Lir seems familiar enough with it, because he gives an unsurprised nod. “You run from theplá.” He studies me for long seconds. A puzzle he can’t quite figure out.
The warriors with him haven’t uttered a word to this point, but now the bearded one stirs. He’s not much younger than Lir. Scarred along the shoulder from some sort of blade, a straight line of pinkish-white tracing over sinew and vein. His spear is the one pointed at my chest, and it has never wavered. There’s something hard and angry in his eyes that hasn’t faded during Gráinne’s explanation.
“Thepionósforag iompar comhlánamis death. It is clear.” He speaks fast and uses words I don’t know, but the way his muscles bunch, the way the sharp iron hovers over my heart, makes his intent clear. I still my breathing. Don’t take my eyes from him. I can’t win a fight, but I gods-damned well am not going to lay still while someone tries to end me.
“Wait.” Lir holds up a finger, still staring at me. The command in his voice seems enough to stay the warrior’s hand. “Have you hadtinneas cinn?”
I look at him blankly, then turn to Gráinne for assistance. She thinks.
“Pains in the head,” she explains, tapping her skull.
“No.”
This seems to intrigue Lir. “What about voices in the head?”
“No,” I say slowly, wondering if I’ve misunderstood, but fairly certain I haven’t.
“Hm.” Lir considers me, and the silence drags. “We are not far from Fornax. I mustcomhairliúthegarrán ionadaíat Caer Áras. Deaglán, is your name? You will come.”
My heart drops. I look at Gráinne but I can already see the answer in her eyes, in the way her shoulders slump slightly. Whatever authority Lir has, he’s completely within his rights to demand I go with him.
It’s a step up from execution, I suppose.
“Yes,” I accede quietly. “I will come, Lir.”
The statement seems to break the tension of the room. The warriors lower their spears, even if they seem no less angry; I suspect they disagree with Lir’s decision, but they will abide by it. Gráinne smiles tightly and in the background, Onchú nods, even as there’s a sniffle from Róisín and clenched fists from Tadhg.
The next few minutes pass in a morose haze as it becomes apparent that Lir has no desire to wait around, despite the sky outside only barely beginning to lighten in the east. I gather my one simple change of clothes, then turn to Lir.
“May I talk … alone?” I ask it awkwardly, gesturing to Gráinne and the family.
He eyes me, hesitates, then nods brusquely. “Be quick.” He jerks his head, and the two warriors follow him outside.
I wait until the door is shut, then give Gráinne a sad, apologetic smile. “I should have asked more. About Cian’s staff. I should have gotten rid of it. I hope I have not brought trouble.”
“No trouble. For us,” she clarifies as Onchú and the children come to join us. “And hegaveit to you.” She emphasises that with a quiet ferocity, willing me to understand how important it is. I nod.
“You go to Caer Áras. Those who killed the druid are King Rónán’s enemies. Find a way to serve him, and he will protect you.” She fusses with my shirt. “You will be safe. Even with your arm, long enough has passed that no one will be looking for you. It is an unusual injury, but not unheard of. Stay small, and you will be fine.”
I breathe out, taking solace in her assurance. Nod, then pause. Searching for the words that would have been hard, even with mastery of the language.
“I am …” How to say “in your debt”? I trail off.
“Stupid?” suggests Gráinne.
“Ugly?” pipes up Tadhg.
I narrow my eyes at them. “I owe,” I say eventually. “I owe.”
Gráinne smiles a sad smile. Onchú watches as the two children break past him, wrapping their arms around me.
“I will miss you,” says Róisín. I hug her.
“I will miss you doing our work,” says Tadhg. I hug him hard around the head until he wriggles free of my one-armed grip, grinning.
Onchú hesitates, then steps forward himself and puts a hand on my shoulder. Locks his gaze with mine. “Always room for you. Family do not owe.”
My smile tries and fails to convey the depth of my gratitude. “I will come back.” I say it to all of them. A promise. “I have been … happy.Happy.” A lump in my throat as I realise how true it is.
