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quiet Willow in some form of conversation.  Then we ll know.
The sylph s voice was a soft, resigned sigh.  I already know. Nightshade has her. I can sense it. She
wanted Mistaya from the very beginning, and she finally found a way to get her.
Her shoulder was touching Ben s as they stared off into the approaching dark, but the distance between
them was frightening. All day long she had been withdrawing, closing herself away. Now she was
someplace where no one could reach her if she did not wish it. Ben had waited patiently for her to work
out whatever was disturbing her, hoping it wasn t him.
He cleared his throat.  She probably thinks of Mistaya as her property. Mistaya is payment for the debt
she thinks she is owed for what befell her in the Tangle Box.
Willow was silent for a moment.  If it was only a matter of debt or even a claim to property, she would
have stolen Mistaya away and been done with it. She would have ransomed her back or killed her,
intending to hurt us by doing so. Instead, she concocted this elaborate scheme involving Rydall of
Marnhull and his monsters. Mistaya is the prize to be won or lost, but she is something more as well. I
think Nightshade has another use for her.
Ben looked at her.  What use?
She shook her head.  I don t know. Perhaps it has something to do with Mistaya s magic. She was born
in the Deep Fell, so perhaps they share something from that. Or maybe it is something darker. Perhaps
she seeks to turn Mistaya s thinking so that it mirrors her own.
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 No, Mistaya would never let that happen. Ben went cold all the way to his toes.  She is too strong.
 No one is stronger than Nightshade. Her hate drives her.
Ben went silent, a swell of horror rising inside at the prospect of Mistaya becoming like Nightshade. His
good sense told him it could never happen. His emotions said otherwise. The two warred within him as
he watched the shadows lengthen across the land, darkening the river and the hills.
 She would do that to hurt us, wouldn t she? he said finally.
 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
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 before the sun had fully crested the horizon in the
mountains 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 wary eye out for any more of Rydall s
monsters. Two remained 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 convinced. 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 listened 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 hollow? Would he send the Paladin? How would he confront 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 envisioned 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
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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, seeing 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 enjoyed breaking him down a little at a time,
leaving him physically and emotionally drained by forces he did not even begin to understand. How 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 satisfying, 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
herself, 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 argument that all was as expected.
Nightshade hated to lose, hated to be denied anything, even where she could rationalize that it must
necessarily be so. She wanted Holiday 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 business was done. It was better, perhaps, that it
happen now, before any more time passed. Mistaya was growing unmanageable, increasingly reluctant to
engage in the practice of magic that Nightshade decreed, suspicious of the role in which she had been
cast. It was bad enough that she had refused to help create another monster 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 herself. 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, encouraging 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 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]