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Chapter Three
Dad

I followed Nieve through the winding corridors of the west wing. Dad was in The Lord’s Chamber, the same one that Cialtie had used and where we had found Dad’s runehand.

‘Prepare yourself,’ Nieve warned, ‘he does not look good.’

My stomach churned as I opened the door. Mom, Fand and an Imp-healer were standing around a bed wearing expressions ranging from puzzlement to grief. I had to cover my mouth to hide the gasp – he looked awful. My father’s skin was ashen grey, paper-like, and his face was dotted with sores. Most of his hair had fallen out and what was left was pure white. My first thought was that he was dead already, that’s how bad he looked. I knelt down next to the bed and held his hand.

‘Dad, Dad, it’s me, Conor.’

I didn’t think he could hear me but then his eyes flickered and opened. An almost Duir smile lit his face. ‘Conor? Conor, are you all right?’ His voice was faint and raspy. ‘Deirdre said you were in trouble.’

‘I’m fine, Dad.’ I didn’t know what to say, his famous dark eyes had lost their shine. I could hardly stand it.

‘Good,’ he said, ‘I was worried about you. So how was your trip home?’

I laughed, one of those painful laughs that are half a chuckle and half crying. ‘It was awful.’

‘What happened when you got back?’

‘The police arrested me for your murder.’

This brought a huge grin to his face. ‘No!’

‘Yes,’ I laughed through tears.

Dad started to laugh too but his laughter was replaced by a spasm of coughs. He had to close his eyes for a half a minute. When he opened them he squeezed my hand and said, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

‘Me too.’ I held his hand for a while and then said, ‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘For what?’

‘I never realised until I went back, just how much you gave up for me. I don’t know how you stood it.’

‘Well, when it got really bad, I used to go to your room and watch you sleep, that gave me strength.’

I dropped my head on his chest and wept openly. He stroked my hair. ‘I have to rest now,’ he said, ‘we’ll talk later.’

Mom put her hands on my shoulders and guided me out. In the hallway we held onto each other; then she led me into an adjacent room.

A Leprechaun brought in a tray of tea. Mom thanked her and sent her away. As she handed me a cup, I asked, ‘What’s the matter with him?’

‘We’re not sure,’ she said as she poured herself a cup, ‘but we think it is his hand.’

‘His runehand? The one he reattached in the Choosing?’

‘Yes. The Land has a life force that binds us to it; your father gave that all up when he escaped to the Real World. I thought getting his hand back would restore his immortality – I was wrong, it has done just the opposite. Our best guess is that The Land is confused, it sees your father as two things, a young hand that belongs here and an older man that does not. The Land is choosing his hand.’

‘Like a heart transplant patient rejecting a donor organ?’

‘I don’t know what you mean but rejecting is a good word. Oisin’s hand is rejecting the rest of him. It is killing him.’

‘Isn’t there anything you can do?’

‘We have tried everything, to no avail, but there is one desperate measure left to us. Just before you arrived Fand and I decided it is our only hope.’

‘What?’

We are going to use Shadowmagic to encase all of Oisin in tree sap, just as I did with his hand. It will not cure him but it may give us time.’

‘Are you sure it’ll work?’

Mom took a long time before answering. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I am not.’

I stood on the ramparts of the east wall. The stones under my feet were new and whiter than the rest of the castle. This was the wall that was blown out when Cialtie’s golden circle misfired. Lorcan had done a fine job rebuilding it.

I looked out and took a deep breath, savouring the pollution-free smell of summer’s end. At a first glance I thought the forest in front of me was on fire. The oaks were incandescent with the colours of fall. Leaves the size of notepad paper had transformed themselves into reds and yellows and golds that looked as if they were lit from within, like Christmas decorations. I remembered the first time I had seen this vista when it was green, I remembered the strength and joy that it had given me. I felt the strength returning, but the joy was denied to me now.

Below I saw the top of the dolman that Fergal was buried under. ‘Oh Fergal,’ I said to myself, ‘how I could use a friend right now.’

‘I’m sorry, Conor,’ said a voice from behind me – it was Araf. ‘I’m sorry about your father and I’m sorry I was so short with you before. It wasn’t my place to be the first to tell you and I’m not very good at hiding my emotions.’

‘You surprise me, Araf, I didn’t know you had any emotions,’ I chided, trying to lighten the mood.

‘I have them, Conor, although right now I wish I did not.’

