Jarka Ruus by Terry Brooks

arrived from an unexpected source, not much more than a year ago, and he had not only his ally, but a spy in the Druid camp. The spy gave him a pair of much needed eyes and ears to monitor the Ard Rhys’ movements. Sooner or later, he believed, he would find a way to get past her defenses, as well.
    Now, he had found that way at last. Tonight, he would test it—without risk to himself, without danger of discovery. If it worked, Grianne Ohmsford would no longer be a problem. By morning, the world would be a different place.
    Yet he was uneasy, not quite believing it would happen, afraid that his complicity in the deaths of all those men years ago at the hands of the Morgawr would take form somehow this night and devour him. It did not seem ridiculous that it might happen; it seemed almost inevitable. There was a price to be paid for what he had done, and sooner or later someone would appear to collect it.
    He was thinking of that as the wall across from him slid silently open and Shadea a’Ru stepped into the room.
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    Grianne Ohmsford sat at the writing table in her chambers, making notes for her meeting with Sen Dunsidan, preparing herself for the bargaining that would take place. It was always a matter of give and take with the Prime Minister, a question of how much she was willing to give versus how much he was attempting to take. He had changed over the years in some ways but, when bargaining, still sought to extract more than the other party was prepared to give. A politician to the end, he remained outwardly friendly and forthright while inwardly thinking of ways to cut his opponent’s throat.
    Literally, in her case.
    She knew how he felt about her. To him, she was still the Ilse Witch and that would never change. He was afraid of her, no matter how hard she tried to convince him that her time as the Morgawr’s creature was at an end. She might be Ard Rhys of the Third Druid Council, but that was not how he saw her. Because he could not change old habits, she knew his fear would rule his thinking. That meant he would be looking for a way to eliminate her.
    She didn’t mind that. He had always been looking for ways to eliminate her, from the moment they had formed that first alliance, nearly twenty-five years ago. That was how Sen Dunsidan dealt with allies and enemies alike; he used them to the extent he could while searching for ways to render them ineffective, which often meant eliminating them altogether once they had served their purpose. In some cases he had been successful, but he had never posed a threat to her. He did not possess the tools to cause her harm, lacking both magic and allies to accomplish that end. Alone, he could do nothing.
    Besides, he was the least of her worries. She had other, more dangerous enemies with which to contend, others with equally strong motives for seeing her dispatched, others living closer to home.
    She didn’t like thinking of it. So much hard work had gone into re-forming the Druid order, and now it was a nest of vipers. It wasn’t what she had intended or envisioned, but there it was. Kermadec was right. Her position grew more tenuous with the passing of every day, and if the erosion of her authority continued, she would lose control completely. If that happened, she would have failed, and she could not bear even to think of that.
    She returned her thoughts to Sen Dunsidan and the more immediate concerns of tomorrow’s meeting. She was seeking a truce in the battle on the Prekkendorran, one by both Federation and Free-born, one that would result in a stand-down of both armies. And that might lead to a gradual reduction in forces and a chance at peace. But neither side was showing much interest in the idea, even though after nearly fifty years of conflict it seemed almost inconceivable to her that they could think of anything else. Most of the people who had initiated the struggle were dead and gone. Only