“Yes. She’s taken me under her wing, so to speak.” It was time to finally tell him, though the words wouldn’t come easily. “She seems to think I’m her … son. Well, sort of …”

“Yer what? Fancy explainin’ what the holly’s goin’ on?”

As Ark dressed himself, he filled Mucum in on the last two days. By the end, Mucum looked impressed. “A goddess for a mom. And yer tellin’ me that yer grandma made this whole lot? Buddy dell!” Mucum suddenly frowned. “Hang on. This forest didn’t grow in a few years. No way. Which means that the old bird Corwenna is seriously ancient!”

“I guess. Just like the trees. I still can’t take it all in.”

“Well, who’d ’ave thought it? Anyhow, if she rules the roost, and there is gonna be a fight, she might let us use the R.A.F.”

“What?”

“Raven Air Force. Could be the ticket against Grasp and his thugs.”

The door opened behind them, followed by a delicious smell. Corwenna proffered a wooden platter piled high with food. “Will boar-bacon sandwiches be acceptable to you young gentlemen?”

Mucum stood up. “I’ll forgive anyone ’oo feeds me a bacon sarnie. Cheers!” Without waiting to be asked, he grabbed a couple and stuffed them down his gullet. “Phew,” he said a few mouthfuls later, “I’m almost feelin’ Dendran again.”

“I now see why you chose him as a companion.” Corwenna allowed a smile to cross her lips as she dabbed some salve onto Mucum’s arm and wrapped it in a soft compress of comfrey leaves. Mucum gritted his teeth, but wouldn’t show her it hurt.

“Yes,” said Ark, remembering, “although I don’t think I had a choice.”

“Eat well. Take your rest. Then go and explore. Though if you hear a hissing sound, I would suggest you run, fast. The adders around here are huge and would happily squeeze the life from both of you and swallow you whole.”

“Oh right. Thanks for that. Nuffin’ like the thought of slith-erin’ snakes to make my day.”

Corwenna ignored the boy’s sarcasm. “And tomorrow, I shall give you a gift” — she paused and studied the boys with a sudden sadness — “a gift of death.”

36• DEADLY TRAINING

The bandages wrapped around Petronio’s chest felt like a vine squeezing out his breath. It didn’t help that the transparent g-gun 500 he cradled clumsily was as heavy as a lump of bog oak.

“Are you stupid, boy? Point the muzzle down; otherwise I could get hurt.”

If this soldier patronized him anymore, Petronio would be tempted. How was he supposed to see it when it was completely see-through?

“Put your goggles on.”