Part 3 (1/2)

”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 he's still there. He might have moved on. When was the last time you visited Libiris?” 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 is still in residence? We're more than a match for him, the three of us.” 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 pa.s.sed between them when he remarked that, after all, there was no hurry.

The following week pa.s.sed 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 un.o.btrusively 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.

If Ben had thought that his adversary's death might mark an end to his problems with the feudal barony of Rhyndweir, he was sadly mistaken. There were at any given time somewhere around twenty families governing the Greensward, and as Lords of the Greensward died off or were killed, members of their own families replaced them unless they died childless, in which case a stronger barony simply absorbed their lands. The number of Lords ebbed and flowed over time, and while they were all beholden to the King, Ben knew enough to leave them alone except in matters directly affecting the entire Kingdom-such as the irrigation project, which was responsible for crops that fed other parts of the land as well as the Greensward.

When Kallendbor died, he left three sons and three daughters. The eldest son-a difficult but manageable young man-became the newest Lord of Rhyndweir in accordance with the rules of how power pa.s.sed from one member of the family to the next. But he lasted only eighteen months, dying under rather mysterious circ.u.mstances. The second son promptly took his place, and several things happened at once. The youngest son vanished not long after, his mother was sequestered in a tower room she was forbidden to leave, and his three sisters were placed in the keeping of other powerful Lords and forbidden by the second son from marrying or having children without his permission. Then Rhyndweir's new Lord promptly took a wife. He discarded her when she failed to bear him an heir, took a second wife, did the same with her, then took a third wife and kept her when she produced a son.

In some quarters, this sort of behavior might have been greeted with dismay. But in the feudal system of the Greensward, it was perfectly acceptable. Ben waited for one of the sisters to come and complain so that he might consider intervening, but none of them ever did.

That would have been due in no small part to the character of the second son, who was Laphroig.

If the first son had been difficult, Laphroig was impossible. He was only twenty-six, but already he had decided that fate had made him Lord of Rhyndweir and the world at large should be grateful because he was born to the role. His father had never liked him and would have turned over in his grave, if that had been possible, on learning that the son he considered ill suited for anything more than menial labor had become his successor.

Laphroig was intelligent, but he was not the sort who played well with others. He was mostly cunning and devious, the kind of man who would never fight you openly with blades but would poison you on the sly in an instant. He was mean-spirited and intolerant of any kind of disagreement or display of independence. He was controlling to an extent that caused dismay even among his fellow Lords. None of them trusted him, even the ones to whom he had dispatched his sisters. At council meetings, he was a constant source of irritation. He felt he knew best about everything and was quick to let others know. As a result, he was avoided by all to the extent that it was possible to do so and deliberately left out of social gatherings whenever convenient.

He had proved to be particularly troublesome for Ben.

Not so secretly, Laphroig believed he would be a better King, if given the chance to prove it. He never said so, but he demonstrated it at every turn. He constantly challenged Ben, more so than any other Lord of the Greensward, which necessitated the exercise of a firm hand and sometimes rather more than that. He did not cross the line into open rebellion, but he danced around it constantly. He questioned everything Ben said and did. His att.i.tude was insolent, and his failure to respond to the King's rule was more deliberate than obtuse. He appeared when it was convenient and stayed away if it wasn't. He pretended forgetfulness and complained of pressing duties. He was full of excuses and, in Ben's opinion, full of a lot more than that.

To top it all off, both his looks and actions were strange. Although Ben tried not to think about it, he soon found he could not help himself. It was Abernathy who started it all, announcing after Laphroig's first visit that he would henceforth refer to him as The Frog. It was a play on Laphroig's name, but also a reference to his protruding eyes and his distracting habit of flicking his tongue in and out of his lips at odd moments. Abernathy, who had no patience for insolence and lack of courtesy on the part of others when it came to Ben Holiday, did not like Laphroig. In large part, this was because the latter had called him a dog to his face on that first visit and would have gone on doing so if Ben had not put a stop to it. In smaller part, but only marginally, it was because Laphroig was so awful to be around that he invited the rude remarks of others.

Ben didn't like Laphroig any better than Abernathy or Questor did-the wizard couldn't tolerate him, either-so he let the nickname stand and soon thought of him in the same terms.

They hadn't had a visit from Rhyndweir's Lord for some months, and for a time they had begun to think he might not be coming back. It had been a happy interlude for all of them, but apparently it was over.

”What does he want?” Ben asked, on being informed.

”He won't say,” Abernathy replied. ”He says that his words are for your ears alone.” He held up one hand. ”But he was polite about it.”

Ben frowned. ”He was?”

”All smiles and goodwill. He kept his tone friendly, he followed all the requisite protocols without complaint, and he never once referred to me using canine terms.”

”That doesn't sound like Laphroig.”

”No, it doesn't.” Abernathy c.o.c.ked his ears. ”I would be careful, if I were you.”

Ben nodded. ”I'll make a point of it. Show him into the east room. I'll do as he asks and speak with him in private.”

When Questor had gone, he departed for the east room, where he held private talks with visiting dignitaries, and prepared himself mentally for what lay ahead. He was not dressed to receive anyone, having not scheduled visits for this day, but he saw no reason to do anything about it since it was only Laphroig. He settled for throwing on a light robe and removing the medallion of office he was wearing from beneath his tunic so that it hung revealed against his breast. The image on its face was of a knight in battle harness mounted on a charger and riding out of a morning sun that rose over a castle on an island.

The castle was Sterling Silver. The knight was the Paladin.

The man who had sold him the Magic Kingdom of Landover, a scheming and manipulative wizard named Meeks, had given him the medallion. Meeks had crossed over into Ben's world and was engaged in the thriving business of selling the Kingdom over and over again to men who thought they could become its King and were doomed to fail. Ben was chosen to be one of them, but surprised both Meeks and himself by finding a way to overcome obstacles that no other had.

He owed his success, in no small part, to the medallion.