by Terry Brooks
“But it is your decision to make, Abernathy—not mine. You know that.”
“I know nothing of the sort! I know nothing at all! I am sick and tired of being ignorant of what is happening in my life! All I want is to be able to go back to the way things were, and I am not being allowed to do that! I am still being required to perform, just as I was when we appeared at that Bumble-whatever festival, only the audience isn’t anyone we can see! Why should I agree to go along with this? It would be better just to sit down and refuse to do another thing!”
“Doing nothing is the same as doing something!” Questor was growing a bit heated himself. “A choice is made either way!”
Abernathy clenched his hands in fury. “So it still comes down to the same thing, doesn’t it? A choice must be made one way or the other, even if the choice is not really a choice at all?”
“You are babbling!”
“I am trying to make sense!”
Questor Thews sighed. “Why don’t we eat some breakfast and then perhaps—”
“Oh, forget it! I’m going back!”
“—things will be a little easier.” The wizard caught his breath sharply. “What did you say?”
Abernathy struggled to keep his voice from breaking. “I said I am going back! I want you to use the magic to change me!” He grimaced at the look on the other’s ragged face and was suddenly calm. “It isn’t so difficult a decision, Questor Thews. When this matter is over and done, I have to be able to live with myself. If I am required to be a dog again, I can adjust. I can accept it knowing that I did everything I could to help the High Lord and his family. But if I stay a man and learn later that by changing to a dog I could have saved their lives … well, you can imagine.”
He cleared his throat. “Besides, I swore an oath.” For a long moment he looked to be the saddest man who ever lived. “I am Court Scribe to the throne of Landover and pledged to serve her King. I am bound to serve in whatever way I can. I might wish it otherwise just now, but I cannot change the fact of it.”
Questor Thews stared. The old eyes were fierce. “You really are quite remarkable,” the wizard said softly. “Really.”
Impulsively, he wrapped his arms about his friend and hugged him, whiskers rubbing roughly into Abernathy’s smooth skin. “Well,” Abernathy said in reply, overcome by the other’s response. He tried to shrug his indifference. “Really, yourself.”
They went up to the house to have breakfast with Elizabeth. The three of them sat at the little kitchen table, crowded over bowls of cereal and milk. Mrs. Ambaum bustled about officiously for a few moments as if attempting to supervise in some way, then gave up trying and disappeared out the front door with a promise to be back by noon.
As soon as she was gone, Elizabeth said, “Dad is coming home tonight, flying in from New York.”
“So Mrs. Ambaum informed us,” Questor advised. He did not look at Abernathy. His friend was eating with his head bent close over the bowl and his hand to his forehead.
“We have to make up a new story,” Elizabeth continued. Her curly hair was damp from washing, and her face was freshly scrubbed. “It won’t be hard. We’ll just say that Mrs. Ambaum got it wrong, and that you …”
But Questor was already shaking his head. “No, Elizabeth. That won’t be necessary. Abernathy and I are leaving.”
“Leaving? When?”
Questor smiled sadly. “Right away. As soon as we finish eating.”
Disappointment showed immediately. “You found a way to go back, didn’t you?”
Questor nodded. “Last night.”
She bit her lip. She looked at Abernathy, brow furrowed. “But you only just got here. Can’t you stay another day or so? Maybe I can—”
“No, Elizabeth.” Abernathy straightened and met her desperate gaze with kind eyes. “The High Lord needs us. Mistaya needs us. Any further delay is dangerous. We can’t stay.”
Elizabeth looked down at her cereal and gave it a few stirs with her spoon. “It doesn’t seem fair. I don’t want to be selfish, and I know it’s important you go back. But you just got here.” She glanced up, then quickly down. “I’ve been waiting four years to see you again.”
Abernathy couldn’t speak. His face was stricken.
There was a momentary silence. “What about Poggwydd?” she asked finally.
Questor cleared his throat. “Poggwydd will go back with us. Abernathy and I will seek his release as soon as we leave here.”
“I’ll go with you,” Elizabeth announced at once.
