The Magic Kingdom Of Landover - The Magic Kingdom of Landover VOL I Part 77
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The Magic Kingdom of Landover VOL I Part 77

He got up, walked to the door, and opened it. "Wilson," he called quietly, and the Chief Deputy left what he was doing to wander over. "I've been thinking," Ben said. "Why not put this whole matter over until tomorrow-or even until the first of the week. This isn't anything that won't keep. Willow seems to be getting worse. I want her to get some rest, maybe see a doctor. When that's done, I'll be happy to answer any questions you want. How about it?"

He meant it. He would come back, from Landover if necessary, and set things straight once and for all. He had already decided that he didn't care for the idea of Michel Ard Rhi running around loose in his old world after all.

But Wilson was already shaking his head. "Sorry, Mr. Holiday, but I can't do that. I might consider it if it were just me making the decision. But the order to hold you came right from the Attorney General's office. I can't release you until they say so. You're a lawyer; you understand."

Ben nodded wordlessly. He understood, all right. Somewhere along the line, Michel Ard Rhi had greased some political wheels. He should have expected as much. He thanked Wilson anyway and went back inside the office, closing the door once more. He sat down again beside Willow and cradled her against him.

"Well, you tried, Doc," Miles offered quietly.

Willow's head lifted momentarily from his shoulder. "It will be all right, Ben," she whispered. "Don't worry."

He did worry, though. He worried that time was slipping away. He worried that all the doors out of this mess were closing one after the other, and he wasn't going to be able to do a thing about it.

He was still worrying twenty minutes later when there was a brief knock, the door opened, and a young man in a neatly pressed, three-piece suit and carrying a briefcase appeared, spoke momentarily over his shoulder to Wilson, and stepped inside. This had better be the cavalry, Ben thought. The young man stopped. He was not prepared for what greeted him.

"Mr. Bennett?" he asked, looking doubtfully at the skeleton, gorilla, shaggy dog, and pale green lady facing him. Miles stuck out his hand and the young man shook it. "Lloyd Willoughby, Mr. Bennett, from Sack, Saul, and McQuinn. Mr. Sack called me and asked me to come over."

"We appreciate it, Mr. Willoughby," Miles said and proceeded to introduce the others. Ben shook his hand. Abernathy and Willow just looked at him, and he in turn looked back at them. Ben thought he looked awfully young-and that meant awfully green. You could tell from the way he was looking at them that he was thinking much the same thing Chief Deputy Wilson had been thinking a short time earlier.

Willoughby put his briefcase on Wilson's desk and rubbed his hands together nervously. "Now, then, what seems to be the problem?"

"The problem is simple," Ben offered, taking charge. "We are being held on a bogus theft charge-a charge made by a Mr. Ard Rhi. This man apparently has some clout in the Attorney General's office, because that's where the order to hold us originated. What we want-and right now-is to be allowed to go home and worry about this another time. Willow is quite ill and needs to be put to bed."

"Well, I understood that there was a possible theft charge pending," Willoughby said, looking increasingly nervous. "Some sort of medallion? What can you tell me about that?"

"I can tell you that I have it and that it is mine," Ben answered, seeing no purpose in pretending otherwise. "Mr. Ard Rhi has no basis for his charge that I stole it."

"Have you told this to the Chief Deputy?"

"No, Mr. Willoughby, because if I did, he would want to take the medallion, and I have no intention of giving it up."

Willoughby now looked as if he were waist deep in alligators. He managed a faint smile. "Certainly, Mr. Holiday, I understand. But, do you have the medallion on you? Because from what I understand, if they choose to charge you, they might search you, find the medallion, and take it from you anyway."

Ben fumed. "What about probable cause? Isn't it Ard Rhi's word against ours? That's not enough for probable cause, is it?"

Willoughby looked perplexed. "Actually, Mr. Holiday, I'm not sure. The truth is, criminal law is only a sideline in our firm's practice. I handle a small amount to satisfy those of our clients who want one of us to represent them, but I don't do much otherwise." He smiled weakly. "Mr. Sack always calls me to cover for him on these nighttime matters."

Green as new wood, Ben thought. We're doomed.

"You mean you're not even a criminal attorney?" Miles began, coming to his feet as if he might actually be the gorilla he was dressed as. Willoughby took a quick step back, and Ben restrained Miles with a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down again into his seat with a quick warning glance in the general direction of the door that separated them from Wilson.

