[Magic Kingdom of Landover 05] - Witches' Brew (27 page)

“Well, I am.”

“Am what?”

“Visiting you. Sitting here having this conversation is visiting, isn't it?”

He gave her a sharp look. “You are too smart by half, little girl. Misty, is it? You tell me now, if we're really friends—who are you?”

She tried her best to look confused. “I already told you that.”

“So you did. Misty, out for a walk in the middle of nowhere. Come to visit a new friend she didn't know she had until just now.” Poggwydd shook his whiskered face at her. “Well, you look like trouble to me, so I don't think I want to talk with you anymore. I don't need any more trouble in my life. G'home Gnomes have enough as it is. Good-bye.”

He rose and brushed himself off, sending dust and crumbs flying. She stared at him in disbelief. He really meant it. She scrambled up with him.

“I don't see what difference it makes who I am,” she declared angrily. “Why can't we just talk?”

He shrugged. “Because I don't like little girls who play games, and you're playing one with me, aren't you? You know who I am, but I don't know who you are. I don't like that. It isn't fair.”

“Isn't fair?” she exclaimed.

“Not a bit.”

She watched him begin to gather up his few belongings. “But I don't really know who you are, either,” she pointed out quickly. “I don't know any more about you than you know about me. Except your name. And you know mine, so we're even.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “Well, now, I suppose that's right. Yes, I suppose it is.”

He put down his pack with a small clatter of implements and sat down again. Mistaya sat with him.

“I'll make you a deal,” he said, holding up a single
grimy finger for emphasis. “You tell me something about you, and I'll tell you something about me. How about that?”

She held out her finger and touched it to his, binding the agreement. “You first.”

Poggwydd frowned, shrugged, and rocked back. “Humph. Let me see.” He looked marginally thoughtful. “Very well. I'll tell you what I'm doing out here. I'm a treasure hunter for the King, for the High Lord himself.” He gave her a conspiratorial look. “I'm on a special mission, looking for a very valuable chest of gold that's hidden somewhere in these woods.”

She arched one eyebrow. “You are not.”

“I am so!” He was immediately indignant. “How would you know, anyway?”

“Because I just do.” She was grinning in spite of herself. Poggwydd made her laugh almost as much as Abernathy did.

“Well, you don't know anything!” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “I have been a treasure hunter for the King for years! I have found a good many valuable things in my travels, I can tell you! I know more about treasure hunting than anyone, and the High Lord appreciates that. That's why he employs me.”

“I bet he doesn't even know you,” she persisted, enjoying the game. It was the most fun she'd had in some time. “I bet he has never seen you before in his entire life.”

Poggwydd was beside himself. “He has so! I happen to know him quite well! I even know his family. I know the Queen! And the little girl, the one who's missing! Why, I might even find her while I'm looking for that chest of gold!”

She stared at him.
Missing?
She kept her lips tightly together. “You don't know her. You're making this all up.”

“I am not! I'll tell you something, since you seem so intent on being rude. The High Lord's little girl is a whole lot nicer than you!”

“She is not!”

“Hah! Fly doodles! How would you know?”

“Because I'm her!”

It was out before she could help herself. She said it in a rush of indignation and pride, but she supposed that she would have said it anyway because this was a game, and he wouldn't know whether to believe it. Besides, she wanted to see the look on his face when she said it.

The look was worth it. He gaped in undisguised amazement, sputtered something unintelligible, and then finished with a monstrous snort. “Pfah! What nonsense! What a heap of horse hunks! Now who's telling tall tales?”

“And I'm not missing, either!” she added firmly. “I'm right here with you!”

“You're not the High Lord's daughter!” he exclaimed vehemently. “You can't be!”

“How would you know?” she mimicked. Then she put her hands to her face and feigned shock. “Oh, excuse me, I forgot! You're the King's personal treasure hunter and know the whole family!”

Poggwydd scowled. He hunched forward, his round body rocking on its stubby, gnarled legs as if in danger of tipping over completely.

