"What is?"

"The sea-people can't come out of the sea, right? And they've used magic to keep you out of here, right?" Chris said 'magic' as if it were a dirty word.

Fletcher's attention was caught. "Yes; and so?"

"This spell-breaking thing works two ways, then. If the elukoi couldn't keep us out then, nor can the sea-people now.

Hey, don't you see? Me and Holly can go in there for you and look for the Harp."

"It is perilous. If the rocks settle-"

"Too bad. But it makes up a bit for the other, don't it; if we do this." She hurried on. "Look, we'll go up. You can see us.

Shout when we're near where the Well was. OK?"

"There may be a tunnel broke open to the air. Go."

It was slow work picking their way over shifting rocks, under tree trunks, and through deep pools. Holly thought of seaside rocks: the same dank smell and slippery cold, and the fear of being trapped. Once she lifted her eyes and found she was in the centre of destruction. If a collapse came now they'd never get out-then she was bitterly afraid.

At last they rested between two shattered grey rocks, under the crown of a fallen beech. Loose shale glided under-foot.

Holly had grazed hands and bruised knees; her jeans were patched with dust. Chris cursed about her ruined skirt, then answered Fletcher's last shout. "Somewhere here, he reckons. See anything?" "There's a gap here." Holly kicked with her plimsoll and pebbles skittered down. "Can't see how far it goes."

Chris knelt, then lay down, putting her head under the lip of the rock. "This should do. It's about eighteen inches here, then it widens out. Can squeeze through that. C'mon."

"Yes, but how about light?"

Chris produced a pencil-torch from her pocket, looking smug. "After you?" "Age before beauty."

She let Chris go, and then lay at the edge of the crack, peering down after her. The sunlight illuminated a shallow slope of rocks. She thought one of them ought to stay on the surface-and then she saw Holdfast was with them, plainly on guard, though he didn't come within the bounds of what had been Orione.

She rolled in, and slid down the slope on her back. The cold struck her. She was in a narrow, dark and dirty tunnel, and it didn't look anything like Orione. Chris's torch flashed on beside her and they stood together for a minute, peering up and down the pa.s.sage. "Whereabouts are we?"

Chris grunted recognition. "Quite near Mirrormere-I think. That's something. Be careful where you tread."

The pale yellow of the torch was the only light. Holly hated leaving the sun. The chill raised goose pimples on her arms.

Now the tunnel curved, and there was an arch...

"Here."

She followed Chris in. The crystal was black and lifeless, glinting sullenly where the torch hit it. The high roof had fallen in, blocked again by a ma.s.sive slab of stone. Holly, with candles and diamond light in her memory, had sudden stinging tears in her eyes.

"It had better be me." Chris stepped forward. The crystal was broken and dark. She shone the beam into the hollow.10 Changeling "By G.o.d, I was right!"

"Don't sound so surprised." Holly could see the Harp in the circle of yellow torchlight. It lay drunkenly against the dry pool's side. "Jesus, it's big, I'd forgot."

"Help me shift it, then." Chris jumped down, feet sc.r.a.ping and echoing, and laid the torch on the lip of the pool.

Polished wood and silver gleamed. "Can't see any damage."

Holly sat on the cold stone and slid into the hollow. The light shone upward, making weird shadows on their faces, and outside the circle the darkness was thick.

The sooner we're out of here the better. "OK-heave!"

They hoisted it, gripped the frame, and lifted it bodily into the cave. Holly, sweating from that brief effort, took the base; Chris took the top and they staggered back into the tunnel. Neither could hold the torch properly. In the half-dark they rounded the corner and came to the bottom of the slope. Holly was blinded by incandescent sunlight, seeing her friend's hair flame golden, the dark Harp glow, and each separate string shine unbearably.

Between them they dragged the Harp up the scree and out of the narrow gap. The sun's warmth soothed Holly's churning stomach. Holdfast whined, some distance away.

Chris snapped the torch off and pocketed it. "Let's get this thing out of here."

"Yeah. And let's make it fast."

But there was no hurrying; no firm footing in that wilder-ness of stone. Mosquitoes buzzed round them. Holly was itchy and sweating. The Harp was as tall as she was and astonishingly heavy. Heave one end on to a rock... crawl over... catch it as it came down the other side... hold it while Chris got ahead; now push... grab it as it slipped!... so things went; and the wind dropped and the sun hammered down.

They reached Holdfast. Holly saw his ears were down and his tail curled between his legs. He whined and pawed at them.

They rushed the last stretch to the barbed-wire fence, wet to the knees and smeared with mud, panting heavily. Fletcher caught the frame as they half-dropped the Harp. It made a deep indentation in the earth.

"Oh Jesus, I thought it was gonna come down." Holly shook her head ruefully. "All my neck is goose pimples."

There was a hollow grinding bang, and a little dust came drifting round the corner of the valley. The rumbling went on deep down and trailed off in a skitter of pebbles. Holly shut her eyes, dizzy.

Chris raised thoughtful eyebrows. "Remind me to take more notice of your goose pimples, next time..."

Then they were laughing and talking all together, all at once; n.o.body listening, only saying "look what we did!" Fletcher shook his head disbelievingly.

"You did it. You really did it."

"Didn't we just?" Chris slapped the Harp familiarly. "Well, now we got it, what do we do with it? Does Mathurin want it in the Hills?"

"Outside. Brancaer is closed. The Harp must summon in this time. They will use the hill of the gate, in the marsh.

Holdfast will fetch Silver, Hawkhunter, Westwind; some others; they will move it."

"You reckon we should tell 'em?" Holly qualified: "Yet, I mean. Look, someone's had one go at the Harp already. If it gets round that we've got it-goodbye, our chances."

