He lifted the tarnished medallion before him experimentally. “I have given it some thought …” he began.

Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw Edgewood Dirk stir. The cat’s head lifted, and the green eyes snapped open. It was almost as if the cat had roused himself from his near-comatose state for the express purpose of seeing what Ben would do. The strange eyes were fixed and staring. Ben hesitated, then slowly lowered the medallion back inside his tunic. “I think maybe I need to give it some more thought,” he finished.

Dirk’s eyes slipped closed again. The black face lowered. Rain beat down steadily in the momentary stillness, and a long peal of thunder rolled across the lake country from somewhere east. Ben experienced a strange mix of frustration and anger. What sort of game was the cat playing now?

The River Master moved back to the other bench and remained standing. “It appears I cannot help you after all,” he advised. “I think that you had better go—you and the cat.”

Ben saw his chance for any help slipping away. He rose quickly. “At least tell me where to find Willow,” he begged. “She said she was coming here to the lake country to learn the meaning of her dream. Surely she would come to you for help.”

The River Master studied him silently for a moment, considering in his own mind things hidden from Ben, then shook his head slowly. “No, High Lord or pretender—whichever you are—she would not.”

He came partway around the stump once more, then stopped. Wind blew sharply at his cloak, and he pulled it close to ward away the chill of the rain. “I am her father, but not the parent from whom she would seek help when it was needed. I was never that. I have many children by many wives. Some I am closer to than others. Willow has never been close to me. She is too much like her mother—a wild thing who seeks only to sever ties, not to bind them. Neither seeks companionship from me; neither ever did. The mother came to me only once, then was gone again, back into the forest …”

He trailed off, distracted. “I never even knew her name,” he continued after a moment. “A wood nymph, no more than a tiny bit of silk and light, she dazzled me so that names were of no consequence for that one night. I lost her without ever really having had her. I lost Willow, I think, because of what that did to me. I begrudged the mother her freedom, and Willow was forced to live with my anger and resentment. That caused her to slip gradually from me, and there was no help for it. I loved her mother so much that I could neither forgive nor forget what she had done to me. When I gave Willow permission to live at Sterling Silver, I severed the only tie that still bound us. She became forever her own woman and my daughter no longer. Now she sees me as a man who has more children than he can ever truly be father to. She chooses not to be one of those.”