Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,349

the banished demon, if he hadn’t already, and he would learn the truth of Deanna Wellworth, and of Ashannon McLenny. In those courageous earlier decisions, Deanna’s course had been set, and this night was as much about her own survival as it was about helping Brind’Amour.

The old wizard awakened soon after the first slanting rays of dawn touched his face.

“He will live, I believe,” Deanna said, indicating Mystigal, who was still unconscious.

“But his magic is no more,” Brind’Amour replied, ending with a profound yawn. “The cord of magic within him has snapped.”

“As with Duke Resmore?”

Brind’Amour chuckled, amazed at how perceptive this Deanna could be. His smile did not last very long, though, as he considered what he feared might be potential trouble. “What of the duke of Eornfast?” he asked bluntly.

“His business here was finished, and so he left,” Deanna answered simply.

There was much more to it than that, Brind’Amour believed—and feared. Ashannon’s demeanor had been aloof, almost icy. The duke of Eornfast had apparently gone along with Deanna’s ploy, but was it because he agreed with her decision, or did he simply have no choice? Or even worse, Brind’Amour had to fear, did he have ulterior motives?

The old wizard’s doubt showed clearly on his wrinkled face.

“Trust in Ashannon McLenny,” Deanna begged. “He is a difficult one at times, but he holds no love for any who might claim rulership over his beloved Baranduine, be it Greensparrow or Brind’Amour.”

“I never made such a claim,” Brind’Amour was quick to respond.

“But shall you if your war goes well?”

Brind’Amour had to work hard to try and see things from Deanna’s desperate point of view, in order to avoid insult at the remark. “Never have I claimed rulership over Avon!” he insisted. “Nor has any of Eriador at any time. When Bruce MacDonald ruled Eriador united, and had a disorganized Avon at his bidding, he never claimed anything but friendship to his kin from Baranduine.”

“It is irrelevant anyway,” Deanna said quietly. “All that matters is what Ashannon believes.”

“And what does he believe?”

Deanna shrugged. “He agreed to banish his demon,” she said with confidence, “and he has done so. And this was as much his plan as it was mine own. He has been a friend for many years.”

“But would it not be in his interest to see Greensparrow weakened?” Brind’Amour reasoned. “The more difficult the war for Avon’s king, the more easily Baranduine might slip from his grasp.”

Again Deanna only shrugged. “We will have our answers soon enough,” she said. “Now I must get back to Mannington to make my report to Greensparrow.”

Brind’Amour looked skeptically at Mystigal, wondering what Deanna might be thinking to do with the broken wizard.

“I should like it if you would accompany me,” Deanna said.

Brind’Amour’s surprise was genuine.

“There is much we need to discuss,” the duchess went on.

“Planning for the time after Greensparrow?”

Deanna chuckled. “We have much to do before we can ever hope for that,” she replied. “For now, there are things you must know, and proof I must offer of my integrity in this matter.”

Brind’Amour didn’t disagree. For all he knew, this entire situation was some sort of an elaborate ruse designed to entice him into the confidence of conspirators who cared nothing for Eriador. He gave a long look to the towering mountains, wondering what progress Luthien and Bellick had made, wondering if Pipery had yet fallen.

Then he rose and stretched, and he and Deanna worked together, joining their strength to open a magical tunnel to the south.

Just a short while later, Mystigal was resting comfortably on a bed in Deanna’s private quarters, while Deanna took Brind’Amour to meet the living proof that she had turned against Greensparrow.

Selna seemed more than a little surprised to see her lady and the bushy-bearded man who accompanied her, and her jaw dropped low when Deanna introduced the stranger as the king of Eriador.

“Greensparrow was the savior of Avon,” Deanna explained to Brind’Amour. “So it has been said for more than twenty years.”

“Do not do this, my Lady,” Selna begged, but when she looked into Deanna’s eyes, she saw no compassion there.

“Tell King Brind’Amour the truth, dear Selna,” Deanna said, her voice dripping with threat. “Else I will have to make you admit things as I did before.”

Brind’Amour did not miss the blanch that came over the older woman. He put a hand on Deanna’s shoulder. “Pray tell me, dear Lady Wellworth, what was it that you did to this handmaid?”

“When I banished Taknapotin, my demon, I knew that one of