Терри Брукс - Jarka Ruus

• Название: Jarka Ruus
• Автор: Терри Брукс
• Жанр: Фэнтези

High Druid of Shannara. More than a quarter of a century after The Sword of Shannara carved out its place in the pantheon of great epic fantasy, the magic of Terry Brooks's New York Times bestselling saga burns as brightly as ever. Three complete series have chronicled the ever–unfolding history of Shannara. But more stories are still to be told–and new adventures have yet to be undertaken. Book One of High Druid of Shannara invites both the faithful longtime reader and the curious newcomer to take the first step on the next extraordinary quest. Twenty years have passed since Grianne Ohmsford denounced her former life as the dreaded Ilse Witch–saved by the love of her brother, the magic of the Sword of Shannara, and the destruction of her evil mentor, the Morgawr. Now, fulfilling the destiny predicted for her, she has established the Third Druid Council, and dedicated herself to its goals of peace, harmony among the races, and defense of the Four Lands. But the political intrigue, secret treachery, and sinister deeds that have haunted Druid history for generations continue to thrive.

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Her eyes grew heavy with the drink, and she moved to her bed, slipped off her robe, and climbed beneath the covers. Her last thoughts were of the strange happenings in the ruins of the Skull Kingdom and her determination to discover who had initiated them. A visit to the Hadeshorn and the shades of the Druids might provide insight into the matter, and she had already made the necessary arrangements for the journey. As soon as the meetings with Sen Dunsidan were completed, she would depart with Kermadec, perhaps even telling Tagwen where she was going, just to see the look of disapproval on his face.

She was too tired even to blow out the candles on her writing desk, and so drifted off to sleep with the light of both still flickering brightly in the overlay of the chamber's deep shadows.

* * *

Night settled over Paranor, silent and velvet black under a wash of light from moon and stars that spilled from a cloudless sky. Most of the Druids were asleep, only a few who liked working late at night still awake in their rooms and study chambers, keeping to themselves. The Troll watch was in place, not only at the door of the Ard Rhys but at the gates of the Keep, as well. There was no real concern for anyone's safety, no anticipation of the sort of danger that had existed in the time of the Warlock Lord, but the Trolls were careful anyway. Complacency had undone the Druids and their protectors in the past.

Shadea a'Ru stole through the walls of the high tower, following the twists and turns of the secret passageway that led to the sleeping chamber of the Ard Rhys. It was well after midnight, and she knew no better opportunity would offer itself than the one she acted on now. She had swept the musty corridor of magic once again only two days earlier, during the Ard Rhys' absence, and she was quite certain Grianne had not had an opportunity to reset her wardings in the short time since her return. The sorceress moved slowly in the gloom, generating a small finger of magic light to keep from stumbling. She must make no sound in her approach, offer nothing that would alert the sleeping Ard Rhys to her presence. She must maintain the presence of a tiny mouse.

She was sweating freely, her body heat elevated by the closeness of the passageway and her excitement. She was not afraid. She was never afraid. It wasn't that she was reckless or foolish; it was that she understood the nature of her risk. Failure in dangerous situations came about because of poor planning or bad luck. The former was something you could control, and if you kept your wits about you, sometimes the latter, as well. She had learned that for people like her, orphans and disadvantaged souls, gains were achieved mostly through risk. That was the nature of her lot in life, and she had long ago accepted it.

The night's activities would measure that acceptance in a way it hadn't been measured before. If she succeeded, she would have a chance at gaining everything she had wanted for so long. If she failed, she would likely be dead.

That was acceptable to Shadea a'Ru. For what was at stake, that was a price worth wagering.

She wondered anew at the source of the liquid night. It bothered her that it had come into the possession of someone who did not himself possess magic. Sen Dunsidan was a high–ranking official in a powerful government, but he lacked the skills and resources to obtain something so powerful on his own. He must have had help, and she didn't like it that help of a magical sort had not come from her. It meant he had another option and might choose to use it down the road, and that could prove dangerous to her. Still, he needed her. Without her, he could not hope to gain control of the Druid order, and without that, his plans for the Free–born could not succeed.

Ahead, the last stairway led upward to the tower chamber where Grianne Ohmsford slept. Shadea slowed automatically, her movements, her thinking, even her breathing, and calmed herself. Soundlessly, she climbed the stone steps to the landing beyond, then stood just outside the section of wall that opened into forbidden territory. She tested the fabric of warding she had left in place and found it undisturbed. The Ard Rhys had not bothered to see if anyone had tampered with her magic. She still thought herself safe.

A fierce rush of anticipation surged through Shadea as she reached into her robes and extracted the bottle of liquid night. Silence concealed her movements, extending from the place she stood to the chamber beyond and then to the Keep beyond that. Dreams and slumber blanketed the rooms of Paranor, where her occupants lay unmoving and unaware. She listened, satisfied, and set the bottle on the floor in front of her.

