The wizard’s owlish face twisted thoughtfully. “No.” He glanced momentarily at Bunion and was surprised to find the kobold nodding in agreement. “No, he most certainly is not.”
“Hasn’t been since…”
“Since we discovered that impostor in his bed chamber?”
“Since then, yes. Since that night.”
They were silent again for a moment. Then their eyes met, and they were startled by what they found mirrored there. “Is it possible that…” Abernathy began uncertainly.
“That the impostor was the High Lord?” Questor finished. He frowned his deepest frown. “I would not have thought so before, but now…”
“There is no way we can be certain, of course,” Abernathy interrupted quickly.
“No, no way,” Questor agreed.
The fire crackled and spit, the smoke blew across them with a shift in the wind, and sparks danced into the ashes. From somewhere far away, a night bird sounded a long, mournful cry that brought shivers down Questor’s spine. He exchanged quick glances with Abernathy and Bunion.
“I hate sleeping out-of-doors,” Abernathy muttered. “I don’t like fleas and ticks and crawly things trying to assume occupancy of my fur.”
“I have a plan,” Questor said suddenly.
Abernathy gave him a long, hard look, the kind he always gave when confronted with a pronouncement he would just as soon live without. “I am almost afraid to ask what it is, wizard,” he responded finally.
“We will go to the dragon. We will go to Strabo.”
Bunion’s teeth gleamed in a frightening grin. “That is a plan?” demanded Abernathy, horrified.
Questor leaned forward eagerly. “But it makes perfect sense that we should go to Strabo. Who knows more about unicorns than dragons? Once they were the greatest of enemies — the oldest adversaries in the world of fairy. Now the black unicorn is the last of his kind, and Strabo the last of his. They share a common cause, a natural affinity! Surely we can learn something of the unicorn from the dragon — enough perhaps to unravel its mystery and to discover its purpose in coming to Landover!”
Abernathy stared in disbelief. “But the dragon doesn’t like us, Questor Thews! Have you forgotten that? He will roast us for a midday snack!” He paused. “Besides, what good will it do to learn anything more about the unicorn? The beast has caused us trouble enough as it is.”
“But if we understand its purpose, we might discover a reason for the High Lord’s obsession,” Questor replied quickly. “We might even find a way to reinstate ourselves at court. It is not inconceivable. And the dragon will not cause us harm. He will be happy to visit with us once he has learned our purpose in coming. Do not forget, Abernathy, that dragons and wizards share a common background as well. The nature and duration of our professional relationship has always dictated a certain degree of mutual respect.”
Abernathy’s lip curled. “What a lot of nonsense!” Questor barely seemed to hear him. There was a faraway look in his eye. “There were games played between wizards and dragons in the old days that would challenge the faint of heart, I can tell you. Games of magic and games of skill.” He cocked his head slightly. “A game or two might be necessary here if Strabo chooses to be obdurate. Theft of knowledge is a skill I have mastered well, and it would be fun to test myself once more…”
“You are mad!” Abernathy was appalled.
But Questor’s enthusiasm was not to be dampened. He came to his feet, excitement in his eyes as he paced the circle of the fire. “Well, no matter. What is necessary must be done. I have made my decision. I shall go to the dragon.” He paused. “Bunion will go with me, won’t you, Bunion?” The kobold nodded, grinning ear to ear. The wizard’s hands fluttered. “There, it is settled. I am going. Bunion is going. And you must come with us, Abernathy.” He stopped, hands lowering, tall form stooping slightly as if from the weight of his sudden frown. “We must go, you know. After all, what else is there for us to do?”
He stared questioningly at the scribe. Abernathy stared back, sharing the look. There was a long silence while doubt and uncertainty waged a silent war with self-esteem in the old friends’ eyes. There were shadows of times they had believed past come back to haunt their present, and they felt those shadows closing inexorably about. They could not permit that. Anything was better than waiting for such suffocating darkness.