Manannan announced his next trip quickly, he appeared to be excited as the old man got, and it caused only fear in Gwydion that it was his plan being set into motion. When he left, Gwydion removed the book and false wooden panel he had found weeks ago when cleaning the study, and pulled the lever. The cellar down swung outwards with a loud squeak, which made him doubly glad he hadn't tried it when he first found it.

Inside was a flight of steep underground steps, curving downward toward a dim light. The first dozen or so steps were oak, but after that the steps were made of narrow, rough stones, crudely constructed and uneven. Gwydion slowly creeped down the stairs, one hand on the rough stone wall to his right, the other sticking out for balance. On the stone landing, the loose gravel almost caused him to slip. From above Letholdus yeowed, its head peaking over the edge of the opening above Gwydion, "Careful boy, you would look mighty funny falling down those stairs."

Once down the stairs, Gwydion looked in awe around the torch-lit underground room. It appeared to be a laboratory somehow more modern looking then anything else he had seen in this new world. It was exactly how Gwydion had imaged a wizard's laboratory to look like. The shelves held skeletons of small animals and birds, some human skulls and bones, and other odd instruments, the use of which Gwydion had no idea. In the corner was a small bare desk. Against one of the earthen wall was a massive oak table with a spacious worktop, atop of which was a large leather-bound book, a mortar and pestle, a little brazier holding charcoal, and a flint, plus measuring cups, beakers, flasks, and stirrers. Gwydion leaned down and peeked under the table, but there was nothing but an earthen floor. Firmly attached to the earthen wall, the burning torches threw flickering shadows across the walls, making the room even more ominous.

Gwydion looked closer at the many jars and vials of strange ingredients. His fingers tingled to pick up the vials, bearing such interesting names as 'Nightshade Juice,' 'Mandrake Root Powder,' 'Saffron,' 'Toad Spittle,' and 'Toadstool Powder.' There was also a jar labeled 'Stasis Jar'.

Gwydion went back to the desk. Dominating the space was an old book. Covered with gold trimmings, the old book's leather cover was cracked and worn, its pages yellowed and brittle. The title, however, was clear: 'The Sorcery of Old'.

Gwydion eagerly thumbed through page after page of what he assumed to be magic formulas. The ink of the old handwriting was faint, and barely readable. Gwydion treated the old book with great care as he could tell it contained recipes for some very old and powerful magic spells. Most of the formulas were indecipherable, but a few are in a language Gwydion could understand. His hands shook as he realised this book could be the key to dealing with Manannan.

With trembling hands Gwydion turned the pages and prepared to follow its instructions precisely. Medusa had taught him that when doing magic he must work with the utmost care. Every step is critical; each must be done in the proper way, in the proper sequence. Gwydion trembled in anticipation.

After examining the book from cover to cover, he could see six potions he could understand. The first would cause him to fly like an eagle, which sounded wonderful, and was defiantly on his to make list. The second caused a deep sleep in any who inhaled it, which he wanted to make as a back up plan for Manannan. The third would brew a storm, which he might need if things went wrong. The fourth would shrink what it was sprinkled on, and the fifth would enlarge it back. The sixth would turn him invisible which he might need to give Manannan the last, a biscuit which would transform him into a cat. There was a long list of ingredients for all six potions, which he would need to find and collect. He was pleased to note he already had some of them, like an eagle feather and Rose petal essence for the potion to fly, and quiet a few he had in the kitchen, like lard and oil. Unfortunately, every single potion require a wand to be waved over it (to probably to activate the magic), and Gwydion had no idea where to get one.

Feeling like he deserved it, he cursed under his breath, "Damn it!"

Letholdus's voice above him startled Gwydion badly, "What is it boy? Can't read?"

"Of course I can read it. Well, most of it. I found the spell which changed you into a cat, and a few others which might be helpful, but I need a wand and I don't have one."

"Manannan has one."

"Oh and I'll just go ask him for it shall I?"

"If you would prefer to be killed, please, continue your sarcastic comments."

"Sorry. I'm just so close, and now this!"

"Manannan keeps his wand upstairs in the cabinet in his study. You will need to find the key however."

Gwydion, who had perked up at the mention of where the wand was slumped again hearing that it was locked. Absently, he turned the pages in the book. Then he blinked. "What does the key look like exactly?"

"A small brass key. Manannan keeps one copy on him at all times, but I know there is another somewhere."

"I think I might have it! I found it in his cupboard!"

"Well? Put everything back were you found it and go see if the key is the correct one!"

"Right!" Gwydion nodded and scamped back upstairs, and into his room. The small key was still in the box under the bed with the journal, and he took it out and ran back to the study, almost tripping down the stairs in his excitement. The cabinet was oak, like all the expensive furniture in the wizards house, and Gwydion's hands shook as he carefully unlocked the door. There, on the middle shelf, sat the wand. Unlike the cellar, this didn't have a thin layer of dust, making Gwydion think that the wizard may in fact use the wand regularly. He would have to return it each time he used it. Cautiously, he reached out and stroked a single finger down the wand. A tingle ran up his arm, a gentle warmth settling in his heart. Bright green sparks shot from the end of the wand. Gwydion shuddered in something he had only felt once or twice, both times from when being held by Medusa as she comforted him. Something he thought might be similar to love.

