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its user to travel from one end of Landover to the other without leaving Sterling Silver. He invoked the
magic, rose out of the tower as if actually flying, and in his mind's eye scanned the whole of the
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countryside with-out finding his daughter or his friends or any indication of what had happened to them.
He made a quick visit to Elderew, the home of the River Master, but there was nothing to show that the
once-fairy were aware that anything had happened.
He went from there to the eastern borders, searching the fringes of the fairy mists from the Fire Springs
south, but there was no sign of Rydall or Mistaya or anything that would have led him to either. He
looked for Strabo, but the dragon was not to be found. Proba-bly sleeping in one of the fire pits it called
home. He moved on to the Melchor north and finally to the Deep Fell, whose hollows were the one place
he could not en-ter from the Landsview. Nightshade's magic would not permit it. He paused
momentarily, thinking that those he searched for could easily be hidden there and he would never know.
But it was reaching to imagine that Night-shade was involved in any of this. As much as she hated him,
she hated outsiders more. She would never conspire with anyone who intended to invade Landover.
Besides, no one had even seen her in months. Ben moved on.
He spent the whole of the morning searching the countryside for Mistaya and his friends and found not a
single trace of any of them. It was as if they had disap-peared off the face of the earth. When he finally
came back into the chamber and stepped down off the lectern, he was exhausted. Use of the
Landsview's magic had worn him out, and he had nothing to show for it. He was discouraged and
frightened. He went down to his bedchamber and fell asleep.
When he woke, Willow was seated next to him, anx-ious for any news. But he had none to give her.
They spent the remainder of the day going over the agenda of meetings and appointments for the week
and ended up canceling most. Some had to be kept because there were obligations that could not wait.
But it was a des-ultory effort at best, and Ben could think of little be-sides his missing daughter and
friends. He did not know what to do next. It seemed there was nothing he could do other than wait on
Rydall's challengers. Three days he had been given. Then the first would appear. He did not speak of it
with Willow, but he could see in her eyes and hear in her voice that she was thinking of it, too. A battle to
the death seven times over if he was to survive. A use seven times of the Paladin's armored body and
battle skills. A giving over of himself seven times to the life and memories of a being whose only purpose
was to destroy the King's enemies. It was a thoroughly ter-rifying prospect.
They slept poorly that night, waking often to hold each other, lying close in the silence and thinking of
what the days ahead promised. Ben had never felt so empty. It seemed on reflection that he had betrayed
Mistaya by sending her away, that he should have kept her close beside him. Perhaps that way he could
have protected her better from Rydall. He did not say so to Willow, of course. It was easy to engage in
second-guessing now, when it was too late to matter, when things were over and done. There was
nothing to be gained by rehashing the "what ifs" of the situation. All that remained was to try to find some
way to make things right again. But how was he to do that? What was left to try?
By noon of the following day Bunion was back. He had met with the River Master. Mistaya and the
others had never reached Elderew. No one among the once-fairy had any idea what had happened to
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them. There was no sign they had ever passed that way.
Ben Holiday and Willow exchanged a long, helpless look and tried to hide their despair.
Seduction
Mistaya woke to find herself shrouded in hazy light and deep silence. She lay upon the ground, still
wrapped in her blanket but far from the place where she had fallen asleep. She knew that instinctively.
She knew as well that she had slept for a long time. She was still drowsy, her limbs were stiff, her eyes
were blurry, and her entire body was filled with the sort of heaviness that comes only after a deep sleep.
Something had happened to her. Something unexpected.
She rose to a sitting position and looked around. She was alone. There was no sign of Questor,
Abernathy, or the King's Guards. There was no trace of Haltwhistle. The animals, were gone, and her
baggage and carriage were missing. She was not surprised. She had been taken away from all that while
she slept. She did not think she was even in the lake country anymore. The look of things was all wrong.
She glanced skyward. There was no sky to be seen. There were trees all about, but they were ancient
and webbed with vines and moss. The lightwas gray and thick with mist. It smelled and tasted of damp
earth and decay. Strangely enough, it seemed fa-miliar.
She stood up and brushed herself off. She was not afraid. She should have been, she supposed, but she
was not. At least not yet. There was a strangeness to things that she could not explain, but she had not
been harmed in any way. She wondered what had happened to her friends, but she was not yet ready to
conclude that she was in any danger.
She peered about carefully, turning a full circle to spy out anything that might be spied, and discovered
noth-ing but the old-growth trees and the misty silence.
When she had completed her circle, she found herself face to face with a tall, regal woman.
"Welcome, Mistaya," the woman said, smiling. A cold smile.
"Where am I?" Mistaya asked, thinking as she did, I know this woman. I know her. But how?
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"You are in the Deep Fell," the woman answered, calm and still against the half-light. She was cloaked in
black. Her hair was black with a single white streak down the middle. Her skin was alabaster white. Her
eyes...
"You remember me, don't you?" the woman said, making it more a statement of fact than a question.
"Yes," Mistaya answered, certain now that she did, yet unable to remember why. This was the Deep
Fell, the woman had said, and only one person lived in the Deep Fell. "You are Nightshade."
"I am," Nightshade answered, pleased. The eyes, sil-ver before, turned suddenly red.
"You are the bird, the crow," the girl said suddenly. "From the picnic. You were watching me."
Nightshade's smile broadened. "I was. And you were watching me, weren't you? Your memory is
excellent."
Mistaya looked about uncertainly. "What am I doing here? Did you bring me?"
The witch nodded. "I did. You were asleep when your camp was attacked by those in service to King
Rydall of Marnhull, the man who came recently to your father's castle. Do you remember him?"
Mistaya nodded.
"The attack was sudden and unexpected. It was made in an effort to kidnap you. If you were in Rydall's
power, then he might force your father to do as he seeks--to relinquish the crown of Landover and go
into exile. Your parents thought Rydall would not know of your journey to the lake country and your
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