Then Slungandi hastened with the Lady Thëanetsa through the awakening Forest to the bank of the great western river. He turned eastwards, towards the towering slopes of the Dagnath Nebren. For many days they climbed alongside the river as it grew ever narrower and shallower, stonier and faster, until they reached the falls and pools where the Secret River comes rushing from the hidden channel beneath Mount Hogunoth. Then said Slungandi:
Lady, can you swim this water without a swancloak? Can you swim in your gown with that sack upon your back? For now we must mount the falls like the salmon.
And Thëanetsa said, not without a little scorn:
Yea, my Lord Slungandi, I am a daughter of the Silúna, the fashioners of the waterways, and not their mere fosterling. I could swim this river with the weight of many mudrína upon my back, and in robes too.
With that she strapped her burden closely to her and girded her gown more tightly around her loins, and saying no more she dived headlong into the lowest pool and began to swim with movements so fast that no eye could catch them. It seemed to Slungandi, following her into the water, that her gown had become a fish’s skin, her feet its tail, even the satchel on her back a fin. For her garment was wrought of the fine skin of the Lemenya, the swiftest of water creatures.
Reaching the first falls, Thëanetsa leapt from the water right above the gushing torrent and slipped deftly into the middle pool. Circling that pool at speed she once again leapt salmonlike above the crashing white plumes of the fall and gained the upper pool, out of sight of Slungandi. He himself came slowly behind her, climbing the rocks around the falls, swimming only the breadth of the three pools.
The dark mouth of the hidden waterway loomed above them, under the great buttresses of mount Hogunoth. Now Slungandi took Sporni, the shard of Talyoran, from his bosom, and breathed upon it, intoning the lesser rune, and as soon as it began to gleam, he fixed it with a fillet to his forehead, and led the way into the tunnel, tumultuous with streaming waters.
Forcing their way against the raging torrent, she, the daughter of the Water Folk, and he, their fosterling, made their way through the dark tunnels for many long miles to the final rapids, the very place where the flimsy raft of Groiznath had foundered many years before, and only he and Slungandi came away alive. At last they reached the great calm pool of Segen ta-Gangri, the Giants’ Quay, in its lofty cavern, and there they rested. Then said Slungandi:
Here is the only place known to me where the Dark Swan of Onskabâ might swim. A gloomy place, without the light of Sporni.
And Thëanetsa said:
There shall be no such Dark Swan unless it be I.
And Slungandi said:
Let your word be an omen!
Then Slungandi led her up the ever-winding stairway. And they came to the first door, and he said:
Go not that way. For though it is the straightest way to Onskabâ, there the Grey Sleeper dwells.
Then they continued to ascend, and they came to the second door. And Slungandi opened it, and they came out into the great ascending way of Kapgar Kûm. And he said:
Now is the time at which the Kúmi Netári are wont to make merry in the great hall of Kapgar Kûm. We shall come upon them unawares, for here is a narrow passage leading away to the back of the hall, which they rarely pass through, for it is but a longer way round, coming to a far entrance.
So they sprang swiftly across the passageway and plunged into the gloom of the rough, narrow corridor, following the glimmer from Sporni. At they end they came to yet another corridor running right to left across their path. Slungandi turned unhesitatingly to the right. Very soon amid the shadows they could see a pair of stout wooden doors in the cavern wall.
As they stood there, many sounds reached them from the other side. There was raucous music, the noise of pipes and drums, and much rough singing. After a time they could pick out a chant. Evidently the Runewives had taken up a chorus:
Swancloak, swancloak, whose shall you be?
Who dances fairest, the winner is she.
Spells from the Deep shall give her the key.
Dark Swan of Onskabâ destined to be!
At this, Thëanetsa’s anger was kindled, and her eyes blazed in the silver light of Sporni.
They shall never have it! They must give it back to me, the rightful owner!
And before Slungandi could speak or move, she pushed open the doors. She stepped out on to a kind of dais at the top of a flight of steps leading into the hall. This was indeed very great, and brightly lit by flaring torches; not iceflames such as illuminated Onskabâ with a gloomy half light, but great sconces holding pitchy bundles of kindling. It was so huge that her entrance went unnoticed by the crowd of Runewives and Falakkazri dancing, jostling, jesting, laughing, shouting, and drinking, far below where she stood.
In the midst, a knot of Runewives were wildly dancing in a circle, passing something white from one to another. It was her swancloak.
