“Ay, I’m here. What do you want?”
“You know what we want. Hand over to us the children, the dwarfs – and the stone, and you shall go unharmed.”
“And supposing I tell thee to go and jump in the Boffin, what then?”
“Do not play the fool with us, Mossock. You have a minute in which to open this door before we break it, and you. Your house will fall, and weeds will grow on this land for a hundred years. Hurry! We are not usually so indulgent. Do not ask for trouble.”
“Pay no heed: she is bluffing,” said Fenodyree. “They cannot pass over a threshold unasked. It is an old binding spell stronger than any they can weave.”
“Oh? Reet! Did you hear that, Mrs Place? Well, to make it quite clear how we stond, here it is, straight and simple. You conner come in!”
There was a moment’s silence before the Morrigan spoke again, and now her voice was soft, and more menacing than before.
“We did not expect it to be so easy. But do not deceive yourselves by thinking that, because we cannot enter, you are safe. Wherever you are, and whatever you do, there is no escape, for we have called those to whom such spells are meaningless, and tomorrow night they will come to you. Listen, dwarfs! Can you not hear them? The mara are stirring. Soon they will be awake!”
Along the crest of the Riddings the morthbrood watched Shape-shifter climb laboriously up from the farm. Grimnir sat a little apart from the brood, while over the top of the hill, in an old quarry, were mustered the svart-alfar.
“They are all there,” said the Morrigan. “And they will not be drawn, though we think the threat of the mara will bring them out once the night is gone. On the move, we shall have them; but we must raise the fimbulwinter at daybreak.
“Is Slinkveal here? Good. The svart-alfar will remain in the quarry until dawn. You will not be needed, but then again, you may.
“The watchers have been chosen, and know their duties. Grimnir will accompany us to resume our work.”
Durathror and Fenodyree kept watch by turns throughout the night, and at six o’clock they woke the others: by seven all were ready to go. Day was near, and there was a hard frost.
Colin, Susan, and Gowther were taking with them a change of clothing, food for the whole party, and groundsheets. Fenodyree had made himself a cloak out of an old blanket.
They were about to shoulder their packs when there came a gentle knock at the door.
“Ay, who is it?” said Gowther.
“It’s me, maister Mossock. Is owt up?”
“Oh, wait on a minute, Sam: I’ll be reet with thee.”
Gowther waited until the dwarfs had hidden in the next room before he drew the bolts and unlocked the door.
“Theer! Come in, lad. I was hoping you’d be here before I went.”
“I saw the curtains were pulled to,” said Sam Harlbutt, “and the shippons were fast, so I thowt as how happen summat was wrong.”
“Oh no, theer’s nowt wrong; but – er – I’ve been called away – er sudden like, and young Colin and Susan are coming with me. We should be back by Saturday. Con you manage by yourself? I’ll get John Carter to give thee a hond, if you like.”
“Oh no, maister Mossock, I’ll be all reet.”
He showed not the least surprise.
“But I’d best get on with the milking pretty sharpish, hadn’t I? Dick Thornicroft’ll be here with his wagon in half an hour.”
“Oh ay! Er – ay, you’d best do that now.”
Gowther felt Sam’s unspoken criticism, but could think of no explanation to give him. It was their practice to share the milking, Gowther taking the morning, and Sam the evening. The cows ought to have been milked an hour ago, but Fenodyree would not let Gowther put his foot over the doorstep while it was still dark.
“Er – Sam, if Dick comes before you’ve finished, ask him to call when he’s been to Barber’s.”
“Right-ho, maister Mossock.”
“And Sam!”
“Ay?”
“When you’ve done milking, I’d like you to take Bess in the cart to her sister’s at Big Tidnock: she’ll be stopping theer while we come back. The dog’ll be going, too.”
“Oh, right-ho, maister Mossock.”
Sam Harlbutt was as imperturbable as only a Cheshire man can be.
They waited until Sam was well into the milking before they slipped quietly out into the lane.
“Which way?” said Gowther.
“Let us first follow the road to the back of this hill,” said Durathror. “From there we may see much to interest us.”
The lane ran past the mouth of the quarry behind the Riddings, and Gowther was rather perplexed when Durathror suggested beginning their journey with a scramble about inside.
“It’s nobbut an owd sond-hole. We shanner get far running round here!”
“We shall not be long,” said the dwarf. “I want … ah! As I thought! Svarts were here in the night, but I do not think there was much else with them. Come with me now to the hilltop.”
He ran backwards and forwards along the Riddings like a hound beating for a scent.
“Nor was there aught worse than the morthbrood here. That is good. But yonder is what I do not like. Cousin Fenodyree, what make you of those clouds to the north? How is it they have not changed since I saw them under the moon? The wind should have carried them to us long ago.”
“Hm,” said the dwarf. “Fimbulwinter?”
“Ay. They do not mean to lose. First, they drive us out with the threat of the mara. We dare not bide. Next, they watch us through the day, and when we reach some lonely place, they pen us close under the fimbulwinter till night comes, and they can take us as they wish.”
“Wait on,” said Gowther; “what’s all this ‘fimbulwinter’ business? And you’ve not told us yet …”
“I know,” broke in Fenodyree. “But there are some things better left untold. It will be time enough to fear the mara when we see them; and I hope we shall not do that. Meanwhile you will rest happier for your ignorance.”
“That makes me a lot easier, I must say!”
Fenodyree smiled, and inclined his head politely.
“You’re a supercilious little feller when you want to be, anner you?” said Gowther testily. He was a direct, open man, who liked everything to be clearly defined. He could not tolerate haziness or uncertainty; and he had not quite overcome the countryman’s natural distrust of strangers – such strangers, too!
“I do not mean to give offence,” said the dwarf. “But I must ask you to lean on our judgement in this venture. You are in our world now, and without us you will not regain your own, even though it lies at your feet.”
Gowther looked down at Highmost Redmanhey, then back at the dwarf. There was a long pause.
“Ay. I spoke out of turn. You’re reet, and I’m wrong. I’m sorry.”
“It