I put my arm over his shoulder and together we looked down at Fergal’s grave. ‘I still miss him terribly,’ he said. ‘He was truly my brother – I never had the chance to tell him that.’

‘He knew, my friend, he knew.’

A guard showed up and said my mother wanted to see me in The Lord’s Chamber. Araf led me down to Dad’s room but he didn’t come in. When we got to the door he didn’t say anything, he simply nodded. I think he must have used up all of his allotted words for the day. Mom, Nieve, Fand and the Imp-healer were standing around Dad’s bed; a Shadowfire flickered on a table. I didn’t think it was possible but he looked worse than he did only a couple of hours earlier.

‘We are almost ready,’ Mom said. ‘He wants to speak to you.’

I knelt down next to him; he turned to me and I could see the effort it took. ‘Conor,’ he whispered, ‘you must take the Choosing. The Land needs a Lord of Duir.’

‘You’re the Lord of Duir, Pop.’

‘Promise me.’

‘I promise.’

He straightened his head and took a deep breath. ‘Deirdre,’ he said, trying to raise his voice above a whisper, ‘I’m ready.’

Mom placed a small gold disc on Dad’s tongue. He received it like a Catholic at church, then Mom and Fand each picked up a waxy fist-sized ball of amber sap. They cupped their hands and held it over the Shadowfire; the sap melted leaving them both holding a pool of glowing amber, as if they had scooped water from a stream. Dad’s sheets were removed and I gasped to see that the sores on his face covered his entire body. The only part of him that looked healthy was his runehand. Its heath and vitality only highlighted just how deathly the rest of him looked.

Mom and Fand stood at the foot of the bed incanting in Ogham – the oldest of tongues. As they chanted they let the sap drip onto Dad’s toes. It covered his feet, then his ankles and then his legs, like it had a mind of its own. I watched in horror as the amber travelled up his chest. When it reached his neck he closed his eyes, took one last gasp of breath and was completely engulfed.

Mom carried away the remaining sap and let it drip into a bowl. It left no residue on her hands. Then she slowly examined the Shadowmagic shell. When she rolled Dad onto his side to have a look at his back, it shocked me to see him pop up like a marble statue. Fand covered him with a sheet as Mom placed her hands on both sides of his head. After a few minutes she let him go and wiped her nose on her forearm; she looked drained.

‘Did it work?’ I asked.

‘We will know tomorrow,’ she said.

I wanted to keep watch over Dad all night but Mom wouldn’t let me. Since she missed my rebellious teenage years, I toyed with the idea of making this my first defiant stand against her, but she was right, I was exhausted.

She led me to a room two doors along. ‘This is The Prince’s Chamber,’ she said, ‘it once belonged to your father. It is your room now.’

It was huge. A massive bay window and an equally large four-poster bed were draped in purple fabric. When I get some time, I thought to myself, I’m going to have to do some redecorating. The walls were panelled in hand-carved oak depicting all of the major trees of The Land. I noticed one of the panels was full of chips and holes.

Mom followed my gaze. ‘Oisin told me that is where he used to practise throwing Dahy’s knives. He got in trouble for that.’

‘I promise I won’t throw any knives in here, Mom,’ I said, but I knew I would.

She wrapped her arms around me. ‘I have missed you. I wrote you every day.’

‘Me too. How did you finally get the slates to work?’

‘It was Samhain.’

‘Samhain, I remember that word,’ I said. ‘When Dad wouldn’t let me go out trick-or-treating at Halloween he used to say, “There is no way I am going to let you wander around alone during Samhain.” What does that have to do with the emain slates?’

‘Samhain is when The Land and the Real World are closest. The slate must have started to work simply because it was in range.’

‘Well, I’m glad it did. I’m here now, Mom, and I’m not going anywhere.’

She squeezed me tighter then kissed me on the cheek. ‘Get some rest.’

‘You too, you look like you need it.’

‘I will try,’ she said and left me alone in my new bedroom.

A chambermaid came in and placed a pitcher of water next to a bowl on the dresser. When she turned I recognised her. It was the Leprechaun who helped Dad and me sneak into Cialtie’s room. ‘Aein!’ I said, calling her by name.

I surprised her when I hugged her but then she returned it, her arms only making it to my sides.

‘How is Lord Oisin?’

‘Not good.’

‘If he—’ She stopped and placed her hand over her mouth as if to push back the words.

‘What is it, Aein? You can say anything to me.’

‘If … If Lord Oisin should die …’ she said and made a little gesture like she was warding off evil spirits, ‘will Cialtie come back?’

