by Sarah Rayne
Caspar said crossly, ‘Well, of course it would be of use, only we haven’t got any.’
The Gnome, whose name was Pumlumon said, ‘But of course we have,’ and the Gnomes all shook their heads sadly, and did not know what things were coming to when Humans did not remember about Gnomes having any magic.
Fenella, trying to keep her voice low, so that Goibniu and the others would not hear it, said, ‘But what sort of magic, Pumlumon?’ and Pumlumon beamed and said weren’t there all kinds.
‘But if it’s the giants you’re wanting to fool, then it’d be the grand old Draoicht Suan,’ said Pumlumon, and the Gnomes nodded sagely and said that would be it, the Draoicht Suan it would be, the spell that had kept the Trees fast asleep for so many years now, and wasn’t it a powerful strong spell and Pumlumon the fellow to be spinning it for them all?
‘Well, what does it do?’ asked Fenella, who was by no means sure about trusting an enchantment and who did not like the way Goibniu and Fiachra Broadcrown were flipping coins and chuckling sinisterly over the results.
Pumlumon said in a voice of utmost astonishment, ‘But has your honour never heard of the Draoicht Suan}' and was instantly hushed by Bith of the Bog-Hat, who had by now sensed that something was wrong, being a gnome of more percipience than his fellows and who liked, no more than Fenella, the manner in which Goibniu was eyeing them all. He told the others they must not forget about roast Gnome being a traditional dish for the Gruagach’s grander festivals. Such as a wedding feast, said Bith severely.
‘It’s the Enchantment of Slumber,’ said Pumlumon. ‘It sends your enemies into the deepest of sleeps. My word, I’m surprised that your worshipfulness has never come across it. At one time, you couldn’t travel more than a half day across Ireland without coming across the Draoicht Suan in one form or another. Well, that’s what keeps the Trees from waking,’ said Pumlumon, looking solemn. ‘And if we’re to outwit these giants, there’s nothing for it but for me to call up the Draoicht Suan. We’ll send the giants into the enchanted slumber and be off back to Gallan in the whisk of a glowworm’s tail.’ He beamed at them again and Caspar was beginning to relax, because it seemed as if they might escape after all and Fenella was remembering about magic being very nearly everyday here, when Pumlumon said, ‘Of course, that’s so long as I can remember the words.’
He thought he probably would. He said there was not much of it to remember, really. Wasn’t it one of the simplest magics there was and his grandfather, to say nothing of his great-grandfather (who had lived long and fared well) passing it down to him. Why, said Pumlumon, hadn’t there been a time, not so very long ago either, when he could rattle off the words that set the Draoicht Suan working with no more ado than you might make in the squashing of a flea, always supposing you wanted to do something so pointless, which Pumlumon himself never had.
‘But you can remember it all?’ said Fenella, anxiously, and Pumlumon pushed his hat well back and scratched his head and said once he got it going, it would follow as the night the day, or maybe it was the other way round.
‘The thing is getting it going,’ he said. ‘If I could have a few minutes — let’s say half an hour-to think it over and make some notes, I daresay we’ll be as right as a snail’s whisker.’
‘But we haven’t got half an hour,’ said Fenella. ‘They’ll be bringing up the squares at any minute. You’ll have to pronounce it at once.’
‘Yes, but we want to get it the right way about,’ said Pumlumon. ‘It won’t do to be saying it backwards, or inside out, or to be missing a bit out that’s important, or adding a piece from another enchantment. Bless my best boots, that would never do at all. I’ll just recite it through quietly to be sure I can remember it first, shall I?’
‘We’ll have to distract the giants, then,’ said Fenella practically. ‘Supposing I offer to tell them about the Feargach Grian?’
The Gnomes thought this a fine old idea. In fact, Flaherty thought it was a better idea than invoking the Draoicht Suan until it was explained to him that unless Pumlumon did invoke it, they would all of them be roasting on spits in the Gruagach’s sculleries before the night was out, to which he said that giants had always been partial to roast Gnome and he had always thought it was a mistake to come to Tara in the first place.
