Taran Wanderer

"Don't forget the serpent," Orwen told Orddu, "all fretted and perplexed because he didn't know if he was green with brown spots or brown with green ones. We made him an invisible serpent," she added, "with brown and green spots, so he could be clearly seen and not trodden on. He was so grateful and much easier in his mind after that."

"And I recall," croaked Orgoch, huskily clearing her throat, "there was a…"

"Do be still, Orgoch," Orwen interrupted. "Your tales always have such― such untidy endings."

"You see, my pullet," Orddu said, "we can help you in many ways, all quickerand simpler than any you might think of. What would you rather be? If you want my opinion, I suggest a hedgehog; it's a safer life than most. But don't let me sway your choice; it's entirely up to you."

"On the contrary, let's surprise them," cried Orwen in happy excitement. "We'll decide among ourselves and spare them the tedious business of making up their minds. They'll be all the more pleased. How charming it will be to see the look on their little faces― or beaks or whatever it is they finally have."

"No fowls," grumbled Orgoch. "No fowls, in any case. Can't abide them. Feathers make me cough."

Gurgi's fright had so mounted he could only babble wordlessly. Taran felt his own blood run cold. Orddu had taken a step forward and Taran defensively reached for his sword.

"Now, now, my chicken," Orddu cheerily remarked, "don't lose your temper, or you may lose considerably more. You know your blade is useless here, and waving swords is no way to set anyone in a proper frame of mind. It was you who chose to put yourselves in our hands."

"Hands?" growled Orgoch. From the depths of the hood her eyes flashed redly and her mouth began twitching.

Taran stood firm. "Orddu," he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could, "will you tell me what I ask? If not, we will go our way."

"We were only trying to make things easier for you," said Orwen, pouting and fingering her beads. "You needn't take offense."

"Of course we shall tell you, my brave tadpole," Orddu said. "You shall know all you seek to know, directly we've settled another matter: the price to be paid. Since what you ask is of such importance― to yourself, at least― the cost may be rather high. But I'm sure you thought of that before you came."

"When we sought the Black Cauldron," Taran began, "you took Adaon's enchanted brooch in fee, the one thing I treasured most. Since then I have found nothing I have prized more."

"But, my chicken," said Orddu, "we struck that bargain long ago; it is over and done. Are you saying you brought nothing with you? Why, count yourself lucky to become a hedgehog, since you can afford little else."

"Last time," Orgoch hoarsely whispered in Orddu's ear, "you would have taken one of the young lamb's summer days, and a tasty morsel it would have been."

"You are always thinking of your own pleasures, Orgoch," replied Orddu. "You might at least try to think of what we all would like."

"There was a golden-haired girl with him then," Orwen put in, "a pretty little creature. He surely has lovely memories of her. Could we not take them?" She went on eagerly. "How delightful it would be to spread them out and look at them during long winter evenings. Alas, he would have none for himself, but I think it would be an excellent bargain."

Taran caught his breath. "Even you would not be so pitiless."

"Would we not?" answered Orddu, smiling. "Pity, dear gosling― as you know it, at least― simply doesn't enter into the question as far as we're concerned. However," she went on, turning to Orwen, "that won't answer either. We already have quite enough memories."

"Hear me then," cried Taran, drawing himself to his full height. He clenched his hands to keep them from trembling. "It is true I own little to treasure, not even my name. Is there nothing you will have of me? This I offer you," he went on quickly in a low voice. He felt his brow dampen. Though he had taken this decision at Caer Dallben and weighed it carefully, with the moment upon him, he nearly, faltered and longed to turn from it.

"Whatever thing of value I may find in all my life to come," Taran said, "the greatest treasure that may come into my hands― I pledge it to you now. It shall be yours, and you shall claim it when you please."

Orddu did not answer, only looked at him curiously. The other enchantresses were silent. Even Gurgi had ceased his whimpering. The shapes on the loom seemed to writhe before Taran's eyes as he waited for Orddu to speak.

The enchantress smiled. "Does your quest mean so much that you will spend what you have not yet gained?"

"Or may never gain," croaked Orgoch.

"No more can I offer," Taran cried. "You cannot refuse me."