In the very center of the courtyard was a round pool, enclosed within stone arches all fretted with entwining lines and knots, and covered over with a crystal dome that glittered in the light of the two moons.

Isabeau sank down on one of the stone benches and gazed into the pool. For a long time she tried to locate the boys but received nothing but an impression of rushing air, swan feathers, stars and the crack and whistle of a whip. So she turned her attention instead to her sister, desperately calling her name.

Iseult! Iseult!

For a long time there was no response, then slowly the gleams of silver light on the water's surface shifted and changed, became her sister's face.

"Isabeau, what is it? It's the wee small hours. Ye woke me up . . ." Iseult's voice was sleepy. Suddenly her tone sharpened. "Isabeau, ye're naked. What's wrong?"

"Iseult, I'm so sorry! It all happened so quickly. I swear it was no' my fault!" Isabeau gulped back tears.

"I'm sorry. It's the laddiekins. It's Donncan and Neil. They've been kidnapped."

"They've been what? Isabeau! Try and calm yourself. Tell me what has happened."

Isabeau did her best, though she was so torn between anger and tears that her explanations were rather garbled. When she explained that the guards had been quick to suspect her because they had overheard Lachlan's accusation all those months ago, she saw Iseult's mouth thin in sudden anger. Her twin said nothing, though, waiting till Isabeau had told all of her story.

"So ye think it was the Thistle who stole the boys?" Iseult said when Isabeau had finished. "Are ye sure?"

"Nay, how can I be?" Isabeau replied. "All I saw was the swan-carriage and a tall woman with dark hair.

I just ken the story o' how Margrit escaped Arran. Besides, she is Neil's grandmother, is she no'? And she hates the MacCuinn clan, always has. She must hate Lachlan more than ever now she has been dethroned."

Iseult nodded. Her face was very white, but she was in perfect control. "I must wake Lachlan. We shall set sail for home with the next tide. It will be at least a month before we are back, though, Isabeau. Ye must do what ye can to rescue them. I hate to think o' Donncan and Neil in that cursehag's hands. By the White G.o.ds, I dread to think what plans she has for them! She's like some swarthyweb spider, squatting in a dark corner and spinning her evil webs to choke and entangle us. We should have kent better than toimagine we were free o' her!"

"I sent Buba in pursuit," Isabeau said. "Let us pray to Ea she discovers where they have gone. I'll get the boys back, I promise ye, Iseult! I be so sorry. If only I had no' fallen asleep . . ."

"Your wine was probably drugged," Iseult said. "I do no' think they would've taken the chance o' having a trained witch awake in the next room, no matter how powerful the Thistle may be. This would have been carefully planned, no doubt o' that. Do no' blame yourself, Beau."

"Lachlan will, though," Isabeau said bitterly. "He always thinks the worst o' me."

Iseult's lips thinned. "Even Lachlan is no' such a fool as to think ye can be blamed for this, twin. Besides, I think ye are right when ye say Sukey must be the one who has been betraying us for so long. It makes my blood boil to think o' it! Why, she was never more than a few steps away from us at any time, living right within the royal suite. We never suspected her, never, with her sweet face and shy manner. Who would have guessed it?"

Isabeau's eyes stung with tears. "I thought she was my friend. I canna believe it even now."

"No sense in blaming yourself, Beau. It is Lachlan and I who have been made the fools o'."

Isabeau said, "I'd best be going. I swear I'll bring Donncan back for ye, twin, and the wee Cuckoo too."

"Have a care for yourself, I beg ye. MargritNic-Foghnan is a powerful sorceress indeed. Do no' put yourself in danger trying to get the boys back. I be sure she does no' mean to harm them, just hold them to ransom for a return o' her power . . ."

Isabeau could tell her twin was lying but she nodded and agreed, saying, "Aye, she would no' hurt them, I'm sure. I'll get them back, though, Iseult, I promise ye."

"May the Spinners be with ye." Iseult's voice was suddenly choked with tears.

"And with ye," Isabeau replied, her own vision obscuring. She knew how desperate Iseult must feel, being so many hundreds of miles away and helpless to do anything at all.

Once her twin's face had dissolved away into ripples of moonlight once more, Isabeau concentrated on reaching Meghan. It took only a few seconds for the old sorceress's face to materialize in the pool.

"Isabeau, what has happened?" Meghan's voice was sharp with alarm. "I could feel your distress but all I have been able to see through my crystal ball are feathers and confusion. Have ye been changing shape?"

"Aye, but I had to!" Isabeau defended herself. Quickly she told the Keybearer what had happened.

