The Wishsong of Shannara by Terry Brooks

he went, and I’ve done that. He went to your village, to your family. Now he’s gone back to the Eastland—isn’t that right? Oh, you needn’t answer. At least not to me. But you will have to answer to those who came with me when they get here in the morning. A bit slow they are, but sure. I had to leave them to be certain I caught you. You see, they want to know something of Allanon’s visit. They want to know why he came. And unfortunately for you, they want to know one thing more.”
    He paused meaningfully, eyes boring into Jair. The Valeman took a deep breath. “About the magic?” he whispered.
    “Sharp fellow.” Slanter’s smile was hard.
    “What if I don’t want to tell them?”
    “That would be foolish,” the Gnome said quietly.
    They stared at each other wordlessly. “The Wraith would make me tell, wouldn’t he?” Jair asked finally.
    “The Wraith is not your problem.” Slanter snorted. “The Wraith’s gone north after the Druid. The Sedt is your problem.”
    The Valeman shook his head. “Sedt? What is a Sedt?”
    “A Sedt is a Gnome chieftain—in this case, Spilk. He commands the patrol. A rather unpleasant fellow. Not like me, you see. Very much an Eastland Gnome. He would just as soon cut your throat as look at you. He’s your problem. You’d better answer the questions he asks.”
    He shrugged. “Besides, once you’ve told Spilk what he wants to know, I’ll do what I can to see that you’re released. After all, our fight’s not with the Vale people. Our fight’s with the Dwarves. Not to disappoint you, but you’re really not all that important. That magic of yours is what’s interesting. No, you answer the questions and I think you’ll be turned loose quick enough.”
    Jair eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t believe you.”
    Slanter drew back. “You don’t? Well, here’s my word on it, then. As good as your own.” Heavy eyebrows arched. “It means as much to me as yours does, boy. Now take it.”
    Jair said nothing for a moment. Strangely enough, he thought the Gnome was telling him the truth. If he promised he would seek Jair’s release, he would do just that. If he thought Jair would be released on answering the questions asked, Jair probably would. Jair grimaced. On the other hand, why should he trust any Gnome?
    “I don’t know,” he muttered.
    “You don’t know?” Slanter shook his head hopelessly. “You’d think you had a choice, boy. You don’t answer, Spilk goes to work on you. You still don’t answer, he turns you over to the walkers. What do you think happens to you then?”
    Jair went cold to the bone. He didn’t care to think about what would happen then.
    “I thought you were smart,” the Gnome continued, wizened yellow features twisting into a grimace. “Smart, the way you got past those others back there—even got past the walker. So stay smart. What difference does it make now what you tell anyone? What difference if you tell the Sedt why the Druid came to see you? The Druid’s gone by now anyway—won’t likely catch up to him this side of the Eastland. He wouldn’t tell you anything all that important anyway, would he? The magic—well, all they want to know about the magic is how you learned it. The Druid, maybe? Someone else?” He waited a moment, but Jair said nothing. “Well, anyway, just tell how you learned it and how you use it—simple enough and no skin off your nose. No games, just tell the truth. You do that, and that’s the end of your use.”
    Again he waited for Jair to respond, and again the Valeman stayed silent.
    Slanter shrugged. “Well, think on it.” He stood up, stretched, and came over to Jair. Smiling cheerfully, he replaced the gag in the Valeman’s mouth. “Sorry about the sleeping accommodations, but I can’t be taking many chances with you. You’ve shown me that much.”
    Still smiling, he retrieved a blanket from the far side of the clearing, brought it over to Jair and wrapped it about him, tucking