“A few? What few? Who besides the demons can go there? You?” Her head twisted back and forth wordlessly. “Then who, damn it? Tell me!”
She shuddered and stiffened as if jerked by a hook embedded deep within. Her reply came out almost a scream. “Strabo!”
“The dragon!” he breathed, seeing now. He released her and walked away. “The dragon!” He wheeled and came back again. “Why can the dragon enter and not you?”
Nightshade was beside herself with rage. “His magic encompasses a greater range than mine, reaches farther…!”
And is more powerful, Ben finished what she could not bring herself to say. He felt himself go limp, sweat soaking through him, weariness sapping at his strength. It made sense. He had first encountered Strabo at the fringes of the mists, still within the fairy world. If the dragon could pass into the fairy world, it stood to reason that he could pass into Abaddon.
And he could take Ben with him.
He almost smiled. The sudden coming together of circumstance and need was frightening. He had thought to use the Io Dust simply to send the dragon out of Landover. That would have been difficult and dangerous enough. Now he must use the Io Dust to force Strabo to carry him down into Abaddon where his friends were trapped and then carry them all out again. The enormity of the task was staggering. He must do this without direction or guidance. He must do this alone. But there was never any question of his not doing it. Willow, Questor, Abernathy, Bunion, and Parsnip had risked themselves for him time and time again. It was an imperative beyond that of Kingship that required he do the same for them.
His eyes found those of the witch. He could see an undisguised satisfaction mirrored there. “You have sworn to destroy me, Nightshade, but it is I who ought to destroy you,” he whispered in fury.
Fillip and Sot had slipped from behind the table and were tugging tentatively at his legs.
“Can we go now. High Lord?” Fillip asked.
“Can we leave this place. High Lord?” Sot echoed.
“She frightens me,” Fillip said.
“She wants to hurt us,” Sot said.
Ben glanced down at them, saw the fear in their eyes, and watched their noses twitch expectantly. They looked like dirty children about to be punished, and he felt sorry for them. They had been through a lot.
“Just a moment more,” he promised. He looked back at Nightshade. “How long has it been since you sent my friends into Abaddon?”
The witch narrowed her green eyes. “I disposed of them this morning — quite early.”
“Did you harm them in any way?”
Her face pinched sharply. “No.”
“They are well, then?”
She laughed. “Perhaps — if the demons haven’t tired of them.”
He wanted to throttle her, but he managed to keep control of himself. “Once I am within Abaddon, how can I find them?”
Nightshade’s body seemed to fold itself deeper into the dark robes. “The dragon can find them for you — if he still obeys!”
Ben nodded wordlessly. There was that problem on top of everything else. How long would the Io Dust render the dragon helpless against him? How long before the effects of its magic wore off? There was only one way to find out, of course.
He shrugged the thought aside. “Where will I find the dragon?” he asked the witch.
Nightshade smiled darkly. “Everywhere, play-King.”
“I’m sure.” He rethought the question. “Where is he certain to go that I can wait for him to come?”
“The Fire Springs!” Her voice was a thin hiss. “He makes his home in the flame-waters!”
Ben remembered the Springs from his studies at Sterling Silver. Lava pools or oil pits or some such, they lay east beyond the Greensward, deep within the wastelands.
“High Lord!” Fillip called urgently, interrupting his thoughts.
“High Lord!” Sot tugged at his leg.
Ben nodded in response one time more. The day was coming to a close, the sun’s light giving way to darkness, the shadows of dusk lengthening through the trees. He did not want to be caught in the Deep Fell after dark.