Once more enraged, Thëanetsa looked about for some way to announce her presence. On the dais near her stood a huge gong, together with a mallet for sounding it. She seized the mallet and struck a mighty boom upon the gong. Instantly, silence fell, and the crowds became still. Every face looked up at her.
Angash, the captain of the Falakkazri, hastened towards the steps, followed by two of his lieutenants, but Thëanetsa cried out:
I have come for my swancloak. I have come to take it back from your unclean hands!
Then Angash, at the bottom of the stair, said:
The bargain was, the Swancloak for the Fûbraváni, lady. Where is the Fûbraváni? Bring him forth, and then you shall have your price!
And Thëanetsa said:
He is here, fast by me. You can take him!
And she looked round, but Slungandi was no longer by her side, nor behind her in the corridor. Angash said:
Where, Lady of the Swanfolk? We do not see him!
Suddenly distressed, she cried:
On my word as a Swanmaiden, he is here! He brought me here! You have only to search the passages!
Then Angash laughed grimly. He and one of his followers leapt up the steps and laid hands upon Thëanetsa, while two more hastened into the passage beyond the doors. The crowds in the hall began to jeer at Thëanetsa, and the Runewives waved aloft her swancloak.
At that moment a deep voice sounded loudly from a dark opening in one of the longer sides of the hall; fenced by a balustrade it formed a kind of balcony.
Why do you disturb my rest? Speak not the name of Fûbraváni in Dreygan’s halls! Shall Gantzor come among you to quell your noise?
A great head with hoary hair could be vaguely seen, and a hand in which a dim blade shone as it caught the light.
Then Angash went and stood beneath the opening, looking up, and replied:
My lord Dreygan, it is but a matter of a cloak that we are taking care of for this Lady of the Silúna.
Then said the grey face from the opening:
Then render up the cloak to the Swanmaiden, and send her on her way, before I come among you with the Coldsword! And as for Fûbraváni, he would not dare come near me, for Gantzor is eager to give him a taste of the icesleep.
The shadowy figure withdrew. With great reluctance, Angash took his hands from Thëanetsa, and gestured to his lieutenant to do likewise. Then he strode down the stair and marched to the throng of Runewives. He seized the swancloak and bore it back to Thëanetsa, profering it with a mock bow.
Get you gone, Lady Swanmaiden! Come not again to Kapgar Kûm, for next time, it may be, there shall be no Frostgiant to plead your cause!
Then he and the other chief Falakkaswa directed her to go with them, not by the way she had come, but forth through the crowd, who were now again jesting, laughing, and quaffing. The hideous Falakkaska faces were thrust leering at her, and many saucy Runewives jeered, as she passed through. At the far end of the hall, they took her through the doors and pointed up the great passageway of Kapgar.
There’s your way. The gate is open, for the Lord Dreygan fears no foe while Gantzor lies by his side!
No sooner had they left her and returned to their revels in the great hall, but a figure emerged from the deep shadows by the wall of the passage.
Not that way, my lady! Back to Aulihautias and down to Segen ta-Gangri again! For a swan wants water, does she not?
And speaking low the opening rune, mathúr hlafaremef, Slungandi ushered her back to the giant stairway. Then, darting out again, he seized a nearby flaming torch from its bracket on the wall and thrust it into her hand.
I would not have you seek your way in the dark, my lady. But when you reach the Giants’ Quay, you will be compelled, I fear, to let the current bear you home in darkness. Doubtless when you are again in swan shape you will not find that too hard! How fortunate you were that I know the Lord Dreygan’s ways and voice so well, and that Sporni can feign a Giant’s sword and even conjure his face!
Then, to her astonishment and fury, he shut the door upon her, and departed.
The tale does not tell how Thëanetsa made her way down the giants’ staircase with flaming torch in one hand and swancloak in the other; nor how, by that light, at Segen ta-Gangri, she stepped into the water, put on again her swancloak, spoke the runes, and took on swan form; nor how she launched herself, in that utter darkness, from the calm pool out into the raging stream; nor how it bore her all the way down to the falls, where she was able to rise from the flood and take flight back to Fleswen ta Féore; nor how the Ophellûna received her in the Isle. But a tale does tell that the cloak was never again pure white, but turned a dingy grey; and that the Swanfolk called her, in unkind jest, the Dark Swan of Onskabâ.
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