The little man sprang to the small table, sweeping clothes and papers aside, and found an inkpot and quill. He scratched down a few words, sanded the ink and paper, then rolled it up. “Here you go.” He handed the small scroll to Aarak and cocked his head. “It’s a long way back. Why don’t you take this food, too? After all-” He nodded in the direction of Lord Stephen’s body. “He won’t need it anymore.”

“Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?”

“Like Stephen said-he did buy me. But you’ve just given me my freedom. Why shouldn’t I help you?”

Aarak thrust the broadsword into his belt and examined the bread carefully, smelling it and taking a small nibble. It seemed fine. The bottle of wine was still sealed, so he grabbed it as well, shoving the bread and wine into a sack. “Now show me the way out of here.”

The little man went to the second door and opened it. “This way.”

Aarak, his blade at the ugly man’s back, followed him down a narrow, winding staircase. They came to a narrow passageway that led to what appeared to be a blank wall.

“This is your way out?” Aarak advanced on the little man, sword poised to run him through.

“Wait! Look.” The little man pushed on a rock, and a section of wall swung open, tall enough for a man to crawl through. “As I said, Stephen wasn’t a genius, showing this to me.”

“Thanks.” Aarak shoved the little man out of the way with a boot to his back. The wee one went back to being comic again, doing two perfect somersaults and finally slamming up against the stone wall. He cursed Aarak in a language Aarak had never heard before. And it was probably just as well. Aarak was sure that Fitzpatrick was damning him most profanely as he left.

The night held no mercy. The amulet burned against Aarak’s chest, thumping back and forth on the crude leather necklace he’d fashioned. With his cape thrown around his shoulders, at least the amulet was safe and warm.

Hungry wolves cried even louder than the witch winds that swept the acid, stinging snow across the midnight lands. He knew he needed to stop soon, and he knew where that would be-or hoped he remembered, anyway-that cave where the frozen man was, a cave deep enough to hide a man from the blizzard that had befallen this realm like a curse fulfilled.

He needed to find it quickly, but he had two problems. The lashing snow had rendered him virtually blind, and the moonless white hills and glens and crevices all looked the same by now. The second problem was his exhaustion. He had been riding for almost five hours. Which would give out first-his stolen steed or himself? Early on, the snow on the ground had been but a few inches deep. By now it reached the top of the struggling horse’s flanks. It couldn’t go much longer.

Fitzpatrick had left the castle not long after Aarak. He had no trouble following the assassin, especially since the depth of the snow would slow a horse to a crawl, but the top layer of the snow had hardened into an icy crust that the leprechaun could run on top of with ease.

Fitzpatrick wondered if the man were daft. How much further could he go on? Didn’t he know that he could die out here? Had possession of the amulet cost him his good sense?

Of course, the leprechaun could say the same thing about himself. Though he’d been exposed to Drusilla for barely twenty-four hours, he was already in her thrall. What kind of common sense had led him into this vengeful night to do battle with a gigantic killer in order to possess a woman trapped inside an amulet?

He could die out here just as easily as Aarak could.

He thought of something ironic: what if both of them died out here in this savage night? Who would possess the amulet? Would it ever be found?

The cave ran long and narrow into a hillside. A ragged corner of it provided a barrier against the endless wind. Aarak was so exhausted he forgot all about the amulet for the time being. He needed rest. His horse had died some time back and he’d had to force himself forward through the whipping winds and freezing snow to find shelter.

He made a small fire, his numb fingers clumsy and awkward as they struck flint and steel. Somebody else-maybe the frozen man-had sought shelter here not too long ago and had been cordial enough to leave wood behind. Even without the wind battering him, his body still felt ice-cold. He huddled close to the fire, gnawing on the loaf of bread he’d stolen from the castle, and washing it down with wine, wishing he’d had the time to carve a haunch from the dead horse. The bones of dead animals were strewn across the cave floor, as were feces from a half dozen species.

As the fire began to warm him a little, his thoughts returned to the amulet. He took the sunburst from around his neck and stared at the woman inside. Drusilla wore a white dress and sat near a summer stream, watching the swans swim by. He knew this to be some other dimension. Not only had the wizard imprisoned her in an amulet, he’d also imprisoned her in another realm.

When she became aware of him, she angled her elegant head so that their eyes could meet. Her gaze jolted him. All his love and all his passion grabbed him, literally shook him to his core, so that he had to clutch the amulet to keep it from falling into the fire.

I knew we would be together someday, Aarak. I’ve prayed for it every night. You not only loved me, you protected me.

He remembered that from time to time she’d been able to communicate with him through mindthoughts. She’d always told him that mindthoughts were the purest form of expression, that speech was often vile and vulgar.

I want to be with you the rest of my life, Aarak. I want you to be my protector again.

Is that all I’ll be? Your protector?

A shy laugh. You know better than that. This time we will be lovers, too. The kind of lover I’ve never had before. A man who respects me as well as loves me.

Ridiculous glee such as the kind he hadn’t felt since being a boy filled his heart. A rhapsody in equal parts love and lust. This time she would be his in every sense. Protector and lover, she’d promised. Protector and lover.

I’m assuming you got the release words for this amulet when you killed Lord Stephen.

Of course I did-I made the leprechaun write them down for me.

Then release me from this prison, and we can be together again.

By now Aarak had forgotten about his mission for Lord William, forgotten his duty, forgotten everything but the face and the body of the woman who now captivated his every thought. He fumbled for the scroll and unrolled it-

There were two lines of text there, and Aarak read them to himself, sounding them out to be sure he pronounced them correctly. Then, with a flourish, he spoke the words out loud, his breath pluming in the cold air of the cave.

Nothing happened.

Aarak said the words again, louder this time. Still Drusilla remained in her prison. I don’t know why it isn’t working. Then the truth hit Aarak, and his face tightened. The rhapsody was no more. He saw in her face his own disappointment. That little leprechaun bastard tricked me!

The leprechaun? You let a leprechaun outwit you? Where is your pride?

He’d forgotten that she didn’t take bad news well. Not at all. He knew that some might say that she behaved like a spoiled child at moments like these. But when one is in love as Aarak was in love, even objectionable traits can seem endearing. Love deludes just like wine.

I’m going to find him, I promise you that. All I need is some rest and then we’ll go after him. He can’t be that hard to find. Maybe he’s even at the castle. Aarak pried the cork out of the wine bottle and took a long swallow.

You know he wants me, don’t you?

That’s pretty obvious.