive. He was a caretaker King, a ruler who felt his principal duty was to keep things as they were. Risk taking was for other men and other races, and the Elves in his time had not been at the forefront of civilization’s evolution in the Four Lands.
The Elven King did not offer his hand in greeting or speak any words of welcome. It remained to be seen, Walker judged, how their meeting would conclude.
Walker looked back at the Ellcrys. “We cannot hope to know what she expects of us, Elven King. It would be presumptuous even to try.”
If the other man was offended, he did not show it. “Are you rested?” he asked.
“I am. I slept undisturbed. But at first light, I felt the need to walk here. Is this a problem?”
Allardon Elessedil brushed the question off with a wave of his hand. “Hardly. You are free to walk where you choose.”
Yes, but not to do as I please, Walker thought. How bitter he had been on leaving all those years ago. How despairing. But time’s passing had blunted the edges of those once sharp feelings, and flow they were mostly memory. It was a new age, and the Elven King was growing old now and in need of him. Walker could achieve the result that had been denied him for so long if he proceeded carefully. It was a strange, exhilarating feeling, and he had to be cautious to keep it from showing in his voice and eyes.
“Your family is well?” he asked, making an effort at being cordial.
The other shrugged. “The children grow and take roads of their own choosing. They listen to me less and less. I have their respect, but not their obedience. I am more a father and less a King to them, and they feel free to ignore me.”
“What is it you would have them do?”
“Oh, what fathers would usually have children do.” The Elven
King chuckled. “Stay closer to home, take fewer chances, be content with the known world. Kylen fights with the Freeborn in a struggle I do not support. Ahren wanders the north in search of a future. My sons think I will live forever, and they leave me to be ruler alone.” He shrugged. “I suppose they are no different than the sons of other fathers.”
Walker said nothing. His views would not have been welcomed. If Allardon Elessedil’s Sons grew up to be different men than their father, so much the better.
“I am pleased you decided to come,” the King ventured after a moment.
Walker sighed. “You knew I would. The castaway elf—is he Kael?”
“I assume as much. He wore the bracelet. Another elf would have carried it. Anyway, we’ll know tomorrow. I hoped the map Would intrigue you sufficiently that you would be persuaded. Have You studied it?”
Walker nodded. “All night before flying here yesterday.”
“Is it genuine?” Allardon Elessedil asked.
“That’s difficult to say. It depends on what you mean. If you are asking me whether it might tell us what happened to your brother, the answer is yes. It might be a map of the voyage on which he disappeared. His name appears nowhere in the writings, but the condition and nature of the hide and ink suggest it was drawn within the last thirty years, so that it might have been his work. Is the handwriting his?”