Part 7 (1/2)

He paused. ”Besides, he doesn't have any food and he's hungry.” He gave Mistaya a toothy smile. ”Can he have some of your food, Princess?”

Mistaya sighed, reached into her food pouch, and handed over a quarter loaf of her dry bread. What did it matter if she gave it away at this point? ”Do you always travel without food?” she asked.

”He had food, but he ate it,” Poggwydd answered for him. Shoopdiesel did not even glance up from the bread as he gnawed on it, absorbed in his eating. ”He got very hungry.”

The three sat down together while he ate, Mistaya thinking suddenly that maybe she had found a way out of this mess after all. It might not be a bad thing that Shoopdiesel had appeared. It might have provided her with an excuse for ridding herself of Poggwydd.

”Now that Shoopdiesel has found you,” she ventured, as the last of the bread disappeared into the little fellow's mouth, ”you probably want to spend some time together catching up on things. So off you go! You don't need to come any farther with me. I know the way from here, and it won't be difficult for me to find-”

”Princess, no!” Poggwydd exclaimed in horror. ”Abandon you? Never!”

Shoopdiesel echoed these sentiments with a flurry of waving arms.

”We will travel together, the three of us, until you are safely in the hands of your grandfather,” Poggwydd continued. ”G'home Gnomes know the importance of loyalty to their friends, and you are ent.i.tled to that loyalty for as long as you need it. There shall be no s.h.i.+rking of duty on our part, shall there, Shoop?”

There was another shake of the head from good old Shoop, who apparently left all the talking to his friend. She could have strangled them both on the spot, but she supposed actions of that sort would lead to worse problems than she already had.

”Fine,” she said wearily. ”Come if you want. But you should remember that this is the country of the fairy-born, and they don't care much for G'home Gnomes.”

Poggwydd grinned. ”Who does, Princess?”

Both G'home Gnomes exploded in gales of laughter, which she hoped made them feel better than it did her.

GRANDFATHER'S EYES The morning dragged on. The rain intensified anew, the dawn drizzle turning into a midmorning downpour that soaked everyone and everything. Mistaya was miserable-cold, wet, and vaguely lonely despite Poggwydd's incessant chatter, an intrusion that bordered on intolerable. She kept thinking about what she had given up to avoid being sent to Libiris, and she couldn't help wondering if perhaps she had made a mistake. She didn't like thinking that way; she was not the kind of girl who second-guessed herself or suffered from lingering regret if things didn't work out as she had hoped. She took pride in the fact that she had always been willing to suffer the consequences of her mistakes just for the privilege of being able to make her own choices.

But this morning she was plagued by a nagging uncertainty that worked hard at undermining her usual resolve. Still, she gave no real thought to turning back and comforted herself with the knowledge that this wouldn't last, that things would get better. They were nearing the borders of the lake country now, the forests thickening and filling up with shadows as they pushed deeper into fairy-born territory.

At one point-she wasn't sure exactly when-she noticed the cat was back. A silver-and-black shadow, it walked off to one side among the brush and trees with dainty, mincing steps, picking its way through the damp. The rain was falling heavily by then, but the cat seemed unaffected. She glanced back at the G'home Gnomes to see if they had noticed, but they were oblivious to this as to everything else, consumed by Poggwydd's unending monologue.

When she looked back again, the cat was gone.

Very odd, she thought for the second time, to find a cat way out here in the middle of the forest.

They crossed the boundaries of the lake country. It was nearing midafternoon, and the woods were turning darker still when the wood sprite appeared out of nowhere. A short, wiry creature, lean and nut brown, it had skin like bark and eyes that were black holes in its face. Hair grew in copious amounts from its head down its neck and along the backs of its arms and legs. It wore loose clothing and half boots laced about the ankles.

Its appearance frightened Poggwydd so that he actually gave a high-pitched scream, causing Mistaya renewed doubt about how useful he would be under any circ.u.mstances. She hushed him angrily and told him to get out from behind Shoopdiesel, where he was hiding.

