The Tangle Box

Of course, life at Sterling Silver went on, Holiday or no, and it was important that what needed to be done got done, and that it got done as if Holiday were doing it. This was a whole lot tougher to accomplish than the conjuring up of an image or two. Since Holiday wasn’t there to see any of a large number of representatives and officials who had come from every quarter of Landover, Questor Thews and Abernathy were forced to see them for him and to pretend that they had been requested to do so. Some of those visiting had traveled great distances to see the High Lord. Some had been summoned. None among them was much pleased at being put off. Questor resorted to increasingly desperate efforts to quell any suspicions. He forged the High Lord’s name on orders. He passed out gifts. He issued awards and citations of merit. He even tried using his magic to throw the High Lord’s voice from behind a curtain. This effort produced a woman’s voice and caused those listening to stare at each other incredulously—who was this woman back there with the High Lord?—and Questor was forced to salvage the situation by claiming it was a serving girl who had mistaken Holiday for an intruder. Some of his magic still needed work.

There was also the matter of Willow’s absence, which the High Lord had failed to explain before disappearing himself, so that now not just one person was missing, but two. But since Holiday hadn’t seemed unduly concerned about Willow going off, Questor decided he needn’t worry either, at least not just now. Really, the only reason for finding her—since he had no particular reason to worry if she was safe—was to tell her about the High Lord’s disappearance. Questor decided he didn’t need that additional complication in his life. If Holiday hadn’t been found by the time the sylph returned, Questor would break the news to her then. There was, after all, only so much he could do.

Which, at the moment, wasn’t nearly enough. Trying to split his time between the requirements of his duties and the demands of his machinations was beginning to take its toll. He was hardly in the mood then to hear the news that Abernathy carried on appearing at the door to his work chamber just before sunset of that third day.

“Horris Kew and his bird are back,” the Court Scribe announced with something less than enthusiasm.

Questor looked up from the stack of paperwork visited on him in the High Lord’s absence and groaned. “Again? What does that wastrel want now?”

Abernathy stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Even for a dog, he looked put upon. “He wishes to speak with the High Lord—what else? Isn’t that everyone’s reason for being alive these days? And do not bother telling me to send him away. Although I would love to do so, I cannot. He is cloaked in supplicant’s robes; I have to admit him.”

Questor pressed his fingers to his forehead, massaging the temples. “Did he say what he wants, by any chance?”

“He said it was important, nothing more. He did not mention his exile, if that is what you are asking.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m asking! I barely know what I’m doing!” The wizard looked as if he were trying to tear at his beard. “You know, Abernathy, I am very fond of the High Lord. Very. I recruited him myself, if you recall. I saw something special in him, and I was not mistaken. He was the King we had all been looking for, the King Landover needed to become whole again.”

He came to his feet. “But, really, I wish he would stop disappearing so often! How many times has he done this now? I don’t know how he can be so inconsiderate of us. Going off in the middle of the night, just riding out without a word, leaving us to try to cover for him until he comes back. I must tell you, I find it exceedingly aggravating!”

Abernathy looked away and cleared his throat. “Well, in all fairness, Questor Thews, some of those disappearances were not the High Lord’s fault. I am quite certain he would have preferred that they had never happened.”

“Yes, yes, I know. My brother and all. The black unicorn.” Questor brushed the explanation aside. “Still, a King has responsibilities, and they should not be taken lightly. A King should consult with his advisors on these things. That’s what advisors are ...”

He stopped abruptly. “You don’t think he’s been kidnapped, do you? Wouldn’t there have been a ransom demand by now? Unless Nightshade has him. She wouldn’t bother with a ransom demand. She would simply eliminate him! But why wouldn’t the Paladin protect him against her? Why wouldn’t the Paladin come to his rescue—”

“Questor Thews.” Abernathy tried to interrupt.

“—whatever sort of danger he was in? What sort of protector leaves his master—”

“Wizard!” the dog snapped irritably. Questor jumped. “What? What is it?”

“Stop carrying on so, for goodness’ sake! What is the point of it? We have no idea what has become of the High Lord, but it certainly does not help him if we lose our heads. We have to remain calm. We have to carry on as if he were still here and in the meantime hope he shows up.” Abernathy took a deep breath. “Have you found anything in the Landsview?”

Questor, duly chastened, shook his head. “No, nothing.”

“Perhaps you should send Bunion to look about. A kobold can cover more ground than any twenty search parties and make no disturbance doing it. Bunion can track anyone. Perhaps you should let him try to track Holiday.”

“Yes.” Questor nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, perhaps so.”

“In the meantime,” Abernathy continued, resisting the urge to scratch at something low down on his body with his hind leg, “what about Horris Kew?”

Questor pressed at his temples again, as if reminded of a headache he had momentarily forgotten. “Oh, dear. Him. Well, he can’t see the High Lord, of course. Confound it, why does he have to see anyone?”