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act. Two strangers from another world come mysteriously into this one--it was intriguing. What might
happen next? No one wanted to miss out. There was some shuffling of feet but not much lateral
movement.
"This isn't working!" Abernathy complained, irri-tated, confused, and overwhelmed by the entire
busi-ness. "Confound it, wizard, get us out of here!"
Questor Thews sighed, not at all sure how to do that, then scrunched up his face with determination,
took Abernathy by the arm, and marched him directly through the crowd. "Please excuse us, thank you,
yes,that's very kind of you, excuse us, please." The crowd parted, polite if somewhat disappointed.
Questor Thews and Abernathy escaped untouched and moved swiftly away across the festival green
toward a clump of build-ings and food stands.
"Where are we going?" Abernathy asked, not daring to look over his shoulder to see if anyone was
follow-ing.
"Wherever we can, I suppose," Questor answered with a shrug. "Since we have no idea where anything
is."
They moved down onto a walkway, past the face painter, past a fellow spinning tops, past several carts
selling food and drink, and onto a square of grass front-ing a cavernous glass and metal structure out of
which rolled a particularly vile-sounding form of music.
"What is that noise?" Questor demanded, shaking his head in dismay.
"Rock and roll," Abernathy answered absently. "I heard a good deal of it the last time I was here."
Mem-ories were triggered in his mind, but he brushed them aside. He turned, grabbed Questor by the
shoulders, and brought him about so that they were face to face. "Wiz-ard, what is going on? Look at
me! I don't know whether to laugh or cry! I'm a man again, for goodness' sake! How did that happen?
Surely Nightshade didn't intend it! She was trying to kill us! Why aren't we dead? Why are we here?"
Questor's mouth tightened, and he blinked rapidly. "Well, either something went wrong with her magic or
another magic intervened and changed the intended re-sult. I favor the latter." Questor reached up and
touched the other's face. His hand was shaking. "Goodness gra-cious, here's something new! Abernathy,
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are you aware of the fact that you haven't aged a day from the moment I transformed you from a man
into a dog all those years ago?"
"That isn't possible!" Abernathy exclaimed in disbe-lief. "Not a day? No, I must have aged! Why
wouldn't I have aged? It must be the magic, mustn't it? The one that you think intervened? It changed me
back again not only to a man but to the man I once was. Questor, why? Why would it do that?"
They stared at each other in confused silence, the sound of the music in the hall washing over them, the
laughter and gaiety of the festival rising up all around, out worlders in a foreign land, exiles by means they
could not fathom. Oh, but I am a man again! Abernathy thought in joy and with a smidgen of terror.
Whatever else, I am changed back to who I was and want always to be!
Questor Thews shook his head. "I don't mind telling you that this is all very strange," he declared
solemnly.
"Excuse me?"
They turned on hearing a girl's voice and found her standing a few feet away, staring at them. She was
somewhere in her middle teens, Abernathy guessed, rather small, with curly blond hair and a scattering of
freckles across her nose. She was wearing short tan pants, a rather tight sky-blue blouse with some
writing on it, and sandals. She looked perplexed.
"I was in the crowd a moment ago," she said, study-ing them intently, particularly Abernathy. "I followed
you afterward because your voice... I know this sounds silly, but because... you remind me of
someone..."
She stopped, and her brow furrowed. She looked sud-denly at Questor Thews. "I do remember you.
I'm sure of it now. Your name is Questor Thews."
Questor and Abernathy exchanged a quick glance. "She overheard us talking," Abernathy said at once.
"No, I didn't." She shook her head emphatically and came forward a step. "Abernathy, that's you, isn't
it? You're not a dog anymore! That's why I was confused. But your voice is the same. And your eyes.
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Don't you remember me? I'm Elizabeth Marshall." She smiled helpfully. "I'm Elizabeth."
He remembered then. Elizabeth, twelve years old when he had last seen her, a child wandering the halls
of Graum Wythe, the castle fortress of Michel Ard Rhi, once a Prince of Landover and son of the old
King in the days before Ben Holiday. Abernathy had been dis-patched to Earth through another of
Questor's inept spells, consigned to the trophy room of his worst enemy, and fated for a swift end when
Elizabeth had found him and saved his life. Together they had struggled to conceal Abernathy's presence
from Michel and help the scribe find a way back into Landover. Elizabeth had stuck with him every step
of the way. Even when she was discov-ered and her own safety was threatened, she had refused to
betray her friend.
"I never thought I'd see you again," she said softly, as if still not certain it was really him.
"Nor I," he breathed in disbelief.
She came forward quickly then and hugged him. "I can't believe this," she said into his shoulder, holding
him tightly against her. "This is just too weird."
"Well, yes," he agreed, speechless, and hugged her back.
She broke the embrace. There were tears in her eyes. "Look at me, crying like some little kid." She
brushed the tears away. "When I saw you, the two of you, sur-rounded by all those people, I didn't see
how it could be true. I mean..." She broke off, shaking her head. "Abernathy, what are you doing here?"
He shrugged, embarrassed. "I'm really not sure. We were just trying to figure that out. We don't quite
know how we got here. It is rather a long story." He stared at her. "You've grown up."
She laughed. "Well, not all the way, but some from the last time you saw me. I'll be sixteen in a
few months. So hello. And hello to you, too, Questor Thews."
"Very nice to see you again," Questor replied. He cleared his throat. "Ah, I wonder, Elizabeth, if we
could impose on you--"
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"You don't have anywhere to stay, do you?" she de-clared before he could finish. "Of course you don't.
Did you just arrive? Well, you have to have somewhere to stay while you're here. How long will that be?"
Questor sighed, "That is a matter of some speculation at present."
"It doesn't matter; you can stay with me. I still live out in Woodinville, but not at Graum Wythe anymore.
We have a house, my dad and me, down the road a short distance. Dad still looks after the estate and
man-ages the castle. But he's away until late next week, so we have the place to ourselves. Except for
Mrs. Ambaum. She's the housekeeper. My keeper, too." She giggled. "I'll tell you later. Abernathy, I just
can't be-lieve this. Look at you!"
Abernathy turned red. "Well," he managed.
"Maybe we should go now," Questor advised. "To your house, Elizabeth. We really need to sit down
and talk."
"Sure," Elizabeth quickly agreed. "Let me tell my friends I'm leaving. I rode down here on the bus, so
we'll have to take the bus home. I've got enough money for the three of us, I think. Hope so, because I
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