He turned back to Willoughby. "I don't want them to search me, Mr. Willoughby. It is as simple as that. Can you prevent it?" Willoughby looked doubtful. "Tell you what, then," Ben followed up quickly. "Let's play it by ear. You be local counsel, but I'll call the shots. Just follow my lead, okay?"

Willoughby looked as if he were considering whether or not he was being asked to do anything unethical. His brows were knit and his smooth, young face was deeply intense. Ben knew he would be useless if push came to shove. But there was no time to bring in anyone else.

The door opened to re-admit Wilson. "Mr. Martin of the Attorney General's office has asked me to bring you up to Three Court for a short meeting, Mr. Holiday. All of you, please. Maybe now you can go home."

When cows fly, Ben thought dismally.

They took the elevator up several floors and got off in a carpeted waiting area. The Chief Deputy led them down a short hall to a pair of paneled doors and from there into an empty courtroom. They stood at the head of an aisle that led down through a dozen rows of a viewing gallery to a gate that opened onto the trial floor and the judge's bench. The jury box and the witness stand sat to the left, the reporters' stand to the right. Further right, a bank of windows that ran the length of the wall opened out onto the lights of the city. Shadows lay over the room, broken only by a pair of recessed ceiling lamps that spotlighted the counsel tables situated directly in front of the gate.

A man with glasses and graying hair rose from one of the tables and said, "Chief Deputy, would you bring Mr. Holiday and his friends down here, please?"

Willoughby stepped to the forefront on their arrival, sticking out his hand and announcing, "Lloyd Willoughby of Sack, Saul, and McQuinn, Mr. Martin. I have been asked to represent Mr. Holiday."

Martin shook his hand perfunctorily and promptly forgot him. "It's late, Mr. Holiday, and I'm tired. I know who you are. I've even followed a case or two you've tried. We've both been around the block, so let me get right to the point. The complainant, Mr. Ard Rhi, says you took a medallion from him. He wants it returned. I don't know what the dispute is, but I have Mr. Ard Rhi's word that if the medallion is returned, the whole matter will be forgotten. No charges will be filed. What do you say?"

Ben shrugged. "I say Mr. Ard Rhi is nuts. Is that why we're being detained-because someone says we stole a medallion? What kind of nonsense is this, anyway?"

Martin shook his head. "Frankly, I don't know. A lot of what happens anymore is beyond me. At any rate, you better think it over because if the medallion doesn't show up and Mr. Ard Rhi does-he's supposed to be on his way-you are likely to be charged, Mr. Holiday."

"On one man's word?"

"Afraid so."

Ben came right against him. "As you said, Mr. Martin, I'm a lawyer who's been around the block. So is Mr. Bennett. Our word ought to count for something. Who is this Ard Rhi? Why should you take his word? That's all you have, isn't it?"

Martin was unruffled. He stood his ground. "The only word I get, Mr. Holiday, is from my boss, who keeps me employed, and he says to charge you if Mr. Ard Rhi-whoever he is and whatever he does-signs a complaint. My guess is that if he doesn't get the medallion back, he'll sign. What do you think?"

Ben couldn't say what he was thinking without getting in worse trouble than he already was. "Okay, detain me, Mr. Martin. But how about letting the others go? Apparently I'm the one who's to be charged."

Martin shook his head. "No such luck. Your friends are to be charged as accomplices. Look, I've just finished a long, hard day in court. I lost the case I was trying, I missed my kid's Halloween party, and now I'm stuck down here with you people. I don't like this any better than you do, but that's the way life works sometimes. So let's just have a seat here while we wait for Mr. Ard Rhi. And maybe I can finish some of this paperwork I'm too damned tired to haul back to my office." He motioned to the gallery. "Give me a break, huh? Talk it over. I don't want to mess with this thing."

He trooped wearily back to the counsel table and sat down, bending over a legal pad and notes. Willoughby motioned them all solicitously toward the gallery seats, where they sat in a row.

Martin looked up again. "Chief Deputy? Your people got orders to bring Mr. Ard Rhi up here when he arrives?" Martin waited for the affirming nod, then went back to his notes. Wilson drifted back up the aisle to the courtroom doors and stayed there.

