Chapter Four

Harry slowed as the mist began to thin slightly, turning to check upon the others. Heather almost crashed into him as she skidded to a halt. A moment later Albanac emerged from the mist, his horses' hooves were striking blue sparks from the stones of the road as it trotted along.

'What is it? Why have we stopped?' Albanac asked frowning as he looked around, loosening his sword in his sheath.

'Where's Tom?' Harry asked. He pushed past Albanac and Heather before shouting, 'TOM!' The shout faded into the nothingness of the fog. They waited, but there was no reply.

'If he's gone he's gone,' Albanac said grimly laying a hand on Harry's shoulder as he stepped forwards.

'Trust me,' Harry said grimly, 'he's not one to just disappear. We've got to find him.'

'Look Traveller,' Heather said softly, 'I can see he's your friend, but this ain't a good place to linger.'

'It's not about friendship,' Harry said, brushing Albanac's hand off his shoulder. 'He's dangerous; the most dangerous man you'll ever meet. If I'm not with him, he might do anything. This world will not be safe.'

Albanac opened his mouth to reply only to stop as a shadow slowly moved into view through the fog. 'Is that him?' He asked, 'It don't look reight.'

The sound of a pipe drifted through the mists. The tune seemed simple, but the piper played around himself, notes dancing in the frigid air. Ice danced in the mist. Albanac drew his sword, taking his hand from the horse's reins to stroke its head. Heather drew her dirk and ran her fingers along the edge of it.

'Tom?' Harry asked. He raised his wand cautiously as he took another step forward.

The shadow stumbled and raised itself. Harry took another step forward, squinting towards it. The pipe's music danced and leapt. The shadow moved closer. There was a sickly smell in the air, sweet and putrid.

'Lad, come away. That isn't him,' Albanac said some way behind Harry. 'We need to move. We'll look for him in light once the mist's gone.'

Harry ignored him, 'Is that you? Are you okay?' He shivered as an icy gust of wind ran through the mist sending wet rolls of fog over him. The shadowy figure gave a low, painful groan. Harry hesitated, transfixed as the figure stumbled closer, it was close enough now to see it was not wearing a robe. It was almost upon him when Albanac's hand pulled him backwards. The sword flashed forwards in an arc and the shadow hissed.

'They're all around,' Heather said calmly from behind them.

'What are they?' Albanac asked bemused. 'I cannae get a good look at 'em in this damn mist.'

'I don't know, but they're everywhere,' Heather said as Harry and Albanac re-joined her.

'What do we do, Lady?' Albanac asked. He shifted his grip on his sword, keeping his arm relaxed and at ease. He slapped his horse's flank. 'Go, get ye'self somewhere safe.' The horse snorted and broke into a trot and then a canter, vanishing into the mists.

'We retreat,' Heather said. Her voice had lost its accent and there was a ring of authority in her tone. Harry turned to look at her despite himself. She was taller and older than she had been, her eyes were a livid green.

'Of course,' Harry muttered, half to himself, 'because no innocent victim of an attack could actually be an innocent victim of an attack. Madam, we will have words about this later.'

'By all means,' she said turning so that she was back to back with them. 'For now, Albanac, give him a sword or something.'

'I don't need one,' Harry promised. 'Trust me. Ventus.' A breeze sprang up, gently thinning the mist directly around them.

The three of them walked slowly, facing outwards, circling. Gradually the shadows in the mist closed in around them. They stepped off the road onto the short, tough grass. Harry stumbled as he took a step backwards onto one of the barrows.

'We can't let 'em drive us where they will,' Albanac warned. 'We've gotten to make our stand.'

He raised his sword as a shambling figure drew closer and slashed in a single, swift strike whipped the blade across its throat. The blade did not pause, sliding across and down it severed a hand in a blaze of tiny flames. The figure reached out its other arm, ignoring the wounds even as fire began to flow from the cuts. Albanac stabbed upwards, driving the blade through the figure's chest, ripping the blade down, through the soft tissue of its belly.

The shambling creature reached out, its cold, dry fingers gripping Albanac in a vice-like grip. Heather lunged forwards, her dirk sliced upwards a ribbon of green light flickering on its edge as it cut through the creature's arm without resistance. Albanac took the opportunity to shake his arm loose and slid his sword free before decapitating their attacker with a backhanded blow.

