“To enter Dun Dreggan,” the man in the cat-skin hat said, “you must first answer my riddles, then play me in three games and win two of them, or the gates will lock.”
“I'll open them,” Melcorka said.
“Once they are locked, no woman, no man and no magic will be able to prise them open. The only way in is by defeating me.”
Looking over the side of the bridge, Melcorka could see only the white-frothed surge of the sea, where the grey-green breakers smashed on to the base of the stack and the cliff of the shore.
“Who are you?” Melcorka asked.
“I am Chattan,” the man said. Close to, his face was dark, with yellow eyes and a thin moustache. The cat-skin hat fitted on close-cropped hair.
“All right, Chattan.” Melcorka sat on the hard chair with the bridge swaying beneath them and the birds screaming all around. “Riddle me your riddles, Man of Words.”
Chattan smiled, showing rows of sharpened teeth. “Riddles you shall have, Woman of the Sword. The first is easy: what is higher than the king's house, and finer than silk?”
Melcorka laughed. “Oh, Man of Words, that is an easy ask. We played such word games when I was a child. Smoke rises higher than the house of any king and is finer than the finest silk.”
Chattan gave a mirthless smile. “You are correct, Woman of the Sword. You will not find the next so easy. Tell me how this can be possible: a man went to a tree where there were apples; he did not leave apples on it, and he didn't take apples off.”
Melcorka looked past Chattan at the castle walls, counting the sentries she saw on the ramparts. “Oh, that man found a tree with only two apples, Man of Words. He took away one apple, leaving one on the tree.”
Chattan frowned. “You've played this game before.”
“Every child plays such games,” Melcorka said, studying the castle to find its weakness. “What can I defeat you at next, Chattan?”
In return, Chattan indicated the chessboard he had set up before him. “This is an Eastern game,” he said, “popular with the Norse.”
Melcorka snorted. “Show me how to play chess so I can defeat you.”
“I hope you are a quick learner,” Chattan said, showing his teeth again, and gave Melcorka a brief lesson in the basics of chess.
“That sounds easy enough,” Melcorka said. “You start.”
Melcorka pondered the board as Chattan moved his king's pawn forward, then she followed his lead, copying his movements without any idea what she was trying to achieve. She looked up as Chattan said: “Checkmate.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I have won,” Chattan said. “We have two more games to play.” He clapped his hands, and the servants rushed up to replace the chess set with a pack of playing cards.
“I know what playing cards are,” Melcorka said.
“Good.” Chattan expertly shuffled the pack. “We'll keep this simple. You draw a card, and I'll draw a card, with the highest winning.”
Melcorka nodded. She could feel the wind rising, ruffling her hair and blowing her cloak against her legs. Chattan did not seem perturbed as the rope bridge swung madly back and forward. The ravens perched on the handrails, one on each side, their hard, intelligent eyes watching Melcorka. “You first,” Melcorka invited. “I like to know what I have to beat.”
“As you wish,” Chattan said, shuffled the pack again and pulled out a card which he placed, face down, on the table in front of him. “Now you.”
Melcorka ran her hands across the pack, selected a card at random and placed it in front of her. “Now what?”
“Now we turn it over,” Chattan turned his card. A queen stared up at the sky.
“Not bad,” Melcorka turned her card. A king.
“One game each,” Chattan said. “Everything hangs on the final game.”
“It does,” Melcorka glanced at the sea, far below. Only the waves were there, beating unceasingly at the immovable rock. “What is the final game?”
“You will like it,” Chattan said. “It is called catch the cat.”
“Catch the cat?”
“Yes,” Chattan rose suddenly, walking backwards along the swaying bridge. After he had taken a dozen steps, the castle gate swung open, and a horde of cats emerged. Ignoring Chattan, they bounded at Melcorka as she balanced on the bridge. “Catch them all, Swordswoman!”
Unsure whether the cats were friendly or not, Melcorka drew Defender as she walked forward. Her uncertainty ended when the first animal leapt at her face with fully extended claws. She flicked it aside, ducked the next and saw Chattan retreat inside the gate. He remained there, watching as Melcorka stood alone on the bridge except for a tangle of cats.
Rather than retreat, Melcorka ran forward, using Defender as a shield rather than a weapon as she strove to reach the rock stack. The cats leapt on her, scratching, biting, and raking at her face, arms and legs. One jumped on her shoulders and chewed the back of her neck.
“Melcorka! I'm coming!” Bradan raced on to the bridge, with his weight making it sway more violently than ever. “Hold on!”
Tearing the first of the cats from her, Melcorka threw it aside as she strove to reach the far side of the bridge. Chattan remained where he was, his yellow eyes slanting slightly. As Melcorka battled though the mass of cats, Chattan gave a signal and two of the servants appeared, both wearing cat-skin coats.
“Be careful, Bradan,” Melcorka urged, slicing her way through an increasing number of clawing cats. As she lunged forward, Chattan made a chopping motion with his hand, and the servants produced axes and began to cut through the posts that held the bridge.
“Bradan!” Melcorka yelled. “Get back! Get off the bridge!”
More cats came, and more, piling on to the bridge, blocking Melcorka's progress.
“Get back, Mel!” Bradan shouted desperately.
Smiling, Chattan lifted a hand in farewell as the servants chopped through the final inch of the timber stanchions. The rope bridge recoiled at once, jerking away from the stack, spilling a score of cats and