Willoughby eased his way down the line to Ben and bent down. "Maybe you really should reconsider your decision not to give up the medallion, Mr. Holiday," he whispered, sounding as if perhaps Ben should realize that this would be best for all concerned.

Ben gave him a look that caused him to move quickly away. Willow's voice was a whisper in his ear. "Don't ... give them the medallion, Ben." She sounded so weak it made his throat constrict. "If you must," she said, "leave me. Promise you will."

"Me as well, High Lord," Abernathy said, bending close. "Whatever happens to us, at least you must get back to Landover!"

Ben closed his eyes. There was that choice. He had the medallion back again. Alone, he could undoubtedly find a way to slip out. But it would mean abandoning his friends, and he wasn't about to do that, no matter what. Miles would probably be all right, but Willow wouldn't last the night. And what would become of Abernathy? He shook his head. There had to be another way out of this.

Miles leaned over. "Maybe you better think about hiding the medallion, Doc. Just for tonight. You can come back for it tomorrow. You can't let them find it on you!"

Ben didn't answer. He didn't have an answer. Hello, choice number two. He knew Miles was right, but he also knew that he didn't want to part with the medallion again for any reason. Twice now he had lost it, once before when Meeks had tricked him into thinking he had given it up when in fact he hadn't, and this time when he had given it to Abernathy in Questor's ill-fated effort to change the dog back into a man. Both times he had managed to retrieve it, but only after considerable difficulty. He was not anxious to risk a third mishap. The medallion had become an integral part of him since he had crossed into Landover, and while he didn't yet fully understand how it had happened, he knew that he could no longer function without it. It gave him the magic that made him King. It gave him power over the Paladin. And while he was reluctant to admit it, it gave him his identity.

He sat in the near-dark courtroom and thought about the medallion and all that he had become since it had been given to him. He looked at the trappings of the courtroom, symbols of his old life as a member of the bar, shards of the person he had been, and thought about how far he had gone away from them. Democracy to monarchy. Trial and error to trial by combat. A jury of his peers to a jury of one. No law but his. It had all been made possible by his acquisition of the medallion. His hand drifted to his tunic front. His smile was ironic. The trappings of his old life might be gone, but hadn't he simply exchanged them for new ones?

The doors pushed open and another deputy appeared. He spoke briefly with Wilson, and Wilson walked down to Martin. They in turn conversed, and then Martin got up and walked back up the aisle with the Chief Deputy. All three men pushed through the doors and disappeared.

Ben felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to prickle. Something was up.

A few moments later, they were back. Martin walked down the aisle to stand before Ben. "Mr. Ard Rhi is here, Mr. Holiday. He says you came to his house last night posing as a Mr. Squires in an attempt to buy the medallion. When he wouldn't sell, you came back tonight with your friends and stole it. Apparently, the daughter of his steward helped you. He says she's admitted her part in the matter." He looked toward the courtroom doors. "Chief Deputy?"

Wilson and the other deputy pushed open the doors and said something to someone outside. Michel Ard Rhi stepped into view, his face impassive, but his eyes dark with anger. Behind him appeared two members of Graum Wythe's watch.

Elizabeth stood disconsolately between them. Her eyes were downcast and tears streaked her freckled face.

Ben felt sick. They had found Elizabeth. There was no telling what they had threatened her with to force her to confess to stealing the medallion. And there was no telling what they would do to her if Ard Rhi didn't get it now.

"Do any of you know the little girl?" Martin asked quietly.

No one said anything. No one had to.

"How about it, Mr. Holiday?" Martin pressed. "If you return the medallion, this whole matter can be dropped right here and now. Otherwise, I have to charge you."

Ben didn't answer. He couldn't. There seemed no way out.

Martin sighed. "Mr. Holiday?"

Ben leaned forward, just to shift positions while he tried to stall, but Abernathy misinterpreted the move, thinking he had decided to give up the medallion, and hurriedly brought up a paw to restrain him.

"No, High Lord, you cannot!" he exclaimed.

Martin stared at the dog. Ben could see in the man's eyes what he was thinking. He was thinking, how can the mouth on a dog costume move like that? How come he has teeth and a tongue? How come he seems so real?

Then a ball of crimson fire exploded outside the bank of courtroom windows, a black hole opened through the night, and out of the hole flew Strabo the dragon and Questor Thews.

