“Entirely possible,” Questor agreed. He leaned back and pursed his lips. “Well, then. Some other magic intervened and saved our lives. It sent us to the High Lord’s old world, transformed Abernathy, and gave us the ability to speak and understand the language. But—and this is significant—it sent us here, to the very place we last appeared, where Abernathy was inadvertently exchanged for the Darkling, to the site of Graum Wythe, to what was once the home of Michel Ard Rhi. And,” he said, nodding meaningfully at Elizabeth, “to within a few feet of you.”
Abernathy stared. “Wait one minute, Questor Thews. What is it you are saying here?”
“What we all have said at one point or another since meeting up at the Bumbershoot festival: that ending up back here, close to Graum Wythe and practically in the arms of Elizabeth, is rather too large a coincidence to be swallowed in one bite. I would be willing to bet that there is a reason for everything that has happened to us. Whoever or whatever saved our lives did not do so haphazardly. It did so with foresight and purpose. We were saved for a reason. We were sent here, to the High Lord’s old world, but here to the site of Graum Wythe specifically, quite deliberately.”
He paused, considering. “Elizabeth, didn’t you say that Graum Wythe is still here?”
“Come look,” she offered, getting up from the table.
She took them from the kitchen through a curtained door and out into the backyard, a well-tended lawn that spread away through a scattering of spruce to a split-rail fence. She took them midway to the fence, to where the trees opened up, then stopped and pointed right. There, silhouetted against the skyline by the fading light of the sun, stood Graum Wythe. The castle sat alone on a rise, ringed by its walls and warded by its towers. It sat solitary and immutable, black and brooding as the night swept toward it.
Elizabeth lowered her arm. Specks of sunlight flashed in her curly hair. “Still there, right where you left it. Remember, Abernathy?”
Abernathy shivered. “I could do without the reminder. It is as forbidding as ever, I must say.” A sudden thought chilled him further. “Michel Ard Rhi hasn’t come back by any chance, has he?”
“Oh, no, of course not.” Elizabeth laughed disarmingly. “He moved down to Oregon, several hundred miles away. He gave Graum Wythe to the state as a museum. A trust fund administers the estate. My father is the chief trustee. He oversees everything. No, don’t worry. Michel is long gone.”
“My magic made certain of that,” Questor Thews added pointedly.
“I certainly hope so,” Abernathy muttered, thinking as he said it that Questor Thews’s magic had never been very reliable.
They went back inside and resumed their places at the table. Darkness had fallen, and the last of the daylight had faded. Elizabeth poured them tall glasses of cold milk and produced a plate of cookies. Questor helped himself eagerly, but Abernathy found that he had lost his appetite.
“So none of this is coincidence; all of it is part of some mysterious plan,” the scribe summed up doubtfully. “What plan?”
Questor regarded him as he might an inattentive child, eyebrows lifting. “Well, I don’t know the answer to that, of course. If I did, we wouldn’t need to have this discussion, now, would we?”
Abernathy ignored him. “An intervening magic saved us from Nightshade and sent us to the High Lord’s old world, to Earth, but in particular to Graum Wythe and Elizabeth.” He looked at Elizabeth. Then he looked at Questor. “I still don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I do, either,” Questor Thews admitted. “But assume for a moment that whoever or whatever helped us did so to help Mistaya as well. As far as we know, no one is aware of what happened to the child except for us. We know Nightshade took her. We know that the witch intends to use the child to gain revenge against the High Lord and that Rydall of Marnhull is part of her scheme. If we can get word to Ben Holiday, then he might be able to do something to disrupt the witch’s plans. Perhaps that is what we are meant to do. We are alive and here for a specific reason, Abernathy. What better reason than to discover a way to stop Nightshade before she carries out her scheme?”
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