I smiled grimly.
“That's right, Your Highness,” I said. “As I already told you, you're a tree now, complete with roots, trunk, branches, and quite a nice bunch of leaves. Everything I've said to you has been the truth.”
Casually, I reached up and snapped off a small branch just above my head. I got a shriek in return.
“See?”
“Stop that!”
Perhaps I'd found the negotiating tactic I needed.
I said, “You need to keep a civil tongue, O King of Shrubbery. Set a good example for your people.” I nodded to one side. “The blackberry bushes over there are watching, after all.”
“Do not mock me, traitor!”
“Why not? It's fun.”
“Woe!” cried King Elnar's voice. “I am lost! I am a tree, and I am lost!”
“Be quiet,” I said, reaching for another branch, “or I will have to do a fair amount of pruning…”
The face closed its mouth with a snap. The silence seemed unexpected—almost unnatural. If it had enough sense left for self-preservation, what else might it be capable of? Maybe more of King Elnar remained than I had dared to hope.
Slowly I lowered my arm.
“If you're going to be reasonable,” I said calmly, “we can work things out between us.”
“You are trying to trick me!”
“Why would I do that?”
“I… I don't know. But you will! That's what traitors and murderers do!”
“Here's a thought. Maybe I won't trick you. I have no reason to, after all. And I'm neither a traitor nor a murderer. Don't call me that.”
“But—”
“But nothing! Everything I've told you has been the truth. You really are a face stuck in a tree. Hell-creatures killed you, not me. They put those words in your mouth and made you say them. The man I knew, the man you once were, would never have believed their lies. We fought them together, side by side.”
The face and I stared at one another. I didn't know what else to add; apparently, neither did he. We had reached an impasse. At least he had stopped yelling and calling me names.
Then a bird flew past, twittering loudly. I sat up, startled. A bird—the first animal I had yet seen in this world! It seemed the unicorns had left more than mere greenery and magical trees in their wake. I watched the bird land twenty feet away. It picked up a piece of grass, then flew to a nearby tree, where it seemed to be building a nest. If this world had animals, what else might there be? Perhaps… people?
Rising, I turned slowly, searching for any sign of civilization—houses, smoke from cooking fires, anything that spoke of a human presence. My gaze lingered a long time in the direction the unicorns had gone.
A perfect stream, surrounded by cattails and thick green reeds, burbled happily through the picturesque little valley. Iridescent dragonflies buzzed over the water, and a frog hopped from the bank into a blue-green pool with an audible splash.
“What are you looking for?” asked the tree.
“Shh!” I held up one hand for silence. Something felt subtly different…
Stealthy movement caught my eye. A single white unicorn moved with dainty steps from a copse of trees beyond the stream, lowered her head, and drank deeply from the frog's pool. She had something around her neck… something that looked like a giant ruby on a chain.
I gaped. It had to be the jewel my father had shown me in Juniper… the one he used to trace the new Pattern. This unicorn had to be the one that had helped Dad and me.
When she raised her head and she saw me staring at her, she stamped her right forefoot and tossed her head. I took a step in her direction. As I did, she turned and slipped into the trees. There she paused long enough to glance over her shoulder.
Follow me, she seemed to be saying. Follow me to your destiny.
“All right,” I called. “I can take a hint. I'm coming!”
I started after her.
“Do not leave me!” cried the tree.
“What?” I demanded, looking back in surprise. “I thought you couldn't wait to be rid of me!”
“… Please?”
I hesitated. King Elnar might be dead, but my sense of duty remained. Almost reluctantly, I turned back to the tree. That unicorn could wait another minute.
“What is it you want from me?” I said.
“I… I think I know you.”
“You'd better, after all those accusations you made.” Then I paused, as a horrible suspicion bubbled up inside me—what if he really didn't know me? I had to ask: “What's my name?”
“I think… Ar… Orl… Erlock?”
“You called me Obere,” I said gently. “But my real name is Oberon.”
“Obere… Oberon… yes. Yes, that sounds right. I know you. Obere. Oberon.”
“What happened in Kingstown? Do you remember?”
“I… cannot remember. You said I was a tree. But I think I used to be a man. Was I a man?”
“Yes, long ago,” I said. The hell-creatures had done their work well if he couldn't remember such simple details. Everything he had said, everything he had done since his death, must have been due to their foul magics. Only now had he begun to recover.
I went on. “Do you remember anything about me? Do you remember fighting hell-creatures in Ilerium? Do you remember anything more of your old life?”
It gnashed its wooden teeth, but made no reply. Apparently it didn't remember. Considering how I'd destroyed King Elnar's head the last time we met, the tree's lack of memory probably shouldn't have surprised me. With his brains scattered across a battlefield on another Shadow, how could he remember much of anything?
“Do you know your own name?” I asked. If I pressed him for information, perhaps he would recall more.
“Ev… Agg… Ygg… ?”