‘Give me a few moments,’ said Pumlumon, setting his features in a frown of concentration and Fenella looked at Caspar with a have-we-any-choice expression and then, taking a deep breath, walked across to the group of giants by the fire.
Inchbad was pleased to see Fenella, pretty little thing, approach them. Of course, it was probably quite an ordeal for Humans to sup with giants, although Inchbad was pleased to think that they had all treated Fenella and the other two with courtesy. The Gruagach were strong on courtesy; Inchbad had always been very firm about this, even to the extent of feeding prisoners before the Fidchell which Goibniu had always said was a waste of good food and wine.
But it paid off in the end; here was the pretty little Girl-Human walking over to talk to them, smiling up at them -Inchbad always noticed the fair, smooth skins of Humans, whereas giantesses were apt to be a bit coarse and occasionally had incipient beards. You could not really beat a Human’s skin. Inchbad found himself thinking he would rather like to stroke Fenella. Perhaps they should reserve tonight’s Fidchell solely for the Gnomes. Nobody wanted to stroke a Gnome, except perhaps another Gnome. He thought he might just have a word with Caspar to see if Fenella could be brought along to his, Inchbad’s, bed that very night. Goibniu would have had his eye on her, but that was just too bad. Goibniu would have to wait his turn. There was really no reason why the Girl-Human could not be brought to all their bedchambers, one after the other, before she was used in the Fidchell. This was an eminently reasonable arrangement and nobody could possibly object.
The Girl-Human had seated herself before the fire; Inchbad could see how the firelight fell across her face and brought out red lights in her hair. He bent to hear what she was saying, because she had a rather soft voice. Soothing you might call it. The sort of voice you could just nod off to. Yes, he would very much like to stroke her. Face, neck, breasts … Giantesses tended to have loose thick-grained breasts. Inchbad was rather partial to a soft, tender Human breast. He shifted in his seat a bit. Yes, certainly Caspar would be told to make ready the royal bed-chamber tonight.
The Girl was explaining how she thought perhaps she ought to make some kind of thanks to them for their hospitality. (Goibniu and Fiachra Broadcrown sniggered at this, but nobody took any notice.) The Girl said that they had been so kind and welcoming; food all served to them and very good, too, and such comfortable bedchambers for their use. And they had expressed such interest in the Feargach Grian she was saying; as people of culture and learning, naturally they would be interested in it, she quite understood this.
This was appealing to everyone’s better instincts and most of the giants looked alert and nodded at one another, because, of course, the Gruagach were known the length and breadth of Ireland for their culture and learning. It had been really quite sharp of the pretty little Human to see that.
Perhaps a tale or two from other lands? the Girl was saying, smiling up at them. In her own country, there had been a saying: ‘Singing for your Supper’. She could not sing, she said, not really, but she could tell some stories for her supper. Would that do? And she smiled so nicely at Inchbad and Goibniu that everyone smiled back and thought it would be really very interesting to hear about some of the strange lands and the faraway worlds the Humans had visited from the great Feargach Grian, and also that it was always a shame to eat Humans when they were pretty and young and friendly. And while nobody wanted precisely to abandon the Fidchell which everybody enjoyed so much, there was really no reason why they could not play it with the Gnomes tonight and save Fenella for tomorrow, or even the day after.
And so Inchbad sat down and beamed at Fenella and said they would be interested to hear her stories and, at the same ti
me, nodded to the waiting Fiachra Broadcrown to get the Fidchell squares ready for the Gnomes.
Fenella took a deep breath and, leaning forward, clasped her hands about her knees. It was warm over here by the fire and there was an unpleasant stench of stale giant and the surreptitious breaking of wind from Goll the Gorm who had eaten too much onion broth again, but these things would have to be overlooked. From the corner of her eye, she could see Pumlumon frowning and tapping his forehead for inspiration and the others standing in a worried circle about him.
Fenella began to speak at exactly the same moment that Pumlumon began to intone the Draoicht Suan.
To begin with, it did not seem as if anything was going to happen. Caspar, who distrusted most magic on principle, thought that probably nothing would happen at all and the evening would end as so many evenings were ending lately; with the heating of the squares and the terrible screaming of the victims.
