“Listen to me!” He wheeled on them, frantic. “Meeks has come back from the old world, stolen the medallion, and somehow disguised from everyone but myself who I am! I look the same to me, but not to you!”
Questor folded his arms across his chest. “You look different to everyone but yourself?”
It sounded so ridiculous that for a moment Ben just stared at him. “Yes,” he replied finally. “And he has made himself appear as me! Somehow he has stolen my identity. I didn’t attack him in his bedchamber! He attacked me in mine!” He came forward a step, eyes darting from one face to the other. “He sent the dreams, don’t you see? He arranged all of this! I don’t know why, but he did! This is part of his revenge for what we did to him!”
There was irritation in Questor’s eyes, indifference in Bunion’s. Ben felt his grip on the situation slipping. “You can’t let him do this, damn it! You can’t let him get away with this!” His mind raced. “Look, if I’m not who I say I am, how do I know all that I do? How do I know about the dreams — mine of Miles Bennett, yours of the missing books of magic. Willow’s of the black unicorn! For God’s sake, what about Willow? Someone has to warn her! Listen, damn it! How do I know about the books you brought in last night — the ones with the unicorns? I know about those. I know about the medallion, about… Ask me something! Go on, ask me anything! Test me!”
Questor shook his head solemnly. “I do not have time for these games, whoever-you-are. You know what you know because you are a spy and learned these things by spying. You listened to our conversations and you adapted them to your own purposes. You forget that you already confessed all this to the High Lord when he caught you sneaking about his bedchamber. You admitted everything when pressed. You are fortunate you were not dispatched by the guard when you attempted to flee. You are fortunate you…”
“I did not flee anything!” Ben shouted in fury. He tried to reach out to Questor, but Bunion interceded at once and kept him away. “Listen to me! I am Ben Holiday! I am High Lord of Landover! I…”
The doors opened and guards appeared, alarmed by the frenzy in his vojce. Questor beckoned, and they seized hold of his arms.
“Don’t do this!” he screamed. “Give me a chance…”
“You have been given that chance!” Questor Thews interjected coldly. “Take advantage of it and leave!”
Ben was dragged from the room struggling, still screaming his identity, still protesting what had been done to him, while his mind spun with anger and frustration. He caught a glimpse of a tall, dark-robed figure standing in the distance, watching. Meeks! He screamed louder, trying to break free. One of the guards cuffed him and he saw stars. His head drooped and his voice trailed away. He had to do something! But what? What?
The robed figure disappeared. Questor and Bunion were left behind. Ben was dragged through the entry to the castle gates and beyond the walls. The bridge he had rebuilt after he had assumed the throne was bright with torchlight. He was dragged across it. When he reached the far side, he was thrown to the ground.
“Good night, your Majesty,” one of the guards mocked.
“Come visit again soon,” said another.
They walked away laughing. “Next time we’ll have his ears,” one said.
Ben lay upon the ground momentarily, head spinning. Slowly he pushed himself upright and looked back across the bridge at the castle lights. He stared at the towers and battlements as they glistened silver in the light of Landover’s eight moons and listened to the fading sound of voices and the heavy thud of the gates being closed.
Then all was silent..
He still could not believe that this was happening to him.
* * *
“Mother!” Willow whispered, and there was excitement and longing in her voice.
Moonlight draped the great forests of the lake country in a mix of rainbow colors, its cool brightness a beacon against the shadows. Parsnip was encamped somewhere far back within those shadows, patiently awaiting her return. Elderew lay distant, the city of the River Master wrapped in silence, her inhabitants asleep. Elderew was Willow’s home and the River Master was her father, but it was neither her home nor her father that she had come to see this night.