[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"She would."
He took a deep breath. "But how does that explain the Rydall charade?"
"Rydall gives her time to work on Mistaya. Rydall occupies us, keeps us at a distance and off balance.
We don't realize the truth of things until it is too late."
Her eyes were empty and lost when he looked into them. "You've been thinking on this all day, haven't
you?" he asked quietly. "That's why you're so far away from me."
She looked at him. Her smile was wan. "No, Ben. I have been preparing myself for tomorrow. There is
Page 216
a good chance I will lose Mistaya. Or you. Or even both. It isn't easy to accept the possibility, but it is
there nevertheless."
"You won't lose either of us," he promised, putting his arm about her, drawing her close, knowing even
as he did that he had just made a promise he might not be able to keep.
They slept poorly, made restless by anticipation of what lay ahead, of what they might find. They rose at
sunrise, ate a quick breakfast, and were under way be-fore the sun had fully crested the horizon in the
moun-tains to the east. This day was steamy and suffocating as well, and they moved through it like
swimmers on a sluggish tide. Bunion scouted ahead, keeping a waryeye out for any more of Rydall's
monsters. Two re-mained to be faced, and Nightshade might choose now to unleash them. If indeed the
witch was Rydall. Some doubt remained in Ben's mind, even if Willow was con-vinced. But by now he
was doubting everything.
Ahead, the land stretched away in a ragged carpet of burned-out grasses and patchwork forest green,
the line between foothills and plains blurred by the heat. He lis-tened to the sounds of leather and traces
as the horses plodded ahead resolutely. What would he do when they reached the Deep Fell? Would he
go down into the hol-low? Would he send the Paladin? How would he con-front the witch? How would
he learn the truth about Mistaya?
He glanced at Willow, riding beside him in silence. What he read in her face suggested that he had better
find his answers soon.
* * *
Nightshade knew of their coming long before they were in view. She had known of it almost from the
moment they had left Sterling Silver and had kept careful watch over their progress. The confrontation
she had envi-sioned from the beginning was fated at last to take place. Somehow Holiday had figured it
out. She did not know how he had done it, but he clearly had. He was coming to the Deep Fell, and he
would be doing that only if he knew the truth.
The seeming inevitability of things did not escape her. The Ardsheal had failed her, just as all the other
creatures she had sent had failed her. Under Rydall's agreement she had two monsters left to send, but
time had run out on that game and only one chance remained for her now. She had enjoyed playing with
Holiday, see-ing him struggle, watching him suffer as he fought one monster after another in an effort to
survive long enough to rescue his beloved daughter. She had enjoyedbreaking him down a little at a time,
leaving him phys-ically and emotionally drained by forces he did not even begin to understand. How
Page 217
could he know that it was Mistaya's own magic working against him? How could he realize what that
would do to him? It had been sat-isfying, but the greatest satisfaction of all was yet to come.
The anticipation of it kept her anger and frustration in check, for although she would not admit it even to
her-self, she was disappointed that Holiday was still alive. Her expenditure of time and effort, of magic
and power, could not be dismissed out of hand even with the argu-ment that all was as expected.
Nightshade hated to lose, hated to be denied anything, even where she could ra-tionalize that it must
necessarily be so. She wanted Hol-iday dead, and postponement of that result, whatever the justification,
was difficult to bear.
Still, she had made her plan and believed it to be foolproof. Mistaya was hers yet, her unwitting tool, and
she would be put to the use intended before this busi-ness was done. It was better, perhaps, that it
happen now, before any more time passed. Mistaya was grow-ing unmanageable, increasingly reluctant
to engage in the practice of magic that Nightshade decreed, suspi-cious of the role in which she had been
cast. It was bad enough that she had refused to help create another mon-ster after the robot had failed. It
was unbearable that she should dare to leave the hollow. Yet Nightshade had persisted. One more time
she had found a way to use Mistaya, joining the girl's magic with her own to bring the Ardsheal back
from the dead so that it could be sent against Holiday, but it had required great cunning and subterfuge on
the witch's part to conceal the truth of what she was about. It would be difficult to deceive Mistaya again.
