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the sunset. "Why, Taran of Caer Dallben," she said, "I think that's the first
polite thing you've said to me." Then, suddenly, Eilonwy tossed her head and
sniffed. "Of course, I should have known; it was the spiderweb. You were more
interested in that; you didn't care whether I was in danger." She strode
haughtily back to Gurgi and Melyngar.
"But that's not true," Taran called. "I--- I was..." By then,
Eilonwy was out of earshot. Crestfallen, Taran followed her. "I can't make
sense out of that girl," he said to the bard. "Can you?"
"Never mind," Fflewddur said. "We aren't really expected to."
That night, they continued to take turns at standing guard, though
much of their fear had lifted since the Cauldron-Born had vanished. Taran's
was the last watch before dawn, and he was awake well before Eilonwy's had
ended.
"You had better sleep," Taran told her. "I'll finish the watch for
you."
"I'm perfectly able to do my own share," said Eilonwy, who had not
stopped being irritated at him since the afternoon.
Taran knew better than to insist. He picked up his bow and quiver of
arrows, stood near the dark trunk of an oak, and looked out across the
moon-silvered meadow. Nearby, Fflewddur snored heartily. Gurgi, whose leg had
shown no improvement, stirred restlessly and whimpered in his sleep.
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"You know," Taran began, with embarrassed hesitation, "that
spiderweb..."
"I don't want to hear any more about it," retorted Eilonwy.
"No--- what I meant was: I really was worried about you. But the web
surprised me so much I forgot to mention it. It was courageous of you to stand
up against the Cauldron warriors. I just wanted to tell you that."
"You took long enough getting around to it," said Eilonwy, a tone of
satisfaction in her voice. "But I imagine Assistant Pig-Keepers tend to be
slower than what you might expect. It probably comes from the kind of work
they do. Don't misunderstand, I think it's awfully important. Only it's the
sort of thing you don't often need to be quick about."
"At first," Taran went on, "I thought I would be able to reach Caer
Dathyl by myself. I see now that I wouldn't have got even this far without
help. It is a good destiny that brings me such brave companions.''
"There you've done it again," Eilonwy cried, so heatedly that
Fflewddur choked on one of his snores. "That's all you care about! Someone to
help you carry spears and swords and what-all. It could be anybody and you'd
be just as pleased. Taran of Caer Dallben, I'm not speaking to you any more,"
"At home," Taran said--- to himself, for Eilonwy had already pulled
a cloak over her head and was feigning sleep--- "nothing ever happened. Now,
everything happens. But somehow I can never seem to make it come out right."
With a sigh, he held his bow ready and began his turn at guard. Daylight was
long in coming.
In the morning, Taran saw Gurgi's leg was much worse, and he left
the camp site to search the woods for healing plants, glad that Coll had
taught him the properties of herbs. He made a poultice and set it on Gurgi's
wound.
Fflewddur, meanwhile, had begun drawing new maps with his dagger.
The Cauldron warriors, explained the bard, had forced the companions too
deeply into the Ystrad valley. Returning to their original path would cost
them at least two days of hard travel. "Since we're this far," Fflewddur went
on, "we might just as well cross Ystrad and follow along the hills, staying
out of sight of the Horned King. We'll be only a few days from Caer Dathyl,
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and if we keep a good pace, we should reach it just in time."
Taran agreed to the new plan. It would, he realized, be more
difficult; but he judged Melyngar could still carry the unfortunate Gurgi, as
long as the companions shared the burden of the weapons. Eilonwy, having
forgotten she was not speaking to Taran, again insisted on walking.
A day's march brought them to the banks of the Ystrad.
Taran stole cautiously ahead. Looking down the broad valley, he saw
a moving dust cloud. When he hurried back and reported this to Fflewddur, the
bard clapped him on the shoulder.
"We're ahead of them," he said. "That is excellent news. I was
afraid they'd be much closer to us and we'd have to wait for nightfall to
cross Ystrad. We've saved half a day! Hurry now and we'll be into the
foothills of Eagle Mountains before sundown!"
With his precious harp held above his head, Fflewddur plunged into
the river, and the others followed. Here, Ystrad ran shallow, scarcely above
Eilonwy's waist, and the companions forded it with little difficulty.
Nevertheless, they emerged cold and dripping, and the setting sun neither
dried nor warmed them.
Leaving the Ystrad behind, the companions climbed slopes steeper and
rockier than any they had traveled before. Perhaps it was only his
imagination, but the air of the land around Spiral Castle had seemed, to
Taran, heavy and oppressive. Approaching the Eagle Mountains , Taran felt his
burden lighten, as he inhaled the dry, spicy scent of pine.
He had planned to continue the march throughout most of the night;
but Gurgi's condition had worsened, obliging Taran to call a halt. Despite the
herbs, Gurgi's leg was badly inflamed, and he shivered with fever. He looked
thin and sad; the suggestion of crunchings and munchings could not rouse him.
Even Melyngar showed concern. As Gurgi lay with his eyes half closed, his
parched lips tight against his teeth, the white mare nuzzled him delicately,
whinnying and blowing out her breath anxiously, as if attempting to comfort
him as best she could.
Taran risked lighting a small fire. He and Fflewddur stretched Gurgi
out beside it. While Eilonwy held up the suffering creature's head and gave
him a drink from the leather flask, Taran and the bard moved a little away and
spoke quietly between themselves.
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"I have done all I know," Taran said. "If there is anything else, it
lies beyond my skill." He shook his head sorrowfully. "He has failed badly
today, and there is so little of him left I believe I could pick him up with
one hand."
"Caer Dathyl is not far away," said Fflewddur, "but our friend, I
fear, may not live to see it."
That night, wolves howled in the darkness beyond the fire.
ALL NEXT DAY, the wolves followed them; sometimes silently,
sometimes barking as if in signal to one another. They remained always out of
bow shot, but Taran caught sight of the lean, gray shapes flickering in and
out of the scrubby trees.
"As long as they don't come any closer," he said to the bard, "we
needn't worry about them."
"Oh, they won't attack us," Fflewddur answered. "Not now, at any
rate. They can be infuriatingly patient if they know someone's wounded." He
turned an anxious glance toward Gurgi. "For them, it's just a matter of
waiting."
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