DRAGON AT THE BAR.

It was one of those rare moments in life when everything seems to come to a halt, where movement is suspended, and everyone is trapped in a sort of three-dimensional still life. It was one of those moments that imprints itself in the memory, so that years later everyone still remembers exactly what it was like-what the feelings were, the smells, the tastes, the colors, and the lines and angles of everything around; and most of all, the way everything that happened just before and just after seemed focused on that moment like sunlight reflected off still water in colored threads.

It was like that for Ben Holiday. For that one moment, he saw everything as if it were captured in a photograph. He was half-turned in his seat in the front row of that courtroom gallery, Willow on one side, slumped down against his shoulder, Abernathy on the other, eyes shining, and Miles further left, still in his gorilla outfit, his cherubic face a mix of astonishment and dismay. Martin and Willoughby stood just in front of them on the other side of the gate, two generations of three-piece suits, their entire lives given over to a belief in the value of reason and common sense, the former looking as if he had just witnessed Armageddon, the latter looking as if he had caused it. Behind and to the rear, just visible in Ben's peripheral vision, were Chief Deputy Wilson and his brothers-at-arms, minions of the law, bent in half crouches that gave them the appearance of startled cats poised to run either way. Michel Ard Rhi had black hatred etched on his face, and his men were white with fear. Only Elizabeth radiated the pure wonder that was captured, too, somewhere in Ben.

Outside, pinned against the backdrop of the lights of the city of Seattle, was Strabo. His bulk seemed to hang in the air, wings outspread like a monstrous hang glider's, his black, crusted, serpentine form framed in the windows of the courtroom like an image projected on a screen. His yellow-lamp eyes blinked, and smoke trailed in streamers from his nostrils and mouth. Questor Thews sat astride him, patchwork gray robes so tattered they seemed to hang in strips, white hair and beard streaked with ash and flying in the wind. There was wonder mirrored in the wizard's face as well.

Ben wanted to howl with the exhilaration he was feeling.

Then Martin whispered, "Good God!" his voice like a small child's, and the moment was gone.

Everyone began moving and shouting at once. Wilson and the second deputy came down the aisle still crouched, slipping their guns from their holsters, yelling at everyone to get down. Ben yelled back, telling them not to shoot, glancing once over his shoulder to where Questor Thews was already making a quick circling motion with his fingers, then back again to see the astonished deputies staring at fistfuls of daisies where the guns had been. The hallway outside had become an impassable jungle, floor-to-ceiling deepest Africa, and Michel Ard Rhi and his men, trying desperately to flee, found their exit blocked. Elizabeth had broken free of them and was running down the aisle to greet Abernathy, crying and saying something about a clown nose and Michel and how sorry she was. Willoughby was pulling and tugging on Miles as if somehow Miles might get him out of this nightmare, and Miles was trying in vain to shove the other man away.

Then, suddenly, Strabo shifted positions outside the window, and his huge tail swung about like a wrecking ball and hammered into the bank of windows with an explosion that shattered glass, wooden frames, and half the wall. The city night rushed in, wind and cold, the sounds of cars from the streets and ships from the docks, and the lights of the adjacent high rises which now seemed magnified a hundredfold.

Ben went to the floor, Miles was thrown back into the gallery seats, and Abernathy and Elizabeth came together in a rush.

"Strabo!" Michel Ard Rhi screamed in recognition.

The dragon flew in through the opening like a dirigible and settled onto the courtroom floor, flattening counsel benches, the reporters' stand, and part of the gate.

"Holiday!" he hissed, and his tongue licked out from between the blackened spikes of his teeth. "What an ugly world you come from!"

Martin, Willoughby, Wilson, the second deputy, Michel Ard Rhi, and his men were climbing all over one another in an effort to get out of the way of the dragon, but they couldn't break through the wall of foliage that blocked the courtroom doors. Strabo glanced at them; his maw opened, and a jet of steam shot out at the five, who screamed in terror and dove for the cover of the gallery seats. The dragon laughed and clicked his jaws at them.

"Enough of that nonsense!" Questor Thews snapped. The wizard began climbing down from the dragon's back.

"You drag me here against my will, force me to rescue a man I despise, a man who is nothing less than what he deserves to be-the victim of his own foolhardiness-and now you would deprive me of the tiny bit of pleasure this pointless venture affords!" Strabo huffed and snapped his tail, taking out another row of gallery seats. "You are so tiresome, Questor Thews!"