Yet she would be deceived, Nightshade promised her-self. One final time.
She let Mistaya do what she wished with her magic and her lessons on the first day of Holiday's journey
to the Deep Fell. She let her practice what she would, en-couraging her, complimenting her, putting her at
ease. Only one day remained, Mistaya was told. One--and then she would be going home. Nightshade
prowled the hollow restlessly, barely able to concentrate on anything but the approach of the event she
had schemed to bring about for two years. She wandered off into the mists, playing out the moment over
and over in her mind, see-ing it happen, anticipating the joy it would give her. Holiday dead. Holiday
gone at last. It had become for her the sole reason for her life, the single purpose for which she existed. It
had become for her as necessary as breathing.
At night she went out in the form of a crow, flying over the land to where the play-King slept in the
com-pany of the sylph and his Guards. She would have lighted on his face and pecked out his eyes if she
could have done so, so great was her hatred. But she knew better than to take chances after employing
so much care. She would not cheat herself now of the end she had devised for him. She made certain of
his distance from the Deep Fell, of the time she would need to pre-pare, and flew back again to wait.
The following morning she waited until Mistaya had eaten her breakfast before approaching her. Darkly
sleek and vaguely menacing, she swept up to the girl with a smile and a light touch of one slender white
Page 218
hand against her cheek.
"Your father comes for you today," she advised in her most compelling voice.
Mistaya looked up expectantly.
"He should arrive by midday. Are you anxious to see him?"
"Yes," the girl answered, and the undisguised antici-pation in her voice set the witch's teeth on edge.
"He will take you back to Sterling Silver, back to your home. But you will not forget me, will you?"
"No," the girl said softly.
"We have learned a lot together, you and I." Night-shade looked off into the trees. Mistaya had
withdrawn from her since coming back down into the Deep Fell. She had distanced herself as only
children could, barely tolerant, clearly marking time. It was a bitter recogni-tion for the witch. She had
expected better. "There are still many secrets to learn, Mistaya," she offered, trying to win back [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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"She would."
He took a deep breath. "But how does that explain the Rydall charade?"
"Rydall gives her time to work on Mistaya. Rydall occupies us, keeps us at a distance and off balance.
We don't realize the truth of things until it is too late."
Her eyes were empty and lost when he looked into them. "You've been thinking on this all day, haven't
you?" he asked quietly. "That's why you're so far away from me."
She looked at him. Her smile was wan. "No, Ben. I have been preparing myself for tomorrow. There is
Page 216
a good chance I will lose Mistaya. Or you. Or even both. It isn't easy to accept the possibility, but it is
there nevertheless."
"You won't lose either of us," he promised, putting his arm about her, drawing her close, knowing even
as he did that he had just made a promise he might not be able to keep.
They slept poorly, made restless by anticipation of what lay ahead, of what they might find. They rose at
sunrise, ate a quick breakfast, and were under way be-fore the sun had fully crested the horizon in the
moun-tains to the east. This day was steamy and suffocating as well, and they moved through it like
swimmers on a sluggish tide. Bunion scouted ahead, keeping a waryeye out for any more of Rydall's
monsters. Two re-mained to be faced, and Nightshade might choose now to unleash them. If indeed the
witch was Rydall. Some doubt remained in Ben's mind, even if Willow was con-vinced. But by now he
was doubting everything.
Ahead, the land stretched away in a ragged carpet of burned-out grasses and patchwork forest green,
the line between foothills and plains blurred by the heat. He lis-tened to the sounds of leather and traces
as the horses plodded ahead resolutely. What would he do when they reached the Deep Fell? Would he
go down into the hol-low? Would he send the Paladin? How would he con-front the witch? How would
he learn the truth about Mistaya?
He glanced at Willow, riding beside him in silence. What he read in her face suggested that he had better
find his answers soon.
* * *
Nightshade knew of their coming long before they were in view. She had known of it almost from the
moment they had left Sterling Silver and had kept careful watch over their progress. The confrontation
she had envi-sioned from the beginning was fated at last to take place. Somehow Holiday had figured it
out. She did not know how he had done it, but he clearly had. He was coming to the Deep Fell, and he
would be doing that only if he knew the truth.