Harry bent to look at the dismembered and decapitated figure, a pale light blossoming at the tip of his wand as he knelt beside it. It was a desiccated corpse, papery, grey skin stretched tight over bones, the lips pulled back in a fixed grin. There were rotted rags wrapped around it, old, tattered grave cloths. 'This is ... well, this is an inferius. The Dead, capital D and all,' Harry said biting his lip as he scrambled back onto his feet. 'Move fast. They win by overwhelming their prey. Take off their heads if you can.'

The sun was dipping below the hills Harry realised as he looked up, the mist made it hard to tell, but the light levels were dropping fast. At the edge of sight, he could see dozens, maybe scores of shambling dead moving towards them in a tightening circle. Some were unarmed, but others carried weapons, old, curving blades which glimmered with unnatural light.

'How fresh does the body have to be?' Heather asked as calmly as she could whilst they backed up the mound of the barrow towards two olive trees.

'As long as there's a skeleton left the magic will do the rest, if the necromancer's powerful enough,' Harry said grimly, considering the hundreds of tombs they had passed.

He flicked out his wand, a jet of fire as thick as a tree-trunk lashed out burning through the mist. It struck the inferi, throwing them to the ground with its force. As the fire moved on though they pulled themselves to their feet, they were blacked and smoking but there was none of the fear Harry had expected. He scowled, twisting the wand so that the flame intensified, its centre a pure, blinding, crackling white. The flames washed over the fallen inferi as they stumbled to their feet, and then flared upwards in swirling pillars. Their skin and bones crumbled into charcoal before the heat. Harry's wand bucked and trembled under his hand and with a grunt he broke the spell.

Harry glanced to the sides, he had almost lost himself in the moment. Albanac was battling three, his sword dancing in his hand as it sliced through a grinning skull. Heather had plunged her dirk through the eye-socket of another, whispering something as the blade glowed with green light and slid through the corpse as if it were water.

Albanac spun around, ducking under the blow of an inferius and with the momentum he drew his sword around almost splitting the rotting torso in two. Rune blazed along the sword as he drove it down, finishing off the attacker.

Heather nipped in as the third of Albanac's assailants reached out for him, knocking it to the side. Her blade cutting deep slashes through its chest. Harry threw out his arm as it lunged for her and caught it with a curse. Purple light exploded, the corpse was thrown back into a second, bringing them down together. Their skins and bones melted, leaving them a weakly twitching heap on the grass.

'Hold them off for me,' Heather hissed. She crouched and began to score a circle in the top of the shallow hill with the tip of her dirk.

Harry nodded and swished his wand twice, once towards each of the olive trees. They stretched, the branches writhed and gripped inferi tearing them limb from limb. The mist was thinning, though it did little to lessen chilly gloom of the twilight. Harry turned around tugging on the last of the energy left in the ventus charm to bowl the closest of the shambling corpses over.

Albanac danced onto the other side of Heather, slicing through the tendons of two of the fresher Dead before slamming the pommel of his sword onto the head of one turning it to pulp. The second grabbed him, fingers almost dragging him down before Harry blew a hole through its neck with a flick of his wand.

Harry clenched his jaw, concentrating as he turned one inferius' limbs into ravens which launched themselves at the dead, pecking and scratching, albeit to little effect. He waved his wand in an arc, freezing the remaining mist. He summoned it in a hail of tiny shards of ice which ripped another walking corpse into a tangled mess of blood and melt water.

'STOP!' Heather called as Harry raised his wand again. She had closed the circle around them. Albanac leant on his sword, the tip digging into the ground. Harry paused, body trembling with the rush of adrenaline, waiting for something to happen. He held his wand ready as the inferi slowly walked closer, closing in around them. There was nothing to suggest that the circle would protect them. Outside the ring the two olive trees shuddered and ceased moving as Harry's connection to them died. Pieces of old, dried skin hung from their branches like leaves.

'We can't keep this up. There are too many. Won't be long till dark now. Dinnae tha have any tricks lady?' Albanac asked as he eyed the inferi which were pressing against the circle as if there were a glass wall between them and the three travellers.

'I am an enchantress, not a sorceress. I doubt that these things care for sight or appearance; most appear not to have eyes. Illusions and glamours will be of little use here. Ask the sorcerer if you want something done, now that he's revealed himself,' Heather replied testily. 'Wizard indeed! I knew he wasn't a scholar.'

'Well, Traveller?' Albanac asked.

