"Do
you have the faintest clue where you're going?" said Conall. He
did not look up at Meg as he said this, for he was knitting
furiously, the sound of the knitting needles clicking faster than Meg
had ever heard.
Meg
put another stick on the fire. "Cerridwen sounds like a Cymru
name, and I only hear of magic cauldrons from that direction. So,
somewhere in Cymru, and I can always ask for directions."
"Can
you sail?"
"Maybe."
"Can
you pay for passage on a sailboat? Oh, mercy's sake, here." He
put his knitting down and dug in his belt bag. He brought out three
shining stones. "This ought to do, and if that's not enough
maybe you can glower at the captain." He handed them to Meg.
"Or
you could offer to row," said Ciara.
"I
may have to make that offer," said Meg. "We will see. What
are you making anyway Conall?"
"A
nice red sweater. Can you wait a few days? I should have it finished
by then."
"You
started last night," said Ciara. "How in Morrigan's name
are you going to finish in three days?"
"Especially
if you're knitting something for my size," said Meg.
"Oh
I don't know," said Conall. "Maybe I was stirring a magic
cauldron full of a potion to impart the skill of knitting, and some
of the potion fell on my finger, and – "
"Watch
yourself," said Meg. "That's not a story to joke about if
Cerridwen is listening."
"What
will she do?" said Conall. "Turn me into a frog? Ribbit,
ribbit."
"She
might increase the price on me," said Meg. "It's probably a
big enough price already. I have to dig up Deirdre and – "
"You
what?" said Conall and Ciara at the same time.
"And
take a fingerbone or something! I don't know!"
"Oh
phew," said Ciara. "I thought you had to bring her entire
body. That would get pretty gross after a while. Alright, well, the
ground isn't too hard yet. We can dig her up tomorrow."
…
That
night it rained harder than anyone remembered in a while.
The
next morning, the fields were a flattened waste and the ground was a
muddy mess. Nobody would be digging through anything.
"Well,"
said Bran. "At least we got the wheat and the hay in on time."
"But
not the rye," said Aoife. "It might be a hard winter unless
we can hunt. Meg, are you sure you don't want to stay here? You're a
decent hunter."
"Bleiz
is better than me by far," said Meg.
"But
you can handle a boar," said Bran. "Better than anyone else
except Deirdre…um…I'll keep my mouth shut now."
"Please
do," said Meg. "Anyway, I eat a lot of food as it is.
Better to not have me around hogging all the bread, eh?"
Nobody
agreed with this sentiment, and everyone begged Meg to stay. But they
also knew that if she didn't try to bring Deirdre back, she'd never
be the same, and neither would they.
So,
on a misty morning, when cloudy was the weather, as it usually was,
Meg rolled out of a bed that someone had once shared, and she put on
her new sweater that someone would have adored, and she packed up all
her things including a little wooden bird someone had once carved for
her, and she stepped out of the big round house that had once held
light and laughter, and she closed the door on it, and bade it
goodbye.
Then
she gave everyone a great big hug, and bade them all goodbye, and
promised she would be back someday soon, with Deirdre beside her.
As
she made her way through the gate, she saw a crow perched atop it,
giving her an odd look. For a moment it brought her up short. But she
kept on, and made her way down the road, into the mist, and did not
look back.
…
Up
hill and down dale she walked, under cloud and under sun, past field
and farm, beside forest and bog, and one day, as she was passing
through the mist, she heard a cry beside the road.
"Oh
help!" said a man's voice from somewhere nearby. "I am
sinking in the bog, and I shall surely drown! Please help me!"
Meg
looked around her and saw nothing but heather. "Show yourself!"
she cried.
"That's
a bit of a tall order," said the voice. "I could wave to
you but my hands are also stuck."
Suddenly
there was the little man, standing in front of a tall shrub, pointing
at a spot Meg had thought was a half-sunk log.
Meg
rushed over and found there a man, clad all in leather. She hooked
her arms under his and pulled with all her might. The man came free
of the bog with a squelching sound.
"Thank
you kindly," said the man.
"Just
doing my public duty," said Meg. "Can you tell me where I
might find passage across the sea?"
"Perhaps
anywhere," said the man in leather. "Anywhere there's a
boat with oars. I would wager that a mighty lass like you could row
across the sea all by herself."
"Maybe
so," said Meg. "I'd rather save my energy, though."
"Ah,"
said the man in leather. "Then you'll be wanting to go to the
Black Pool Fort. That's where all the big boats are these days."
Meg
shook her head. "No Black Pool for me, thank you. Say – how
did you fall into the bog anyway?"
"Oh,"
said the man in leather, "just looking for some iron, that's
all. Best way to find favor with the Queen, and then she might give
some of our village's cattle back – "
"I
am going to the Black Pool," said Meg. She tossed one of her
shiny stones to the man in leather, and set off down the road at a
furious pace.
…
Up
hill and down dale she walked, barely noticing the fields and farms
and herds of cattle as they flashed by, until in a vale of scraggly
shrubs she breezed by a pair of people in the road, and realized they
looked quite haggard. She skidded to a halt, turned around and jogged
back the way she had come until she met the people she had passed.