The seeming inevitability of things did not escape her. The Ardsheal had failed her, just as all the other
creatures she had sent had failed her. Under Rydall's agreement she had two monsters left to send, but
time had run out on that game and only one chance remained for her now. She had enjoyed playing with
Holiday, see-ing him struggle, watching him suffer as he fought one monster after another in an effort to
survive long enough to rescue his beloved daughter. She had enjoyedbreaking him down a little at a time,
leaving him phys-ically and emotionally drained by forces he did not even begin to understand. How
Page 217
could he know that it was Mistaya's own magic working against him? How could he realize what that
would do to him? It had been sat-isfying, but the greatest satisfaction of all was yet to come.
The anticipation of it kept her anger and frustration in check, for although she would not admit it even to
her-self, she was disappointed that Holiday was still alive. Her expenditure of time and effort, of magic
and power, could not be dismissed out of hand even with the argu-ment that all was as expected.
Nightshade hated to lose, hated to be denied anything, even where she could ra-tionalize that it must
necessarily be so. She wanted Hol-iday dead, and postponement of that result, whatever the justification,
was difficult to bear.
Still, she had made her plan and believed it to be foolproof. Mistaya was hers yet, her unwitting tool, and
she would be put to the use intended before this busi-ness was done. It was better, perhaps, that it
happen now, before any more time passed. Mistaya was grow-ing unmanageable, increasingly reluctant
to engage in the practice of magic that Nightshade decreed, suspi-cious of the role in which she had been
cast. It was bad enough that she had refused to help create another mon-ster after the robot had failed. It
was unbearable that she should dare to leave the hollow. Yet Nightshade had persisted. One more time
she had found a way to use Mistaya, joining the girl's magic with her own to bring the Ardsheal back
from the dead so that it could be sent against Holiday, but it had required great cunning and subterfuge on
the witch's part to conceal the truth of what she was about. It would be difficult to deceive Mistaya again.
Yet she would be deceived, Nightshade promised her-self. One final time.
She let Mistaya do what she wished with her magic and her lessons on the first day of Holiday's journey
to the Deep Fell. She let her practice what she would, en-couraging her, complimenting her, putting her at
ease. Only one day remained, Mistaya was told. One--and then she would be going home. Nightshade
prowled the hollow restlessly, barely able to concentrate on anything but the approach of the event she
had schemed to bring about for two years. She wandered off into the mists, playing out the moment over
and over in her mind, see-ing it happen, anticipating the joy it would give her. Holiday dead. Holiday
gone at last. It had become for her the sole reason for her life, the single purpose for which she existed. It
had become for her as necessary as breathing.
At night she went out in the form of a crow, flying over the land to where the play-King slept in the
com-pany of the sylph and his Guards. She would have lighted on his face and pecked out his eyes if she
could have done so, so great was her hatred. But she knew better than to take chances after employing
so much care. She would not cheat herself now of the end she had devised for him. She made certain of
his distance from the Deep Fell, of the time she would need to pre-pare, and flew back again to wait.
The following morning she waited until Mistaya had eaten her breakfast before approaching her. Darkly
sleek and vaguely menacing, she swept up to the girl with a smile and a light touch of one slender white
Page 218
hand against her cheek.
"Your father comes for you today," she advised in her most compelling voice.
Mistaya looked up expectantly.
"He should arrive by midday. Are you anxious to see him?"
"Yes," the girl answered, and the undisguised antici-pation in her voice set the witch's teeth on edge.
"He will take you back to Sterling Silver, back to your home. But you will not forget me, will you?"
"No," the girl said softly.
"We have learned a lot together, you and I." Night-shade looked off into the trees. Mistaya had
withdrawn from her since coming back down into the Deep Fell. She had distanced herself as only
children could, barely tolerant, clearly marking time. It was a bitter recogni-tion for the witch. She had
expected better. "There are still many secrets to learn, Mistaya," she offered, trying to win back [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]