“Look here,” he said carefully. “Enough foolishness. It's one thing to play at being someone where the playing is harmless but another altogether to make light of misfortune. I know you are just a little girl, but you're a smart little girl and old enough to appreciate the difference.”

“What are you talking about!” she snapped, furious at being lectured like this.

“The High Lord's daughter!” he snapped back. “That's what I'm talking about! Don't tell me you don't know.” He stopped short. “Well, now, maybe you don't—little girl all alone out here in the woods, bumping up against a fellow like me. Who are you, anyway? You never did say. Are you one of those fairies, come out from the mists for a visit? Are you a sprite or some such from the lake country? We don't see many up this way. Not us G'home Gnomes, anyway.”

He paused, collecting his thoughts. “Well, here's what's happened, if you don't already know. The High Lord's daughter is missing, and everyone is looking for her. She's been missing for days, weeks perhaps, but gone for sure, and there were search parties hunting for her from one end of Landover to the other.”

He bent close, lowering his voice as if he might be heard. “Word is, King Rydall has her. He's from someplace called Marnhull. He has her. Won't give her back, either. He's making the King's champion do battle with some monsters. I don't know that for a fact, but that's what I've heard. In any case, she's missing, and you shouldn't make fun of her.”

Mistaya was dumbfounded. “But I am her!” she insisted, hands on hips. “I really am!”

There was movement in the trees to one side. She caught just a glimpse of it and whirled about, poised to flee, her heart in her throat, her stomach turned to ice. The movement turned to color, a rush of wicked greenish light that filled the shadowed spaces between the trunks and limbs. The color tightened and took shape, coalescing into human form, lean and dark and certain.

Nightshade had returned.

The witch stepped out of the shadows, silent as a ghost. Her bloodred eyes fixed on Mistaya. “You were told not to leave the Deep Fell,” she said softly.

Mistaya froze. For a moment her thoughts were so
scattered that she couldn't think. Then she managed a small nod in response. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I wanted to see the sun again.”

“Come stand over here,” the witch ordered. “By me.”

“It was just for the day,” Mistaya tried to explain, frightened now of what might happen to her, terrified by the look on the other's face. “I was all alone, and I didn't think—”

“Come here, Mistaya!” Nightshade snapped, cutting her short.

Mistaya crossed the clearing slowly, head lowered. She managed a quick glance back at Poggwydd. He was standing in front of his fire, eyes wide and staring. Mistaya felt sorry for him. This was her fault.

“I am waiting, Mistaya,” Nightshade warned.

Mistaya's gaze swung back again toward the witch. She realized suddenly that Haltwhistle was missing. He had been right beside her while she had been talking with Poggwydd. Where had he gone?

She reached Nightshade and stopped, dreading what might happen next. Nightshade forced a smile, but there was no warmth in it. “I am very disappointed in you,” she whispered.

Mistaya nodded, ashamed without being quite sure why. “I won't do it again,” she promised. She remembered Poggwydd. “It wasn't his fault,” she said quickly, looking back over her shoulder at the unfortunate G'home Gnome. “It was mine. He didn't even want to talk to me.” She hesitated. “You won't hurt him, will you?”

Nightshade reached out and placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. Gently but firmly she moved her aside. “Of course not. He is nothing but a silly Gnome. I'll just speed him on his way.”

“Excuse me?” Poggwydd ventured, his voice small and thin. “I don't need to be here anymore, do I? Any
longer, I mean? I … I can just pick up my things, and I can—”

Nightshade's hands came up, and green fire blazed sharply to life at her fingertips. Poggwydd squeaked and cringed back in terror. Nightshade let the fire build, then gathered it in her palms and caressed it lovingly as she watched the Gnome. Mistaya tried to speak and found she couldn't. She turned to Nightshade, pleading with her eyes, suddenly certain that the witch meant to harm Poggwydd, after all.

Then she saw Haltwhistle. The mud puppy was crouched at the edge of the trees just out of Nightshade's field of vision. His hackles were standing on end, and his head drooped forward as if he were concentrating. Something white and frosty-looking was rising off his back.