”This is our guide to the River Master, you idiot!” she snapped at him, irritated with his foolishness. ”He will take us to Elderew. If you stop acting like a child!”

She immediately regretted her outburst, knowing it was an overreaction brought on by her own discomfort and uncertainty, and she apologized. ”I know you're not familiar with the ways of the fairy-born,” she added. ”Just trust me to know what I am doing.”

”Of course, Princess,” he agreed gloomily. ”Of course I trust you.”

It didn't sound like he did, but she decided to let matters be. For one thing, his momentary fright had stopped him from talking. The relief she felt from that alone was a blessing.

The wood sprite fell into step beside her without speaking, did not glance at her or make any attempt at an acknowledgment. Within half a dozen paces, he had moved ahead of her and was leading the way. Mistaya followed dutifully, knowing that when you came into the country of the fairy-born, you required a guide to find their city. Without a guide, you would wander the woods indefinitely-or at least until something that was big and hungry found you. Even if you knew the way-or thought you did-you would not be able to reach your destination unaided. There was magic at work in the lake country, a warding of the land and its inhabitants, and you needed help in getting past it.

They walked for another hour, the forest around them darkening steadily with the coming of twilight and a further thickening of the trees. The look of the land changed as they descended into swampy lowlands filled with pools of mist and stretches of murky water. They walked a land bridge that barely kept them clear of this, one that was narrow and twisting and at times almost impossible to discern. Their guide kept them safely on dry ground, but all around them the swamp encroached. Creatures moved through the mist, their features vague and s.h.i.+mmering. Some were unidentifiable; some were almost human. Some emerged from the murk to dance atop the water's surface. Others dove and surfaced like fish. Ephemeral and quicksilver, they had the appearance of visions imagined and lost.

Mistaya could feel the fear radiating off her companions.

”Everything is fine,” she rea.s.sured them quietly. ”Don't worry.”

More of the wood sprites appeared, falling into place about them until they were thoroughly hemmed in. Poggwydd and Shoopdiesel were practically hugging each other as they walked, the latter making little hiccuping noises. But the sprites were there to keep them safe, Mistaya knew-there to see that they did not stray from the path and become lost in the tangle of the woods and swamp. Some of the denizens of this land would lead them astray in a heartbeat if the opportunity presented itself. Sprites, naiads, kelpies, pixies, nymphs, elementals, and others for which there were no recognizable names-they were mischievous and sometimes deadly. Humans were less able in this world, more vulnerable to temptation and foolish impulse. Humans were playthings for the fairy-born.

Nor were these the most dangerous of such creatures. The true fairy-born, the ones who had never left the mists that surrounded Landover, were far more capable of indiscriminate acts of harm. In the mists, there were no recognizable markers at all and a thousand ways to come to a bad end. The fairies of the mist would dispose of you with barely a moment's thought. No one could go safely into those mists. Not even she, who was born a part of them. Not even her father, who had done so once and almost died there.

But she felt some comfort in being here, in the lake country, rather than in the fairy mists that ringed the kingdom. Here the River Master's word was law, and no one would dare to harm his granddaughter or her companions. She would be taken to him safely, even through the darkest and murkiest of the woods that warded Elderew. All she needed to do was to follow the path and the guides who had set her on it. All she needed to do was to stay calm.

Even so, she was relieved when they cleared the black pools, gnarled roots, wintry gra.s.ses, and mingled couplings of shadows and mist to emerge once more into brightness and open air. The rain had slowed to a drizzle and the skies overhead, visible again through the treetops, had begun to show patches of blue. The fetid smells of the deep forest and the swamp faded as the ground rose and they began to climb out of the lowlands they had been forced to pa.s.s through. Ahead were fresh signs of life-figures moving against the backdrop of a forest of huge old oaks and elms that rose hundreds of feet into the air, voices calling out to one another, and banners of bright cloth and garlands of flowers rippling and fluttering on the breeze from where they were interwoven through the tree branches. Water could be heard rus.h.i.+ng and gurgling some distance away, and the air was sweet with the scent of pines and hemlocks.