'Not much. I might be able to stop them, but I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it up for. If it goes wrong ...' Harry left the warning hanging, deciding to leave Heather's remarks for the time being.

'We may not have a choice,' Heather said. 'If whoever breathed life into these things turns up they'll be able to rip the circle apart in seconds.'

'Why aren't they breaking in?' Harry asked, interested despite himself.

'They don't have the will for it. They don't have the capacity to use any of the magic powering them to break the charm,' Heather said, 'but if someone who has independent thought turns up ...' She let the sentence hang meaningfully.

'So as long as we stay inside the circle we're safe?' Harry asked.

'Provided none of us put so much of a whisker outside it, yes,' Heather said. 'At least from the Dead. There are worse things in this valley. The Dead might be keeping us here, but if those things find us we'd be better off slitting our own throats now.'

'Fine,' Harry growled. 'Hold onto me and don't let go. I have a very limited control over what I'm going to do.' He raised his wand to the level of his eyes and drew it down in a jagged line, 'Az-reth.'

Fire twisted outwards from the jagged cut, a deep, malevolent blood-red and at is core there was a twisting spiral of black flame. It leapt outwards, a writhing, whirling mass of heat and light. It flowed together as if trying to take form, but Harry crushed the attempt with barely a second's thought. His mind encompassed it and encircled it before crushing the spirit out of it. Then with a yell he raised his wand. Albanac and Heather clung to his robes as the fire spilt outwards obliterating the circle.

The inferi screamed as one, the noise torn from their dusty throats. The twisting flame rushed over them devouring them and rising higher and higher into the sky until Harry stood at the epicentre of a raging hurricane of fire which leapt into the sky, howling. His wand twirled in his hand as he let his mind run with the fire, seeking out the Dead and consuming them.

The cursed fire flickered over the lake, flames dancing on the dark waters. Something brushed against them, driving them back. Harry started and as his concentration broke the fire turned inwards upon them. He flicked his wand upwards crouching as a dome of white fire streamed outwards. Outside the fiendfyre howled and raged against the shield, but the defence held firm, though Harry's wand arm shook with the strain. He licked his lips, closing his eyes against the glare as he concentrated; his free hand twitched as he strove to regain control over the dark fire beyond the shield. In his mind's eye he could see the long thin ribbons of fire running through the air; they snapped and snarled but he seized them, holding on tightly. He pulled upon them, dragging them to heel and outside the shield the fires died away. He heaved a sigh and let the white fire drain away, before dropping to his knees heaving in breaths as fresh air rushed in upon the stricken valley.

Natural fires, orange and yellow flickered here and there where the last remains of olive trees and grass continued to burn. Above them the moon was rising, a sliver of silver in the darkening sky. Harry panted, his left hand stung with two curling scars on the palm of his hand. They looked like old burn marks, the outer was shiny, white flesh, almost in the shape of a triangle, and the inner a circle of twisted, almost melted reddened flesh only a few millimetres wide as if he had placed a heated keyring there.

Silence fell over the lake.

The sun was rising above the hills, when Harry, Heather and Albanac came in sight of the red, sandstone walls of Trewalder. The light shone on the rosy stones and the greenish-brown waters of the river which flowed sluggishly around the low hill on which the town sat. Trees with red berries hanging from their boughs grew around the town in a broad circle; a thin wickerwork fence made from their wood ran between them. Wood smoke curled from the chimneys and the gates stood open.

Albanac, whose horse had found them during the night, came to a stop, eyeing the town. 'I must leave, m'lady, Traveller. I have business in the town and shan't be free to go with ye further.'

With a few short goodbyes he made his way up to the gates and disappeared inside. Heather made to follow, but Harry coughed and she turned reluctantly. The change which had come over her was clearer than it had been in the dusk and mist now that it was light. She was taller, but not by as much as it has seemed, and though she was older Harry could not guess by how much. Her face was ageless, she might have been anywhere between twenty and fifty, and her hair was long and a dark, rich shade of brown without a hint of silver or grey.

'Wait,' he said, 'I said I wanted a word with you. This is about as private as we're going to get.'

She hesitated and gave a short, sharp nod. She turned on her heel and dragged him across to one side underneath the stretching boughs of one of the rowan trees. Catching his expression as he looked at the wicker fence she answered his unspoken question, 'There are things out there which find a fence of rowan to be a greater barrier than stone or steel. Ask your questions then, and I shall ask mine.'

