Diana Wynne Jones’s Fantastical Journeys Collection. Diana Wynne Jones

was utterly surprised. “What, now?” he said. “Without lunch?”

      “You may pass by the caterers,” Gronn said, “and ask them for a meat roll to eat on your way. Tell them I sent you. Go now.” He watched Lew-Laws go sulkily off and shook his head. “That man,” he said to us, “always reminds me of the man of Ballykerry in Bernica. Never happy. No matter. We always put the misfits to guard the gatehouses. And now—”

      He looked us over one by one, not excluding Moe and Green Greet on her back. The only one of us he didn’t see was Plug-Ugly, who chose that moment to press himself invisibly against my legs. I was glad of the feel, because Gronn’s look was so very shrewd. His wide, wrinkling blue eyes seemed to sum us all up exactly. I supposed he could not have become Holy High Priest without being exceedingly clever, but it was unnerving all the same.

      His eyes finally went back to Finn. “You, sir,” he said. “Come aside with me and tell me, as one holy man to another, precisely how and why you are all here in Gallis.” He held out an arm and cheerfully ushered Finn some way off beyond the gorse bushes.

      Finn is such a humble person. I could see he was surprised and dismayed to be singled out at first. But, as soon as Gronn had led him out of earshot, and smiled at him, I could see Finn begin to loosen up. Before long, he was talking and gesturing as if he and Gronn had been friends for years. More Gallis magic, I thought, and I hoped Finn was telling it right.

      “He should have chosen me,” Ivar said. “I’m the prince here.”

      “He was probably going by age,” I said, to soothe him. But I suspected that Gronn had chosen Finn because he saw Finn was simple and honest.

      They talked for some time. Long before they finished, Ivar and Ogo had been scanning the field to see where the caterers were and wondering if they would be allowed to have a meat roll like Lew-Laws. They made me feel peckish too.

      “I could eat a pickled herring,” Aunt Beck was announcing, just as Gronn and Finn came back.

      “Now there you have me, lady,” Gronn said to her. “We have fresh crab and jellied eels, but the herring deserted Gallis waters after the barrier went up. Did you not know?”

      Aunt Beck just stared at him. I could see Gronn looking at her carefully to see exactly what her state was before he turned to me. “That,” he said, “is not a simple stroke, is it, Aileen? What made you tell Holy Owen it was?”

      I felt my face turning red. “It – it was easier to explain,” I said. “Not many people are going to believe that she was nearly turned into a donkey, are they?”

      “By the Red Woman of Bernica?” Gronn said. I nodded. Finn had told it right, it seemed. “You see,” Gronn explained, “I need to know that before I decide who to send her to. An ordinary healer would be no good to her. But I’m working on it. Meanwhile, the rest of you are Ivar, son of King Kenig from Skarr, Ogo from Logra and Skarr, and Green Greet of Bernica. Have I got that right?”

      And Plug-Ugly, I thought, feeling him against my legs.

      Then Ogo would have to say “And there’s Plug-Ugly from what’s left of Lone, sir.” When Gronn stared at him, he turned redder than I was and stammered, “Bu-but – he’s mostly invisible – honestly.” I glowered at him.

      Plug-Ugly made a small growl that could have been “Oh well” and slowly, grudgingly turned visible beside my legs. Gronn stared at him and then looked over at Green Greet, who was now back on Finn’s shoulder. He seemed impressed.

      “And you are all on your way to raise the barrier around Logra?” Gronn went on. “In that I wish you well, although I have no idea how you would do it.” He turned to Finn, as the one most likely to understand. “There must be people dying on Logra because we cannot help them.” Finn nodded sadly. Then Gronn turned to me. “And you, Aileen, besides being a Wise Woman of Skarr, are the daughter of my old friend Gareth, I gather?”

      “Yes,” I said. “Was he really your friend?”

      “Oh yes,” said Gronn. “You would not believe the times we spent arguing about our system here in Gallis. But he was abducted along with Prince Alasdair, wasn’t he? Is he still alive?”

      “I don’t know. I hope so,” I said. “I want to find him.”

      “Well, it’s possible. Impossible but possible,” Gronn said. “And that puts all sorts of things into my head. Did you know you have cousins here?”

      “I do? Here in Gallis?” I said. I was very surprised. My father had never talked much about his family – though I remembered he did once tell me a story about how he and his brother were chased by a bull on a neighbour’s farm.

      “Not only here in Gallis,” Gronn said, beaming at the look on my face. “Here in this very spot. Two of your cousins came for The Singing. Though I think Rees came to support Riannan. Not much of a singer, Rees. Wait a moment and I’ll have them fetched over.”

      

      A boy in a grey coat was sent rushing off, with instructions from Gronn to fetch “a decent lunch” as well as these cousins of mine. The lunch arrived first. We all, including Gronn, sat on the grass to eat rolls stuffed with crab and big bunches of grapes. Ivar, Ogo and I had never eaten grapes, though we had all had raisins. Gronn was explaining, in a very satisfied way, that grapes grew in profusion in the south of Gallis. I think he then went on to tell us they were dried into raisins to send to Skarr, but my cousins arrived then and I am not sure.

      Rees was good-looking and fair-haired, taller and older than Ivar, and he seemed the most easily friendly person I have ever met. His sister, my cousin Riannan, was the very same girl who had won The Singing. I was awed. Close to, she was staggeringly lovely. I wondered how someone could have such huge blue eyes and delicate features – not to speak of a marvellous shape – and yet be so modest, even a little shy. Riannan smiled, looking down at the grass, then looked up, first at me, then at Ivar. After that, she looked nowhere else.

      Ivar stared back. His face, with the thin beginnings of a beard, turned slowly crimson and then pale. And Riannan still stared. It didn’t seem to matter to her that Ivar’s hair had grown all shaggy or that his once-good clothes were now stained and old. It was plain that she thought he was perfect. And Ivar thought the same of her, all trim and lissom as she was, in her blue-green tunic with the starry brooch flashing on the front of it.

      “Listen now,” Gronn was saying, when I brought my mind back, “we have this lady Beck who has been unfortunate with the Red Woman of Bernica and needs some healing help.”

      Rees gave Aunt Beck the same sort of professional, summing-up look that Aunt Beck normally gave other people. “A spell, is it?” he said.

      “Indeed, yes,” Gronn said. “A spell she has half resisted. Do you think Wenda could handle it?”

      “My mother can handle most things,” Rees said, grinning.

      “Well then,” said Gronn, “this is what I’m suggesting – that you take them all back with you to the Pandy, introduce Aileen to her aunt and her Uncle Bran and so forth, and see what your mother can do for Beck.” He said to me, “Wenda is my second cousin and there is no one more capable of lifting spells than she is in all Gallis. If you set off now, you can avoid the crowds at the way stations. Will that suit you?”

      “Oh yes, perfectly,” I said, flustered. “Thank you.” I saw that Aunt Beck was sitting there in the cart not attending to anything, with a crab roll still in her hand. “Eat your lunch, Beck,” I snapped half-heartedly. I was so sick of shouting at her.

      “Well now,” Gronn said, brushing crumbs off his rounded front, “I shall go back to my duties and leave