‘Over my dead body.’

Her worried eyes went steely. ‘Mine too.’ We shared a determined smile. ‘If you need anything, you pull that cord.’

‘Thank you, Aein.’

‘Welcome home, Young Prince.’

My head hit the pillow like I had been hit with Araf’s banta stick. In that twilight moment between wakefulness and sleep I felt the impatience of a dream desperate to begin, like a troupe of actors waiting for the opening curtain. ‘Here we go!’ I mumbled aloud.

I was a bit disappointed with my first dream back. Deep down I had hoped that I would be able to have a conversation with my father, but my dream was a collage of fleeting images. Trees, salmon, horses, knives, castles, bears, mermaids, archers and a myriad of other images zoomed in and out of my sleep. I only had one vision that stayed with me. It was of a young girl I didn’t recognise; she was crying, and an older woman that I somehow knew was her grandmother was comforting her.

I had slept later than I meant to. I dressed quickly and jogged to my father’s room. Fand was sitting at his feet, cross-legged with her hands folded in her lap, Buddha-like. She turned to me when I entered. ‘There is no change, Conor. We will know more after nightfall.’ I leaned over and kissed Dad on the forehead; it was like kissing a cue ball, cold and hard. ‘Hang in there, Pop,’ I whispered.

‘Go get something to eat,’ Fand said, ‘we will find you if there is any change.’

I found the breakfast room all by myself (well, after getting lost for a half an hour). Everywhere I went people pointed at me and whispered to their companions, or, even worse, bowed. No one dared to sit with me at breakfast but that didn’t stop them from staring at me. I’m not sure if it was ’cause I was their prince or ’cause the food was so awesome that I moaned while I ate.

A guard approached as I was finishing. I was surprised to see he was a Banshee. I was glad that Dad had chosen not to banish all of the guards that worked for Cialtie.

‘Prince Conor,’ the guard said, bowing. He was young and I could see he was nervous. I smiled at him. ‘The prisoner is getting – difficult.’

‘Prisoner? What prisoner?’

‘The one who shouts with the strange tongue.’

‘Oh my gods,’ I said, ‘Detective Fallon, I forgot all about him. You’d better take me to him.’

Chapter Four
Prisoner Fallon

I heard him before I even rounded the corner. When I reached the door two guards, a Banshee and an Imp, snapped to attention.

‘Take it easy, guys,’ I said. They relaxed but not much.

I jumped when I heard the volume of the shouts on the other side of the door.

‘DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?’ Brendan bellowed with a voice that was going hoarse. ‘YOU ARE ALL IN BIG TROUBLE! DO YOU HEAR ME?’

I motioned for the door to be opened. The Banshee reached for the handle and the Imp stepped in front of me gripping his banta stick.

‘Hold on,’ I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. ‘That won’t be necessary.’

‘Are you sure you want to go in there alone?’ the Imp asked.

‘I’m sure.’ Just then a thunderous crash shook the door from the inside. ‘Well, maybe you could lend me your stick.’

The Imp stared at me with an It’s your funeral look and handed me his banta stick. ‘Brendan,’ I called through the door, ‘I’m coming in, don’t attack me. OK?’

There was no answer so I braced myself and stuck my nose around the jamb. Detective Fallon was standing in the middle of the room. His shirt tail was half out, his hair stuck out at a wacky forty-five-degree angle. He was panting and covered with sweat. His eyes weren’t as crazy as the last time I saw him, but I wasn’t about to shake his hand. I closed the door behind me. ‘I see you have been busy turning our furniture into toothpicks.’

‘Kidnapping is a very serious crime.’

‘You can add it to the murder charge if you like, but I didn’t do either of them.’

‘Where am I?’ he said, taking a menacing step towards me.

‘Easy, fella,’ I said, positioning my stick, ‘I don’t want to hit you with one of these a third time.’

‘A third time?’

‘Yes, I hit you once in the neck at the police station and once in the head upstairs.’

‘That was you?’ he said, rubbing the side of his head where I am sure it hurt.

‘Yeah, sorry, I got a little carried away.’

‘I don’t remember much about the second time,’ he said calming down a bit, ‘I was …’

‘Freaked out,’ I finished for him. ‘Don’t worry about it, The Land can do that to you – I know. Hey, let’s sit down and talk about this nicely.’ I looked around the room but there wasn’t any place to sit. Not one piece of furniture was any bigger than my forearm. Keeping one eye on Brendan I backed up to the door and opened it a crack. ‘Could you get us a couple of chairs?’ I glanced back at the devastation of the room. ‘Cheap ones.’

