She hugged him tightly, and her voice was fierce. “Ben! You have to believe in yourself! You have accomplished so much more than anyone ever imagined that you would. The answers you need are there. You have found them before when you needed them; I think you can do so again.”
He shook his head. “I don’t have enough time left to find them, Willow. The Mark hasn’t left me enough time.”
“You will find the answers in the time that you have.”
“Willow, listen to me.” Ben moved his face away from hers. “Only one thing can prevent the Mark from killing me — only one. The Paladin. If the Paladin appears to defend me, I have a chance. It’s possible that he might. He’s saved me several times now since I came into the valley.”
He bent close again. “But, Willow, he’s a ghost! He lacks substance and strength! He’s a shadow, and shadows don’t frighten anyone for very long! I don’t need a ghost — I need the real thing! And, damn it, I don’t even know if the real thing still exists!”
Her green eyes were calm in the aftermath of his fury. “If he has come to you before, Ben, he will do so again.” She paused. “Do you remember when I told you that you were the one promised me by the fates woven in the marriage bed of my parents? You did not believe me, but you have seen since that it was so. I told you something more, Ben. I told you I sensed you were different; I told you I believed you were meant to be King of Landover. I still believe that. And I believe that the Paladin will come to you again. I believe that he will protect you.”
He looked at her for a very long time without speaking. Then he kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”
He gave her a brave smile and took her hands in his. Together, they started for the door.
Dawn stalked the Heart on cat’s feet; the first faint tinges of silver were beginning to lighten the eastern skies above the tree line. Ben and the members of his little company had arrived several hours earlier and were gathered now on the dais. Others had been arriving all night. The River Master was there, standing close against the screen of the forest, surrounded by dozens of his people, all faint shadows in the mist and night. The Lords of the Greensward were there as well, dressed in battle harness, bristling with arms. War horses stamped and knights stood close like iron statues. Fairy people and humans, they faced one another across the rows of white velvet kneeling pads and armrests, eyes watchful in the gloom and half-light.
Ben sat quietly on the throne at the center of the dais, Willow at one hand, Questor and Abernathy at the other. The kobolds crouched directly in front of him. Fillip and Sot were nowhere to be seen. The G’home Gnomes had vanished once more.
Tunneled down about twenty feet, Ben surmised with faint amusement.
“Abernathy.” Ben turned abruptly to find his scribe.
The dog jumped at the sound of his voice, then collected himself and bowed stiffly. “Yes, High Lord?”
“Go to Kallendbor and the Lords of the Greensward, then to the River Master. Ask that they join me before the dais.”
“Yes, High Lord.”
He went immediately. Abernathy hadn’t quarreled once with Questor since they had left the castle. Both were on their best behavior — both walking on eggshells. It made Ben more nervous than he would have been if they had simply acted normal.
“High Lord.” Questor bent close, his voice a whisper. “It nears dawn. You wear no armor and you have no weapons. Let me suggest that you allow me to equip you with some of each — now.”
Ben looked up at the scarecrow figure with his gray robes and colored scarfs, his wispish hair and beard, and his lined, anxious face and he smiled gently. “No, Questor. No weapons and no armor. They wouldn’t do me any good against a creature like the Mark. I can’t defeat him that way. I have to find another.”