“No,” Abernathy said quickly, thinking it was bad enough that they were going themselves but resigned to the inevitability of it.
“What he means,” Questor said, jumping in with both feet, “is that the moment we free Poggwydd, we will be on our way. Poof!” He tried a smile, failed. “If we encounter any trouble, we don’t want you involved. Isn’t that right, Abernathy?”
“But you might need my help!” Elizabeth didn’t wait to hear what Abernathy had to say. “You don’t know your way around Seattle! How will you get anywhere? How will you even find Poggwydd?”
“Well, perhaps you could help us with that last part,” the wizard suggested soothingly.
“Elizabeth.” Abernathy folded his hands on the table and sighed. “If we could stay, we would. If we could spend even a little more time with you, we would. You have been our friend. Mine especially. Twice now, not just once. But there are limits to what we can allow you to risk. It will be hard enough explaining us to your father.”
“I’m not worried about him! I’m not worried about Mrs. Ambaum or anyone!” She was adamant.
“I know,” he replied softly. “You have never let anyone stop you. If you had, I would not be here now.” He smiled sadly. “But we worry for you. We worry that something will happen to you, and then we would be responsible. Remember what happened with Michel Ard Rhi? Remember how close you came to being hurt? I was scared to death for you! I cannot take a chance that such a thing might happen again. We have to say good-bye now. Here, at your house, where we know you are safe. Please, Elizabeth.”
She took a moment to consider the matter and then nodded. “Okay, Abernathy.” Still upset, defensive, angry. “I guess.” She sighed. “Well, at least you’re a man again, aren’t you? At least you’re not a dog anymore.”
Abernathy smiled bravely. “Yes, at least I’m not a dog.”
They finished breakfast in silence.
In an effort to find out what had become of Poggwydd, Elizabeth called the King County police, who referred her to King County animal control, who in turn referred her to the King County animal shelter on Elliott. Because no one had been certain what Poggwydd was and therefore what to do with him, the G’home Gnome had been passed from hand to hand like an old shoe. The final result was temporary as well, she discovered when she spoke with one of the animal shelter employees. A zoologist from Woodland Park and an anthropologist from the University of Washington were both due to pay a visit later that morning. Territorial disputes would be resolved, and Poggwydd would be sent one place or the other for further study.
Elizabeth hung up the phone, gave her report, and said, “You’d better hurry.”
A taxi was called to spirit Abernathy and Questor Thews to their destination at the animal shelter. Elizabeth gave them money for the fare. She stood with them at the end of the walk until the cab arrived, giving them final words of caution and encouragement and providing her phone number in case things went horribly wrong and it turned out they needed her after all, secretly hoping they would, hoping they would find some way to come back but knowing they wouldn’t. When the cab arrived, she hugged them both and wished them a safe journey. She kissed Abernathy on the cheek and told him that he was her best friend, even if he was from another world, and that she would always wait for him because she knew that someday he would come back. Abernathy said he would try. He said he would never forget her. She cried in spite of saying that she wouldn’t, and Abernathy had
to work hard at not crying with her.
Then Questor and Abernathy were off, speeding down four- and five-lane highways, zipping around other vehicles, barely missing all sorts of obstacles and barriers. They crossed a bridge, turned down a ramp-way, sped along a two-lane roadway at a slightly slower speed, and wheeled into a parking area next to a brown brick building with a sign that read “King County Animal Shelter.”
They gave Elizabeth’s money to the cab driver, stepped back onto solid ground with an unmistakable sense of relief, and headed inside. The walk diverged, and there were entries at either end. They went left through a door to a desk where a bored-looking employee sent them outside again and down the walk to the other door. At the second desk a young woman in a uniform looked up expectantly as they entered.
“Professor Adkins? Mr. Drozkin?” she greeted them.
Questor recognized an opportunity when he saw one. He smiled and nodded.
The young woman looked relieved. “Do you have any idea what this thing is?” she asked. “No one here has ever seen anything like it. It’s giving us fits! I’ve tried everything—we all have—but we can’t even get close. After the police brought it in, I removed the restraints and it tried to take my hand off. And it eats everything! Do you know what it is?”
