so they took turns in the middle of their huddle. When dawn reached over the mountain crest, it found them stiff, sore, and still weary.
The descent into the forest was harder on their legs than yesterday’s climb through the gap had been. Ruari discovered new muscles along his shins and across the tops of his feet. It would have been easier if his body had simply gone numb, but he felt every step from his heel to the base of his skull. He had no idea how the other three were doing; his world began and ended with the aches of his body.
When Orekel asked to see the map, Ruari dug it out of his sleeve without a second thought.
“Son, this here, this here’s not a map, son.”
“I never said it was,” Ruari countered, smiling wearily and looking for something to sit on that wouldn’t be impossible to get up from afterward.
“Son, we have a problem.”
Ruari eased himself onto the trunk of a fallen tree. He wished he didn’t hurt so much. The forest was a miraculous place—the promise every druid made in his grove fulfilled to the greatest imaginable measure. There were birds and insects to complement the trees, and gray-bottomed clouds in the distance bearing the promise of real, not magic-induced, rain. The land quivered and crawled with riotous life, more life in a handful of moist, crumbly dirt than in a day’s walking across the barren Tablelands.
And Ruari couldn’t appreciate it. Not only did he hurt too much, he wasn’t here to immerse himself in druidry. He’d come to the forest to find a black tree, to find Kakzim and bring him to justice. For Pavek. All for Pavek, because it was Kakzim’s fault that Pavek was dead. He’d take Kakzim’s head back to Urik and hurl it at Hamanu’s palace. Then he’d go home to Urik and plant a tree for his friend.
“Son—” Orekel tugged on his sleeve. “Son, I say we have a problem.”
“You can’t help us,” Ruari said slowly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You can’t find the black tree. All that talk in Ject about halfling treasure you hadn’t brought out because you’d gotten ‘tempted,’ that was just wind in the air. You’re no different than Mady: you thought we had a map we weren’t smart enough to keep or follow.”
Orekel removed his cap. “You put a mite too fine a point on things, son. The black tree, she’s in this forest, and she’s got treasure trove buried ’neath her roots. She’s not two-day’s walk from here, and that’s a fact. But this here—” He held out the map. “Now, you don’t rightly speak Halfling, so you’re not likely to read it much either. So, you got to believe me, son, this here’s not a map to the black tree; it’s more a map to your place, I reckon, to Urik—that’s where you come from, now, isn’t it?”
Ruari tried to remember if he or Zvain or Mahtra had mentioned Urik since they’d met the dwarf, but his memory refused to cooperate. Maybe they had and Orekel was playing them for fools, or maybe he could read those marks, one of which spelled Urik. Either way, Ruari was too tired for deception.
“Around Urik, yes.”
“Always best to be honest, son,” Orekel advised, and suddenly his eyes seemed much sharper, his movements, crisper. “Now, maybe we can solve our problem—you being a druid and all—maybe you don’t need a map to find the black tree. Like as not, you can just kneel down on the ground the way you did up on the crest and mumble a few words that’ll show you the way.”
Ruari said no with a shake of his head.
Zvain hobbled over. The boy looked at the tree trunk and—wiser than Ruari—chose not to sit down. “Sure you could, Ru. You’ve just got to try. Come on, Ru—try, please?”
He shook his head again; he’d already tried. As soon as Orekel had made the suggestion, Ruari had—almost without thinking—put his palms against the moss-covered bark and opened himself to the aspects of the forest. The blare of life would have overwhelmed him if he’d had the wit or will to resist it. Instead, it had flowed through him like water through a hollow log—in one side and out the other.
In the aftermath of that flow, Ruari considered it fortunate that he’d been numbed by aches and exhaustion. The guardian aspects of this forest weren’t habituated to a druid’s touch, weren’t habituated and didn’t seem to