Meghan's reaction was characteristically one of anger-at the guards for their stupidity, at Lachlan for his foolish prejudice against Isabeau which had fed their suspicions, and at herself for ever believing Margrit would be content to remain in exile.

"I am the only one who can rescue the boys," Isabeau said when Meghan had finished expressing herself.

"I can fly after them much faster than any search party could, even on the swiftest o' horses. And I can ask the birds o' the air and the creatures o' the field if they saw the swans fly by. I'll be able to sneak right up to her stronghold hidden in the shape o' some animal. But I must make haste. It is already some hours since she left the palace. If only I had thought to become a golden eagle straightaway, I could have avoided all this fuss and trouble."

"If only, if only!" the old sorceress snapped. "If wishes were pots and pans, then we'd have no need fortinkers."

When she had broken off the connection with her guardian, Isabeau became aware of the noise of shouting and running feet. Lights blazed all through the great building around her. Isabeau had no desire to explain herself any further that night, nor to risk a confrontation with the palace guards. However, there were things in her room that she would need if she was going to undertake such a perilous journey. After a moment's thought she hid her witch's staff, rings and owl talon under one of the benches, then transformed herself into a large black rat.

None of the many people milling about the corridors noticed her dark shape slipping through the shadows, they were too busy exchanging news and conjectures to look down. Isabeau had some of her hurt feelings salved at the indignation most of the witches and apprentices expressed at the idea she could have been in any way involved. The guards were too busy searching for her to listen, though, and so Isabeau stayed in her rat-shape until she had reached Meghan's room. With no time to search for a rat's way, she transformed herself back into a woman and opened the door as quietly as she could. She was shivering both with cold and the aftereffects of all her sorcerous work, but she ignored her physical straits, searching desperately through Meghan's chest until she found a small black pouch of nyx hair.

"Thank Ea!" she sighed. She unceremoniously dumped the little bag out on the bed, smiling just a little as a peculiar collection of miscellaneous objects poured out until they covered the Keybearer's huge canopied bed. Meghan kept many of her treasures in the bottomless bag, just in case she should ever need to make a quick exit. Isabeau could not afford to carry around such a load, though, particularly since one had to take things out in the order in which they were put in, which could make retrieving anything a long and rather boring task if the bottomless bag were too full. So Isabeau chose only what she needed from the pile, threw those objects back in the bag, and let herself out of Meghan's room.

She transformed herself back into the black rat, and put her head through the drawstring of the pouch.

Dragging it along with her, she crept down the crowded stairs. Her bedchamber door was wide open and Sukey was in there with two guards, riffling through Isabeau's belongings in search, they said, of evidence. Anger began to win over hurt disbelief in Isabeau's heart. She darted under the bed and used her clever rat paws to unlatch the chest hidden there. Her satchel of medicinal and spell-making herbs was inside and she drew it out with great difficulty, holding her breath as the buckles clinked against the floor. No one noticed it over the sound of Sukey's shrill orders, however, and so Isabeau was able to slowly maneuver it into the bag of nyx hair. She found her witch-knife and her old battered water bottle, her coin purse and a nest of three pewter bowls that fitted one inside the other. She was just pushing them into the bottomless bag when the bedspread was suddenly flung back and the chest dragged out into the light. Isabeau crouched down unnoticed as the guards began to go through her trunk.

With the black bag once more around her neck, Isabeau wriggled through a hole in the back of her cupboard to seize whatever clothes she could drag from their hooks. The sound of all her scrabbling must have alerted someone because there was a sudden hush and the cupboard door was thrown open.

Isabeau peered out from under a pile of fallen clothes as a guard began to poke about inside. She saw Sukey standing by her desk, about to slide onto her finger a ring that flashed with golden fire. Rage ignited in Isabeau's breast. That was Isabeau's sorceress ring, the one made for her by the dragons! With a squeak of outrage, Isabeau leapt from the cupboard, straight for the nursemaid's face.

Sukey screamed and dropped the ring. Isabeau dived and caught it up in her mouth. She then dashed back under the bed, crouching against the wall as spears were swiped under the bed. One spearhead missed her by a rat's whisker and she bared her teeth and snarled. Blind rage fueled her as she wove through the stomping boots and thrusting spears, scurrying out the door and into the safety of the dark.Running as fast as her nimble rat paws could carry her, Isabeau made her way back down to the Scrying Pool. Once there she thrust her rings and owl talon into the nyx hair bag, then struggled to draw the mouth of the pouch over her staff of power. At last she managed it, the staff simply disappearing within the little pouch, even though it was almost as tall as Isabeau herself. She then scurried out into the dark garden, scrambling down a drainpipe and along a gutter, leaping into a tree and then down its trunk, dragging the black pouch along with her.