“I have a pretty good idea,” Questor Thews said. “Can we have a look?”
“Of course; right this way.” She was eager to accommodate them, to rid herself of the burden of Poggwydd. Abernathy understood perfectly.
She brought them around the counter to a heavy metal door, which she unlocked and swung open. From there she led them down a hallway into an area of cages. At the far end was Poggwydd, slumped down at the back of the largest cage. His clothing was torn, and his fur was caked with grime and sweat. Cuts and scratches marked him from head to foot, and his tongue was hanging out. He looked, even for a G’home Gnome, decidedly miserable.
When he saw them, he leapt to his feet and attacked the cage with a vengeance that was astonishing. He shook and rattled and bit at the heavy wire in a frenzy, trying to get at them.
“He’s gotten even worse!” the young woman declared in astonishment. “I’d better tranquilize him right now!”
“No, let’s wait on that, please,” Questor interrupted hurriedly. “I’d like simply to observe him for now. I don’t want him sedated. Can you leave us for a few minutes … I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Beckendall. Lucy Beckendall.” She reached out her hand, and he shook it cordially, not bothering with an introduction on his end because he had already forgotten who he was supposed to be.
“A few minutes?” he repeated helpfully. “We can just stand here and have a good long look.”
Poggwydd was racing up and down the wire, showing all his teeth, shaking his fist, desperately trying to speak.
“Of course,” she agreed. “I’ll be right outside. Just call if you need me.”
They waited until she went back through the heavy door and closed it securely behind her. Questor looked at Abernathy, then stepped close to the cage.
“Stop that!” he snapped at Poggwydd. “Behave yourself and listen to me! Do you want out of there or not?”
Poggwydd, worn out anyway, dropped to the floor and stood glaring at him. It was very close and antiseptic in the room. Abernathy pictured himself locked away in there for a full day and was suddenly sympathetic toward the Gnome in spite of himself.
“Now, listen!” Questor addressed Poggwydd firmly. “There is no point in leaping about like that! We came for you as soon as we could, as soon as we found out where you were!”
Poggwydd gestured toward his mouth in frustration.
“Oh, of course, you want to say something,” Questor furrowed his brow fiercely. “Just keep your voice down when you speak so you can’t be heard or I’ll silence you again. Understood?”
The G’home Gnome nodded blackly. Questor spoke some words in a low voice, made a gesture, and Poggwydd’s voice came back with a gasp.
“You certainly took your time!” he said. “I might have died in here! Those people are animals!”
Questor inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “I apologize. But now here we are. We have come to get you out and take you back to Landover.”
The Gnome’s face scrunched into a mass of angry wrinkles. “Well maybe I don’t want to go! Maybe I’ve had quite enough of you, Questor Thews! And your friend!”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You want to stay in there?”
“No, I don’t want to stay in here! I want out! But once I’m out, I want to go back on my own. I can find my own way better than you, I’m willing to bet!”
“You couldn’t find your way out of an open field, much less another world! Whatever are you talking about?”
“Leave him, Questor Thews!” Abernathy snapped. “We’ve wasted enough time!”
The three of them began arguing heatedly and were still at it when abruptly the metal door opened and Lucy Beckendall stepped into view. All three went instantly silent. She stared from one to the other, almost certain she had heard the creature in the cage speaking.
“There is some sort of mix-up here,” she announced, looking uncomfortable and wary. “I have two gentlemen at the reception desk who had identified themselves as Professor Adkins from the University of Washington and Mr. Drozkin from the Woodland Park Zoo. They have shown me their ID cards. Do you have any identification to offer?”
“Of course,” Abernathy declared quickly, smiling and nodding. Drat!
He walked quickly down the line of cages, reaching into his pocket, fumbling, and shaking his head. When he reached Lucy Beckendall at the door, he placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, shoved her back through the opening, and yanked the door closed once more. “Questor Thews!” he bawled, bracing himself against the door as pounding immediately began without. “Help!”