She was ready.

Carefully, she constructed a series of spells and incantations, setting them atop one another in the space before the door. One after another, she created them with movements and words. No one saw or heard. No one could. She breathed as if there was not enough air to waste on breathing, creating an intricate pattern of small, cautious inhales and exhales that fed her efforts. Her life force became a part of her efforts, aiding and supporting. She kept her concentration fixed on the task at hand, neither wavering nor hesitating even once, working steadily and diligently at her task.

It took her almost an hour to complete the conjurings. Then she knelt before the wall and opened the skin of magic she had left in place, giving herself clear access to the secret doorway and the chamber beyond. She could hear the sound of her heart beating and the pumping of her blood through her body. It seemed to her that she could hear the Ard Rhys breathing on the other side of the wall, deep in sleep but capable of waking in an instant.

She prepared to remove the stopper from the bottle of night liquid.

Her hands began to shake.

For just a second she faltered, thinking suddenly that she was daring too much; that she was overreaching herself: that her failure to accomplish what she was attempting to undertake was assured; that the moment she tried to place the liquid inside the bedchamber, the Ard Rhys would wake and discover her treachery; that she would have been smarter simply to feed the Ard Rhys poison and be done with it; that this more sophisticated execution would never work. How could it?

Furious with herself, she crushed her hesitation and doubt as if they were annoying insects buzzing in her ears.

She pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured it into the funnel she had created in the last conjuring of magic, sending both the liquid night and the spells that directed it into the chamber beyond.

There, it was done, she told herself, replacing the stopper once more.

She rocked back on her heels to wait.

* * *

Grianne Ohmsford woke just long enough to recognize that something was dreadfully wrong, that an alien magic had bypassed her wardings and entered her room. She threw up her defensive magic instantly, but it was already too late. The room was moving—or she was moving in it—consumed by a blackness that transcended anything she had ever known. She fought to get free of it, but could not make herself move. She tried to cry out, but no sound came forth. She was trapped, immobilized and helpless. The blackness was enveloping her, sweeping her away, bearing her off like a death shroud wound about a corpse on its way to interment, clinging and impenetrable and final.

She felt the shroud slowly begin to tighten.

Shades! she swore silently as she realized what was happening, and then the blackness was in her mouth and nose and ears, was inside her body and her mind. She struggled until her strength was gone and with it her hope, and then she lost consciousness.

* * *

Still hidden in the passageway behind the wall of the bed chamber, Shadea a'Ru listened to the faint, sudden sounds of movement on the other side, then to the enveloping silence that followed. She was desperate for a look inside, but didn't dare to open the passageway door for fear of what she would find. She held her breath, listening as the silence lengthened.

Then a finger of blackness wormed its way under the door, the leading edge of a clutch of ragged tendrils. They twisted and groped as if seeking to snare her, as if the Ard Rhys was not enough, and Shadea stepped back quickly, poised to flee. She did not know what it was—some residue of the liquid night, perhaps—but she wasn't about to find out. The fingers stretched a bit farther, crooking toward her, then slowly retreated and disappeared back beneath the door.

Shadea a'Ru was sweating heavily, the tunic beneath her Druid robes drenched. Something had happened in the Ard Rhys' bed chamber, something that was the result of what Shadea had done—of that much, she was certain. But she could not know the particulars right away—not until morning, perhaps. No matter how desperate she was to find them out, she could do nothing but go back the way she had come and wait.

She exhaled heavily, quickly, a fear she had never felt suddenly caressing her in an all too familiar fashion. She backed away, still watching the door, retreating cautiously down the steps she had climbed more than an hour earlier, listening, listening.

By the time she reached the landing below and turned into the passageway leading out of the Keep's stone walls, it was all she could do to keep from running.

SIX

In spite of the chill she experienced even coming near the bed chamber, Shadea a'Ru made certain she was among the first to discover that the leader of the Druid order was missing. She was there, waiting to speak to Grianne, when Tagwen appeared with breakfast. Employing her most subservient manner, she requested an audience at the Ard Rhys' convenience. Tagwen gave her his patented nod of agreement, the one that said he would act on her request immediately while at the same time wishing she would disappear into the earth, and entered the chamber. As he went inside, Shadea caught a glimpse of the room and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Maybe, she thought suddenly, nothing had happened after all. Maybe the liquid night had failed.

But a moment later the Dwarf reappeared, looking confused and not a little concerned. Had the Ard Rhys gone out already? He asked the Troll guard. They said she had not, that she had been in her room all night. When Tagwen hesitated, clearly uncertain about what to do next, Shadea stepped into the breach and took over.

