“Not when we went underground,” Fillip said.
“Not in our burrows,” Sot said.
Ben sighed. “Bully for you.” He glanced about. “Where is she now?”
“Back where you left her in that clearing. High Lord,” Fillip said.
“Still waiting for your return,” Sot said.
Ben nodded. “And Willow?”
Fillip glanced quickly at Sot. Sot looked at the ground.
Ben knelt before them, a hollow feeling opening in the pit of his stomach. “What happened to Willow?”
Furry faces wrinkled uncomfortably and grimy paws twisted together.
“High Lord, we don’t know,” Fillip said finally.
“We don’t,” Sot agreed.
“When you failed to return, the others came looking for you,” Fillip said.
“They came down from the valley’s rim,” Sot said.
“We didn’t even know they were in the valley,” Fillip said.
“If we had, we would have warned them,” Sot said.
“But we were hiding,” Fillip said.
“We were frightened,” Sot said.
Ben brushed the explanations aside with an impatient wave of his hand. “Will you just tell me what happened!”
“She took them all prisoner. High Lord,” Fillip said.
“She took them all,” Sot echoed.
“Now they have disappeared,” Fillip finished.
“Not a trace of them,” Sot agreed.
Ben sat back slowly on his heels; the color drained from his face. “Oh, my God!” he said quietly, his worst fears realized. Willow, Questor, Abernathy, and the kobolds, Nightshade had them all. And it was his fault. He took a long moment to consider the dilemma, then came back to his feet. There could be no thought of escape now — not without his friends. Io Dust or no Io Dust, he wasn’t about to leave them behind.
“Can you take me to Nightshade?” he asked the gnomes.
Fillip and Sot regarded him with undisguised horror.
“No, High Lord!” Fillip whispered.
“No, indeed!” Sot agreed.
“She will make you a prisoner as well!” Fillip said.
“She will make you disappear with the others!” Sot said.
Entirely possible, Ben thought to himself. Then he gave the G’home Gnomes an encouraging smile. “Maybe not,” he told them. He pulled one of the pods of Io Dust from beneath his tunic and held it up thoughtfully. “Maybe not.”
He took five minutes or so to prepare for his encounter with Nightshade. Then he explained the plan he had devised to the gnomes, who listened dutifully and regarded him with perlexed stares. They seemed uncertain what it was he was talking about, but there was no point in trying to explain it farther.
“Just try to remember what it is that you’re to do and when you’re to do it,” he cautioned finally and gave up on the matter.
They set out through the forest, the gnomes in the lead, Ben trailing. The afternoon light was fading, passing slowly toward dusk. Ben glanced about uneasily, pausing briefly at the sight of shadows that flickered through the mists behind him. The fairy world was back there somewhere and with it the ghosts of his imagination. He could feel their eyes on him yet, the living and the dead, the past and the present, the old world and the new. What he had seen had been lies, his own fears brought to life. But the lies lingered, whispers of truths that might yet be. He had failed no one in the ways the fairy mists had shown. But he might, if he were not as swift as the fairies had warned that he must be. He might fail them all.
The minutes slipped by. Ben felt them pass with agonizing swiftness. He wanted to urge the gnomes to hurry faster, to quicken their studied pace through the forest maze. But he kept his peace; Fillip and Sot were taking no chances with Nightshade and neither should he.
Then a clearing opened ahead through a screen of pine and heavy brush, barely visible in the gloom. Fillip and Sot dropped into a crouch and glanced hurriedly back at Ben. He crouched with them, then inched ahead cautiously for about another yard or so and stopped.
Nightshade sat statuelike on the webbed, dust-covered throne where she had first appeared to him, eyes fixed on the ground before her. Weather-beaten tables and benches were scattered about before her, ringed by a line of blackened stanchions in which tiny fingers of flame licked at the shadows. The courtyard, the portcullis, and the entire castle were gone. There was only the forest and these few ruined bits of furniture sheltering the witch.