The wizard pulled up his sleeves, raised his skinny arms, and sent an electric blue clot of magic zapping into the lock. The lock and handle melted and fused in place.
“There, they won’t be getting in that way!” he declared in satisfaction.
“And we won’t be getting out, either!” Abernathy stalked back down the walkway. “So you had better know what you are going to do next!”
Questor Thews wheeled on Poggwydd. “There is only one way out, Mr. Poggwydd—with us, back to Landover. If we leave you, they’ll have you back in this cage in a matter of minutes. Who will help you then? Now, I’m sorry you’re in this mess, but it isn’t our fault. And we don’t have time to debate the matter.” The pounding without had given way to a violent hammering, metal on metal where the lock was fused. Questor’s mouth tightened, and his bony finger jutted at the Gnome. “Just think what they’ll do to you! Experiments! Tests! Potions of all sorts! What’s it to be, Poggwydd? Landover and freedom or a cage for the rest of your life?”
Poggwydd licked his grimy lips, his eyes bright with fear. “Get me out! I’ll go with you! I won’t make any more trouble, I promise!”
“Good choice,” Questor muttered. “Step back from the door.”
The G’home Gnome scurried into a back corner. Questor gestured and twisted with his hands, and the door sprang open. “Out!” the wizard snapped.
Poggwydd crawled out meekly and hunkered down like a beaten dog. “Stop that!” Questor ordered. “There’s nothing wrong with you! Stand up!”
Poggwydd straightened, his lower lip quivering. “I don’t want to see that little girl again! Or her mud puppy, either! Not ever!”
Questor ignored him, already at work marking a circle on the concrete floor with the heel of his boot. When he was done, he motioned the Gnome and Abernathy inside. They stood close together in the heat and silence as the wizard took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to concentrate.
“I hope you know what you are doing,” Abernathy said quietly, unable to help himself.
“Hush!” the wizard snapped.
Outside, the hammering had been replaced by a large number of voices. Reinforcements, Abernathy thought dismally. Then something heavy rammed into the door. They were trying to break it down! The frame and hinges shook with the force of the blows. Mortar cracked and sifted downward. Whoever was out there would be inside pretty quickly.
Questor began to speak the words of the spell slowly, clearly, deliberately. He had gone somewhere deep inside himself to concentrate, and he seemed oblivious to the hammering and shouting. Just as well, Abernathy thought. It would be just like the wizard to become distracted and get the spell wrong. What would he end up being then? A radish? He looked at Poggwydd. The G’home Gnome had his head lowered and his eyes shut tight. His arms were clasped about his scrawny body. Well, of course, Abernathy thought. We are all afraid.
Questor droned on, sweat beading his forehead. Abernathy could see the tension in his face. Changing me back again, he thought. And hating every moment of it. Abernathy experienced a sudden urge to cry out, to stop him from what he was doing, to make him do something else. But he suppressed that urge, his decision made, his fate accepted. He looked down at himself, wanting to remember everything about how he looked, not wanting to have to wonder again later. It hadn’t been so bad being a dog, really. Not so bad.
Light surged upward about them, filling the circle from floor to ceiling, encasing them in its bright cylinder. Questor’s voice rose, the words snapping like blankets hung in the wind. Poggwydd whimpered. Abernathy thought of Elizabeth. He was glad she wasn’t there to see this happen. It was better that she remember him as he was supposed to be.
The light brightened into a blinding radiance. Abernathy felt himself melting away. The feeling was not unexpected. He had experienced it once before, more than twenty years ago.
He closed his eyes and let it happen.
Venom
It took Ben and Willow the better part of two days to reach the Deep Fell. They left at sunrise on the first, accompanied by Bunion and an escort of two dozen King’s Guards, and made their way north and east out of the hill country to the edge of the Greensward. From there they turned directly north and followed the line of the forested hills toward the witch’s lair. The summer heat continued, sticky and damp against their skin, a shimmer of cellophane in the sun’s glare. There was little wind to offer relief. There was little shade. Their pace was slow and steady, and they rested the animals and themselves often. All about, the countryside was sultry and still.
