The River Master studied him a moment, then pulled him effortlessly to his feet. “I have said that you could be Ben Holiday,” he whispered, his hard face bent close. “I believe it possible.” He placed both of Ben’s hands in his own. “I do not know how your appearance was altered, but if magic changed you to what you are, then magic can be used to change you back again. I possess the power to heal much that is sickened and distressed. I will use that power to help you if I can.” The scaled hands tightened harder about Ben’s. “Stand where you are and do not move.”

Ben took a quick breath. The River Master’s grip warmed his own, and the chiseled features lowered into shadow. Ben waited. The other’s breathing slowed and a sudden flush spread through Ben’s body. He shivered at the feeling, but remained stationary.

Finally the River Master stepped back. There was a hint of confusion in the dark eyes. “I am sorry, but I cannot help you,” he said finally. “Magic has indeed been used to alter your appearance. But the magic is not of another’s making—it is of your own.”

Ben stared. “What?”

“You have made yourself who and what you are,” the other said. “You must be the one to change yourself back again.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Ben exploded. “I haven’t done a thing to change what I look like—it was Meeks! I watched him do it! He stole the medallion of the Kings of Landover and gave me … this!”

He yanked the tarnished image of Meeks from his tunic and thrust it out angrily, almost as if to snap it from its chain. The River Master studied it a moment, touched it experimentally, then shook his head. “The image graven here is clouded in the same manner as your appearance. The magic at work is again of your own making.”

Ben’s jaw tightened, and he snatched the medallion back again. The River Master was talking in riddles. Whatever magic was at work was most assuredly not of Ben’s making. The River Master was either mistaken or misled—or he was deliberately trying to confuse Ben because he still didn’t trust him.

The River Master seemed to read his mind. He shrugged. “Believe me or don’t—the choice is yours. What I tell you is what I see.” He paused. “If this new medallion you wear was given to you by your enemy, perhaps you should discard it. Is there a reason you keep it?”

Ben sighed. “Meeks told me that the medallion would let him know what I was about. He warned that a certain magic protects against trying to remove it—a magic that could kill me.”

“But is that so?” the other asked. “Perhaps the wizard lied.”

Ben hesitated before replying. He had considered that possibility before. After all, why should he believe anything Meeks told him? The problem was that there was no way to test the truth of the matter without risking his life.