"I suppose that's all we can do," agreed the bard. He swallowed with difficulty and gave Taran a worried look. "If it should turn out that I― I mean, if I should be― yes, well, what I mean is should anything happen to me, I beg you, do pay attention to where you tread."
Meantime, the three enchantresses had returned to the cottage. "Oh, Orddu," the one with the necklace was saying, "why must it always be toads? Can't you think of anything else?"
"But they're so neat," replied Orddu, "compact and convenient."
"What's wrong with toads?" asked the hooded one. "That's the trouble with you, Orwen, always trying to make things complicated."
"I only suggested something else, Orgoch," answered the enchantress called Orwen, "for the sake of variety."
"I love toads," murmured Orgoch, smacking her lips. Even in the shadow of the hood Taran could see the features of the enchantress moving and twitching in what he feared was impatience.
"Look at them standing there," Orddu said, "poor little goslings, all wet and muddy. I've been talking to them, and I think they finally realize what's best for them."
"Why, those are the ones we saw galloping across the Marsh," said Orwen, toying with her beads. "It was so clever of you," she added, smiling at Taran, "to have the Huntsmen swallowed up in the bog, really quite well done."
"Disgusting creatures, Huntsmen," muttered Orgoch. "Nasty, hairy, vicious things. They turn my stomach."
"They stick to their work," ventured the bard. "I'll say that much for them."
"We had a whole flock of Huntsmen here the other day," said Orddu. "They were poking and prying around, just as you were. Now you understand why I said we couldn't make exceptions."
"We didn't make exceptions of them, did we, Orddu?" said Orwen. "Though it wasn't toads, if you remember."
"I remember very distinctly, my dear," replied the first enchantress, "but you were Orddu then. And when you're being Orddu, you can do as you please. But I'm Orddu today, and what I say is…"
"That's not fair," interrupted Orgoch. "You always want to be Orddu. I've had to be Orgoch three times in a row, while you've only been Orgoch once."
"It's not our fault, my sweet," said Orddu, "if we don't like being Orgoch. It isn't comfortable, you know. You have such horrid indigestion. If you'd only pay more attention to what you take for your meals."
Taran had been trying to follow this conversation of the enchantresses, but found himself more confused than ever. Now he had no clear idea which was really Orddu, Orwen, and Orgoch, or whether they were all three the same. However, their remarks about the Huntsmen gave him hope for the first time.
"If the Huntsmen of Annuvin are your enemies," Taran said, "then we have common cause. We, too, have fought against them."
"Enemies, friends, it all comes to the same in the end," muttered Orgoch. "Do make haste, Orddu, and take them off to the shed. It's been a terribly long morning."
"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."