Once in the shelter of the moonlit garden, Isabeau changed into the shape of a blizzard-owl, deciding that was the most suitable shape for flying at night. It was the first time she had changed from one animal shape to another, and for a moment, everything lurched about her, all her rat senses overwhelmed by owl-sight and owl-wit. It was a horrible sensation, like falling from a great height and then being flung upward again, her stomach left somewhere in between. Isabeau had to crouch in stillness for some minutes before she was able to spread her great white wings and take flight.

She had soon left the city far behind her, soaring silently above the forest, seeing every flicker of leaf, every scurry of mouse. It did not take her long to catch up with Buba, who-was still flying valiantly in pursuit of the swan-carriage. The little elf-owl was trembling with exhaustion, for owls did not usually fly great distances. They required only occasional short bursts of speed to surprise their prey on the ground.

Dwarfed by Isabeau's immense size, the elf-owl could only tell her that the swans were flying south.

Isabeau rubbed her round white head against Buba and thanked her with long, grateful hoots.

Owl pursue-hooh, she said. You-hooh snooze-hooh, stay-hooh. Owl return-hooh.

Owl go-hooh with you-hooh, Buba protested.

Too-hooh far-hooh. Owl return-hooh.

Buba nodded and hooted a mournful farewell. Isabeau spread her snowy wings and soared back up into the sky. All night she flew, only pausing to ask the owls of the forest if they had seen the swan-sleigh.

They were able to direct her ever southward, their soft hoots the only sound in the vast, silent night.

Just before dawn she transformed into her own shape to sleep, even her strong blizzard-owl body unable to maintain the strenuous pace. When she woke it was midmorning. Tense with anxiety she ate hurriedly, then transformed into the shape of an eagle to fly onward. Her sharp eyes soon spotted the dark circle of a campfire and she flew down to investigate. It was immediately apparent that the swan-carriage had stopped here, and all her protective rage was aroused once again when she found the print of a very small bare foot in the dust.

Och, the laddies must be so frightened, she thought to herself and, galvanized with fresh energy, flew on.

Isabeau was aware of the dangers of staying within another shape for too long. She made sure to change back to her own shape to eat and rest, though it grew increasingly difficult remembering who she was and why she flew so recklessly. So it went on for four days until at last she reached the sea: owl, woman, eagle, owl, woman, eagle.

There was no way of tracking the swan-carriage over the water. Isabeau retreated into the comfort of her own shape and slept the sleep of utter exhaustion. When she awoke she was dizzy and nauseated, with a pounding headache. She had to dose herself with her own medicines before she felt well enough to even sit up and eat some food. She wanted desperately to go on but remembered all Meghan's warnings about sorcery sickness. She would only make matters worse if she fell into unconsciousness, or lost her wits, so Isabeau gave herself a full day in which to recover.During the afternoon she felt well enough to walk a little way on the cliff face and look down at the sea, smashing white on the rocks. The strong salty wind blew away the last of her headache and she held up her hand to the seabirds swinging in the air. Isabeau had never learned their dialect, having always lived so far from the sea, but she spoke to them in the common language of birds and was able to make herself understood. They had seen the wedge of swans flying over the waves and were able to point that way, though they shrieked mockingly at her and tried to splash her with their sloppy guano.

Isabeau stared out at the wild sea, her heart sinking. The birds had pointed due south. Isabeau had been taught her geography well and she knew the Fair Isles lay that way. A group of small, lush islands, the Fair Isles had once been governed by Eileanan's righ, but in the time of Jaspar the Ensorcelled they had been overrun by pirates. No attempt had been made to wrest control of the islands back from the pirates, thanks firstly to Jaspar's fading strength and resolve, and then to Lachlan's absorption in winning peace elsewhere in the land. The pirates had been able to rule the waves ever since, raiding coastal towns and plundering merchants' boats with none but the Fairgean to contend with. Given how few merchant ships had set sail in the past ten years, the pirates had not had rich pickings and so they had grown bold and greedy indeed in their forays against the mainland. Isabeau had heard many stories of how they had devastated fishing villages and seaside towns from Clachan to Rurach, stealing young men and women as well as grain, coin and livestock, and burning everything behind them. The flood of refugees inland from the coast was due as much to the pirates as it was to the Fairgean, who at least did not steal and burn as well as kill.

But had Margrit NicFoghnan, the deposed Banpri-onnsa of Arran, thrown in her lot with the pirates?

