Ben was happy to have Bunion back in one piece. The kobold hadn’t spoken to him directly of his misadventures at Rhyndweir, but Questor had uncovered the truth of things and passed it along. He had also given Ben the book on poisons that Bunion had stolen from Laphroig’s library. The notes and markings pretty much revealed the fate of Laphroig’s unfortunate wife and child and reaffirmed Ben’s suspicions. By itself, it wasn’t enough to convict Rhyndweir’s Lord of murder, but it was enough to underline the importance of keeping him well away from Mistaya until such time as he overstepped himself in a way that would allow him to be stripped of his title and punished in a court of law.
The day was hazy and cool, unusual for this time of year, and the grayness lent a faint despondency to their travel. Without wishing it so, Ben found himself growing steadily more pessimistic about his missing daughter. Where he had come from, there was a reasonable amount of danger for teenagers. But Landover was dangerous on a whole other level, and even Mistaya, for all her talent and experience, need only make one misstep to invite fatal consequences. He should have gone out and found her and brought her back the moment he knew she was missing. He should never have waited for her to come back on her own.
But after a while his pessimism gave way to reason, and he accepted that what he had done was the right thing and he should just have a little faith in his recalcitrant daughter. Didn’t Willow have faith, after all? Had she once expressed serious concern for Mistaya?
On the other hand, Willow was a sylph whose father was a wood sprite and whose mother was a creature so wild that no one could hold her fast. Willow was a woman who periodically turned into a tree and sent roots down into the earth for nourishment so that she could survive. How could he equate his own sensibilities with hers? She could function emotionally on a whole separate plane of existence than he could.
So the morning passed away and then the early part of the afternoon. They stopped once to rest and feed the horses and to eat lunch themselves. Ben was feeling much better about things by then, although he couldn’t have said why. Perhaps it was the fact that he was doing something besides sitting around waiting. He had used the Landsview every day since Mistaya’s disappearance without success. Now, at least, he had reason to think they might find her.
They camped that night by the shores of the Irrylyn. Before eating their dinner, while the twilight shadows settled in about them in purple hues, they went down to the lake to bathe together. Bunion remained behind to set camp for them, and they were alone as they stripped off their clothes in a secluded cove and walked down to the shore. As they sank into the waters—he was always surprised that lake waters could feel so warm and comforting—he was reminded anew of their first meeting. He had been new to the role of King and not yet accepted by anyone beyond Questor and Abernathy. He had come in search of allies, thinking to start with the River Master, and Willow had appeared to him as if by magic. Or perhaps it was magic, he thought. He had never questioned the how and the why of it. But it had changed his life, and every day he was reminded of it anew.
They washed and they held each other and stayed in their quiet, solitary place for a long time before coming back to the camp. Ben thought it was over too soon, thought they could have stayed there forever, and wished with lingering wistfulness that they had.
He slept well that night for the first time, free of dreams and wakefulness, his sleep deep and untroubled.
When he woke again, it was nearing dawn, and a mud puppy was sitting right in front of him, watching. The Earth Mother was summoning them to a meeting as they had hoped.
“Willow,” he said softly, shaking her gently awake.
She opened her eyes, saw the mud puppy, and was on her feet at once. “That’s Haltwhistle, Ben,” she whispered to him, an unmistakable urgency echoing off the words.
They dressed hurriedly, and leaving Bunion to watch over things they let the mud puppy show them the way. Haltwhistle gave no indication that he knew who they were, and to tell the truth Ben wasn’t sure he could have identified the creature without Willow to help him. Mud puppies all looked the same to him. But if it really was his daughter’s, then Mistaya was out there somewhere on her own without her assigned protector, and that was not good.
He took a moment to recall all the times that the Earth Mother had helped them in the past, both together and individually. An ancient fairy creature come out of the mists eons ago when Landover was first formed, she was the kingdom’s caretaker and gardener. Wedded to the earth and its growing things, an integral part of the organic world, she nevertheless maintained a physical presence, as well. She was wise and farsighted and ageless, and she loved Mistaya.
They walked for a long time, leaving behind the Irrylyn and the surrounding forests and descending into mist-shrouded lowlands in which the ground quickly grew soggy and uncertain. Patches of standing water turned to acres of swamp, and stands of reeds and grasses clogged the passage in all directions. But the mud puppy maneuvered through it all without pausing, leading them along a narrow strip of solid ground until at last they had reached a vast stretch of muddied water amid a thick forest of cedars.
Haltwhistle stopped at the edge of this water and sat. Ben and Willow stopped next to him and stood waiting.
The wait was short. Almost immediately the waters began to churn and then to heave and the Earth Mother appeared from within, rising to the surface like a spirit creature, her woman’s form slowly taking shape as she grew in size until she was much larger than they were. Coated in mud—perhaps formed of it—and her body slick with swamp waters, she stood upon the surface of the mire and opened her eyes to look down on them.
“Welcome, King and Queen of Landover,” she greeted. “Ben Holiday of Earth and Willow of the lake country, I have been expecting you.”
“Is that Haltwhistle who brought us here?” Ben asked at once, wasting no time getting to the point.
“It is,” the Earth Mother confirmed.
“But shouldn’t he be with Mistaya?”
“He should. But he has been sent home to me. He will remain here until Mistaya summons him anew.”
“Why would Mistaya send him home?” Willow asked.
The Earth Mother shifted positions atop the water, causing her sleek body to shimmer and glisten in the misty, graying light. “It was not your daughter who sent Haltwhistle home to me. It was another who travels with her.”
“The G’home Gnomes?” Ben demanded in disbelief.
The Earth Mother laughed softly. “A mud puppy will not leave its master or mistress and cannot be kept by humans. A mud puppy is a fairy creature and not subject to human laws. But powerful magic wielded by another fairy creature is a different matter. Such magic was used here.”
Ben and Willow exchanged a quick glance, both thinking the same thing. “By Nightshade?” Ben asked quickly. “By the Witch of the Deep Fell?”
“By a Prism Cat,” the Earth Mother answered.
Ben closed his eyes. He knew of only one Prism Cat, and he had crossed paths with it more than once since coming to Landover, almost always to his lasting regret. “Edgewood Dirk,” he said in dismay.