A small silence. Fletcher said, "It must be us, then. Hide the Harp, deliver it up at sunset to the hill. Then there is no time to prevent the harper playing."

Chris snapped her fingers. "Got it. The tunnel under the bridge back there. n.o.body ever goes there. And we can't take this thing any distance... Holly, you and me come back about half-eight, and we'll try it on a bus up to Hallows Hill."

"OK." She checked her watch. "Time we was back for din-ner anyhow. I've got a dust-sheet in the attic. I'll bring it. We can let on we're delivering this from one of the antique shops."

Fletcher plucked at the strings; they vibrated deeply like bees. He said, "Be careful."

Holly thought she was first back. The bottom of the Dingle was in shadow, but sunlight turned the tree-tops emerald.

Evening sounds trickled down from above; a radio, cars, kids playing, a TV. She walked quickly, the rolled dust-sheet under her arm.

The bridge is double-arched. The ma.s.sive central pillar plunges down into the river-bed. A tunnel slants the stream through it; the path continues by it on a wooden footbridge. The inside of the tunnel is not visible from either up or down stream.

Holly sauntered on to the footbridge, whistling. There was no one in sight. She called softly, "Fletcher?"

"Here."

She stepped back quickly. His head was on a level with her feet; he was standing in the river-bed and resting his arms on the bridge. "How's tricks? Chris back?"

"No. All is quiet. Come down." He ducked his head and vanished under the bridge. She swung herself down and followed him under the planking. The tunnel in the middle pillar was a grey tube of concrete just tall enough for her to stand up in. Miniature stalact.i.tes dripped from the ceiling. Water echoed coolly. Two flat ledges flanked the main water-channel. On one stood the Harp; on the other, Holdfast sprawled. There was a rank smell of mud.

"I got the dust-sheet." She jammed it beside the Harp and sat on it, resting her legs across the channel. "Had to sneak itout. Nosy old pair, me Mum and Dad."

He sat resting his elbows on his knees. "I envy you. Having a home here, I mean. Must be great."

"Envy?" Incredulous. "Good Christ, you don't know what it's like. Hey. You can talk proper."

A smile. "You mean I can talk modern idiom as well as archaic? Naturally. I've wandered out of the Hills enough times to pick that up."

"You don't do it round Elathan."

"He doesn't like it."

"He wouldn't. He's not very been on us, is he? Humans, I mean. Look, can I ask you a personal question?"

"If you like, I don't mind. In fact, I'll ask it for you. You're going to ask me if I'm really elukoi."

"That's right." Holly tried to see if he was annoyed. It didn't seem so. "Are you?"

"Yes and no."

She grinned. "Oh, thanks! No, I mean, you've lived with them, that's obvious. But..."

"That's the yes. The no is, I was born human. You know the marsh road? I'm the sole survivor of a pile-up there.

Elathan took me into the Hills. I don't remember, I wasn't more than two or three at the time."

"s.h.i.t! Oh, 'scuse the language. But I never thought of that."

He shrugged. "That's why I said you're lucky. You can go where you like, do what you like. It's a wide world. But I'm shut in the Hills. I wouldn't have had it any other way, Elathan's been a good father to me. But I want more now."

"Jeez. I'd swop with you any day. Just to get that lot off my back. School an' that. Hey, if you do leave the Hills, never let them get you in a school. If you want to learn there's books, evening cla.s.ses, day release to college-but not school."

"It's that bad?"

"It's that bad. Look, there's times I lay in bed at night forcing myself to stay awake, so the morning won't come so soon, and I can have just a little longer out of that place. That's how bad it is."

He shifted on the concrete. "I couldn't go now. It would be deserting them. But later-"

"I don't know why you want to leave there. I mean I just don't."

"The Hills... half the things aren't there, are not real. Magic is well enough in its way, but it's all shadow-play and illusion.

There's nothing left at the end but dead leaves and dust."

"I don't believe it's really magic."

He glanced up, coming out of the reverie of the Hills. "No, I know you don't."

"Will you leave the Hills?"

"I don't know. There's so much that I don't know. Do you know I can't even read or write English?"

"But-oh. You can in elukoi, I suppose. It couldn't be that different. And you've got time, because you're not planning to go yet..."

"What?"

"Well, I was thinking. I could teach you. It's only sort of transferring what you know in elukoi into English... and I've got books and things." She was waiting for a polite refusal.

"Would you do that?"

"Well, sure. If you want."

"You don't know me."

"I do when you stop playing at being Elathan's messenger boy."

He smiled slowly. "We could arrange time and place-"

"And you could get a job later on-"

Holdfast rolled upright and vanished out of the tunnel. A few seconds later there were footsteps on the bridge and then a heavy scrunch of gravel as Chris jumped down to join them.

"My, aren't we cosy. Shift, you two. Let's get this thing wrapped up before anybody sees it."

Ten minutes saw the Harp wrapped, roped and standing on the path by the bridge. Fletcher squatted by it, adjusting the knots.

"OK," Holly said, out of his hearing, "so we get it up to the road, then what? You don't seriously think they'll let us take it on a bus?"

Chris smiled smugly, infuriating Holly. "Trust me, kid. Chris's got it all arranged. 'S why I was late. What's the time?"

"Twenty to nine. What's arranged?"

"Mmm... sunset at half-nine... yes. What? Transport's arranged, what else? I got on the phone to Dodo Ogden before I came out. Well, you know her. Buried in a book, but she's always game. Now her brother Ross happens to have a van-is light dawning?"

"Vividly. What did you tell her?"

"I said I had a friend wanted to take his harp up to a renovator in Churchill Road-well, that's the nearest street to Hallows Hill; it only leaves us the marshes."

"Friend?" Fletcher queried.