'Mam took me to the house she once shared with Dad,' I told Alice. 'That's all.'
'But what did she tell you, Tom? Must have said something to make you look so low!'
'It was sad – that's all. Going back there made her feel like she'd lost Dad all over again. But she wanted me to see it.'
Alice wasn't entirely satisfied with my answer, and as we walked back towards the Celeste, I saw Mab Mouldheel staring at us. She could tell that neither of us was happy and she had a big smirk on her face.
It took an hour to load our provisions, and by then the sun was climbing high into the sky. The witches finally disembarked; a few of them managed to find space enough to ride in a wagon, but the majority walked. We set off eastwards: Mam's wagon, surrounded on all sides by her escort, led the way. Next came the supply wagons, and then the witches, led by Grimalkin, Alice at her side.
I walked behind with Bill Arkwright and the Spook. Whereas I'd put my bag in Mam's wagon, John Gregory was still carrying his, despite the heat. I wondered again what Mam had written to make him join us so late, leaping onto the boat at the very last moment. What exactly had changed his mind? Did he know the truth about who she was? No, I felt sure that if he'd known my true parentage, he would have had nothing more to do with me. I'd be banished for ever just like Alice.
We travelled all day under the fierce heat of the sun, following the Kalamos river valley towards the town of Yiannena. My spirits were really low. I couldn't stop thinking about Mam's true identity. No one was talkative though. The sun was intense and it took all our strength to keep up with the wagons.
We passed through villages with white-painted stone houses and groves of olive trees, and attracted a few curious stares. I wondered if there were spies out there, reporting our progress to the maenads. We were here to do battle with the Ordeen and were therefore their enemies – at some point they were certain to attack. And as our party and the maenads were both heading towards the Ord, it seemed inevitable that our paths would cross at some point.
I was used to the lazy summer drone of insects back home, but here they were everywhere. There were swarms of flying things that got inside my hood and bit me.
'Does it ever rain here?' I asked, looking up at the blue sky and scorching sun.
'It rains a lot in winter, I believe,' Arkwright replied, 'and it can get cold too. Your mam says it's a totally different place in spring, with carpets of wild flowers.'
'I'd like to see it then,' I remarked. 'Who knows? Once we've sorted things out we may be able to come again one day. I'd love to see more of Mam's country. But what's that whirring noise?' It was in the background all the time and was starting to annoy me.
'Cicadas – a sort of grasshopper,' Arkwright explained. 'Noisy blighters, aren't they? It's the bigger creatures we need to watch out for though, Master Ward – like wild boar. Tasty to eat but painful if you get in the way of their tusks! And then there are wolves and even bears.'
'Aye, it's a different land to our own,' said the Spook. 'Greece is far wilder and more dangerous. And that's before we consider the power of the dark. In addition to the maenads, there are lamia witches up in the mountains – lots of 'em – not to mention the Ordeen herself, and the host of fire elementals that will come through the portal with her.'
His words made us fall silent, each locked in our own thoughts. Great danger lay ahead and it had to be dealt with before we could return to the County. I wondered if we'd ever see its green shores again.
We halted a couple of hours before sunset after passing through the village of Kreatopolio, which means butcher. It did have numerous butchers' shops, with the carcasses of lambs hanging outside, and we took the opportunity to buy fresh meat. Mam's friends erected three tents – the largest for her; a guard kept watch outside all night. Some of the witches used the other tents, but most of us slept under the stars. I was tired and fell asleep the moment I closed my eyes.
Although we needed to reach our destination as soon as possible, Mam had decided that we should rest here for a day before heading on. She feared the maenads. Scouts would go out the following morning to see if there was any immediate danger.
We rose early and ate just before the sun came up. Breakfast was simple – just some white goat's cheese called feta and a couple of slices of bread without butter.
'I could murder a plate of bacon and eggs!' I complained to Arkwright.
'So could I, Master Ward,' he replied, 'but I believe some of the lads not needed for scouting are off hunting wild boar this morning. So perhaps we'll eat better later. If not, there's always the lamb we bought yesterday.'
After breakfast the Spook, Arkwright and I walked a little way from the camp and found a clump of olive trees under which to shelter from the fierce morning sun. But the Spook seemed agitated and couldn't keep still. He soon got to his feet.
'We're not being told enough!' he complained. 'I'm going to talk to your mam, lad!'
He was away about an hour. When he returned, his expression was grim.
'Well?' Bill Arkwright asked. 'Did you get any answers?'
The Spook laid down his staff and hunkered down between us in the shade of an olive tree. He took a long time to reply.
'It seems that once the Ordeen arrives through the portal, a delegation from the local area enters the citadel of the Ord,' said the Spook. 'It's a ritual that never changes. The delegates hope to appease her and mitigate the effects of her visitation. But the truth is, nothing they do ever makes any real difference.'
'Then why do they bother?' I asked. 'What's the point of it if they achieve nothing?'
'It's because they're human, lad. Human beings have hope. No matter how desperate things are, they convince themselves that they can change things for the better; that this time their visit will alter the outcome.
'The Ordeen needs human blood to wake her from her deep sleep on the far side of the portal. Few of the delegates return, and those who do rant and rave in a delirium. The horror of the experience deranges their minds. Kalambaka is planning to send a delegation of thirteen people – the usual number – but your mam has other ideas. Thirteen of us will be going in their place.'
Arkwright whistled through his teeth. 'Did she say which of us?'