Read The Black Cauldron for Free Online Page B

swallowed a wasp.”
    “If you'd stopped to think of the danger,” Taran replied, “instead of rushing off without knowing what you're doing.”
    “You're a fine one to talk, Taran of Caer Dallben,” said Eilonwy. “Besides, I don't think you're as angry as all that, not after what you said to Ellidyr. It was wonderful the way you were ready to smite him because of me. Not that you needed to. I could have taken good care of him myself. And I didn't mean you weren't kind and thoughtful. You really are. It just doesn't always occur to you. For an Assistant Pig-Keeper you do amazingly well...”
    Before Eilonwy could finish, Ellidyr gave a shout of warning. A horse and rider plunged into the grove. It was Fflewddur. Behind him galloped Doli's shaggy pony.
    Breathless, and with his yellow hair pointing in all directions, the bard flung himself from the steed and ran to Adaon.
    “Make ready to leave!” he cried. “Take the weapons. Get the pack horses moving. We're going to Caer Cadarn...” He caught sight of Eilonwy. “Great Belin! What are you doing here?”
    “I'm tired of being asked that,” Eilonwy said.
    “The cauldron!” cried Taran. “Did you seize it? Where are the others? Where is Doli?”
    “Here, where else?” snapped a voice. In another instant Doli flickered into sight astride what had seemed to be an empty saddle. He jumped heavily to the ground. “Didn't even take time to make myself visible again.” He clapped his hands to his head. “Oh, my ears!”
    “Gwydion orders us to fall back immediately,” the bard went on in great excitement. “He and Coll are with Morgant. They'll catch us up if they can. If not, we all rally at Caer Cadarn.”
    While Ellidyr and Adaon hurriedly untethered the animals, Taran and the bard packed the store of weapons. “Keep these,” Fflewddur ordered, pressing a bow and quiver of arrows into Eilonwy's hands. “And the rest of you, arm yourselves well.”
    “What happened?” Taran asked fearfully. “Did the plan fail?”
    “The plan?” Fflewddur asked. “That was perfect. Couldn't have been better. Morgant and his men rode with us to Dark Gate--- ah, that Morgant! What a warrior! Not a nerve in him. Cool as you please. You might have thought he was going to a feast.” The bard shook his spiky head. “And there we were, on the very threshold of Annuvin! Oh, you'll hear songs about that, mark my words.”
    “Stop yammering,” ordered Doli, hastening up with the agitated pack horses. “Yes, the plan was fine,” he cried angrily. “It would have gone slick as butter. There was only one thing wrong. We wasted our time and risked our necks for nothing!”
    “Will one or the other of you make sense?” Eilonwy burst out. “I don't care about songs or butter! Tell us straight out! Where is the cauldron?”
    “I don't know,” said the bard. “Nobody knows.”
    “You didn't lose it!” Eilonwy gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. “No! Oh, you pack of ninnies! Great heroes! I knew I should have gone with you from the beginning.”
    Doli looked as if he were about to explode. His ears trembled; he raised himself on tiptoe, his fists clenched. “Don't you understand? The cauldron is gone! Away! Not there!”
    “That's not possible!” Taran cried.
    “Don't tell me it isn't possible,” Doli snapped. “I was there. I know what I saw. I know what I heard. I went in first, just as Gwydion ordered. I found the Hall of Warriors. No trouble at all. No guards, in fact. Aha, think I, this will be easier than whistling. I slipped in--- I could have done it in full view in broad daylight. And why? Because there's nothing to guard! The platform was empty!”
    “Arawn has moved the cauldron,” Taran interrupted. “There is a new hiding place; he's locked it up somewhere else.”
    “Don't you think I have the wits I was born with?” Doli retorted. “That was the first thing that came into my head. So I set off again--- I'd have searched Arawn's own chamber