"Thou didst have a seizure," Magnus informed him. "Bide."
Fess was silent, looking from child to child as the haze cleared from his eyes. Finally he said, "Did the bandits capture you?"
"Aye, but we did escape," Gregory piped up.
"Or were rescued, more aptly," Magnus corrected.
"They were not bandits," Geoffrey added, "but soldiers of Count Drosz."
"Drosz?" Fess lifted his head. "What was his business here? This is not his demesne."
"Nay, but he did seek to seize it."
"Why did his men abduct you?"
The children glanced at one another, trying to find the right way to break the news to Fess.
"Did he seek to use you as hostages?" the robot demanded.
"He did," Magnus admitted.
"And I stood idle! May my…"
" 'Twas not thy fault," Magnus said quickly, staving off a flood of self-recriminations. "And there was naught to fear, truly—Puck and his elves did free us."
"Though we did aid them." Geoffrey couldn't hide his pride.
"Praise Hertz!" Fess sighed. "But where is he now?"
"The count?" Gregory asked. "Or Puck?"
"Both are farther along the trail, where the elves did seize the Count," Magnus explained. "He lies bound hand and foot —but what the Wee Folk do with him, we know not."
A single, lasting shriek tore the forest night, echoing among the trees, then ended abrubtly.
The children stared at one another, shaken. "What…?" gasped Magnus.
"It did have the sound of a human voice," Geoffrey said, with foreboding.
Leaves rustled beside them, and Puck moved out into the moonlight with Kelly behind him. "'Tis done, children," Puck rumbled. "None will ever fear Count Drosz's evil again."
They looked at each other wide-eyed, then back at Puck, with the question on the tips of their tongues; but the look in Puck's face held them silent.
Gregory looked down at Kelly. "What hath upset thee so?"
"Leave him," Puck said quickly, and turned to Kelly. "Thou hast done bravely this night, elf."
"It may be that I have," Kelly muttered, "but I'll never be proud of such work."
"Nay, but neither shouldst thou regret it! Bethink thee, the man had slain and pillaged as he marched into Glynn. Elves had seen him slay folk with his own hand, a dozen times at the least—and this night alone, he wounded a score of elves, some grievously; and Mayberry lies dead."
The children were silent, eyes round. They all knew that elves and fairies did not have immortal souls, as they had, and that when an elf died, his existence ceased utterly.
Kelly's face firmed with conviction, taking on the look of old flint. He nodded slowly. "'Tis even as ye do say. Nay, 'twas just…"
"Merciful," Puck rumbled.
"Even so. Nay, I'll not be ashamed of this deed I've done, neither."
"What deed?" Gregory asked, but Magnus said, "Hush."
"We elves have but saved Their Majesties a deal of trouble and vexation, children," Puck assured mem. "Had we left it to them, the end would have been the same, but with far greater fuss and bother."
Shocked, the children stared at him.
Then Geoffrey protested, "But thou hast no authority over life and death, Puck!"
"All captains have, on the field of battle," Puck answered, "and this was battle in truth. Did Drosz not come in war?"
"Mayhap." Geoffrey frowned. "Yet 'twas 'gainst Glynn he marched, and 'twas for Glynn to…"
"Nay." Puck's eyes glinted. "Glynn might answer for mortals—but not for Wee Folk."
Geoffrey opened his mouth again.
"Nay, do not contend!" Puck commanded. "Be mindful, in this the authority lieth not in the person, but in Justice!"
Geoffrey slowly closed his mouth.
"Yet 'tis not thus that Justice is done," Gregory protested. "For a lord, it hath need of a court, and of other lords!"
"That is mortal justice," Puck answered, "but 'twas for crimes 'gainst Wee Folk the count did answer this night—and the Little People have had their own notion of Justice for as long as Oak, Ash, and Thorn have grown. At the least, 'twas quickly done. Nay, I've known far rougher justice from mortal men."
The children were silent in the moonlight.
Then Magnus said, "I bethink me 'tis time to go home, Puck."
Chapter 10
There really was no reason not to stay and pitch camp right there, but Puck led them away into the night nonetheless—he had some sense of mortals' feelings, and thought the children would feel a bit strange sleeping nearby. So he led them away into the dark, pricked here and there by shafts of moonlight. They were very quiet behind him and, after his own black mood had lightened a little, Puck tried to cheer them by singing an elfin tune. The eeriness of its halftones fitted with the gloom about them, but after a few verses, the children began to feel a sense of calm pervading them. The huge old twisted trees looked less like menacing monsters and more like kindly grandfathers, and the bits of moonlight that lay on their leaves looked like jewels. The vines draping loops from huge branches began to seem like bunting hung for a festival, and the dry leaves underfoot a multicolored carpet. Within the hour, the children found themselves walking through a faerie forest with a silver brook cutting across their path ahead, prattling happily as it danced over rocks. A gilded little bridge arched over it and Cordelia breathed, "What enchantment is this thou hast woven with thy song, Puck?"
"Only to let thee see what is truly there," the elf answered. "There is ever magic and wonder about thee, if thou wilt but open thine eyes to it." He set foot on the bridge, and so did Gregory behind him.
"Ho! Ho!" boomed a voice like an echo in a chasm, and two huge hands with long, knobby fingers slapped onto the side of the bridge.
"'Ware!" Puck shouted, stepping backward, but keeping his face toward the bridge. Gregory bumped back into Geof-frey, who dug in his heels and braced himself as Cordelia bumped into him. Magnus managed to stop short and mur-mured, "Then again, in forests of fantasy, fantastical creatures abide."
"Ho! Ho!" A great ugly head popped up over the edge of the bridge, with a thatch of shaggy hair like a bunch of straw, eyes like saucers, a lump of a nose, and a wide mouth that gaped to show pointed teeth. "Ho! Ho!" it cried again, and a spindle-shanked leg swung up, slamming down a huge flat foot. But the body that leaped up onto the bridge was only four-feet high, though the chest was a barrel and the shoulders were three-feet across. Its arms reached down to its ankles, and its hands were almost as wide as its head. It clapped them with a sound like a cannon shot. "Children! Yum!"
The children crowded back against each other. "What— what is it, Puck?"
"A troll," the elf answered. "They do live beneath bridges —and are always a-hungered."
The troll grinned, nodding. "Children! Soft, tender! Yum!" And it rubbed its belly.
"So I had thought," Puck said, tight-lipped, "Step back, children! Leave the span to the creature!"
They stepped back—except for Geoffrey. The boy stood like a rock, brow clouded. "I do wish to cross, Robin. What is this thing to gainsay me?"
"One who can rend thee limb from limb with those great hands," Puck snapped. "Stay not to argue, lad."
The troll chuckled deep in its throat and swaggered forward, flexing its hands and drooling.
"Canst thou not defeat it?" Geoffrey demanded.
"Belike," Puck answered, "and belike none will be hurted. Yet 'tis not certain, and I'd liefer not chance it."
"Thou not chance it?" Magnus scoffed. "Speak truly, Puck —what wouldst thou do, an we were not here?"
A gleam shone in Puck's eye. "Aye, an thou wert not here, I would soon have it dancing in rage the whiles it did try to catch me, and would have its head 'twixt its legs and its arms tied in knots, like enough! Yet thou art with me, and I've no wish to chance it! Now, back!"
Reassured, the children retreated, though reluctantly.
"No, no! Not get 'way," the troll cried, and came at them with a sudden rush.