The Wishsong of Shannara by Terry Brooks Read Free Book Online Page A

that he might leave again. The tracker hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with Jair at first, despite the boy’s persistence—or anything to do with anyone else, for that matter—but then Jair had showed him something of the magic—just a touch. Intrigued, the old man had talked with him then, a little at first, then more. And what tales that old man had had to tell.
    Jair swung out onto the roadway beside the inn, turning into the side entry, grinning broadly as he remembered what it had been like. It was then that he saw the Gnome.
    For an instant he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him and he stopped where he was, his hand fastened to the inn door handle as he stared out across the roadway to the stable fence lime where the gnarled yellow figure stood. Then the other’s wizened face turned toward him, sharp eyes searching his own, and he knew at once he was not mistaken.
    Hurriedly, he pushed the inn door open and stepped inside. Leaning back against the closed door, alone now in the hallway beyond, he tried to calm himself. A Gnome! What was a Gnome doing in Shady Vale? A traveler, perhaps? But few Gnomes traveled this way—few, in fact, beyond the familiar confines of the Eastland forests. He couldn’t remember the last time there had been a Gnome in Shady Vale. But there was one here now. Maybe more than one.
    He stepped quickly away from the door and went down the hall until he stood next to a window that opened out toward the roadway. Cautiously he peered around the sill, Elven face intense, eyes searching the innyard and the fence line beyond. The Gnome stood where Jair had first seen him, still looking toward the inn. The Valeman looked about. There appeared to be no others.
    Again he leaned back against the wall. What was he to do now? Was it coincidence that brought the Gnome to Shady Vale at a time when Allanon had warned that the Mord Wraiths would be looking for them? Or was it not chance at all? Jair forced his breathing to slow. How could he find out? How could he make certain?
    He took a deep breath. The first thing he must remember to do was to stay calm. One Gnome presented no serious threat. His nose picked up the scent of beef stew simmering, and he thought about how hungry he was. He hesitated a moment longer, then started toward the kitchen. The best thing to do was to think matters through over dinner. Eat a good meal and decide on a plan of action. He nodded to himself as he walked. He would try to put himself in Rone’s boots. Rone would know what to do if he were here. Jair would have to try to do the same.
    The beef stew was excellent and Jair was starved, yet he found it difficult to concentrate on food, knowing that the Gnome was standing just outside, watching. Halfway through the meal, he remembered suddenly the empty, unguarded house and the Elfstones hidden within. If the Gnome was here at the bidding of the black walkers, then he might have come for the Elfstones as well as the Ohmsfords or Allanon. And there might be others, already searching  . . .
    He shoved his plate away, drained the remainder of his ale, and hurried from the kitchen back down the hallway to the window. Carefully, he peered out. The Gnome was gone.
    He felt his heart quicken. Now what? He turned and raced back down the hall. He had to get back to the house. He had to make certain that the Elfstones were secure, then  . . . He caught himself in midstride, slowing. He didn’t know what he would do then. He would have to see. He quickened his step once more. The important thing now was to see whether or not there had been any attempt to enter his home.
    He passed the side door through which he had entered and went on toward the rear of the building. He would leave by a different way just in case the Gnome was indeed looking for him—or even if he wasn’t, but had become suspicious at the Valeman’s furtive interest. I shouldn’t have stopped to look at him, he told himself angrily. I should