They had become much better organized in recent years, Isabeau knew from her attendance at the Righ's councils. She remembered also how Lachlan had complained it seemed as if the pirates knew every time one of his ships left harbor, no matter how clandestinely. Indeed, Sukey had earned her spy's wages well!

Dreading the journey ahead of her, Isabeau gave herself another night to recuperate. She knew there was nothing but a few bare rocks between her and the Fair Isles, and that the islands were several days'

sailing away at least. She did not know how long it would take to fly but she feared it would be as long, and that she would have difficult}' finding anywhere to rest and change back into her own shape again.

The swans must have rested somewhere, though, and Margrit too. She would just have to keep careful watch and stop whenever she found somewhere large enough.

In the bright dawn Isabeau undressed, stowed away all her belongings in the bottomless bag once more, and willed herself into the shape of a swan. She had only ever seen swans from a distance and so she chose this shape with some trepidation, it being that of a creature she was not fully familiar with. The native swan was one of the largest of all birds in Eileanan, however, and capable of flying great distances at high speeds. More important, a swan would surely be a suitable disguise for approaching and infiltrating Margrit's stronghold.

Isabeau visualized the long curving neck, the wide webbed feet, the strong crimson wings and deep feathered breast, making the image as perfect as she could, then willed herself into that shape. To her relief the transformation occurred without a hitch, and she looked herself over in a puddle with some pleasure at her graceful long neck and beautiful wings. However, when she turned to slide her head through the drawstring of the bag, she was rather taken aback by the awkwardness of her heavy body and out-turned feet. Swans always looked so graceful gliding on the palace loch or soaring through the air. She had no idea that they waddled.

With her long neck outstretched, she launched herself into the air and glided majestically over the waves, her wings beating slowly and powerfully. Higher and higher she climbed, until the sea was a spread ofwrinkled blue silk and the sh.o.r.e of Eilea-nan a hazy gray smudge behind her. Isabeau was amazed at how swiftly she flew, faster by far than the blizzard-owl, whose wings were better suited for gliding. She rested that night on a bare, windswept rock, wrapped in her plaid against the lash of the spray, and in the morning flew on again.

Midafternoon she saw a blue hump of land rising out of the ocean ahead. By early evening she was flying down toward a crescent of six islands that floated enchantingly upon a sea of translucent aquamarine. On the seaward sides most of the islands rose straight up out of the water, with white-crested waves crashing down upon sharp black rocks. On the leeward side the islands faced each other across a lagoon of a breathtaking blue, with the cliffs gentling down to little crescents of white sand scattered with pebbles.

Moored in the bays were ships of every shape and size, all flying a distinctive red flag with a black hammerhead shark upon it.

Most of the boats were in a wide bay on the inner sh.o.r.e of the largest island, moored in front of a rough-looking town. Frowning down upon the town was a very old fort built upon a high cliff. Isabeau swooped around it, noting the many purple flags with flowering thistles emblazoned in gold upon them.

She flew lower and saw a beautifully carved sleigh with long, curved runners was parked on the highest tower. Nearby was a row of rough wooden cages. Crammed within were bundles of white feathers.

Then Isabeau saw with a little shock that the feathers were indeed swans, packed in so closely they could barely move.

She alighted on the top of the tower and waddled over toward the cage, wondering for the first time if she would be able to speak to the swans. Vaguely she remembered an old minstrel's song about how swans only sang as they were dying. She was met with a loud hissing and flapping of wings, however, and knew at once she would have no trouble communicating.

Seeeee the saucy cygnet, strutting about as if sheeee were queeen. Just beeeecause sheee beee freeeeee . . .

Isabeau folded her wings back and bent her long neck submissively. Pleeease forgive meee, I mean no impertinence.

The hissing died away and then the largest of the swans called imperiously, What then do you do heeere, young pen? Your accent is coa.r.s.e indeed but your curt-seeeey is courtly and your words courteoussss. Do you not know that thissss place is an ensnarement for swanssss? If you do not beeeware, you too may beeee trapped into slavery.

Have you been so trapped? Isabeau asked. Why are such reeeegal creaturesss kept in such squalid surround-ingssss ?

There was a hissing of displeasure. We are slavesss to a cruel, evil-hearted queeeen who has forgotten the respect due a swan and keeps us penned as if weee were mere chickenssss or duckssss.

But do you not pull along a carriage for her? Why do you not throw her out when you have a chance? Then you would beeee frreeee again.

We are under an eeeenchantment. She has chained usss with her magic and we cannot defy her.

