The fairy-born people of the River Master filled the treelanes and waterways, angular faces and bodies bits and pieces of the land’s shadows as they passed through the mist.
“That is Elderew,” Questor announced needlessly, for Ben had already surmised that much.
The members of the little company turned into the amphitheater, the slight forms of their guides slipping from them one by one until only the guide who had appeared first to them remained. They passed through the open quarter section to the arena bowl — Bunion in the lead, stride for stride with their guide; Questor and Ben next; Abernathy a few paces behind, bravely hoisting aloft once more the scarlet and white King’s standard with the armored figure of the Paladin; Parsnip and the pack animals trailing. A reception committee was waiting, just emerged from one of several tunnels leading into the amphitheater from beneath its seats, gathered now in a knot at the tunnel’s entrance. There were men and women both in the group; while Ben could not discern faces from so great a distance, he could easily identify items of forest clothing similar to that worn by their guide and swatches of the same wood-grained skin.
They drew to a halt at the center of the arena, dismounted, and walked forward to where the reception committee waited. The kobolds and Abernathy trailed Ben and Questor now, and the guide had remained behind with the animals. Ben cast a quick glance over at the wizard.
“If you have any last minute advice, Questor, I would appreciate it,” he whispered.
“Hmmmmm?” The wizard’s thoughts were elsewhere once again.
“About the River Master? About what sort of person he is?”
“What sort of creature, you mean,” Abernathy interjected acidly from behind them.
“A sprite, High Lord,” Questor answered. “A fairy who become half-human when he crossed into Landover and adopted this valley as his home, a woods and water being, a… a, uh…” The wizard paused thoughtfully. “He is really quite hard to describe, when you come right down to it.”
“Best that he discover for himself,” Abernathy declared pointedly.
Questor thought a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Yes, perhaps so.”
They were too close to the gathering that awaited them for Ben to discuss the matter further — though in light of what had just been implied, he would have dearly loved to do so — and he turned his attention instead to a quick study of his hosts. He identified the River Master at once. The River Master stood central and foremost among those gathered, a tall, lean figure garbed in pants, tunic and cloak that were forest green, polished boots and leather cross-belts, and a slim silver diadem bound about his forehead. His skin was of a silver cast and grained like that of their guide — almost scaled — but his hair was black and thick about the nape of his neck and forearms. There was an odd, chiseled appearance to his eyes and mouth, and his nose was almost nonexistent. He had the look of something carved of wood.
The remaining members of the gathering stood grouped about him, younger for the most part, men and women of varying shapes and sizes, a scattering effaces as nut-brown and grained as that of their guide, one or two silver like the River Master, one sticklike and almost featureless, one covered with fur that was a russet color, one reptilian in looks and coloring, one a ghostly white with deep black eyes, and one…
Ben slowed abruptly, fighting to keep from his face the sudden shock that raced through him. One of those gathered, the one standing at the River Master’s left hand, was Willow.
“Questor!” His voice was a low hiss. “The girl on the left — who is she?”
Questor stared over at him. “Who?”
“The girl on the left! The one with the green skin and hair, damn it!”
“Oh, the sylph?” Questor smiled benignly to those ahead, speaking to Ben out of the side of his mouth. “Her name is Willow. She is one of the River Master’s children.” He paused. “What difference does…”
Ben hushed him into immediate silence. They kept walking, Ben’s mind working frantically, his eyes flitting from the faces of the others gathered to Willow’s. She stared back at him boldly, her own eyes challenging.