“Be careful,” Ben said quietly, his arms tightening about Willow.
The wizard nodded. “Good luck to you, High Lord.”
He began the incantation, the magic words spilling out in a steady stream of meaningless rhetoric. Then came the gestures, the appearance of the silver dust, and the coming of the light. Rain and gloom faded, taking with them the kobolds and the gnomes, then Questor Thews as well. Ben and Willow were alone, holding each other close.
“I love you, Ben,” he heard the sylph say.
Then everything disappeared in a flash of light, and they closed their eyes tight against its brilliance.
They drifted for a time, a long, slow drifting that lacked direction or focus, the sort of drifting one sometimes experiences when sleep grows into gradual wakening. Then the light grew less intense, the drifting stopped, and the world about them grew distinct again.
They were standing on a street corner in a city, the air filled with the sounds of cars and people. Willow clung to Ben, burying her face in his shoulder, clearly frightened. Ben looked quickly about, shaken himself by the sudden rush of noise.
Good heavens, it was hot! It was as if it were the middle of summer instead of fall! But that couldn’t be…
“Holy mackerel!” he breathed.
He knew exactly where he was. He would have known whatever the circumstances of his being there.
He was right in the middle of the Las Vegas strip.
Castles and Cages
Questor Thews stared thoughtfully at the empty space that had been occupied by Ben Holiday and Willow only seconds before, then rubbed his hands together in satisfaction and said, “Well, I believe they are safely on their way.”
Bunion and Parsnip came forward, peered at the emptiness, and hissed their agreement. Their teeth showed and their yellow eyes blinked like signal lamps.
“Great High Lord,” whimpered Fillip from somewhere in the shadows behind them.
“Mighty High Lord,” whimpered Sot.
“Come, come! The High Lord is safe and sound,” Questor assured them, wondering briefly if he had remembered correctly all the words and gestures to the part of the incantation having to do with the place to which he had sent them. Yes, he was certain that he had. Reasonably certain, at any rate.
“Got to concentrate on dealing with matters here,” he announced, mostly to himself. “Hmmmmmm. Let me see.”
He straightened himself beneath his robes, tugged on his beard, and peered out into the gloom. It was still raining heavily, the drops spattering into ever-widening puddles and streams that interlocked across the whole of the landscape as far as he could see. Clouds hung low against the horizon, and the day seemed to be growing darker. The haze of mist that had shrouded the valley since dawn was thickening.
Questor frowned. It would be a perfectly reasonable decision to return to Sterling Silver here, and now and forget about chasing after that confounded demon.
On the other hand, there was nothing waiting at Sterling Silver that wouldn’t keep a few days more—and he had promised the High Lord that he would do his best to retrieve the bottle. Although he didn’t care to dwell on it, he knew he was at least partially responsible for the bottle being in Landover in the first place; therefore, he should do his best to set matters right again—especially since the High Lord had placed such great trust in him.
“I think, perhaps, that we should continue our hunt,” he declared. “Bunion? Parsnip? Shall we keep after the Darkling a little while longer?”
The kobolds glanced at each other and hissed their approval.
“Excellent!” Questor turned to the G’home Gnomes. “I should be less charitable with you than was the High Lord, Fillip and Sot, if the choice were mine. Still, all was forgiven, so you are free to go.”
Fillip and Sot stopped whimpering and shivering long enough to glance about at the gray, empty landscape and then at each other. Their eyes were wide and frightened. “Good and kind Questor Thews!” said Fillip. “Wondrous wizard!” declared Sot.
“We will stay with you!”
“We will give you our help!”
“Please let us stay?”
“Please?”
Questor Thews looked down at them with undisguised suspicion. The gnomes were asking to stay only because they were afraid of being left alone come nightfall with the Darkling still on the loose. He hesitated, then shrugged. Well, after all, what could you expect of G’home Gnomes?