Many genera-tionssss have been enslaved by her and many have tried to throw off the enchantment, all to no avail.

What issss the manner of the enchantment? Perhapssss I can releease you from it.The swans laughed mockingly, lifting their wings.

Indeed you are callow and naive, young pen. Forty years I have been in ssservice to the evil queeeen and fifty yearssss my forebearssss. If we have been unable to unlock the chain of enchantment, what makessss you think you could?

I am out here and you are in there, loath a.s.sss I am to remind you, Isabeau replied. I alsssso have an advantage that you cannot share. I have magic of my own. I can change myself into the shape of a woman. After looking about her carefully, Isabeau demonstrated for them, changing back into her natural shape. The drawstring of the pouch almost choked her and she had to loosen it quickly.

There was much soft hissing and sighing, and then the largest of the swans said, Ah, a swan maiden. We have heard talesss of such thingssss. What a cruel enchantment to put upon you. We pity you, swan maiden, that you are forced to take on such an uncouth, ugly, grace-lessss shape. We hope that you can be freeed of your curse one day.

Thank you, Isabeau said, unable to help a little quiver of laughter in her voice. Until that day, I hope I can freeee you from yourssss.

The swans sighed. We have tried many times to break the chainssss but all we do is strangle ourselvessss.

Isabeau looked closer and saw each swan wore about its neck a chain of diamonds and rubies. She reached out a hand to touch one and withdrew it with a little hiss as the jewels stung her finger. Those necklacessss, they are what bind you to her will?

They raised their wings and bent their long necks, a few grunting mournfully.

If I break them for you, will you help meeee in return ?

You will not beeee able to break them.

If I find a way, will you help meeee in return ?

One good ssservice deservessss another, of courssse. What is it that you would wish usss to do?

I come in search of two young cobs, human cobs. They too have been enslaved by your evil queeeen and I must releeease them and take them home to their mother. Have you seen two such creaturesss?

Two young human cobs. Indeed, yessss, swan maiden, two such creatures were carried here only a day or two ago. That was the last great journey weeee were forced to make and wearying it was.

Do you know where they are now?

The swans shrugged their slim white shoulders.

If I can break the chainssss that ensslave you, will you carry us to safety in the sleigh? Will you pull it one more time?

They muttered among themselves, wings rustling uneasily. Sheee will not be able to follow us, weeee will be freeee, they hissed. At last they agreed. Isabeau thanked the swans and promised to return when she had freed the two boys.

Isabeau dressed hurriedly in her brown knee-breeches and linen shirt, leaving her feet bare, then pushedopen the door and ventured into the fort in search of the boys.

Room after room was empty of anything but filth, broken furniture and cobwebs. Isabeau's step grew more confident as she saw no living thing but beetles and spiders. Then a little mouse scurried across the hall, racing for a hole in the skirting board. Isabeau knelt in the dust, put out her hand and squeaked to it.

It stopped, looked up at her with black dilated eyes, and squeaked back.

After only a few moments of conversation, Isabeau once again took off all her clothes and stowed them in the black pouch. The world swelled and distended alarmingly until the walls were like cliffs and the hole in the skirting board yawned blackly. The mouse led her into the cavern and through a bewildering maze of dark, cramped pa.s.sageways. Here a row of rusty nails was a rank of cruel javelins to be squeezed past, a spider was a many-eyed monster with slavering jaws, a fall of old plaster a landslide that had to be dug through. Isabeau's whiskers quivered and her ears twitched backward and forward as she sought to make sense of this world full of terrors. More than once she ran blindly, startled by some sound or smell, the black pouch dragging and bouncing behind her.

At last they slid down a long drainpipe full of leaves and dirty spiderwebs, landing helplessly in a filthy gutter, then scrambled through a broken win-dowpane, paws scrabbling. Isabeau and the mouse fell together onto bare floorboards in a dark room full of noise and the terrible stench of humans. Terrified, they scurried under the shelter of a large sideboard and crouched there in the darkness, while voices boomed all about them. At last there was the crash of a door closing and then silence, broken only by a loud moaning like a winter storm in pine trees. It took a long moment for Isabeau to recognize the sound as a little boy sobbing.

She crept out from under the sideboard, her paws trembling, her whiskers twitching. She could see nothing but the great brown cliffs of furniture so, after a long moment trying to overcome her terror, Isabeau changed shape once more.

Sick and dizzy she lay in the dust for a long time, hoping she had not been mistaken that there was no one in the room apart from the two boys. At last her nausea pa.s.sed and she was able to sit up and hug her bare legs and look about her.