But Fenella seemed to have caught the Gruagach’s interest fairly and squarely; Caspar, only partly listening, heard her telling them about another life, another world, where people had fled in panic from the Feargach Grian many centuries earlier and how the Feargach Grian had, on that occasion, appeared in one of its truly terrible aspects.
‘The Angry Sun in truth,’ said Fenella, her expression absorbed, her eyes fixed on Goibniu and the others.
Caspar saw Inchbad nodding and Goll the Gorm was utterly rapt. Pumlumon seemed to have got himself quite well into the enchantment now; he was looking much less worried than he had looked ten minutes earlier. (‘For doesn’t it always come back?’ demanded Bith. ‘Isn’t he the grand feller, chanting away, as if it was only yesterday he called up a spell or two?’)
Pumlumon set his hat more squarely on his head and continued. Caspar, sending a worried glance to the group around the fire, heard Fenella describing something called Renascia; Twilight Mountains and Seasons with different colours. Something about an Iron Casket that had held secrets of the Ancient Past … It might have been extremely interesting if Caspar had not been so worried about Pumlumon’s knowledge of the spell. Oughtn’t it to be working by now?
Fenella, seated by the fire, trying not to flinch from onion-tainted breath and unwashed feet (there was something particularly revolting about the thought of giants’ feet and their toenails), thought so as well. Inchbad had moved across to sit beside her and had taken her hand between his finger and thumb and was exclaiming what a pretty little thing she was and it the shame of the world that her brother had had to ride off and leave her all alone.
‘But I’ll console you, my dear,’ he said and Fenella smiled valiantly and tried to quell the nauseous lifting of her stomach.
‘That would be nice, but shan’t I tell you about the Fire Country of Fael-Inis now?’ It might be as well to sound a bit childish, and even slightly simple. ‘Or,’ said Fenella, hopefully, ‘should we save it for tomorrow?’
Goibniu opened his mouth to say something-Fenella wondered what it would have been — when an arrested look came into his small eyes.
Into the great Sun Chamber, the legendary crystal and silver hall, the place the exiled Wolfkings had called Medchuarta, stole something so delicate and so strong, and so — so beckoning thought Fenella hazily — that it was almost as if a thin, sugar-spun veil was falling over them. There was a faint sticky feeling to it, as if it might trap you if you tried to struggle against it — but no one would want to struggle against this, thought Fenella, bemused with delight.
For a moment, she thought she could see it: fragile silver filaments of enchantment, gentle brittle frost-webs of something that was not quite light, but not quite solid, but somehow composed of both. The Enchantment of Slumber … gentle and strong and wrapping itself about you … And within the enchantment are dreams, Mortal, within the enchantment are worlds within worlds within worlds and there are no longer boundaries and there are no longer the finite things that bind you …
Surrender now, Mortal, come into the deep folds of slumber, where your heart’s desire awaits you, where all things are possible …
Nuadu! thought Fenella, her mind tumbling with delight. And Floy! And all things are possible …
She gave a deep sigh and felt the silver threads spin filaments of pure light about her and the soft folds of slumber enveloping her … like a soft light veil, like a warm, wine-dark sea, like hazy afternoon sunlight … And then felt, with a rude awakening, Caspar’s hands shaking.
‘You can’t give in to it,’ he was saying urgently. ‘Fenella, you must wake up — ’ Fenella considered this and blinked. And from a great distance, heard Caspar say with irritation, ‘Damn and blast, I knew we shouldn’t have trusted those Gnomes — ’
With a huge effort, Fenella said, ‘What’s wrong with the Gnomes?’ And then, remembering a bit more, ‘Didn’t Pumlumon manage the Enchantment?’
‘Very well indeed,’ said Caspar grimly. ‘Only he forgot to make sure that the gnomes kept out of range. ‘They’re all fast asleep!’
‘How did we manage to escape it?’ asked Fenella. ‘Pumlumon was directing it straight at the giants,’ said Caspar. ‘I stood behind him, but you caught the outer edges of it.’ And then, curiously, ‘Did you see it?’ he said.