Brendan glared at me while I kicked pieces of smashed furnishings into the corner. A guard came in carrying two simple chairs. ‘Are these cheap enough for you, Your Highness?’

‘They’ll be fine,’ I said, indicating with a tilt of my head for him to leave.

Brendan examined his chair before he sat in it. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t trust me or if he was studying it to see how easy it would be to smash. ‘What language are you are speaking?’

‘Ancient Gaelic. It’s the lingo around here.’

‘And where is here?’

‘You’re in The Land, Brendan. I wasn’t lying.’

‘You’re telling me that I’m in that Never-Never Land you babbled on about?’

‘Tir na Nog actually, but now that I think about it, the concept is the same.’

‘And who are you – Tinkerbell?’

‘Well, I would prefer to think of myself as more of a Peter-like person but we are getting off the subject. You’re here now. I don’t know how you got here.’

‘The last thing I clearly remember is grabbing onto a horse’s tail.’

‘Ah,’ I said. ‘That explains it. You were pulled through when my mother opened a door to another world, this world, The Land.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I don’t blame you, it even sounds crazy to me and I’ve done it a couple of times before, but that’s the truth of it. It would be easier if you accepted it.’

Brendan rubbed his head in the place where I had clocked him.

‘Head hurting?’

He nodded.

‘Have you eaten?’

In response he pointed to his left. A tray lay at the foot of a wall surrounded by broken crockery. Above it dripped the remains of a breakfast.

‘I’ll take that as a no then.’

I stood and opened the door a crack and spoke to the guards. ‘Could you get me a couple of apples and some willow tea?’

‘OK,’ Brendan said when I sat down again, ‘for the sake of argument, let’s say I believe you. When are you going to let me go?’

‘I’ll talk to my mother about sending you back as soon as things calm down around here.’

‘I want to see her now!’

A knock came at the door. I was glad for the excuse to stand up and put a bit of space between us. He was getting agitated again. The guard handed me a tray with two apples, a teapot and a couple of mugs. I placed it on the floor between us and offered Brendan an apple. He stared at it but he didn’t take it.

‘I’m not trying to poison you, Brendan. Look.’ I took a bite out of the apple. It was gorgeous, as good, if not better than I remembered. ‘You have got to try this,’ I garbled as I wiped juice off my chin. ‘It will change your whole outlook.’

Brendan took the already bitten apple from my hand, stared at it for a moment then took a bite. The look on his face made me laugh and almost spit out the chewed apple bits in my mouth. Now I know how I looked like the first time I ate an apple in The Land.

I watched as Brendan, while making the mandatory moans of delight, demolished the piece of fruit. When he finished he threw the core over his shoulder and then slapped himself in the face – hard.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘I’m waking myself up. I get it now. This is a dream.’

‘A dream?’

‘Of course. Why didn’t I see it before? Two beautiful young women single-handedly demolish a police station, I get kidnapped by extras in a King Arthur movie and I just had an apple that tasted like a five-course meal at the Ritz; of course it’s a dream.’ He slapped himself again.

‘OK, Brendan, if that’s what makes you happy then, fine, you believe it. Now, are you going to behave in this dream?’

‘Sure, why not? I might as well enjoy myself before I wake up. The shame of it is that I probably won’t remember it. I never remember my dreams.’ He stood up and stretched and actually looked like he was having fun. ‘Can I have the other apple?’

‘Sure. Look, if you promise not to turn any furniture into kindling and generally settle down I’ll get you a bath and a new room.’

‘And more apples?’

‘And more apples. Just behave. Oh, and try that willow tea, I think you’ll enjoy that too.’

I instructed the guards to get Brendan a bath and a change of clothes and a new room. I told them he shouldn’t give them any more trouble but they should keep a close eye on him. They looked sceptical but agreed.

I went back to Dad’s room and kept vigil with Mom, Nieve, Fand and the Imp-healer, who I learned was named Bree. Minutes felt like hours, and as every one crawled by I wanted to ask how he was doing, but I knew they didn’t know, so I didn’t ask. I hate waiting, I always have, but that was the worst. I felt so helpless. Fand recited a healing mantra in Ogham and I asked her to teach it to me. I could feel the healing magic in the words but wondered if it was getting through Dad’s amber shell. As the afternoon moved on, we all five chanted it together.

