“We were afraid that you had not escaped,” Sot said.
“But we found your trail and followed it,” Fillip continued.
“We see poorly, but we have an excellent sense of smell,” Sot added.
Ben shook his head helplessly. “Why did you bother coming at all?” he asked, kneeling down so they were all at eye-level. “Why didn’t you simply go on home with the rest of your people?”
“Oh, no. High Lord!” PiUip exclaimed.
“Never, High Lord!” Sot declared.
“We gave our promise to serve you, if you should aid us in freeing our people,” Fillip said.
“We gave our word,” Sot said.
“You kept your part of the bargain. High Lord,” Fillip said.
“Now we intend to keep ours,” Sot finished.
Ben stared at them in disbelief. Loyalty was the last thing he had ever expected from these two. It was also the last thing he needed. Fillip and Sot were more likely to prove a source of trouble than a well of relief.
He almost told them so, but then he caught the look of determination on their faces and in their half-blind eyes. He reminded himself that the G’home Gnomes were the first to step forward and offer their pledge to Landover’s throne — the first, when no one else would. It seemed wrong to dismiss their offer of help out of hand when they were so willing to serve.
He straightened slowly, watching as their eyes followed him up. “We are going to the Deep Fell,” he advised them. “I plan to meet with Nightshade.”
Fillip and Sot looked at each other expressionlessly and nodded.
“Then we can be of service to you. High Lord,” Fillip said.
“Indeed, we can,” Sot agreed.
“We have gone into the Deep Fell on many occasions,” Fillip said.
“We know the hollows well,” Sot said.
“You do?” Ben didn’t even try to hide his amazement.
“Yes, High Lord,” Fillip and Sot said together.
“The witch pays little attention to creatures such as us,” Fillip said.
“The witch does not even see us,” Sot said.
“We will guide you safely in, High Lord,” Fillip offered.
“Then we will guide you safely out again,” Sot added.
Ben extended his hand and shook heartily each grimy paw. “You have yourselves a deal.” He grinned. The gnomes beamed. He drew back. “One question. Why did you wait until now to show yourselves? How long have you been crouching back there in the brush?”
“All night, High Lord,” Fillip admitted.
“We were afraid of the dog,” Sot whispered.
Ben brought them into the camp and announced to the others that the gnomes would be accompanying them to the Deep Fell. Abernathy was thoroughly dismayed and expressed the fact in no uncertain terms. It was one thing to agree to accept the wizard back into their company on the theory that he might prove’useful — though he questioned how much use he would, in fact, be — but the gnomes were clearly of no use at all. He growled, and the gnomes shrank back uneasily. The kobolds hissed at them, and even Willow looked doubtful. But Ben was firm in his decision. The G’home Gnomes were coming with them.
They resumed their journey shortly after sunrise. They ate a quick breakfast of stems and leaves from the Bonnie Blues, Questor made the pavilion tent disappear in a flash of light and a puff of smoke, frightening the gnomes half to death in the process, and they were on their way. They traveled south and west on a meandering course that took them down out of the hill country and back into the forestland and lakes bordering the Greensward. Bunion led and the rest followed. It rained on and off, frequently misting like a veil of cold steam. The valley lay socked in by clouds and fog that formed an oddly bluish haze that rolled and mixed against the treetops and the dark, distant walls of the mountains. Flowers bloomed in the rain, and Ben found that odd. The flowers were pastel in color, fragile blooms that lasted only minutes and then withered. Rain flowers, Questor called them — evidencing a sorry lack of originality. They came with the rain and then they were gone. Once, in better times, they had enjoyed a lifespan of a dozen hours or more. But now, like everything else in the valley, they were stricken by the sickness. The magic no longer gave them more than a brief life.