The Black Cauldron

'You are a greedy creature,' said Orddu, with a tolerant smile at the hooded crone. 'There's another reason why neither of us wants to be Orgoch if we can possibly help it. Perhaps if you learned to control yourself better…? Now listen to what these dear mice have to tell us. It should be interesting; they say such charming things.'

Orddu turned to Taran. 'Now, my duckling,' she said pleasantly, 'how did it come about that you're on such bad terms with the Huntsmen?'

Taran hesitated, fearful of revealing Gwydion's plan. 'They attacked us,' he began.

'Of course they did, my poor goslings,' said Orddu with sympathy. 'They're always attacking everybody. That's one of the advantages of being toads; you needn't worry about such things any more. It will be all romps in the forest and lovely wet mornings. The Huntsmen won't vex you any more. True, you shall have to keep an eye out for herons, kingfishers, and serpents. But apart from that, you won't have a care in the world.'

'But who is 'us'?' interrupted Orwen. She turned to Orddu. 'Aren't you going to find out their names?'

'Yes, by all means,' murmured Orgoch, with a lip-smacking sound. 'I love names.'

Once again Taran hesitated. 'This…this,' he said, gesturing toward Eilonwy, 'is Indeg. And Prince Glessic…'

Orwen giggled and gave Orddu an affectionate nudge. 'Listen to them,' she said. 'They're delightful when they lie.'

'If they won't give their right names,' said Orgoch, 'then simply take them.'

Taran stopped short. Orddu was studying him closely. With sudden discouragement, he realized his efforts were useless. 'This is Eilonwy Daughter of Angharad,' he said. 'And Fflewddur Fflam.'

'A bard of the harp,' Fflewddur added.

'And this is Gurgi.' Taran continued.

'So that's a gurgi,' said Orwen with great interest. 'It seems to me I've heard of them, but I never knew what they were.'

'It's not a gurgi,' retorted Eilonwy. 'It's Gurgi. And there's only one.'

'Yes, yes!' Gurgi put in, venturing to step from behind Taran. 'And he is bold and clever! He will not let brave companions become toads with humpings and jumpings!'

Orgoch looked curiously at him. 'What do you do with the gurgi?' she asked. 'Do you eat it or sit on it?'

'I should think,' Orddu suggested, 'whatever you did, you would have to clean it first. And you, my duck,' she said to Taran, 'who are you?'

Taran straightened and threw back his head. 'I am Taran,' he said, 'Assistant Pig-Keeper of Caer Dallben.'

'Dallben!' cried Orddu. 'You poor lost chicken, why didn't you say so in the first place? Tell me, how is dear little Dallben?'

Chapter 12 Little Dallben

TARAN'S JAW DROPPED. Before he could answer, the enchantresses had crowded around the companions and were leading them to the cottage. In wonder, he turned to Fflewddur, who looked less pale now that Orddu had stopped speaking of toads.

'Little Dallben?' Taran whispered. 'I've never in my life heard anyone talk about him that way. Can they mean the same Dallben?'

'I don't know,' whispered the bard in return. 'But if they think it is? Great Belin, don't tell them otherwise!'

Inside, with a great deal of joyous bustling that in fact accomplished little, the enchantresses hurried to straighten up the chamber. Orwen, in obvious excitement and delight, brought out a number of rickety chairs and stools; Orgoch cleared the table of crockery by brushing it onto the floor; Orddu clapped her hands and beamed at the companions.

'I should never have thought it,' she began. 'Oh, no, no, my duck!' she cried suddenly to Eilonwy, who had drawn closer to the loom and had just bent forward to examine the fabric. 'Mustn't touch. Nasty prickles if you do. It's full of nettles. Come sit with us, there's a love.'

Despite the sudden warmth of their welcome, Taran glanced at the enchantresses with uneasiness. The chamber itself filled him with odd forebodings he could not name, which eluded him like shadows. Gurgi and the bard, however, appeared delighted at the strange turn of events, and set heartily to eating the food that soon arrived at the table. Taran looked questioningly at Eilonwy.

The girl guessed his thought. 'Don't be afraid to eat,' she said behind her hand. 'It's perfectly all right, not the least bit poisonous or enchanted. I can tell. I learned how when I was staying with Queen Achren and learning to be a sorceress. What you do is…'

'Now, my sparrow,' Orddu interrupted, 'you must tell us all about dear little Dallben. What is he doing? Does he still have The Book of Three?'

'Well…why, yes he does,' Taran said, with some confusion, beginning to wonder if the enchantresses did not know more about Dallben than he did.

'Poor little robin,' remarked Orddu, 'and such a heavy book. I'm surprised he would even be able to turn the pages.'

'Well, you see,' Taran said, still puzzled, 'the Dallben that we know, he isn't little. I mean, he's rather elderly.'

'Elderly!' burst out Fflewddur. 'He's every bit of three hundred and eighty years old! Coll himself told me.'

'He was such a dear, sweet little thing,' said Orwen with a sigh. 'All pink cheeks and chubby fingers.'

'I love babies,' said Orgoch, smacking her lips.

'His hair is quite gray,' said Taran, who could not bring himself to believe these strange creatures were indeed speaking of his old teacher. The idea of the learned Dallben ever having pink cheeks and chubby fingers was beyond his imagination. 'He has a beard too,' he added.

'A beard?' cried Orddu. 'What's little Dallben doing with a beard? Why in the world should he want such a thing? Such a charming little tadpole!'

'We found him in the marsh one morning,' said Orwen. 'All by himself in a great wicker basket. It was too sweet for words. Orgoch, of course…'

At this Orgoch made an irritable noise and her eyes glared from the depths of the hood.

'Come now, dear Orgoch, don't look so disagreeable,' said Orddu. 'We're all friends together here; we can talk about such things now. Well, I shall put it this way and spare Orgoch's feelings. She didn't want to keep him. That is, not in the usual sense. But we did. And so we brought the poor fledgling to the cottage.'

'He grew very quickly,' added Orwen. 'Why, it was no time before he was toddling around, and talking, and doing little errands. So kind and polite. A perfect joy. And you say he has a beard?' She shook her head. 'Curious notion. Wherever did he find it?'

'Yes, a delightful little sparrow he was,' said Orddu. 'But then,' she continued with a sad smile, 'there was that distressing accident. We were brewing some herbs one morning, a rather special potion.'

'And Dallben,' sighed Orwen, 'sweet little Dallben was stirring the kettle for us. It was one of those kind, thoughtful things he was always doing. But when it came to a boil, some of it bubbled up and splashed out.'

'It burned his poor dear fingers,' Orddu added. 'But he didn't cry, no indeed. He just popped his fingers into his mouth, the brave little starling. Of course, some of the potion was still there, and he swallowed it.'

'As soon as he did that,' explained Orwen, 'he knew every bit as much as we did. It was a magical brew, you understand, a recipe for wisdom.'

'After that,' Orddu went on, 'it was out of the question to keep him with us. It would never have been the same; no, it would never have done at all; you can't have that many people knowing that much all under the same roof. Especially since he was able to guess some of the things Orgoch had in mind. And so we had to let him go? really let him go, that is. Orgoch, by this time, was the one who wanted to keep him. In her own fashion, which I doubt he would have liked.'

'He would have been a sweet little thing,' murmured Orgoch.