The curtains were drawn so I couldn’t tell if night had fallen but Mom and Fand both looked up at each other at the same time, as if they were alerted by some soundless alarm.

Fand removed Dad’s sheet as Mom placed a small dollop of amber sap in her palm and held it over the Shadowfire that was burning on a table at the foot of the bed. She dripped the molten sap onto Dad’s foot. It was a darker shade of amber than his shell and I watched as it passed through the shell like water in a bowl of oil. The darker sap began to entwine and elongate, wrapping around the leg like a serpent and then continued to thin, until it wrapped his entire body with a fine line just under the surface of his glass-like sarcophagus. Fand placed her hands on either side of Dad’s head and incanted in Ogham. The dark latticework spiralled and pulsed darker. Mom held Dad by his legs and swung them to the left so his right foot hung out of the bed. Even though I had seen it before, it shocked me to see Dad’s whole body move as if he were made of marble. Fand released Dad’s head and Mom cupped her hands under the foot. The dark spiral retraced its path and when Mom pulled her hands back, in her palm was the dark sap.

Mom held the sap over the Shadowfire and Fand, on the other side of the table, placed her hands under hers. Together they chanted words that sounded so strange I wondered how their tongues could make them. The sap dripped through their fingers and onto the Shadowfire. An image formed as they withdrew and as the vision cleared I saw it was my father, standing before me, upright, naked. His body was whole except for his right hand – it was in its proper place but detached from him by a few inches. The two Shadowwitches placed their hands into the vision and caressed Dad’s shadow-form. Mom had her back to me but I could see Fand’s face. Tears formed in her eyes – I didn’t know what that meant. A cry escaped from Mom’s throat and the two women reached for each other, breaking the vision, and embraced, both openly weeping.

‘What?’ I said, not knowing if I should speak but I couldn’t take it any longer.

Mom turned and wiped the tears from her eyes but kept her hands over her mouth as she tried to compose herself. Finally she dropped her hands and crossed them on her chest. ‘It worked,’ she said.

It wasn’t until it was all over that Mom allowed her fatigue and strain to show. Nieve and I had to help her walk to her chamber where she permitted herself to truly rest for the first time in a long while. I went back to check on Dad. Fand was still there, clearing up.

‘Does he dream?’

‘I do not know,’ she replied.

‘What happens now?’

‘Now we have time to find a cure.’

‘How long can he stay like this?’

Her answer should have comforted me but instead it sent a chill down my spine. ‘For ever,’ she said.

I checked on Dad before I went down to breakfast. The sound of Fand saying ‘For ever’ echoed in my brain and I wondered if this was the way I would start my day for the rest of my life. I was shocked by a transformed Brendan when I arrived at the food hall. He was smiling, cleaned up and wearing a leather shirt and trousers that surprisingly suited him. He was trying to communicate with an attractive red-headed woman who, when I arrived, stood, bowed and quickly departed.

‘Aw, you scared her away,’ Brendan said. ‘I was doing quite well there. I already found out her name was Faggy Two.’

When he said that, I started to laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’

I then laughed so hard I had to sit down and cover my face until I could get some semblance of composure. It wasn’t just what he had said that made me laugh, it was the tension of the last couple of days bubbling to the surface. ‘I’m sorry, Brendan,’ I said, wiping my eyes, ‘I don’t think you were doing as well as you thought, fágfaidh tú is Gaelic for Go away.’

‘Oh.’

‘And what are you doing trying to pick up women? You’re a married man.’

‘First of all, this is my dream, remember? A man can’t get into trouble for having an affair when he’s asleep, and secondly, I’m not a married man.’

‘You told me you had a wife and a daughter.’

‘No, you said I have a wife and a daughter. I only said I have a daughter.’ His mood dropped a bit. ‘I’m a widower.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘Me too. Hey, what do you think of my new threads?’ he asked quickly, obviously trying to change the subject.

‘You look like a native,’ I said and meant it. ‘You’re even growing a beard I see.’

‘No, Frick wouldn’t let me have a razor.’

‘Frick?’

Brendan pointed to the Imp and the Banshee guards that I had assigned to keep an eye on him. ‘I call them Frick and Frack.’

I waved to the guards who were standing by the entrance of the room; they gave me an official nod. I could tell this was not their favourite detail. ‘Which one is Frick?’

‘I don’t know. I keep getting them mixed up.’

