"Show me Thule."
Mealladh looked with distaste at the map. Then, peering closely, she laid her finger on a small dot off the north coast of Scath.
"But truly you cannot go there. You are welcome to stay with Mordu and me for as long as you like. There is much that Mordu can teach you of plants and growing."
Collun thought of the bountiful herb garden. He took a deep breath.
"I will go to Thule," Collun said resolutely.
The maiden exclaimed in annoyance. "Oh, I am tired, and you are making me cross! This is not the way I thought to spend my first day with teeth that can chew and knees that bend—dreaming of Wurmes and listening to stubborn boy-children." There was a hint of the hag's crackling voice in her last words.
"Mordu, tell me quickly, why should I not use my words of changing on the boy-child? I need practice, and when he goes to Thule, the Firewurme will destroy him anyway. Would he not make a handsome apple tree? I do so love apple trees."
Collun looked uneasily at Mordu, who was pouring a goblet of wine for Mealladh, his blind eyes fixed un-seeingly over her head.
"The boy would indeed make a handsome apple tree. But you have so many apple trees already. And do not forget he brought you your golden apple."
"Of course he did." She sighed. "Very well. I will show you the way to Thule, boy-child. And it is a good way. It is easy to follow and avoids the places where the Scathians dwell. But it will have to wait until tomorrow. Perhaps you will have come to your senses by then. Now, bring me more bread, dear, kind Mordu."
***
Collun slept well that night. When he awoke, Mordu fed him a hearty breakfast of apple cakes and clotted cream. As he ate, Collun heard Mealladh outside, singing as she moved about her apple grove.
After feeding and grooming Fiain, who had been waiting patiently outside the house, Collun spent the morning in Mordu's garden replenishing his wallet of herbs. He found a large cluster of agaric growing on the roots of a nearby tree and spent several hours making lasan for kindling fires. He collected an extra quantity of the fungus to keep in reserve.
As his fingers shaped the agaric around the end of a shaved stick, Collun called to mind all that the wizard had told him of the Firewurme. As he remembered what Crann had said of the guam that burned without flame, his eyes fell on a clump of mallow growing off to the side. Something else stirred in his memory.
When he was young and just beginning to be interested in herb lore, an old woman had come to Inkberrow. She was said to have great skill with herbs and healing. Her face had frightened Collun at first because it was sprinkled all over with warts. One wart sprouting from her eyelid was so large she could not open her eye all the way. She looked as if she were constantly winking.
Goban had been furious when he found out later that Collun had traded four carrots, three sweet potatoes, and a prize yellow squash for the old woman's secrets.
And Goban had been right, for the things she had taught Collun turned out to be useless. Most of it was superstitious foolishness, such as how to tell a maid whom she would marry by thrusting a turnip root into the fire and seeing which way the sparks flew. There had been a few recipes as well for cure-alls, such as a concoction of moth wings and dandelion greens that was supposed to cure insomnia. He had tried one or two, and they had done nothing, so he discarded the rest. But he remembered there had been one for a salve that would miraculously heal insect bites and burns, no matter how severe. It had been made of mallow and several other ingredients.
"Mordu," he called to the blind man, who had come to the garden to gather herbs for the midday meal. "Do you know of a salve made from mallow that is good for healing burns?"
Mordu scratched his smooth head and thought for a moment. "Yes," he said slowly. "Mallow and leek arid goat's thorn, the leaves only. I think that is all. No, some gentian as well. I have not used it myself but remember it from long ago."
"Equal parts?"
"Yes, except for the mallow. Two of that to every one of the others."
Collun plucked several large fistfuls of the musky-smelling mallow plant with its pink flowers, as well as a quantity of the other ingredients Mordu had mentioned. Whether such a salve would work against the Firewurme's burning guam he did not know, but it would do no harm to bring the ingredients along.
Mordu called him in for a delicious meal of pheasant and gillyflower pie. The maiden once again showered Mordu with praise and ate with such gusto that conversation was almost impossible.
When the maiden had taken her last gulp of wine, she turned to Collun. "Is it still your intent to go to Thule?"
"Yes, Lady."
She sighed. "Very well. Then I will show you the way. Where is your musty old map?"
They bent over the wizard's map. Mealladh's finger traced the route. "You will journey this way through the north of Eirren. When you come to this small river, you will know you are in Scath. Follow along here." Collun watched closely. "It will take you several days, at least. But eventually you will come to the River Omagh. After that it is simple. Just follow the Omagh to the top of Scath. There you will find Thule." She paused. "Now, Mordu has packed some items for your journey. Come."
She led Collun outside, and Fiain had indeed been laden with two leather packs filled with food, blankets, and two extra cloaks lined with fur.
The maiden then presented Collun with a large red apple. "An apple for an apple," she said with a flashing smile. "Though I have already given you far too much. I remember I had a soft spot for your father, as well."
"You knew Cuillean?"
"I met him once or twice, when he was young."
"Do you know where he is now?"
The maiden laughed. "You are allowed only one missing person per visit, Collun, son of Cuillean. Now go"
Thanking Mealladh for the apple, Collun tucked it safely in one of his leather packs and then mounted Fiain.
"Farewell, Collun," Mealladh trilled. "I wish you well on your quest."
Mordu stood behind his mistress and raised his hand, a solemn smile on his pale face.
Collun waved good-bye, and the Ellyl horse broke into a brisk trot, happy to be setting forth once again.
Collun glanced back just before leaving the apple grove and saw Mealladh moving among her trees, weaving apple blossoms into her yellow-gold hair.
***
As he passed the copse of hazel trees, the wind began to blow chill once more. He pulled his cloak tightly around him. When they came close to Trout Beck, Collun spotted a thin curl of wood smoke rising above their old campsite. He cautiously guided Fiain toward the smoke. He could see a figure standing over a campfire. It turned toward him at the sound of Fiain's hooves on the ground. Collun's heart contracted.
It was Brie. She was alone.
He rode up to the fire and dismounted.
"What happened? Where are Talisen and the prince?" He shivered slightly in the cold wind.
Brie poured him a cup of hot chicory. Handing it to him, she said, "On their way to Temair. Not long after we left you, we came across a man on foot; his name was Poddup. He was a messenger from the king. He was traveling with an urgent message for the queen in Temair, but he had lost his horse and almost his life at the hand of Scathians. The tidings he bore were grave. Medb is planning a full-scale invasion in a fortnight. A war host has begun to gather."
"Has there been any talk of the Wurme, of Naid?"
Brie shook her head. "Why?"
Collun told her of Crann's fear that Medb would call on the Firewurme when she invaded Eirren. Collun also told Brie all that had happened in Beara's cottage.
Brie absorbed his story in silence, then said, "Perhaps the Queen of Ghosts plans to summon the Wurme only if the need is great."
"And perhaps she knows even now that I go to Thule. But I must. It is all I know to do."