"Careful!" Letholdus hissed. "Don't go crazy now! Not when my chance at revenge is so close!"

Gwydion peeled his finger away. It felt like he was tearing a part of himself in pieces. But Letholdus was right. Now was not the time. After one long breath, he closed the door and relocked it, and then stepped back. He had a list of things he had to find, and time was not on his side. He hid the key back in the box under his bed and carefully tore a page from the journal. Using the quill he listed: dried acorns, ocean water, mud, cactus leaf and juice. The rest had either been on the wizards shelves or he could get from the kitchen. Mud he could make, but a note in the margin had said that mud from a from a stream was better, as it continued the essence of flowing water. For all he would need jars that were very clean. He knew where to get ocean water and cactus leaf and juice, and he could use a kitchen knife and a few clean spice jars to collect them. Acorns he could search the forest for.

That afternoon, after scrubbing a dozen pots and vials. He set out to get the cactus first. Once he had done so, he got the mud from the small stream that curled around the mountain base, and wandered around until he found a tree chocked in mistletoe, which he carefully removed a few sprigs. The acorns he literally stumbled across while vaguely heading to ask Medusa about the mistletoe. After picking himself up off the ground, he collected a few and then rubbing his aching backside, decided to head back to the Keep.

As he rounded a corner, two large dirty and unkempt men jumped out, their hair was wild and their clothes smelt. Both had mean looks darkening their faces. Gwydion darted to try and avoid them, Rowans words from the journal making him think these might the unsavoury rogues which robed him.

"Alright boy! Hand everything over!"

"But I don't have anything!"

"Then we'll take those nice boots!" Came a voice behind Gwydion, as a heavy whack hit his head.

~~~~~Sometime later~~~~~

When Gwydion came too he stand unsteadily, and patted down his pockets. All the jars with ingredients were gone, and looking down, he saw his now only stocking clad feet. What was he meant to do now? Manannan would punish him if he came back without boots, and that was all the pots he had. It would take months to build up more.

He had to get them back.

He knew vaguely where the bandits hide out was, everyone in town did. Somewhere east of town, north of the bears cottage, but on or near the edge of the desert. Shoulders straight with determination, Gwydion walked quickly, following the broken branches and muddy footprints the bandits had left behind. The soft grass was surprisingly soothing to Gwydion's aching feet. After about half an hour, he came across a small clearing where the beautiful trees of the forest to the east grew sparse as they reach the edge of the great desert to the west.

Gwydion noticed one particularly large oak tree, looking up into the towering oak tree he could only see large, spreading branches and thick leaves. Looking down, however, he noticed a small hole between the tree's large roots. The bandits must be in the tree somehow, the footsteps lead up to the trunk and then disappeared. Gwydion attempted to climb the huge oak tree, but couldn't find a good hand hold. He slipped back, and all he gained for his efforts were splinters. Going back to the small hole, he lied down on the ground and looked inside. It was too dark inside to see anything, so he carefully felt around inside the hollow and discovered a rope, stretching up into the tree. He pulled it and (to his amazement) a rope ladder fall from the branches above. The rope ladder stretches up into the branches. Holding his breath in part fear and part excitement, Gwydion started to climb. At the top he awkwardly swung his legs over the large branch, and stood.

The thick leaves and massive branches obscured the ground below, and allowed only rare glimpses of the sky above. In front of him a yellow wooden shack had been built in the branches of the spreading oak tree, and while he could see very little of the interior from where he stood, he could just make out a figure sleeping in a chair through a hole cut in the side of the wall. The doorway of the treehouse was only a rough opening in the planks, and with some difficulty Gwydion carefully had crawled half climbed to the door and pushed in open a tiny bit a peeked inside. Seeing no one moving, Gwydion sneaked inside. The hideout was made of rough planks, sparsely furnished with a table, a chair, and a small, wooden bin in the corner. One of the ugly bandits is dressed in dirty clothes was slumped over the wobbly, wooden table made out of rough planks fast asleep. He looked, and smelled, as if he hasn't had a bath in months. There was a leather coin purse lying on top of a wobbly table. Gwydion crept forward and looked around.

There wasn't a lot of places where they could have been keeping his things. He checked the shabby, wooden bin is built into a corner of the treehouse. It was covered by a hinged lid, which he very slowly opened, keeping one eye on the sleeping man. Inside is all his stolen possessions. There are also a few other things, inducing the bag he had admired long ago in the store, the enchanted one. He quickly scooped up his jars and put them in the bag, and grabbed his boots in his other hand. On the way out he paused next to the sleeping man. Gwydion didn't like the bandits. They had stolen from him, and others. They had hit him and left him alone in the forest, where anything could have happened. Maybe they needed a lesson what it was like to be stolen from. With that thought, he very carefully lifted the coin purse off the table; practically out from under the sleeping bandit's nose! Gwydion smirked as he slipped out of the hideout and back down the ladder. The sun had started to touch the tree tops, he would need to hurry to make it back to the Keep.

After hiding the bag under the bed, he went and made dinner. Tomorrow he would think about when he could actually make the potions.