‘Well, I saw something,’ said Fenella rather uncertainly. ‘And I certainly felt something. But I don’t think it was as strong as it could have been. I mean, I’m awake, aren’t I?’
‘You were only on the outskirts of it,’ said Caspar. ‘But I don’t think it was very strong. I think the giants might wake up quite soon. We’ll have to be quick. I suppose,’ he said, ‘that we can’t just slip out now. Just the two of us?’
‘And leave the Gnomes?’ Fenella was shocked.
‘No, of course we can’t. We’ll have to wake them somehow.’
But the Gnomes could not be woken and, eventually, Caspar and Fenella gave up.
‘But we can’t leave them,’ said Fenella worriedly. ‘Caspar, we can’t.’
‘We could put them somewhere.’
‘Could we? Where could we put them?’
‘In a locked room?’ said Caspar, half to himself, and then, with more assurance, ‘Yes, in a locked room.’
‘Won’t they wake up and be angry?’
But Caspar said this was unlikely; the Draoicht Suan would probably keep everyone inside Tara asleep until somebody came along with the counter-spell.
‘And,’ he added gloomily, ‘who’s to know when that will happen. It might be a hundred years from now for all I know.’
In the end they hauled the Gnomes into a small anteroom across the galleried landing from the Sun Chamber.
‘Not ideal,’ said Caspar. ‘But it gives them a fighting chance. I tell you what we’ll do, we’ll try to find someone on the way who knows the counter-spell and send him back to wake the Gnomes up.’
‘Can we do that?’
‘You never know,’ said Caspar rather vaguely. ‘I’ve known stranger things happen.’ And then, impatiently, ‘And now do come on, or we shall never get away.’
Chapter Twenty-three
In the end, it was relatively easy to steal through the darkened halls of Tara and out into the night.
‘Although Tara never is really dark,’ said Caspar as they stopped to look back at the great shining edifice outlined against the sky. Fenella, who had found Tara a place of breathtaking beauty and who would have very much liked to explore it, saw how it gleamed gently against the night and seemed to have some inner radiance of its own.
‘I have seen it brighter,’ said Caspar in a rather expressionless voice.
‘Yes?’
‘When the Wolfkings rule,’ he said, and Fenella remembered Nuadu Airgetlam all over again and had to bite down the ache of loss.
They had stopped briefly in the great sculleries to pack up provisions. ‘For,’ said Caspar, ‘we shall need food and clothes.’
Fenella had gone back to the bed-chamber and pulled on her boots and found the warm woollen
cloak she had brought from Renascia while Caspar had raided the sculleries and packed the maps.
‘Were they all asleep?’ Fenella asked as they stole through the quiet Palace.
‘Yes. Pumlumon’s spell must have been better than we thought.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To the stables,’ said Caspar, sending her a surprised look. ‘You didn’t suppose we were going to walk all the way to the Fire Court did you?’
‘I did, as a matter of fact,’ said Fenella, who had forgotten how Floy and Snodgrass had ridden out earlier. ‘I’ve never actually ridden a horse before. I’ve never actually seen a horse until yesterday. ‘
Clambering on to the horse’s back felt odd and briefly unsafe and then, unexpectedly, exhilarating. Fenella, who on Renascia had walked everywhere, found her breath snatched from her as her mount followed Caspar down the great avenue of beeches that guarded Tara and out on to the Tree-fringed high road. She thought she would have to hold on extremely tightly if they were to go any faster, but she thought it was a thrilling, intoxicating sensation to be borne along like this.
Moonlight was silvering the countryside as they rode slowly along, draining it of colour, and all about them were rustlings and scurryings and the impression of tiny pattering feet and the beating of small, unseen wings.
‘Only night creatures,’ said Caspar. ‘Squirrels and hedgehogs and owls.’ But he glanced over his shoulder as he said this, as if he was not entirely sure.
The huge mass of the Wolfwood sprawled darkly to their left, black and rather forbidding, a place of thick impenetrable shadows. As they drew alongside, on the road they had travelled on their way to Tara, Fenella found herself staring into its depths and remembering the ancient Forest Court at its heart … Croi Crua Adhmaid … the Place of Ancient Enchantments … the Heartwood of the Forest …