Questor ignored him. "High Lord!" The wizard came forward and embraced Ben warmly. "Are you well?"

"Questor, I have never been better!" Ben exclaimed, pounding the other on the back so hard he almost knocked him over. "And I have never been happier to see anyone in all my life! Not ever!"

"I could not tolerate even the thought of you being here another moment, High Lord," Questor declared solemnly. He straightened. "Let me make my confession here and now. This entire mishap has been my fault. I am the one who made a mess out of things and I am the one who must put them right again."

He turned, his eyes settling on Abernathy. "Old friend!" he called over. "I have done you a grave disservice. I am sorry for what I did. I hope you will forgive me."

Abernathy wrinkled his nose with distaste. "Cat's whiskers, Questor Thews! There is no time for this nonsense!" Questor assumed a pained look. "Oh, for the ... Very well! I forgive you! You knew I would! Now, get us out of here, confound it!"

But Questor had caught sight of Michel Ard Rhi. "Ah, hello, Michel!" he called up the aisle to where the other was crouched behind a line of benches. He smiled brightly, then whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Ben, "What is going on here, anyway?"

Quickly, Ben filled him in. He told him what Michel had done to Abernathy and tried to do to them.

Questor was understandably appalled. "Michel hasn't changed a bit, it seems. He remains the same detestable fellow he always was. Landover is well rid of him." He shrugged. "Well, this is all great fun, but I am afraid we must be going, High Lord. I suspect the magic I employed to close off this room won't last very long. Magic has never enjoyed much success in this world." He took a moment to survey his handiwork at the courtroom door, then sighed. "That's a much better than average forest wall I conjured, don't you think? I am quite proud of it. I have always been rather good at growing things, you know."

"A regular green thumb," Ben acknowledged. He had his eyes fixed on Michel Ard Rhi. "Listen, Questor, as far as I'm concerned, the quicker you get us out of here, the better. But we have to take Michel with us. I know," he added hastily, seeing the look of horror on the other's face, "you think I'm nuts. But what about Elizabeth if we leave him? What happens to her?"

Questor frowned. Clearly, he hadn't considered that. "Oh, dear," he said.

Elizabeth, a dozen feet up the aisle, was clearly thinking much the same thing. "Abernathy!" she begged, tugging on his sleeve. When he looked down, her eyes were huge. "Please don't leave me behind! I don't want to stay here anymore. I want to come with you."

Abernathy shook his head. "Elizabeth, no ..."

"Yes, Abernathy, please! I want to! I want to learn magic, and fly dragons and play with you and Willow and see the castle where ..."

"Elizabeth ..."

"... Ben is King and the fairy world and all the strange creatures, everything, but I don't want to stay here, not with Michel, not even if my father said it would be all right, because it wouldn't, not ever ..."

"But I can't take you!"

They stared at each other in anguish. Then Abernathy bent down impulsively, hugged the little girl close, and felt her hug him back. "Oh, Elizabeth!" he whispered.

Outside the window, still in the distance, sirens sounded. Miles grabbed Ben. "You have to get out of here now, Doc-or you're liable not to get out at all." He shook his head. "I still think this whole thing is just a crazy dream. Green fairies and talking dogs and now dragons! I think I'm going to wake up tomorrow and wonder what I had to drink tonight!" Then he grinned. "Doesn't matter, though." He glanced at the dragon, who was chewing on a section of the judge's bench. "I wouldn't have missed a minute of it!"

Ben smiled. "Thanks, Miles. Thanks for sticking with me. I know it wasn't easy-especially with so many weird things happening all at once. But someday you'll understand. Someday I'll come back and tell you everything."

Miles put a big hand on his shoulder. "I'll hold you to that, Doc. Now get going. And don't worry about things here. I'll do what I can for the little girl. I'll find a way to straighten it all out, I promise."

Questor had been studying Elizabeth and Abernathy while Miles was speaking, but now suddenly he started. "Straighten things out!" he exclaimed. "That gives me an idea!" He wheeled and hurried up the aisle to where Michel Ard Rhi and the others still crouched behind the gallery seats. "Let me see," the wizard muttered to himself. "I think I still remember how this works. Ah!"