«Where is your mistress?» she demanded of the Trolls. «Why isn't she in her room? Have you let something happen to her?»

Without waiting for the response she knew they couldn't give, she brushed past Tagwen and went in, glancing around quickly. The bed was unmade, the covers rumpled and tossed. Last night's sleeping tea was set to one side, the cup empty. Notes for the meeting with Sen Dunsidan lay stacked neatly on her writing table, ready for use. A surreptitious glance at the wall behind which she had hidden and fed the liquid night into the chamber revealed nothing. There was no trace of the potion and none of Grianne Ohmsford, either. There was no indication at all of what had actually happened.

She spun back to face Tagwen, who had entered behind her, a furious look on his rough face. «Where is she, Tagwen?» she snapped, bringing him up short. «What's wrong?»

«Nothing is wrong!» he replied defensively, moving at once to the writing table to snatch up Grianne's notes. «You can't be in here, Shadea!»

«If nothing is wrong, then where is the Ard Rhys?» she demanded, ignoring his protest. «Why isn't she in her room?»

«I don't know," he admitted, a prickly tone to his words, placing himself squarely in her path. «But I don't see that it is your concern in any case.»

«It is the concern of all of us, Tagwen. She doesn't belong to you alone. When did you see her last?»

The Dwarf looked mortified. «Just before midnight. She took her tea and was going to bed.» He looked around doubtfully, «She must have gone out.»

«Without the Troll watch seeing her?» Shadea looked around as if to make sure the Ard Rhys wasn't somewhere plainly in view, then declared, «We need to make a search at once.»

«You can't do that!» he exclaimed, appalled. «You don't even know that anything has happened to her! There's no reason for a search!»

«There is every reason," she declared firmly. «But we'll keep it quiet for the moment. You and I are the only ones who need know of this until we make certain nothing has happened. Or would you prefer we stand around doing nothing?»

Clearly at a loss as to what to do, he made no response to her unspoken accusation. Already she was assuming command of the Keep, and he could nothing do to prevent it. He didn't fully realize yet what was happening; his concern for the Ard Rhys was clouding his judgment. Had he been thinking clearly, he might have wondered at how quick Shadea was to act. She smiled inwardly at his obvious confusion. He would do better to forget the Ard Rhys and worry about himself. But he would come to that particular realization too late.

Under the supervision of the sorceress, the Troll watch conducted a search for the Ard Rhys. It took less than an hour and revealed exactly what Shadea had been hoping for: No trace of Grianne Ohmsford was to be found anywhere. At its conclusion, she demanded to know what Tagwen was going to do.

«You were the last one to see her, Tagwen, and she is your responsibility in any case. That is why you were selected to be her personal assistant.»

Tagwen looked crushed. «I don't know what could have happened to her. She wouldn't leave Paranor without telling me. She was preparing for this morning's meeting with the Prime Minister just last night, when I brought her tea and said good night. I don't understand it!»

He was clearly holding himself responsible, even though there was no reason for him to do so save out of loyalty to his mistress. That was what Shadea was counting on. «Well, Tagwen, let's not panic," she soothed. «It isn't time yet for the meeting. She may have slipped away to do some thinking on it. She comes and goes like that now and then, doesn't she? Using her magic so no one can tell what she's about?»

Tagwen nodded doubtfully. «Sometimes.»

«Perhaps she has done so here. You wait for her in her chambers and I will look for her myself. I will use my own magic in an effort to trace her movements. Perhaps I can read something of them in the air.» She patted his shoulder. «Don't worry, she'll turn up.»

With that false reassurance to placate him, she departed the bedchamber and went to the rooms of her confederates. One by one, she advised them that the plan was working. As expected, there was some grumbling from each over her decision to act alone, but their discontent was more than offset by their euphoria. The Ard Rhys was dispatched. Now they must begin to gain control of the Druids and the Keep. Once it became known that the Ard Rhys had disappeared, confusion and indecision would quickly settle over Paranor. A vacuum would open with the loss of Grianne Ohmsford's leadership, and no one would want to be too quick to step into it. Shadea's name must be the first mentioned as the logical choice, in part premised on her early involvement and willingness to take action. It must appear that of all those who might be called upon to take charge, she was the one in the best position to do so.

For that to happen, she must not only have verbal support from her allies, but also have demonstrated her ability to serve. The best way to accomplish that was to offer up a scapegoat to bear responsibility for what had happened to the Ard Rhys. Some one must be made to bear the blame, and she had already decided who that would be. Her confederates were to spread the rumor that the Ard Rhys had been murdered and that the Rock Trolls who guarded her were in some way responsible. There was no proof or could there be, of course, but in the heat of the moment, many would find reason to believe it was true. A word here and there was all that was required. With enough talk, momentum would build in favor of that explanation, and it would take on the appearance of logic.