Then the Elf Lord came to a stop as he seemed to notice for the first time that we were surrounded by elves, fairies, and other magical folk. He swayed slightly, then raised his voice and called out, “My people! They’ve stolen something that rightly belongs to all of us! You must help me get it back!”
“We aren’t your people!” someone in the crowd shouted in response. “We answer to no lord!”
That set Sylvester off again. With a wordless scream of rage, he turned and ran at us. “Do it!” Owen shouted.
Granny bought me a couple of seconds with another whack of her cane that I wasn’t sure Sylvester even felt, though it did break his stride. When Sylvester came at me, I jabbed the dart into his neck.
He didn’t fall immediately. Instead, he stood still for a moment as his eyes lost the wild, mad look. I was afraid the potion wouldn’t work on him any better than the spells had, and I’d let him get way too close to me. Then he fell forward, his arms going around me like we were dancing, and finally he lost consciousness. He would have brought me down beneath him, but Owen and Rod extricated me from his grasp as he fell.
A cheer rose from the crowd when the Elf Lord hit the pavement. “She has defeated the tyrant!” someone cried out, and then they all began singing. It wasn’t the tight harmonies and unearthly beauty of the elfsong I’d heard before. This song had a wild, undisciplined quality to it, but the way the crowd swayed in unison as they sang was hypnotic.
“All hail the conqueror!” they sang. “We must serve the one who frees us! Adore and acclaim our glorious queen!”
Then I realized they were singing about me. “Whoa! Hey! Stop!” I called out. “I thought you said you served no lord! You don’t want a queen! Especially not me. I’m human, and I’m not even magical!”
That didn’t sink in. They kept singing, moving closer to me, some of them reaching out to touch me, not going for the brooch, but just brushing their fingers against my sleeve, my hair, or the hem of my skirt. I skittered out of the way, protesting, but that didn’t stop them.
“If they won’t listen to me, then why are they worshipping me?”
“If it makes you feel any better, I think they’re worshipping the stone, and you happen to be holding it,” Owen said.
“I can see why Sylvester wanted the Eye. It definitely would have eliminated any resistance, and with the Knot added to it, no one would have been able to take it away from him.”
“That’s what he was doing?” someone nearby blurted, and I turned to see that Lyle and one of the other elves had arrived, panting and breathless. They looked down to see their ruler lying on the ground, and I tensed, anticipating their response, but they merely stepped over him on their way to me.
“You didn’t know?” I asked Lyle. “Sylvester had the Knot and the Eye, and he was the one who commissioned the brooch.”
“It’s true!” Earl said, stepping forward.
“Shut up—” Lyle started to say, then he frowned at Earl. “How would you know?”
“Because no one notices I’m around. Nobody listens to me. That means I hear everything, and I know what Sylvester was doing.” His voice rose, taking on a mad shrillness. “But we won’t fall under his rule! We will remain free! He won’t get the brooch. He doesn’t deserve it!” I didn’t think Earl had planned to announce his true allegiance, but it didn’t sound like he was thinking clearly at the moment.
Already seeing where this was likely to go, I moved out of the way of the arguing elves, but I didn’t move quickly enough. Earl spun and came at me. “It should be mine! I could rule! I’d be better than Sylvester. I wouldn’t oppress people. I’d let people finish a sentence!”
“Earl, you don’t want to do this,” I said, backing away from him and trying to keep my voice calm and soothing.
“Yes, Earl, be reasonable,” Owen added, sticking by my side. “You’re not like Sylvester, so you won’t give into it. You don’t have to listen to it. You know how to cut it off. Just tell it to shut up.”
Earl squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, muttering, “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” as he did so. When he opened his eyes, the worst of the madness was gone, and he let out a long, deep breath. “Sorry about that,” he said. Then his eyes widened and he cried out, “Behind you!”
I turned, not sure what horror might be coming after me this time, but it was only Rod, reaching toward my pocket. Owen snapped, “Rod! Not now! Get a grip!”