d for hours stared on the sky seeking as
though in heaven for advice. But Becuma's foster-sister, Aine', came
from the Shi', and, unseen by any, she interfered with Art's play, so
that, suddenly, when he looked again on the board, his face went pale,
for he saw that the game was lost.

"I didn't move that piece," said he sternly.

"Nor did I," Becuma replied, and she called on the onlookers to confirm
that statement.

She was smiling to herself secretly, for she had seen what the mortal
eyes around could not see.

"I think the game is mine," she insisted softly.

"I think that your friends in Faery have cheated," he replied, "but the
game is yours if you are content to win it that way."

"I bind you," said Becuma, "to eat no food in Ireland until you have
found Delvcaem, the daughter of Morgan."

"Where do I look for her?" said Art in despair.

"She is in one of the islands of the sea," Becuma replied, "that is
all I will tell you," and she looked at him maliciously, joyously,
contentedly, for she thought he would never return from that journey,
and that Morgan would see to it.

CHAPTER IX

Art, as his father had done before him, set out for the Many-Coloured
Land, but it was from Inver Colpa he embarked and not from Ben Edair.

At a certain time he passed from the rough green ridges of the sea to
enchanted waters, and he roamed from island to island asking all people
how he might come to Delvcaem, the daughter of Morgan. But he got no
news from any one, until he reached an island that was fragrant with
wild apples, gay with flowers, and joyous with the song of birds and the
deep mellow drumming of the bees. In this island he was met by a lady,
Crede', the Truly Beautiful, and when they had exchanged kisses, he told
her who he was and on what errand he was bent.

"We have been expecting you," said Crede', "but alas, poor soul, it is
a hard, and a long, bad way that you must go; for there is sea and land,
danger and difficulty between you and the daughter of Morgan."

"Yet I must go there," he answered.

"There is a wild dark ocean to be crossed. There is a dense wood where
every thorn on every tree is sharp as a spear-point and is curved and
clutching. There is a deep gulf to be gone through," she said, "a place
of silence and terror, full of dumb, venomous monsters. There is an
immense oak forest--dark, dense, thorny, a place to be strayed in,
a place to be utterly bewildered and lost in. There is