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Dunsidan didn t know any of them by sight save Tagwen, who was hiding belowdecks, but it didn t hurt
to be cautious.
As he finished tying off the lines, Pen went over in his mind one last time the details of what was about to
happen. If they were mistaken in any way about how the darkwand would react or if his aunt had
guessed wrong about what he needed to do or, worst of all, if the King of the Silver River had deceived
his father in his fever dream, then none of them were likely to return from theZolomach alive. But it was
mostly up to him to make the plan succeed, and it was his own judgment that was likely to determine
how things turned out.
His mother and Khyber were moving along the railing toward the ramp that had been lowered from the
Zolomach to allow them to board. Unbidden, he fell into step behind them, carrying the darkwand in his
right hand, the almost black, rune-carved surface gleaming in the sunlight. He sensed Sen Dunsidan s
gaze his demon s gaze drawn to it. Cold and dead as deep winter, those blue eyes flared with sudden
interest, and Pen felt a chill run up and down his spine.
Fighting down his repulsion and fear, he took a deep, steadying breath and stepped up onto the ramp
behind his mother and Khyber as they walked slowly across to the other vessel. His father stood silently
in the pilot box, showing no particular interest in the proceedings, a mercenary paid to do his job. But he
would have already summoned the magic of the wishsong and be holding it at his fingertips. He would be
watching carefully for any sign of treachery.
Pen paused to glance down. Below, the countryside spread away in a broad tapestry of mixed greens
and mottled browns. They were several hundred feet in the air, suspended above the world with no place
to run. Trapped, if things went wrong. But things would not go wrong, he told himself. He tightened his
resolve and moved quickly off the ramp and onto theZolomach s decks.
Federation soldiers and crew surrounded him, crowding in until there was nowhere left to stand. Seeing
what was happening, Khyber lowered her hood to reveal her Elven features, glanced disdainfully at the
men, made a quick warding motion with one hand, and watched in satisfaction as they fell backwards like
stalks of grass in a heavy wind. Only the demon was left untouched. It smiled Sen Dunsidan s smile, gave
Khyber a small nod of approval, and came forward until it was only steps away.
The smile froze. We have not yet met.
Khyber bowed. I am a servant to my mistress, Shadea a Ru, the true Ard Rhys. My name is of no
consequence. Shadea sends greetings and asks that you accept her gift of this staff. She would have
come herself, but her presence at Paranor is required while matters remain so unsettled within the order.
She sends my sister and myself in her place to offer reassurances of her commitment to the Federation.
The staff is a demonstration of her support for your alliance.
She gestured dramatically past Rue, who was still cloaked and hooded, to where Pen waited with the
darkwand. As prearranged, Pen lifted the staff and held it out so that it could be clearly seen.
The staff, Khyber said to the demon, whose eyes were riveted on it, has a special use.
She nodded to Pen, who turned his thoughts to the Forbidding and the creatures that lived within it. At
once, his connection with the staff took hold and the runes blazed to life, a crimson glow that was blinding
even in the bright morning sunshine. He saw that glow mirrored in the demon s gaze, hot and intense.
Khyber stepped close to the demon so that only it could hear. The staff gives the holder the ability to
command the attention of all who come into its presence. You can see that this is so. It also gives the
holder small insights into the thinking of those with whom he negotiates, a window on their attitudes and
concerns. It can be useful in knowing how best to persuade.
By now, images of the runes were dancing off the staff in wild patterns that flitted in the air all about Pen.
The Federation soldiers and crew muttered excitedly. The demon blinked and its eyes took on a new
look, one both hungry and anticipatory. It wanted the staff, it needed to possess it.
Will you accept my mistress s gift? Khyber pressed gently.
Sen Dunsidan s anxious features tightened, and the demon s eyes glittered. I would be honored to
accept it.
Khyber looked once more at Pen, who came forward obediently, eyes lowered as much out of fear for
what was about to happen as for the demon itself. When he got to within three feet, he stretched out his
arm and canted the glowing staff toward the demon. The demon reached for it, and then, for just a
second, hesitated. Pen felt his heart stop.
Then Sen Dunsidan s face broke into a broad smile and his fingers closed about the staff.
From the moment it saw the staff, the demon knew it had to possess it. It was not a rational craving. It
was a compulsion that defied explanation and transcended reason. It was so overpowering that the
demon barely heard what the Druid was saying as she explained the staff s uses. And when the boy held
the staff forth and the runes carved into its burnished surface flared with hypnotic brilliance, the demon
was lost. The staff must be claimed. The demon was its rightful owner and must possess it. Nothing else
mattered. Not the destruction of the Ellcrys. Not its plans to bring down the Forbidding. Nothing.
Even so, it hesitated for just a second when the staff was extended, a glimmer of suspicion aroused by
recognition of the intensity of its inexplicable attraction.
But it took the staff anyway, and the moment it did so it realized it had made a mistake. The runes blazed
like tiny flames as the demon s hand closed about the carved wood, and another kind of fire exploded
through the demon in response. It was a fire of possession, of transference and of magic, a fire meant to
cleanse and to purify. The demon felt it instantly, and tried to pull away. But its fingers would not release.
They had taken on a separate existence, and no matter how hard it tried to loosen its grip, it could not.
It screamed then, a sound that rent the air and caused even the most hardened of the Federation soldiers
to shrink away. It threw back its head and shrieked its defiance and fury. Some among the crew, the
Captain included, came racing to its aid. The demon lashed out in response, its claws splitting the
concealing skin of the human fingers, slashing and tearing at them until they fell bleeding on the deck of
the airship.
The boy still gripped the other end of the darkwand, eyes wide and staring. He knew something of what
was happening, the demon saw. Enraged, it snatched at him, trying to draw him close. But the boy
ducked away, and one of the Druid women shouted at him to let go of the staff. They understood what
was happening, as well, the demon realized. It stumbled toward them, its limbs leaden and unresponsive,
filled with the fire of the magic, throbbing with the molten heat of its workings. The boy backed away,
stubbornly keeping hold of the staff, and finally the taller of the women flung herself atop him, dragged
him to the deck, pried loose his fingers from the staff, and pulled him clear.
Instantly, the light of the staff bloomed until the demon was enveloped by its glow. It fought furiously to
free itself, slamming the staff against the deck, twisting and flailing futilely. The skin of the human Dunsidan
split wide and the clothes of the human Dunsidan ripped and tore. Both fell away, leaving it fully revealed.
Gasps and sharp hisses issued from the mouths of all who saw what it was, and there was a rush of
booted feet on the wooden decks as men fled in all directions. The demon would have given chase, if it
could have. It would have ripped their throats out. It would have drunk their blood. But it was consumed
by its struggle with the staff and could do nothing but thrash and scream its hatred of them.
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