At that moment, as if in answer to her fears, a distant clamour arose on the far side of the house. It was the eerie baying of hounds.
“Ah, you see! They are restless there is something on the wind. Perhaps it would be wise to let them seek it out; they will soon let us know if it is aught beyond their powers—as well it may be! For if we do not have Ragnarok and Fundindelve upon our heads before the day is out, it will be no thanks to you.”
She stumped round the corner of the house to the outbuilding from which the noise came, Selina Place was uneasy, and out of temper. For all his art, what a fool Grimnir could be! And what risks he took! Who, in their senses, would come so obviously on such an errand? Like his magic, he was no match for the weirdstone of Brisingamen. She smiled; yes, it would take the old sorcery to tame that one, and he knew it, for all his fussing in Llyn-dhu. “All right, all right! We’re coming! Don’t tear the door down!”
Behind her, two shadows moved out of the mist, slid along the wall, and through the open door.
“Which way now?” whispered Susan.
They were standing in a cramped hall, and there was a choice of three doors leading from it. One of these was ajar, and seemed to be a cloakroom.
“In here, then we’ll see which door she goes through.” Nor did they delay, for the masculine tread of Selina Place came to them out of the mist.
“Now let us do what we can in haste,” she said as she rejoined Grimnir. “There may be nothing threatening. but we shall not feel safe until we are master of the stone. Give it to us now.”
Grimnir unfastened a pouch at his waist, and from it drew Susan’s bracelet. Firefrost hung there, its bright depths hidden beneath a milky veil.
The Morrigan took the bracelet and placed it in the middle of the circle on the floor. She pulled the curtains over the windows and doors, and went to stand by the brazier, whose faint glow could hardly push back the darkness. She took a handful of powder from the silver plate and, sprinkling it over the coals, cried in a loud Voice: