He sat in the darkness and thought about how little chance he had of making this plan work. wasn’t there a better one? wasn’t there something else he could do?

He was just finishing his meal when a piece of paper was slid under the door. He stared at it for a moment, then reached down to retrieve it. Bent close to the bottom of the door, where the thin light gave just enough illumination to allow him to make out the words, he read:

HELP IS COMING.

Bek recognized the writing immediately. It was the same hand that had penned the note he and Rue had received on their arrival at Paranor, the one that had warned them not to trust anyone. He had never discovered the identity of the writer, and in truth, he had forgotten all about the note until that moment.

Lying on the floor next to the crack beneath the cell door, he read it again. Could he believe it? Could he trust that the writer would be able to find a way to free him? How long could he afford to wait to find out?

He stared blindly into the darkness of his prison, searching for the answers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SIX

He heard the voices first, soft and insistent, joined as one, humming and then singing, the words indecipherable, but their sound sharp and clear and compelling.

–Penderrin– she whispered from out of the confluence. –I’ve come back–

But it wasn’t her voice, and he knew that when he looked, it wouldn’t be her. It wouldn’t be anybody at all.

–I said I would come back. I promised, didn’t I–

He lay where he had fallen asleep near dawn, exhausted from searching for her after realizing where she might be and what she might have done. Frantic with worry, he had torn through the ancient forest like a madman, plunging through the dark trunks and layered shadows, calling her name until he was too tired to continue. Then, heartsick and drained of hope, he had collapsed. It couldn’t be true, he kept telling himself. His suspicions were unfounded and fueled by his weariness and the shock of losing his fingers. It was all a lie of the mind, born of his misinterpretation of the tanequil’s words, of the fears raised by the tree’s dark reminder that its gift of the darkwand required a like gift from him.

Of the body. Of the heart.

–Penderrin, wake up. Open your eyes–