'Why? Why did you pretend to be a girl in danger? Did you kill that family? How did Albanac know who you were? What's the difference between enchantresses, wizards, and sorcerers?' He asked, counting off the questions on his fingers.

She shrugged, 'An enchantress ... enchants. I weave illusions and place magic inside objects as my mistress taught me once upon a time. A sorcerer, well you know that as well as I, you are the warriors, your kind carry fire and shadow and death with you wherever you walk. A wizard though, they are the loners, the ones who learn the secrets of the world and use them.

'Albanac met me many years ago now. He recognised the shape I wore, as I recognised him.

'I did not kill the travellers. I found their bodies on my path to you and placed my dirk and pipe within the caravan so that they would call to me if you came upon it. I felt the gate you and your friend opened. A hundred leagues away and I still felt it,' she shivered. 'How could I not investigate? You might have been a danger to me, I wanted to catch you off guard if you were. Satisfied?'

Harry considered for a moment and nodded. 'You said you had questions?'

'You know nothing of the distinctions between the practitioners, how can that be? Who was your master? You appear young, but there is something behind your eyes ... what are you running from, or towards? Can you open gates between the worlds again?'

Harry eased himself down onto the grassy bank the tree grew on. 'I was taught in a school by several wiza ... practitioners of many disciplines, in my world that was normal. I think it was over a thousand years ago that most people, at least in my part of the world, had a single teacher. I'm not running away, not anymore, if I were running towards something ...' he hesitated for an instant. 'There was a man who might have come through into this world. I don't know how long ago. I'd like to find him. As to the gates, well that was down to my friend. I wouldn't know where to begin, but I doubt that even he would find it easy. Is that everything?'

She nodded brusquely, 'For the moment. Now then, I might as well attend to business in the town, by the sounds of it we came upon market day.'

She turned as if to walk towards the gates and Harry scrambled to his feet behind her, 'Erm, could I just ask one more thing?'

'By all means,' she smiled, waiting for him.

'Is there a way I could earn some money around these parts? I don't really have anything with me,' he said, apologetically.

'Well for now I will pay, as thanks for your kindness on the road, and I will do my best to help you find your friends. In the longer term, perhaps some mercenary work? Many sorcerers work as guards for merchant caravans, or petty lordlings. Some are tomb-robbers and treasure hunters too. I believe the pay is good, there are few who can wield power well. There are of course the Shadow-Wars in the North, but few return from those, I would not recommend it. Come with me and we shall see if there is a merchant looking for fresh guards at the market.'

The marketplace buzzed with noises, sights and smells as Harry walked behind Heather, trying not to lose her in the press. People of all kinds mingled together, beggars and merchants, country-folk and townsmen. They were dressed in a medley of bright, vibrant colours, purples, yellows, blues and whites, but most of all red filled the market in a score of hues. There was hardly a person present without at least a red ribbon here or there on their clothing; the women wore red shawls; the men's belts were of red leather with thick, black, iron buckles, and many of the children who darted through the crowd wore small red cloaks and hoods.

Heather stopped every now and then to ask a quick, hushed question of a passer-by before correcting her course around the packed and winding alleys of the town. They would their way through the traders hawking their wares, the jugglers, fiddlers and the fire eaters.

'What exactly are we looking for?' Harry asked as they passed the same corner from a new direction for the fourth time.

'The local wise-woman, of course, the Moirai. One of that kindred will know what you ought to do to find your answers. Then we'll hit the merchants and see who needs a sorcerer. They'll be all over you like dogs with meat,' Heather said turning around three times anti-clockwise before opening a small, narrow door of dark, smoky wood in the wall. 'Come on, three times widdershins and follow me.' She vanished inside the door which clicked shut behind her.

Harry reached out to lift the latch, but it slipped through his fingers leaving him holding nothing; he tried again with the same result before sighing, turning three-times anti-clockwise and trying again. The door opened, he stepped through into a flagstone hall lit only by a pale radiance. There was another larger door in front of them which Heather knocked on. A slot opened at eye height and a pair of yellow eyes looked out. 'Yes?'

'We're here to see the Moirai. I am known as Heather and he is the Traveller,' Heather said.

'What do you want?'

'We are looking for a long-lost friend and seek advice.'

'That will cost you,' the person behind the door warned.

'How much?' Heather asked.

There was a pause as the door-keeper considered, 'The colour of his eyes.'

