She peered about carefully, turning a full circle to spy out anything that might be spied, and discovered nothing but the old-growth trees and the misty silence.
When she had completed her circle, she found herself face to face with a tall, regal woman.
“Welcome, Mistaya,” the woman said, smiling. A cold smile.
“Where am I?” Mistaya asked, thinking as she did, I know this woman. I know her. But how?
“You are in the Deep Fell,” the woman answered, calm and still against the half-light. She was cloaked in black. Her hair was black with a single white streak down the middle. Her skin was alabaster white. Her eyes…
“You remember me, don’t you?” the woman said, making it more a statement of fact than a question.
“Yes,” Mistaya answered, certain now that she did, yet unable to remember why. This was the Deep Fell, the woman had said, and only one person lived in the Deep Fell. “You are Nightshade.”
“I am,” Nightshade answered, pleased. The eyes, silver before, turned suddenly red.
“You are the bird, the crow,” the girl said suddenly. “From the picnic. You were watching me.”
Nightshade’s smile broadened. “I was. And you were watching me, weren’t you? Your memory is excellent.”
Mistaya looked about uncertainly. “What am I doing here? Did you bring me?”
The witch nodded. “I did. You were asleep when your camp was attacked by those in service to King Rydall of Marnhull, the man who came recently to your father’s castle. Do you remember him?”
Mistaya nodded.
“The attack was sudden and unexpected. It was made in an effort to kidnap you. If you were in Rydall’s power, then he might force your father to do as he seeks—to relinquish the crown of Landover and go into exile. Your parents thought Rydall would not know of your journey to the lake country and your grandfather, but he is more dangerous than they suspected. It was fortunate that I was keeping an eye out for you, that I was concerned for your safety. I was able to spirit you away before you were taken. I brought you here, to the Deep Fell, to be with me.”
Mistaya said nothing, but her eyes gave her away.
“You do not believe me, do you?” Nightshade said.
Mistaya’s lips compressed into a tight line. “My father would not want me here,” she said quietly.
“Because we are not friends and he does not trust me,” the witch acknowledged with a shrug. “That is true. But the fact of the matter is that he knows you are here and can do what he chooses with the information.”
Mistaya frowned. “He knows?”
“Of course. I have already sent word. Secretly, of course, so that Rydall will not know. I was forced to act swiftly when the attack came, so I could not leave word with your friends. I think they are well, but I could not stay to make certain. Questor Thews seemed to be holding his own, and I suspect that with you gone, the attack would have been withdrawn rather quickly. After all, there was no point in continuing it.”
“Because I was with you.”
“Exactly. But Rydall does not know that. He thinks you are returned to Sterling Silver or gone on to Elderew to be with your grandfather. Neither place is safe, of course. He will be looking for you there. He will not think to look for you here. You are better off with me until this matter is resolved. Your father will agree with that once he thinks it through.”
Mistaya shuffled her feet, thinking hard. None of this seemed right to her. “How do you know about Rydall? Why have you been watching me?”
“I am interested in you, Mistaya,” Nightshade answered slowly. “I know things about you that even you do not know. I wanted to tell them to you, but I wasn’t sure how to do so. I was following you, waiting for a chance. I know how your father and mother feel about me. We have not always been on good terms. At times we have fought. But we share a common interest in you.” She paused. “Do you know, Mistaya, that you were born in the Deep Fell?”