Slungandi, master of wiles, was certain which folk had the Blade of Dreygan in their possession. And he was sure that he could easily find them. He left the skulldeer grazing in the grove near the summit of Mount Zôyeglummi. He ascended the stairs to the top and passed the cairn that the Hawk-headed ones had forced him to raise. He looked at the remaining stones of Fûbrinnig, the ruined House of Fúdrofûr. He saw that beyond them, a narrow path descended athwart the back of the mountain. That was the way to follow. He soon came into the wooded country and followed the path towards Mount Sabankos. It was not hard to see that the Gyúgri had passed this way. Their great feet had disturbed sticks and stones upon the path, and they had even carelessly let fall a few small things: here a pin, there a lace. He came to the place in the road where the high waterfall Marípei descended into the deep dark lake far below. He examined the rock wall behind and found the opening. And then he felt an invisible barrier. He could not enter. The Gyúgri had woven the spell of impenetrability over the entrance, and they would know if anyone tried to break it.
Slungandi was in no way downcast. He went on under the shadow of the great fall and turned the corner, so that the noise of the falling water was hushed. Then he began to climb the cliffs above the cavern. He knew that this place could be lived in. Therefore there would be shafts through which light and air could enter. True enough, a short distance above the road he found a fissure in the rocks. He thrust the blade Sporni in. It had the virtue of magnifying sound when he laid his ear to it. He could hear voices. The three Gyúgri were within, and they were quarrelling.
‘I tell you, sisters, it is not safe! You know that we cannot bind water. Anything might enter by that way!’
That seemed to be Fandrumin, the eldest and largest. She had the deepest voice.
‘But, sister, why should anyone wish to come here?’
That was Fulgimur, the second sister. Fandrumin spoke again:
‘For the sword, blockhead! There are many nyandri who covet it! The renegade Entelláya who contrived the destruction of our late unlamented sire, he will guess that we have it.’
A third voice, that of the youngest, Furgumal, spoke. It was the highest of the three:
‘I don’t think that anyone would guess that there is an entrance from the water right under that great waterfall!’
Fandrumin replied:
‘You speak like a fool. Suppose some spy was listening now. You would give away all our secrets!’
Fulgimur spoke again:
‘You are the fool, to refuse to settle down here. This is a good place to rest.’
And there came the cavernous sound of a giant’s yawn. Fandrumin’s voice came full of anger:
‘You two are nothing but idle. I am sure we are not safe. We should move to a place higher up in the mountains.’
Furgumal said:
‘I don’t want to tramp through the mountains looking for ratholes abandoned by the Kabadri. This place is good enough. I’m tired.’
Another yawn was heard.
Slungandi laughed inwardly. The simple Gyúgri had told him everything he needed to know. Nearby among the rocks there was a narrow ledge: he shifted himself nimbly on to it. It was a good vantage point, in case anyone should pass by, and he could stay there and make his plans till night-time.
Slungandi waited until, when he listened at the opening in the rocks, he could hear the stertorous breathing of the sleeping Gyúgri. They might almost have been heard from the mountain path, if it had not been for the endless rushing of the fall. The he put his mouth to the fissure in the rocks and spoke low and sonorously into it.
‘Furgumal, Furgumal, my daughter, hearken! Hearken to your father!’
There was a sound of movement within the cave. Then came the trembling voice of the youngest Gyúga, replying:
‘Who speaks? Is it — can it be — the voice of Fúdrofûr my father?’
Slungandi said:
‘Yes, my daughter, it is the anya of your father, speaking from the place of the Shades. Are you listening to me?’
‘Yea, O anya of my father! What is your will?’
‘Furgumal, I have come to help you. Your sister Fandrumin is wicked. She is planning to steal away in secret, while you sleep, taking the sword Gantzor. And she will persuade your foolish sister Fulgimur to help her find a safer place to dwell. You are the clever one, my daughter. You always knew that this is a good and safe place. You must all stay here and take care of this cave for me. There is only one thing that your sister Fandrumin said rightly. While the sword Gantzor dwells here, it is a danger. Someone may try to come in and steal it; they might try to slay you with it. But if it is not here, you and your sisters can stay in safety.’
‘I care only to have a safe dwelling place, my Father. I do not care for the sword. What can I do with it?’
Slungandi said:
‘That is rightly said, O daughter. Early on the morrow, when the sun is up, you must wait by the place in the lowest chamber where the waters of the lake come in. I will send my messenger to you by that way, and he will bear away the sword, to bestow it with the Entellári. They will keep it safe for us. Farewell, my daughter!’
Slungandi smiled to himself. It was too easy to practice deceit on this Gyúga. He crept away to the rock shelf, and laid himself down to rest till morning light.
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