“I wish we knew more about Truls Rohk,” Bek ventured after the conversation had been going on for a time. “Why do you think Walker told us so little about him?”
Quentin contemplated the starfilled sky thoughtfully. “Well, he told us where to go to find him. He said all we had to do was ask and he would be there. Seems like enough to me.”
“It might be enough for you, but not for me. It doesn’t tell us anything about why we’re looking for him. How come he’s so important?” Bek was not about to be appeased. “If we’re to persuade him to come with us to Arborlon, shouldn’t we know why he’s needed? What if he doesn’t want to come? What are we supposed to do then?”
Quentin grinned cheerfully. “Pack up and go on. It isn’t our problem if he chooses to stay behind.” He grimaced. “See, there you go again, Bek, worrying when there isn’t any reason for it.”
“So you’re fond of telling me. So I’ll tell you something else that’s worrying me. I don’t trust Walker.”
They stared at each other in the darkness without speaking, the fire beginning to burn down, the sounds of the night lifting out of the sudden silence. “What do you mean?” Quentin asked slowly. “You think he’s lying to us?”
“No.” Bek shook his head emphatically. “If I thought that, I wouldn’t be here. No, I don’t think he’s that sort. But I do think he knows something he’s not telling us. Maybe a lot of somethings. Think about it, Quentin. How did he know about you and the Sword of Leah? He knew you had it before he even talked to us. How did he find out? Has he been keeping an eye on you all these years, waiting for a chance to summon you on a quest? How did he manage to convince your father to let us go with him, when your father wouldn’t even consider your request to fight for the Freeborn?”
He stopped abruptly. He wanted to tell Quentin what Coran had said about his parentage. He wanted to ask Quentin why he thought Coran hadn’t said a word about it until the Druid appeared. He wanted to ask his cousin if he had any idea how the Druid had ended up ferrying him to the Leah doorstep in the first place, not a task a Druid would normally undertake.
But he was not prepared to talk about any of this just yet; he was still mulling it over, trying to decide how he felt about it before sharing what he knew.
“I think you’re right,” Quentin said suddenly, surprising him. “I think the Druid’s keeping secrets from us, not the least of which is where we’re going and why. But I’ve listened to you expound on Druids and their history often enough to know that this is normal behavior for them. They know things we don’t, and they keep the information mostly to themselves. Why should that trouble you? Why not just let things unfold in the way they’re intended rather than worry about it? Look at me. I’m carrying a sword that’s supposed to be magic. I’m supposed to trust blindly in a weapon that’s never shown a moment’s inclination to be more than what it seems.”
“That’s different,” Bek insisted.
“No, it isn’t.” Quentin laughed and rocked back onto his elbows, stretching out his long legs. “It’s all the same thing. You can live your life worrying about what you don’t know, or you can accept your limitations and make the best of it. Secrets don’t harm you, Bek. It’s fussing about them that does you in.”
Bek gave him a disbelieving look. “That’s entirely wrong. Secrets can do a great deal of harm.”
“All right, let me approach it another way.” Quentin drained off his ale and sat forward again. “How much can you accomplish worrying about secrets that may not exist? Especially when you have no idea what they are?”
“I know. I know.” Bek sighed. “But at least I’m prepared for the fact that some nasty surprises might lie ahead. At least I’m ready for what I think is going to happen down the road. And by keeping an eye on Walker, I won’t be caught off guard by his shadings of the truth and purposeful omissions.”