It
was a man and a woman, both gaunt and thin.
"Spare
a crust of bread?" said the man.
"Certainly,"
said Meg, and she fished in her bag for her loaf of bread, tore off a
piece, split it in two and handed one each to the starving pair.
Both
of them wolfed the bread down like it was the first food they had
eaten in a week.
"Spare
another crust of bread?" said the woman.
Meg
shook her head. "Give that one time to settle first. I've seen
what happens when a starving man eats too much at once. It's a bad
way to die. What's your trouble? Have you not been able to beg even a
spare soup bone anywhere along your way?"
"Mostly
spare soup bones," said the man. "Crusts of bread, a few
curds. Not much to go around these days, apparently. Not since the
queen took everyone's cattle."
"Ah
ha," said Meg. "Well. I'm just going to see her about
that."
The
little man appeared out of the shrubs, breathing heavily. "Walk
slow enough for me to keep up!" he panted. "Jaysus, I've
never seen anyone go that fast."
"Hello
to you too," said Meg. "Can you help me out here? Well, help
these two, really."
The
little man looked curious. "Perhaps."
Meg
handed her pack full of food to the little man, and said, "These
two are starving. I wish to give them my provisions, but if I do then
they will eat it all too quickly. So, you hang onto it, and give it
to them slowly, and they will get where they are going."
"Me?"
said the little man.
"I
don't see anyone else around," said Meg.
"Or
you could carry us on your shoulders," said the woman.
"I
go much too fast," said Meg. "And I am much too angry."
She
gave a shining stone to the woman, and then she turned and sped off.
…
Now
the dales and the hills were getting steeper, and there were more
forests and fewer bogs, and less rain. There were more stones in the road, slowing Meg's passage -- and there were even great boulders that the path had to skirt around. At least, until Meg shoved them out of the way. But there were so many of them that Meg began to tire. Stones and stones, everywhere was stones.
And
there was a stone table, and an old woman calling for help, for the
table had fallen over on one side and the woman's legs were trapped
under it.
"Oh
help!" cried the old woman. "Get someone with a lever or
something and get this awful thing off me!"
Meg
rushed over to the table, got her fingers under the stone, and lifted
it up off the old woman. "There you go," she said, "Scooch
yourself out from under there, this thing is mighty heavy."
"I'm
afraid that's not possible," said the old woman.
"Please?"
said Meg.
"I
mean my legs don't seem to be working anymore." She tried to
push herself backwards with her hands, but it was slow going.
Suddenly
the little man was there, dragging her out from under the stone.
"You
always show up just when I need you," said Meg, as she let the
stone drop with a mighty thud. "You have been very useful to me
in the past few days."
"I
can't say I understand it," said the little man. He turned to
the old woman. "Can you stand at all?"
"That
I cannot," said the old woman. "Pity. I am not sure how I
will help thresh the wheat at this point. Oh dear, and when the
young'uns all need me!"
The
little man pondered for a bit. Then he stroked his chin. Then he
tapped his head. Then he glanced at Meg, who was tapping her foot.
"I've got it," said the little man, "hang on." He
dashed into the woods.
In
the next moment there was sound of a harp, and a voice singing
merrily.
Out
of the woods bounded a chair – a plain wooden chair, in the way
that sticks with bark still on them are plain. It was as if a pile of
sticks had all twisted themselves together to make a chair. Its back
was sticks, and its legs were sticks, and its seat was a mat of long
grasses woven together. It bounded towards the old woman and stopped
there.
Meg
helped the old woman onto the chair, and the woman smiled.
"Goodness," she said, "I feel like a king on a throne.
Alright, chair, let's be going home."
The
woman and her chair went down the hill and were away.
"Fancy
harp you got there," said Meg. "Why didn't you just play
that thing to bring my village's cattle back?"
"Too
easy," said the little man. "This is your story, not mine.
I guess I'm helping you just to get you on your way, but – now
you've got me helping other people!"
"That's
a problem?"
"It's
not like the stories," said the little man. "In the stories
the fellow telling the tale never gets involved directly. Hmph. Well,
I guess I couldn't stand to see you mope about anyone else's death
anyway. But maybe I'll be moping about yours! Why did you give your
entire supply of food away?"
"I
figured I could reach the Black Pool and steal back one of the cattle
when I got hungry," said Meg. "Although I'm mad enough to
chew the queen's bones by now."
"You
would defy your queen so easily?"
"I've
told her messenger to get lost three times, so yes, I would."
"And
what about giving away the shiny stones?"
"Ah,"
said Meg, "that's how it works in the stories, right? You give
away your treasures to the unfortunate people in the road, and then
it turns out they were gods in disguise or the queen or something. I
don't know, I didn't need those stones anyway."
"They
were a gift from Conall," said the little man.
"And
you knew about that how exactly?"
"Never
mind," said the little man. He scurried into the woods and
vanished, leaving Meg there alone, under the sunny sky.