He turned back to the casing and passed his hand in front of it once more. The Sword of Shannara disappeared, and the wrappings of canvas and chains were restored.
Bek continued staring at them, as if still seeing the talisman they concealed. “You’re giving the Sword of Shannara to me?”
The Druid nodded.
The boy’s voice was shaking as he spoke. “Walker, I don’t know if I can—“
“No, Bek,” the Druid interrupted him quickly, gently. “Say nothing tonight. Tomorrow is soon enough. There is much to discuss, and we will do so then. You’ll have questions, and I will do my best to answer them. We will work together to prepare for what will happen when it is necessary for you to summon the sword’s magic.”
Bek’s eyes shifted anxiously, and the Druid met the question mirrored there with a reassuring smile. “Not against your sister, though one day you might have to use it in that way. No, this first time the magic will serve another purpose. If I have read the map correctly, Bek, the Sword of Shannara is the key to our gaining entry into Ice Henge.”
TWENTYSEVEN
Come daybreak, Bek rose and went about his morning duties as cabin boy in something of a daze, still struggling with the previous night’s revelations, when the Druid intercepted him coming out of Rue Meridian’s cabin and told him to follow. It was an hour after sunrise, and Bek had dressed and eaten breakfast. He still had tasks to perform, but Walker’s summons didn’t leave room for discussion on the matter.
They climbed topside and walked forward to the bow railing, very close to where they had stood the night before. The sky around them was unchanged, gray and misted and impenetrable. Everywhere Bek looked, right or left, up or down, the color and light were the same. Visibility was still limited to thirty feet or so. Those of the ship’s company already on deck had the look of ghosts, ethereal and not quite fully formed. Redden Alt Mer stood in the pilot box with Furl Hawken, two Rovers were at work aft, braiding new ends on the portside radian draws, and Quentin sparred with the Elven Hunters on the foredeck under Ard Patrinell’s steady gaze. No one looked up as Bek passed or acted as if anything about the boy had changed, even though in his mind everything had.
“To begin with, you are still Bek Rowe,” Walker told him when they were seated together on a casing filled with light sheaths. “You are not to use the name Ohmsford. It is too recognizable, and you don’t want to draw unneeded attention to yourself.”
Bek nodded. “All right.”
“Also, I don’t want you to tell anyone what you’ve told me or what you’ve learned from me about your magic, your history, or the Sword of Shannara. Not even Quentin. Not one word.”
He waited. Bek nodded once more.
“Finally, you are not to forget that you are here to serve as my eyes and ears, to listen and keep watch. That wasn’t an idle assignment, meant to give you something to do until it was time to tell you who you were. Your magic gives you powers of observation that are lacking in most. I still need you to use those talents. They are no less important now than they were before.”
“I can’t see that I’ve put them to much use so far,” Bek observed.
“Nothing I’ve told you has been particularly useful.”
The Druid’s ironic smile flashed momentarily and was gone. “You don’t think so? Maybe you’re not paying close enough attention.”
“Does Ryer Ord Star see anything in her dreams that could help you? Is she keeping watch as well?”
“She does what she can. But your sight, Bek, though not a seer’s, is the more valuable.” He shifted so that he was leaning very close. “She dreams of outcomes before they happen, but you spy out causes while they’re still seeking to create an effect. That’s the difference in the magic you wield. Remember that.”
Bek had no idea what Walker was talking about, but decided to mull over it another time. He nodded.