'Far too pricy. Fetch your mistress. We will deal with her,' Heather ordered.

There was a supressed hiss and then the slot in the door shut. They waited in the small, stone chamber. A few minutes later the door opened, the serving girl beckoned them inside. She led them through the house and up the stairs into a cosy sitting room. An elderly lady with long, silver hair and blue eyes was sitting in a rocking chair by the window, as they entered she turned to smile at them.

'Ah. I did not expect to see you again,' the elderly woman said, nodding to Heather. 'Come have a seat. Little Starling will fetch us some refreshments.'

'Thank you, I hadn't realised you were here. This is a friend: Traveller,' Heather said, sitting without hesitation.

'You too young man, sit. What may I do for you? Aneira would not help unless she thought you worth the effort,' she smiled gently, eyes twinkling.

'Aneira?' Harry asked.

'One of my use-names,' Heather explained.

'Ah. Well, forgive me madam, but I feel obliged to ask the price for your help? I have very little with which to pay,' Harry said apologetically.

The woman waved her hand gently, 'I do not charge. People give me what they can. If you cannot give me something, please give help to another when you can.'

'I'm surprised you have enough to live on with a mantra like that Argenta,' Heather said with a shake of her head.

'I do well enough. If you are kind you will receive kindness in return. Now then, ask what you will Traveller.'

Harry sat down on the settle which ran against one wall and looked across at her, meeting her gaze. The sunlight caught her silvery hair turning it into a halo around her head. 'I ... I think I might need to explain a little first. I don't come from this world. When I was fifteen my godfather disappeared through a gateway, a tear in reality. Until recently I believed that device only killed. But, I came through it myself, recently. He may be or have been in this world, if he is I need to find him. I can give you his name if that would help, Heather implied that sort of thing was possible here.'

'They say so, but I could not do it. Such magic is greater my small craft,' the lady said softly. 'I am one of the Moirai, we only advise, such powers are beyond us. How long has it been since he disappeared?'

'I don't know if time runs at the same speed between dimensions. If it does then about a hundred and fifty years, I think,' Harry said, 'I may well be looking for nothing more than a grave.'

'In which case you would need more than merely his name,' the lady said, pausing as the servant returned with a plate of biscuits and a pewter jug and a set of wooden cups. 'Thank you, Starling, would you fetch the runes for me? I will do my best to determine what you need to do, Traveller. I fear that your name will be well earnt, for the road may be long ere you have your answers. Was there anything else you wished to ask of me whilst my Starling is away? She does have sharp ears.'

'I need to find another man. He came with me through the portal. He was taken from us on our way here ...'

'In the Great Necropolis,' Heather added.

'Indeed? Well that should be a simpler task, first the runes though.'

The serving girl returned with a small, velvet bag which she placed on the table beside the lady and scurried away, taking care to shut the door behind her. Harry eyed the bag dubiously, his previous experiences with divination had not left him particularly comfortable or confident in the practice.

'How exactly does this work?' He asked after a brief pause as the lady picked up the bag and loosed the strings.

'It works in many ways. I will make three castings for you: one for your future, and one for each of your questions. You need only concern yourself with this: pick out five runes and lay them face down upon the table. Your hand will guide you. I will tell you the meaning of the runes, and I may glimpse what is to come more fully once that is done,' the lady said holding out the bag to Harry.

He suppressed a derisive snort and reached into the bag. The runes were small and smooth under his fingers, like pebbles worn by the tide. He laid them out one at a time in a row on the table. They were old, yellow, polished bone.

'Concentrate your mind upon the runes,' she commanded and flipped over the first rune. It was a lightning bolt, Harry's hand rose to the scar on his forehead, a mirror image of the rune. 'Sowilo, the sun. Your story began with a triumph, a victory against the odds.'

She flipped over the next rune. 'Eihwaz reversed. The middle of your life has been determined by this rune, it is the yew tree. Naturally a rune of stability, patience and strength, but like this it is a rune of conflict, anger and pits you against power and hatred.'

She flipped over the third rune. 'The present. Perthro, the vessel. You stand at a cross-roads, at this moment you can change your fate, walk away from your past or confront it. Whatever you do there are secrets surrounding you, secrets you would do well to discover.' There was barely a pause as she moved to the penultimate rune. 'The sacrifice you may make, depending upon your choice. Teiwaz, the rune of the warrior. If you make your stand in the days to come the price you pay will be to yourself, walk down the road you intend and it may well be the end of you.'