Breakfast arrived and Brendan ate like there was no tomorrow. Except for the chopping and moans neither of us spoke until our plates were clean. When we had finished Brendan said, ‘The food in this dream is just fantastic, half the time I can’t wait to wake up but for the other half I hope it will continue until the next meal.’

‘Brendan, you have to stop thinking like that. I know it makes you feel better, but this is real.’

Nieve entered the dining hall. Brendan jumped to his feet and backed off. She sat down across from me and said, ‘How is our guest?’

Warily, Brendan sat next to me, as if for protection, and pointed to Nieve. ‘That’s the witch that trashed my police station!’

‘What did he say?’ Nieve asked.

‘Oh, he said good morning, it’s nice to see you again,’ I lied.

Nieve gave me a sceptical look.

‘This is my dream and I don’t want her in it!’ he shouted, pointing his finger inches from her face.

‘Careful, Brendan,’ I warned.

‘What is he saying?’ Nieve asked again, but then said, ‘Oh, this is ridiculous. Tell him to place his head on the table.’

It took a lot of convincing, but I finally got Brendan to place the side of his face flat down on the table. Nieve took a small piece of gold out of her satchel and rubbed it between her hands while incanting.

Brendan looked up with a wild panicky expression in his uppermost eye. ‘Is this going to hurt?’

‘He wants to know if this is going to hurt,’ I translated.

‘Yes, I suspect it will,’ Nieve said calmly.

‘No,’ I told Brendan, ‘you’ll be fine.’

Nieve opened her palms and dripped the molten gold into Brendan’s ear. He shot up, grabbed his ear, overturning the bench he was sitting on, and danced around the room howling in pain. I was glad no one other than me spoke English. The curse words coming out of his mouth would have made a prison inmate blush. He picked up a silver tray, sending half a dozen wine glasses crashing to the floor, and tried to use it as a mirror to view his ear. At his insistence I inspected the lughole and assured him that it looked OK – which it did – and finally got him sitting down again.

‘What the hell did she do to me?’

‘Now stick out your tongue,’ Nieve demanded.

‘No way, lady! I’m not letting you near me ever again.’

I looked at Nieve and she smiled at me. ‘Brendan,’ I said in Gaelic, ‘can you understand me?’

‘Of course I can understand you. You keep that crazy woman away from me.’

‘Brendan, I’m talking to you in ancient Gaelic. Are you sure you can understand me?’

‘Huh?’

‘It seems that Nieve has given you a two-second lesson in the common tongue. You just learned a new language.’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘Impossible things happen here every day.’

‘Now, Brendan,’ Nieve said, ‘stick out your tongue and I will complete the process, then we will no longer need to speak through Conor. Personally I don’t trust him as a reliable interpreter.’

Brendan clenched his mouth shut and shook his head no, like a baby that won’t eat his dinner. It took even more of an effort to convince him the second time. I tried everything, including agreeing with him that it didn’t matter ’cause it was all really a dream. It wasn’t until I threatened to never feed him again that he gave in.

‘Come on,’ I said, ‘stop being such a baby.’

‘It hurt, damn it. You do it.’

I rolled my eyes at him but to be honest it wasn’t something I wanted to experience.

‘Ask her if it will hurt as much as the last time – ask her exactly that.’

I translated and Nieve said, ‘No.’

Brendan watched with crossed eyes as the molten gold hit his tongue. He not only flipped over the chair but the table as well. He hopped around the dining hall screaming bloody murder and this time everyone in the room heard exactly what he was saying. Most of them left in order to get some distance between them and the madman.

‘God almighty!’ Brendan screamed from behind his hand in perfect Gaelic. ‘You said it wouldn’t hurt as much!’

‘No,’ Nieve replied in her usual calm manner. ‘You asked if it would hurt as much as the last time and I said, no. I knew it would hurt more.’

Nieve gave me a rueful smile; I was starting to realise she had a wickedly subversive sense of humour.

‘Now that I can converse with you,’ Nieve said, ‘I realise I do not want to. If you will excuse me.’

Nieve left. I asked a servant to bring Brendan a glass of Gerard’s finest wine. It was a bit early but I figured he would appreciate it. He did. After one sip he downed the glass in one.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked.

‘To be honest, Conor, I’m not sure. This dream is way too real for my liking.’

‘I keep telling you – it’s not a dream.’

‘All right then, as much as I don’t relish meeting another member of your family, how about that introduction to your father you promised me.’

‘I don’t think I ever promised you that.’

‘As good as – well?’

‘OK,’ I said, ‘come with me.’