As they reached the end of their climb and pa.s.sed onto flat ground, they caught their first real glimpse of Elderew. The city of the fairy-born lay sprawled beneath and cradled within the interlocking branches of trees two and three times the size of those they had pa.s.sed through earlier, giants so ma.s.sive as to dwarf anything found elsewhere in Landover. Cottages and shops created multiple levels of habitation both upon and above the forest floor, the entrances to the latter connected by intricate tree lanes formed of branches and ramps. The larger part of the city straddled and ran parallel to a network of ca.n.a.ls that crisscrossed the entire city beneath the old growth. Water flowed down these ca.n.a.ls in steady streams, fed by underground springs and catchments. Screens of mist wafted at the city's borders and through the higher elevations, a soft filtering of sunlight that created rainbows and strange patterns.

To one side, a vast amphitheater had been carved into the earth with seats formed of gra.s.ses and logs. Wildflowers grew at the borders of the arena, and trees ringed the entirety with their branches canopied overhead to form a living roof.

Poggwydd gasped and stared, wide-eyed and for once unable to speak.

The people of the city had begun to come out to see who was arriving, and some among them recognized Mistaya and whispered her name to those who didn't. Soon what had begun as scattered murmurings had risen to a buzz that rolled through the city with the force of a storm wind, everyone wanting to know what the King's daughter was doing there.

So much for any chance of keeping things secret, Mistaya thought in dismay.

A crowd quickly began to form about them, a mix of fairy-born united by curiosity and excitement. They spoke in a dozen different languages, only a few of which Mistaya even recognized. The children pushed close and reached out to touch her clothing in quick, furtive gestures, laughing and darting away after doing so. She smiled bravely, trying to ignore her growing sense of claustrophobia.

Then the crowd parted and a clutch of robed figures pushed forward, men and women of various ages. Her grandfather stood foremost, his tall, lean figure dominating the a.s.semblage, his chiselled features impa.s.sive as he saw who was causing all the excitement. No smile appeared to soften his stern look, and no greeting came. The gills on either side of his neck fluttered softly and the slits of his eyes tightened marginally, but nothing else gave any indication of his thinking.

”Come with me, Mistaya,” he said, taking her arm. He glanced at Poggwydd and Shoopdiesel. ”The Gnomes will remain here.”

He walked her back through the crowd, away from everyone but the handful of guards who were always close at hand. They pa.s.sed down several walkways lined with flowers and through a park to a fountain set in the center of a pool. Benches surrounded the pool, and he led her to one and seated her firmly.

There was anger in his eyes now. ”Tell me what are you doing with those creatures!” he snapped. ”Tell me why you brought them here!”

So this is how it's going to be, she thought. She tightened her resolve. ”They insisted on coming, and I did not see the harm. How are you, Grandfather?”

”Irritated with you,” he replied, the weight of his gaze bearing down on her. ”I hear nothing from you for more than a year, and then you violate our code by bringing into the home city of the fairy-born a pair of creatures who are never allowed in places much less selective about whom they admit. What were you thinking, child?”

She held his gaze. ”I was thinking you might be more tolerant than this. I was thinking that at the very least you might hear me out.”

”Perhaps you thought wrong-just as I did in believing you would not forget your grandfather and your fairy-born roots.” He paused, and some of his anger faded. ”Very well, tell me about this business.”

”First of all,” she said, ”it was insulting not to be greeted in a more friendly and personal fas.h.i.+on by my own grandfather. I traveled some distance to see you, and I would have thought you could show some small measure of happiness at seeing me, no matter the time that has elapsed between visits. I would have thought an appropriate display of affection might be called for!”

She paused, but he said nothing. She shook her head. ”I have been away at school in my father's world, should it have slipped your mind. Visits back here from another world are not so easily arranged. Yes, I should have come before this, but it wasn't as if I had all that many chances to do so.”

He nodded. ”I accept that. But there are other avenues of communication, I am told.”

She returned the nod. ”And I accept that that. But things have a way of getting away from you.”