Ilse Witch-Voyage of the Jerle Shannara, Book 1, Terry Brooks

Of course!

“Suggesting that the cause and ownership rights of the Elven people are greater than those of the other races, even if the magic recovered might benefit them, as well?”

The King flushed anew, stiffening within his robes. He leaned forward combatively. “Do not try to make me feel guilt or remorse for the protections I seek to give to my own people, Walker! It is my duty to do so! Let others do so, as well, and perhaps a balance will be struck!”

“I have trouble understanding why, on the one hand, you support a Druid Council giving equal rights to all nations and peoples while, on the other, you seek to withhold what might benefit them most. Should I undertake a quest only for you, when what I would most covet at its end is forbidden me?” He paused, reflecting. “Magic belongs to everyone, Elven King, especially when it impacts all. A sharing of magic must begin somewhere. Let it begin here.”

Allardon Elessedil stared hard at him, but the Druid held his gaze and kept his expression neutral. The seconds dragged past with neither man speaking further, eyes locked.

“I cannot agree,” the Elven King repeated firmly.

Walker’s brow creased thoughtfully. “I will make a bargain with you,” he said. “A compromise of our positions. You will share fully in what I find, magic or no. But we shall make an agreement as to the nature of that sharing. That which you can use without my help, I will give to you freely. That which only I can use belongs to me.”

The King studied him. “The advantage is yours in this bargain. You are better able to command the use of magic than I or my people.”

“Magic that is Elven in nature will be readily understood by Elves and should belong to them. The Elfstones, for example, if found, belong to you. But magic that has another source, whatever its nature, cannot be claimed by Elves alone, especially if they cannot wield it.”

“There is no magic in the world except that which was handed down by the Elves out of the world of Faerie! You know that!”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

The King shook his head helplessly. “There is a trick in all this.”

“Describe it, then.”

“All right, all right!” The Elf sighed. “This matter has to be resolved. I’ll accept your compromise. That magic that is Elven in nature and can be commanded by us is ours. The rest stays with the Druid Council. I don’t like this bargain, but I can live with it.”

They shook hands wordlessly. Walker rose, squinting against the sharp glare of the sunrise as he looked east over the trees. His black robes rippled softly in the breeze. Allardon Elessedil stood up with him. The sharp features looked pinched and tired despite the early hour. “What do you intend to do now?”

The Druid shifted his gaze back to the King. “I’ll need the use of the Wing Rider and his Roc.”

“Hunter Predd? I’ll speak with him. Will you fly to Bracken Clell?”

“Will you go with me, if I do?” the Druid countered. “Or have you done so already?”

Allardon Elessedil shook his head. “I’ve been waiting on you.”

“It is your brother, perhaps, who lies dying in the Healer’s home, Elven King.”

“Perhaps. But it’s been thirty years, and he’s been dead to me a long time already.” The King sighed. “It complicates things if I go with you. Home Guard will insist on going as well, to protect me. Another Roc will be needed. It might be better if I remain here.”

Walker nodded. “I’ll go alone then, and afterwards farther on to find a ship and crew.”

“I could help you with that.”

“You could, but I would prefer that you helped me in another way if you choose to remain here. There are certain things I want from a ship and crew that will take us in search of the map’s treasure, things that I must determine for myself. But I will rely on you to select those who would defend us. Elven Hunters, of course, but perhaps a handful of others as well. Bordermen and Dwarves, I should think. Are you willing to find them for me?”

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