What was he doing?

Abruptly Nightshade sent the green fire hurtling into Poggwydd. But Haltwhistle's moon/frost reached him first. Mistaya screamed at the sound of the impact. The fire and the frost exploded together, and Poggwydd disappeared. All that remained was the Gnome's discarded pack and the smell of ashes and smoke.

“What was that?” Nightshade exclaimed instantly, eyes raking the clearing from end to end. She wheeled on Mistaya. “Did you see it? Did you?”

Mistaya blinked. Her breath came in little gasps. The moon/frost. She
had
seen it, of course. But she would never admit it to the witch. Not after what had happened to Poggwydd. At least Haltwhistle had escaped. There wasn't a trace of him to be seen.

She faced Nightshade down, her voice shaking. “What did you do to Poggwydd? I asked you not to hurt him!”

The witch was nonplussed by the girl's vehemence. “Calm yourself,” she soothed. Her eyes were still skittering
about uneasily. “Nothing has happened to him. I sent him home, back to his people, away from where he doesn't belong.”

Mistaya would not be placated. “I don't believe you! I don't believe anything you say anymore! I want to go home right now!”

Nightshade gave her a cool and dispassionate look. “Very well, Mistaya,” she said quietly. “But first listen to what I have to say. You can do that for me, can't you?”

Mistaya nodded, tight-lipped.

“Your friend
wasn't
harmed,” the witch emphasized. “But he couldn't be allowed to remain here. What he told you was true, so far as he knew. Everyone thinks that Rydall has you. Your father arranged for them to think that. He started the rumor when Rydall first tried to kidnap you. He even organized a search for you to make the claim seem true. He did this to confuse Rydall and whoever might be trying to find you on his behalf. This way it seemed that no one knew where you were.”

She gave Mistaya a sympathetic smile. “But now the little Gnome knows the truth. Suppose he tells someone what you said? Suppose he tells them where he saw you? What if word of this gets back to Rydall's spies? The risk is too great. So I returned him to where he came from, and I used my magic to erase his memory of this incident. I did it to protect you both.”

“He won't remember anything?” Mistaya asked carefully.

“Nothing. So no harm is done, is it?” Nightshade bent close. “As for going home, you may do so immediately if you wish.” She paused. “Or you may stay with me for three more days and then leave. If you choose to stay, I will make you a promise. I won't ask you to make any more monsters. We've done enough of that, I know. You have been more than patient, and I
have been rather demanding of you. So we shall try something else. What do you think about that?”

Mistaya stared at her, surprised by this unexpected turn of events. The witch's eyes were silver again, soft and compelling. Mistaya remembered how things had been when they had first met, how eager Nightshade had been to teach, how anxious she had been to learn. She remembered how excited she had been the first time she had used her magic. She felt a little of the anger and mistrust drop away. She would like to continue the lessons, she supposed. She would like to stay. She didn't have to go home right this instant, not if Poggwydd was really safe and she didn't have to make any more monsters.

“Are my parents all right?” she asked suddenly.

Nightshade looked shocked. “Of course they are. Where do you think I was this morning? I changed form and went to Sterling Silver to make certain. Everything is fine. Your father and mother are well. Questor Thews protects them from Rydall, so we have time to finish your training in the use of magic. Then you will be ready to help protect them as well.”

Mistaya stared at the witch without speaking. Nightshade seemed to be telling the truth. And Poggwydd hadn't said anything about her parents being in any danger or having come to any harm. Of course, it was hard to know whether anything the Gnome said was true, she supposed.

She was suddenly very confused. She sighed and looked away from the witch. The clearing was silent and empty save for them. Overhead, the sun brightened the skies and streamed down through the trees. She could almost believe that Poggwydd had never been there at all.

“Well,” she said finally, “I guess I could stay for three more days.”

“That would be very wise of you,” Nightshade encouraged, and Mistaya failed to catch the hard edge that shaped the words or the way the witch's back lost a touch of its stiffness. “But you must not go out of the Deep Fell again.”