'And the fifth rune?' Harry asked as she paused looking at the last one.

'It is what will be, if you do not follow your intentions. Are you sure you wish to know?'

'This is too vague for me to know what to do or what not to do. I might as well have an idea of the worst, even if I don't know how to avoid getting there,' he said with a shrug.

She nodded and turned over the last rune, it looked like a capital H with a slanted cross-bar, 'Hagalaz: the storm. If you fail then that failure will unleash old powers. I can feel it. The wind is rising, sail well Traveller, for when the storm breaks we will all need safe havens.'

Harry looked at her for a long moment. There was a deadly earnest in her face and for an instant he almost felt her fear. The moment passed, she sighed and sat back.

'Are you quite alright, Argenta?' Heather asked.

'Quite. Thank you for asking,' the old lady said. 'I think we'll just do a three-rune spread for the questions. That took more out of me than I expected. You are a dangerous man Traveller.'

'The same as before, just with three?' Harry asked as she put the runes back into the bag, she nodded and he reached in pulling them out and laying them face down on the table.

She turned them over one at a time, waiting until she had finished to give an explanation. 'Wunjo, fellowship and joy is what you seek in your long lost friend; Raidho, the journey, is your present, whatever solution you find will take a great deal of wandering; Ansuz, the lord of runes and knowledge, will be the end of the road for you, you will find the answer, though I do not know if you will find him.' She closed her eyes and held her hands above the runes for a moment, her lips working soundlessly. 'I see a hall of ivy; I see a crowned man; I see a pool of water. I see a lonely traveller on a winding road, behind him walks a man in black,' she opened her eyes, 'I would not pursue this question, it is perilous. The Green Man of Knowledge will know the answers if you feel bound to seek them. Beware though, the road is perilous for there are dragons and worse in those parts.'

'Which way do I have to go? How do I find him?' Harry asked, leaning forward.

'I do not know. The road to him is twisted. There are many paths and not all of them are of stone and earth. Time is a road, one which runs in two directions, though we may only ever glance behind us and never turn back. If you keep your search in mind I think you will find him in time. Search, East of the Sun and West of the Moon, only through chance will you find him. Now for the second question.'

Harry pulled three more runes out from the bag. Argenta reached out her hand to flip over the first and then with a hiss the three slivers of bone shattered. Heather gasped and Harry shot to his feet as the elderly woman stared at the broken runes in shock.

'What does that mean?' Harry asked nervously, sitting back down.

'It means that there is a power shielding your friend from any magic I can do. If I am any judge it is all too possible that the Fair Folk have him,' she sat back shaken. 'Mourn him.'

The awkward silence was broken when Heather leant forward and took one of the cups and a biscuit, 'Well that's different. I suppose you'll need a new set of runes now then?'

Argenta smiled gently, 'At a price I presume?'

'Of course, nothing too outrageous. Is this blackberry cordial? It really is delicious ...'

The conversation drifted away from the subject of the shattered runes and the three of them slowly relaxed. At length Harry offered to bespell the roof against rain and wind for the wise-woman who happily accepted and once the spell had been cast they turned to go.

'It should last a year or two at the least. If I return this way I'll see that it is touched up,' Harry promised.

'Not to worry dear but thank you all the same. Before you go, take a rune. This set is no more use to me, but it may help you remember your path when you need it most,' Argenta said holding out the bag to him.

He hesitated but catching the look in her eyes he reached in and pulled out a small piece of bone. He turned it over. On the other side were three lines forming a rune like an elongated 'p'.

'Thurisaz. A good rune. You're a lucky man, and a strong one. Remember to stay firm and you'll come through this,' she said, patting him on the arm.

'Thank you,' Harry said and with that he followed Heather and left. Once they were outside he turned to Heather, 'Is she a relation of yours? An aunt or your mother?'

Heather chuckled, 'My mother? Goodness no. She's one of my daughters. Come now we better look for someone to hire you in the market.'

'What do you expect to get from all this? She seemed to think you wouldn't do something for free,' Harry said, warily as he followed her.

'You saved my life, I have a debt to pay. Maybe you'll help me again someday anyway,' she added, noting the sceptical look which crossed his face.

In the room above them the old lady looked down at the fragments of the shattered runes. The larger parts almost seemed to form a slightly distorted capital H.