“But what is he?” said Susan, pale with the memory of their meeting.

“He is, or was a man. Once he studied under the wisest of the wise, and became a great lore-master: but in his lust for knowledge he practised the forbidden arts, and the black magic ravaged his heart, and made a monster of him. He left the paths of day, and went to live, like Grendel of old, beneath the waters of Llyn-dhu, the Black Lake, growing mighty in evil, second only to the ancient creatures of night that attend their lord in Ragnarok. And it is he, arch-enemy of mine, who came against you this day.

“No one in memory has seen his face or heard his voice,” added Fenodyree. “Dwarf-legend speaks of a great shame that he bears therein a gad-fly of remorse, reminding him of what he is, and of what he might have been. But then that is only an old tale we learnt at our mother’s knee, and not one for this sad hour.”

“Nor have we time for folk-talk,” said Cadellin. “We must do what we can, and that quickly. Now tell me, who can have seen the stone and recognized it?”

“Well, nobody…” said Colin.

“Selina Place!” cried Susan. “Selina Place! My Tear went all misty Don’t you remember, Colin? She must have seen my Tear and stopped to make certain.”

“Ha,” laughed Fenodyree bitterly. “Old Shape-shifter up to her tricks! We might have guessed the weight of the matter had we but known she was behind it!”

“Oh. why did you not tell me this when we first met?” the wizard shouted.

“I forgot all about it,” said Colin “it didn’t seem important. I thought she was queer in the head.”

“Important? Queer? Hear him! Why, Selina Place, as she is known to you, is the chief witch of the morthbrood! Worse, she is the Morrigan, the Third Bane of Logris!”