He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you have been a King for a much shorter time than Questor has been a wizard. Should you expect so much of yourself when you see how hard it still is for him? The truths of what we undertake in our lives are never quickly mastered. No one is born with those truths; they must always be learned.” She reached over and touched him briefly on the cheek. “Besides, was there ever a time in your life when events you could neither anticipate nor control did not intrude on your plans and disrupt them? Why should it be different now?”
He felt suddenly foolish. “It shouldn’t, I suppose. And I shouldn’t be moping about like this, I know. But it just seems that I’m not really what everyone thinks I am. I’m just… me.”
She smiled again. “That is what we all are, Ben. But it doesn’t stop others from expecting us to be more.”
He smiled back. “People should be more considerate.”
They rode on in silence, and he consigned his brooding to the back burner, concentrating instead on formulating a plan for getting the bottle back from Fillip and Sot. Morning passed steadily away, and it was nearing midday when Bunion reappeared from out of the mist.
“He has found the gnomes, High Lord,” Questor advised hurriedly after a brief conference with the tracker. “It appears that they are in some sort of trouble!”
They spurred their horses ahead and rode at a fast canter through the gloom, the rain and wind blowing into their faces as they sought to keep the elusive Bunion in sight. They passed along a ridge line and down a wash to a grassy hillock beyond. Bunion stopped them at its base and pointed.
There, halfway up, suspended head downward from an aging hickory, were Fillip and Sot. The G’home Gnomes dangled in the wind like a pair of rather bizarre pods.
“What the heck’s going on here?” demanded Ben.
He urged Jurisdiction forward, slowly, cautiously, the others following. When he was several dozen yards away, he dismounted and looked guardedly about.
“Bunion says they are alone,” Questor offered over one shoulder, his owlish face poking out of his rain cloak’s hood. “The bottle and the Darkling appear to be gone.”
“Great High Lord!” called out Fillip weakly.
“Mighty High Lord!” echoed Sot.
They sounded as if they were just about all done in, their voices a faint gurgle of rainwater and exhaustion.
They were sodden and muddied and presented the most pathetic spectacle Ben had ever witnessed.
“I should just leave them there,” he muttered half to himself, thinking of the missing bottle.
It was as if they had heard him. “Don’t leave us, High Lord, please don’t leave us!” they implored as one, whining like beaten pups.
Ben was disgusted. He shook his head hopelessly, then looked at Bunion. “All right, Bunion. Cut them down.”
The kobold skittered forward, climbed the hickory, and cut the ropes suspending the gnomes. Fillip and Sot dropped headfirst into the muck. Serves them right, Ben thought darkly.
Willow hastened forward, rolled them out of the mud and water, and cut the bonds that secured their hands and feet. Gently, she helped them sit up, rubbing their wrists and ankles to help restore the circulation. The gnomes were crying like babies.
“We are so sorry, Great High Lord,” whimpered Fillip.
“We meant no harm, Mighty High Lord,” whimpered Sot.
“It was the bottle—it was so beautiful.”
“It was the creature—it could do wondrous magic things!”
“But it heard us say we would return it.”
“It made us free it in our sleep!”
“Then it brought the trolls, High Lord!”
“It used magic lights to guide them!”
“And they captured us!”
“And tied us like dogs!”
“And hung…!”
“And left…!”
Ben put his hands up quickly. “Whoa, stop! I can’t follow any of this! Just tell me what happened, all right—but slowly, please. Just tell me where the bottle is now!”
The G’home Gnomes told him everything. They dissolved into tears of repentance numerous times, but they finally got through it. Ben listened patiently, glancing once or twice at Questor and Willow, wondering for what must have been the hundredth time in the past few days why these things always seemed to happen to him.