WIZARD AT LARGE. Terry Brooks

“But, Abernathy, where will you go?” she asked immediately.

“It really doesn’t matter so long as it is far away from here,” he advised. He paused, frowning. “I still cannot understand why I am here rather than somewhere else. Here, of all places. How could that happen?” He shook his

“I think I should go with you,” Elizabeth said suddenly.

“No! No, you cannot do that!” Abernathy replied at once. “No, no, Elizabeth, I have to go alone.”

“But you don’t even know where you’re going!”

“I can find my way, believe me. There is a way back into Landover if you wear the medallion. The High Lord told me something of it once—a place called Virginia. I can find it.”

“Virginia is at the other end of the country!” Elizabeth exclaimed, horrified. “How will you get there?”

Abernathy stared at her. He had no idea, of course. “There are ways,” he said finally. “But I have to get out of here first. Will you help me?”

Elizabeth sighed. “Of course, I’ll help you.” She stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out. “I have to think of a way to sneak you through one of the gates. They check everyone going out.” She thought. “It’s too late today to do anything. Maybe tomorrow. I have to go to school, but I get home by four. Or maybe I’ll pretend to be sick and stay home. I can’t hide you here for very long.” She looked over. “I still think I should go with you.”

Abernathy nodded. “I know. But you can’t, Elizabeth. You are too young. It would be too dangerous.”

Elizabeth frowned, then turned back to the window. “My dad says that sometimes when I ask to do things.”

“I suppose he does.”

Elizabeth turned back again and looked over with a smile. He saw himself fleetingly in the mirror behind her, saw himself as she saw him, a dog in red and gold silk clothing sitting on her bed, glasses on his furry nose, soulful brown eyes looking back at her. He suddenly thought how ridiculous he must seem to her. He looked away, embarrassed.

But she surprised him. “Are we going to stay good friends, Abernathy,” she asked, “even after you’re gone?”

He would have smiled if it were possible for dogs to do so. “Yes, Elizabeth, we are.”

“Good. I’m really glad that I’m the one who found you, you know.”

“I am, too.”

“I still wish you would let me come with you.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you think about it.”

“I will.”

“Do you promise?”

Abernathy sighed. “Elizabeth?”

“Yes?”

“I could think much better if I had something to eat. And maybe something to drink?”

She bounced out of the room. Abernathy watched her go. He liked Elizabeth. He had to admit that he didn’t mind so much being a dog around her after all.

Darkling

“There is something that lives in the bottle,” Questor Thews said.

He sat with Ben, Willow, and the kobolds in the garden room. Night’s shadows cloaked everything in shawls of gray and black, save only where a single dimmed light from a smokeless lamp lent muted shades of color to a small circle of space where four listeners sat hunched over in silence, waiting for the wizard to continue. Questor’s owlish face was gaunt and craggy with worry, his brow furrowed more deeply than usual, his eyes bits of silver glitter. His hands were folded in his lap, gnarled sticks of deadwood that had become inextricably locked together.

“The thing is called a Darkling. It is a kind of demon.”

Like the bottle imp, Ben thought suddenly, remembering the old Robert Louis Stevenson story. Then he remembered what the creature of that story had done to its owners and he experienced a sudden twinge of uneasiness.

“The Darkling is very like the genie of the lamp in the old tales,” Questor continued. Ben felt the uneasiness begin to subside. “It serves the holder of its bottle, appearing when summoned, doing its master’s bidding. It uses various forms of magic to accomplish this.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, the magic it uses is all bad.”

“How bad?” Ben asked quietly. The uneasiness was back.