much of which was missing. One half was a plain, coiling, leaf design, flanked by two oblongs of a diamond lattice pattern, with four spots within each diamond. On the other half, between two more oblongs, was an inscription in heavy, square lettering that was unknown to Susan.
“Yes, but in what way is it valuable?”
“I cannot tell you. But Angharad would not wear it for ornament alone.”
“She might have told me what it was for, though.”
“Perhaps it would not do for you to learn all its secrets at a time: sudden power is an evil, dangerous thing for any hands. Wear this always, guard it as you would the stone, and I know it will not fail you in need. And, above all, let it remind you of one who gave shelter and aid to those whose downfall would lift a weight of sorrow from her heart.”
“What do you mean?” said Colin. “I don’t understand. She’s on our side, isn’t she?”
“Ay, but you must know this: Angharad Goldenhand is wife to one who sleeps in Fundindelve; a great captain. A week had they been married when the king summoned his knights to go under the earth. Seven days of happiness to last her down the years. Do you see now how generous she has been? We are rescued, fed, and clothed, and are going on our way the better equipped for our task, yet if we succeed, Angharad Goldenhand may not greet her lord for many a hundred years to come.”
The sun had risen, but the mara were far beyond its reach as they reclined upon the floor under the lion’s head in the Cave of the Svartmoot. Arthog and Slinkveal and other svarts were present, too, and there must have been fifty of the morthbrood ranged along its walls. In one corner what looked like a mound of rags, parchment-covered sticks, and old boots writhed and twitched. On top of the head stood Shape-shifter and Grimnir, and the cave was lit by the red glow of the firedrake held in the lap of the aged, piebald svart, in his seat below the lion’s jaws. Selina Place was speaking in the Common Tongue.
“… and a coven of our sisters killed by elves, and yet you saw nothing! Mossock and the children reach the far end of Radnor, yet you saw nothing! They must have passed you! Such incompetence, brother Galleytrot, could see us all in Ragnarok ere midnight.”
“But they didn’t pass me!” blustered James Henry Hodgkins. “I’d have seen them!”
“But they did, and you did not. One more error, dear brother, and you will be svart-meat.
“And while Ragnorak is on our lips, let us speak plainly to you all. Nastrond has no word of us, but he will hear, and when that time comes all your lives will be forfeit if we cannot wield the stone. Lest any of you have not our faith in success, you must know that the boundary is sealed. Any who try to cross will be slain: so let no one think to find favour with Nastrond through betrayal.
“Now to our plans. We do not believe the humans have survived the night. All dwellings and outhouses were watched, so they must have stayed in the open. Dwarfs are hardier, but we doubt if they can endure such cold, therefore we expect to hear news quickly. The search is to continue until the stone is found, for if it has passed to the elves all your efforts will be needed.
“Today the skies will be clear. This cannot be helped, since it will take till sunset to bring more cloud. By night we shall have enough to give unbroken cover for as long as we wish, though, so that you may follow tracks more easily, there will be no further snow. Thus the mara and the svart-alfar will be able to hunt throughout the day, if needs be.
“The lyblacs and the morthbrood will now go to relieve their fellows, and will pass on our instructions. Remember, the sky is full of our eyes; cowards and traitors will not run far. That is all.”
The heap of rags spilled over, and broke into a number of tattered forms, which rose jerkily to their feet like scarecrow marionettes, and slunk, spindly and stooping, out of the cave.
“It is not what you say Nastrond has learnt from his spies that we fear, so much as his own mind,” said Shape-shifter to Grimnir, closing the door of the broom cupboard after her. “We have felt it probing our thoughts often within the last month. There is no telling when he will act. And the svarts are not to be trusted if they fear us less: an example must be made of one or two without delay – that has always been the best encouragement. We shall have to ‘unmask’ a ‘traitor’ at the next moot.”
With the first light, the island had grounded close to a stream on the opposite side of Redesmere from where the mara had lost the trail.
Clothed in the featureless snow, the countryside seemed vast; limitless as a desert, and as silent as a mine, the land offered no cover. Any movement against that background would be seen for miles, a line of footprints could not be missed, and in the brittle air any sound would carry undiminished to distant ears.
Durathror suggested, and the others reluctantly agreed, that their best course was to walk along the actual bed of the stream, but as close to the bank as possible. And so it was that, with the extra hardship of legs frozen from the knee down, they took up the pattern of the previous day’s travel. Happily, the muspel cloaks had the property of sliding round obstacles without catching or tearing, and, worn with the lining on the outside, and the hood up, were good camouflage.
Ten minutes after sunrise, the first birds swept overhead.
The morning wore on, monotonously, though not uneventfully. Half a dozen scarecrows were by-passed, and two pairs of hikers came near to achieving their purpose, and a swift death. But these moments, and an occasional set of footprints, were all that distracted attention from the task of wading upstream.
By noon they had advanced a little over a mile; then Gowther stopped.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “If we follow this brook much longer we’ll be turning north, and pushing up into Henbury, and we shanner be so very far from wheer we started. Now just over yonder is Pyethorne wood, and that borders on Thornycroft pools, and, if I remember, we’ll find a stream as will take us in the reet direction from theer. Shall we have a look?”
Unfortunately, though, to gain the wood they had to skirt the edge of a field, cross a lane near to the lodge of Thornycroft hall, and make their way over two hundred and fifty yards of exposed parkland.
They managed to reach the lane undetected, but as they lay under the hedge, the remaining stages looked to be by far the worst check they had yet encountered.
“I see no way,” said Durathror, creasing his eyes against the glare of the sunlit snow. “And to await night here would be madness.”
“But do we have to go through there?” said Colin. “Can’t we work round to somewhere else?”
“Ay, I’ve been thinking about yon, too,” said Gowther, “but I doubt we shanner do better elsewheer. Sithee: if we go north we’ll be moving back on Alderley, and we’ll have to put Macclesfield between us and wheer we want to get to. If we take our road round by the south, we’ll have to pass through Gawsworth, unless we go quite a step out of our way; and if you’ll be guided by me, we’ll steer clear of Gawsworth, matters being as they are. Some mighty queer things happen theer at the best of times, without all this. No, Pyethorne wood’s the place: it’s our nearest water, and we should go no closer to Gawsworth than Dark Lane and Sugarwell, which is all to the good.”
“I think we must choose your way,” said Fenodyree after some argument. “But how are we to gain the wood?”
“We’ll have to chance it,” said Gowther. “And if we meet onybody, let’s hope they know nowt about us. No, I hanner forgotten the birds, neither. But theer’s been enough folks gone along this lane, and down the drive, for our tracks not to stond out a mile – especially if we watch wheer we tread. Now, if