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came to Ben Holiday, did not like Laphroig. In large part, this was because the latter had called him a dog to his face on that first visit and would have gone on doing so if Ben had not put a stop to it. In smaller part, but only marginally, it was because Laphroig was so awful to be around that he invited the rude remarks of others.
    Ben didn’t like Laphroig any better than Abernathy or Questor did—the wizard couldn’t tolerate him, either—so he let the nickname stand and soon thought of him in the same terms.
    They hadn’t had a visit from Rhyndweir’s Lord for some months, and for a time they had begun to think he might not be coming back. It had been a happy interlude for all of them, but apparently it was over.
    “What does he want?” Ben asked, on being informed.
    “He won’t say,” Abernathy replied. “He says that his words are for your ears alone.” He held up one hand. “But he was polite about it.”
    Ben frowned. “He was?”
    “All smiles and goodwill. He kept his tone friendly, he followed all the requisite protocols without complaint, and he never once referred to me using canine terms.”
    “That doesn’t sound like Laphroig.”
    “No, it doesn’t.” Abernathy cocked his ears. “I would be careful, if I were you.”
    Ben nodded. “I’ll make a point of it. Show him into the east room. I’ll do as he asks and speak with him in private.”
    When Questor had gone, he departed for the east room, where he held private talks with visiting dignitaries, and prepared himself mentally for what lay ahead. He was not dressed to receive anyone, having not scheduled visits for this day, but he saw no reason to do anything about it since it was only Laphroig. He settled for throwing on a light robe and removing the medallion of office he was wearing from beneath his tunic so that it hung revealed against his breast. The image on its face was of a knight in battle harness mounted on a charger and riding out of a morning sun that rose over a castle on an island.
    The castle was Sterling Silver. The knight was the Paladin.
    The man who had sold him the Magic Kingdom of Landover, a scheming and manipulative wizard named Meeks, had given him the medallion. Meeks had crossed over into Ben’s world and was engaged in the thriving business of selling the Kingdom over and over again to men who thought they could become its King andwere doomed to fail. Ben was chosen to be one of them, but surprised both Meeks and himself by finding a way to overcome obstacles that no other had.
    He owed his success, in no small part, to the medallion.
    He took a moment to study it. Only the Kings of Landover were allowed to wear the medallion, as it was both the insignia of their office and a talisman allowing them to pass freely between this world and others. It could not be removed by force, only voluntarily. Ben never took it off. Removing it would strip him of his identity and consign him to an exile’s fate. He had discovered that the hard way when Meeks, after giving it to him, had tricked him into thinking he had taken it off in a failed effort to regain control of the Kingdom. After surviving that, Ben had been careful never to let the medallion out of his possession.
    But the medallion had a more important use, one that he had discovered almost by accident and literally meant the difference between life and death. It was his link to the Paladin, the King’s champion and protector. While he wore the medallion, he possessed the power to summon the Paladin to defend him against his enemies. This was no small matter in a land where dangers threatened a King at every turn. The Paladin had saved his life countless times since he had assumed the throne. Without the medallion, that would not have happened.
    No one but Ben understood the full extent of the medallion’s power. No one else knew the whole of its secret save for Willow, and it had taken him a long time to tell her.
    The medallion provided a link between