“It would provide an educational and challenging task for her,” Questor added. “One that would require working with others and finding middle ground for agreement on how to do things. Just the sort of project I think you had in mind when you talked to her earlier.”
Well, it wasn’t what he’d had in mind at all. He hadn’t really had any project in mind, although thinking it through now he had to agree that the general idea was sound. A project of this sort—the reorganization of a library—would keep Mistaya occupied and involved in something meaningful while she grew up a little more and perhaps rethought her decision to leave Carrington. This whole business about having a royal library came as a surprise, but now that he knew about it there was no reason not to do something constructive with it.
“You wouldn’t send her there alone, would you?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” Questor declared. “I would go with her. Abernathy could go, as well. Later, once she’s taken the measure of the place, we’ll send for craftsmen and laborers. But it would be her vision, her project, from start to finish.”
Ben thought about it some more. “All right. Let me talk to Willow. Then we’ll make a decision. But I think you might be on to something.”
He regretted the words almost before they had left his mouth, but once spoken there was no taking them back. He would just have to hope that this time was different from some of the others.
Beaming in unison, the wizard and the scribe bowed and left the chamber.
Once outside, the door closed tightly behind them, Abernathy turned to Questor. “Perhaps we should have told him the rest,” he whispered.
The court wizard shook his head, mostly because Abernathy’s whiskers were tickling his ear. “Time enough for that later. He doesn’t need to know everything right away.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Besides, we don’t know if he’s still there. He might have moved on. When was the last time you visited Libiris?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You see? Anything could have happened. Besides, what if he is still in residence? We’re more than a match for him, the three of us.”
“I don’t know,” Abernathy said doubtfully. “Craswell Crabbit. He’s awfully clever. I never trusted him.”
“Then we will have reason to get rid of him first thing. In fact, we will suggest that to the King before leaving, once he has made the decision to send her. Which he will. I could tell by the way he spoke about it that he likes the idea. Anyway, you and I will be with her when she goes. What could happen?”
It was the kind of question Abernathy didn’t care to ponder, and so he dismissed it from his mind.
FROGGY WENT A-COURTIN’
That night, when they were alone, Ben discussed with Willow the idea of sending Mistaya to Libiris. She agreed it was a project that deserved Mistaya’s time and effort, but she also advised him not to make it a command that Mistaya go. When he talked to her, he should suggest that this was something that might interest her and utilize her strengths, letting her make the final decision.
“But what if she says no?” he demanded.
“Then give her more time to think about it. Don’t insist. She’s very strong-willed and may react in a way that is intended to test you.”
“Test me? Why would she want to test me?”
Willow ignored the question. “Ask her again in another few days. If she still refuses, then let her make a suggestion about what she would like to do. Just tell her that staying at Sterling Silver and studying with Questor and Abernathy is not a choice, that she is too old for that now.”
Ben didn’t get it. Why all this tiptoeing around something that should be settled right off the bat? He couldn’t get past the fact that Mistaya was only fifteen, still a child despite her advanced capabilities, and not yet independent enough to be making decisions of this sort on her own. Plus, she had brought this difficulty on herself by misbehaving sufficiently at Carrington that they had sent her home. She should be grateful he didn’t insist that she go right back and straighten things out. She should be eager to do anything he asked after what had happened.
Willow also suggested that he not do anything at all for perhaps a week and instead allow their daughter time to settle in without any talk about her future. Let her have a short vacation. Let her do what she would like for a few days before discussing what was to happen in the long term.
“I think she needs that right now,” his wife said, smiling. She leaned in to kiss him. “Remember whose daughter she is.”
Well, he remembered well enough, but what did that have to do with anything? Willow kept saying this, but he didn’t see the point. If she was his daughter, she ought to be more like him, not less.
In any case, he let the matter drop. He told Questor and Abernathy that he and Willow thought their suggestion a good one and intended to speak to Mistaya soon, adding that they should keep quiet about things in the meantime. Both seemed willing to do this, although he could not mistake the furtive glance that passed between them when he remarked that, after all, there was no hurry.
The following week passed quickly. Ben was occupied with court business, including a review of a new irrigation program pending in the Greensward that the feudal Lords were refusing to cooperate on implementing despite Ben’s orders. He knew this meant making a trip out there at some point—or at least sending a representative—but he was in no hurry to do so. It was their domain, after all, and he had to give them a chance to work it out. He was also facing complaints about the G’home Gnomes, several clutches of which had started to show up in places they were not welcome—which was just about everywhere, but especially where they hadn’t been as of yesterday. That, too, meant a visit by someone from the court—probably Questor, certainly not Abernathy—to all those parts of Landover that were being invaded. At times he wished he could simply establish a separate country for the troublesome Gnomes, but they were migratory by nature, so that was unlikely to work. Little did, where they were concerned.
Mistaya did not give him further cause to be irritated with her. She was scarcely in evidence most of the time, working away on projects of her own choosing. Even Questor and Abernathy admitted they had seen almost nothing of her, that she hadn’t once asked for their help or requested instruction. No one knew what she was doing, but as long as she was doing it unobtrusively and without obvious consequences, Ben was content to let his daughter be.
Only one strange event occurred. Bunion, the court runner and Ben’s self-appointed bodyguard, approached him to apologize the day after Mistaya’s return. In his strange, almost indecipherable kobold language, he said he was sorry for hanging the Gnome up in the tree, no matter what it had done, and he promised not to do anything like that again without asking the King’s permission first. After showing all his teeth to emphasize the point, he departed. Ben had no idea what he was talking about and decided he was better off not knowing.
Then, seven days later, just as he was preparing to approach Mistaya with the prospect of going to Libiris, Laphroig of Rhyndweir appeared at the gates and requested an audience.
A visit from Laphroig was never good news. His father, Kallendbor, had been Lord of Rhyndweir, the largest of the Greensward baronies, and an adversary of considerable skill and experience who had done much to make Ben’s tenure as Landover’s King difficult. He had crossed the line five years ago when he had allied himself with Nightshade in a scheme designed both to rid them of Ben and to make Mistaya believe she was the witch’s true daughter. The scheme had failed, and Kallendbor had been killed.