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Prince of Hazel and Oak
John Lenahan

Dedication

For the oh so achingly beautiful Nadene

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Detective Fallon

Chapter Two

Jail Break

Chapter Three

Dad

Chapter Four

Prisoner Fallon

Chapter Five

Fand

Chapter Six

Mom

Chapter Seven

The Armoury

Chapter Eight

Spideog

Chapter Nine

Mother Oak

Chapter Ten

The Athrú

Chapter Eleven

Essa

Chapter Twelve

The Turlow

Chapter Thirteen

The Grey Ones

Chapter Fourteen

The Yew House

Chapter Fifteen

Broken Bow

Chapter Sixteen

The Green Knife

Chapter Seventeen

Pop-head

Chapter Eighteen

The Pinelands

Chapter Nineteen

Hawathiee

Chapter Twenty

Tuan

Chapter Twenty-One

Barush

Chapter Twenty-Two

Moran

Chapter Twenty-Three

Re-Pookalation

Chapter Twenty-Four

Yogi Bear

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Alderlands

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dell and What’s-His-Name

Chapter Twenty-Seven

King Bwika

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fearn Peninsula

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Fire Dancing

Chapter Thirty

Red

Chapter Thirty-One

The Digs

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Invisible Man

Chapter Thirty-Three

Graysea

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Mertain King

Chapter Thirty-Five

The Stream

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ona’s Book

Chapter Thirty-Seven

War

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ribbons of Gold

Chapter Thirty-Nine

There Will Be Blood

Chapter Forty

The Isles

Chapter Forty-One

The Green Dragon

Chapter Forty-Two

Friends and Enemies

Chapter Forty-Three

Get a Room

Acknowledgements

Other Books by John Lenahan

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter One
Detective Fallon

Detective Fallon seemed to have given up on shouting.

‘I’ve seen people get off by claiming insanity,’ he said, sitting back in his chair. ‘Conor, you ain’t doing it right.’

‘So you don’t think I’m crazy then?’ I asked.

‘Oh, I think you’re plenty crazy but not insane.’

‘Aren’t they synonyms?’

‘Not in my thesaurus. If you want to get off by reason of insanity you have to be a nutcase all the time, you know, with the drooling and the swatting at imaginary bats. You, on the other hand, kill your father and then act completely normal – except for claiming that Daddy was attacked by Imps and Pixies from Faerieland.’

‘Tir na Nog,’ I corrected.

‘Sorry, from Tir na Nog.’

‘And there are no Pixies in Tir na Nog.’

‘Look, O’Neil’ – Detective Fallon leaned in and I could see he was inches away from returning to shouting mode – ‘you’ve been arrested for murder. They’ve got a death penalty in this state.’

‘I didn’t kill my father – honest. If I killed him where’s the body? If there is no body there can’t be a murder.’

‘You’ve been watching too much TV, O’Neil. You can fry without a body – trust me.’

‘So what do you suggest I do?’

Fallon softened back into his good-cop mode. ‘Tell the truth.’

‘Oh that. I was kinda hoping you had a better suggestion.’

The truth – telling the truth is how I had gotten into this mess in the first place. As soon as I returned to what the Tir na Nogians call ‘the Real World’, all of the Real World problems crashed in on me like a tidal wave. I’ve never been very good at lying but what else could I do? Dad’s boss had reported him missing and the cops were waiting for me when I returned. They had lots of questions after finding the front door wide open and the living room trashed. I made up a lame excuse about a boisterous party and told them that Dad was on a spontaneous trip with old fishing buddies. The cops accepted that explanation, but as I later found out, they didn’t believe it.

Sally was really mad at me. She went on and on about how worried she had been and how thoughtless I was for not getting in touch. The sad thing was I didn’t care – not only about Sally but about pretty much everything. What’s that old saying? Home is where the heart is. Well, I had left my heart back in The Land.

Even though I missed the actual ceremony, apparently I had graduated high school. I forced myself to show up for enrolment at the University of Scranton but after just one day I knew I couldn’t face it. What could a college professor teach me? What did they really know?

All food tasted like cardboard and, even worse, when I slept – I didn’t dream. I remembered once telling Fergal that some of the Real World was like The Land but covered in a grey film. Now all of it seemed like that.

And then there was Essa. I knew it was unfair but I couldn’t help comparing her with Sally – and Sally didn’t match up – how could she? It didn’t take a soothsayer to notice my thoughts were elsewhere. Sally finally had enough. She said I had changed, and she was right – we broke up.

I suppose I should have gotten a job but that seemed even more trivial than university, so I spent my time staring at the walls. I couldn’t even stomach watching television.

The trouble really started when the electric company turned off the power. I hadn’t opened any mail, let alone paid bills, but darkness forced me to do something about it. I had the PIN numbers to Dad’s bank accounts (well, he didn’t need money any more, with him living on top of a gold mine). I can remember standing in front of the cash machine as Dad’s words swirled around in my head, ‘There is nothing back there for you.’ I hated it when he was right. I punched the buttons and withdrew a wad of cash. I didn’t think I could feel any lower – I was wrong.

The police showed up at the house that evening with a search warrant. They had been monitoring Dad’s bank accounts, waiting for me to do exactly what I did. Forensic specialists in plastic jumpsuits took samples of the carpet, confiscated my clothes and all of the weird weapons in the house. When they finished, a policeman told me not to leave town, like he was in some old TV cops show.

Word of the police raid spread through the neighbourhood like wildfire. The authorities, it seems, weren’t the only ones who thought I had committed patricide. I didn’t know what to do. Sally showed up as I was packing in preparation for making a run for it. I decided to tell her the truth. I sat her down and told her everything (playing down the Essa stuff) and amazingly she took it in her stride. She told me that she believed me and wished me luck. Two minutes after leaving the house, she called the cops and told them I was crazy. The only crazy thing I had done was to come back for her.

A uniformed officer and a badge-brandishing Detective Fallon were standing on my front porch when I opened the door with a bag over my shoulder. It was Halloween. The first thing I said to Detective Fallon was, ‘Don’t you have a policeman’s costume?’ The first thing he said to me was, ‘Conor O’Neil, I have a warrant for your arrest.’

‘Here’s how I see it, Conor,’ Detective Fallon said as he paced around the interrogation room. ‘Your father – the mad one-handed ancient language professor – was a strange man. I’m not saying that to make you angry, but I’ve done some research and you have to admit he was, at least, unusual.’

‘You won’t get any arguments from me on that one,’ I said. ‘Pop was the weirdest guy in town.’

‘I also heard that he used to make you sword-fight with him just to get your spending money.’

‘Strange but true.’

‘So one day you just had enough, in the heat of one of your fencing practices—’

‘Broadswords,’ I interrupted, ‘Dad hates fencing.’

‘OK, in the heat of one of your broadsword bouts you flipped out and accidentally killed him – then you panicked and buried the body.’

I laughed, ‘You don’t know how many times I came close to doing just that, but no, that’s not what happened.’

‘Conor, we found your father’s blood on the carpet.’

‘He was injured when we were attacked. I didn’t do it.’

‘And we found traces of blood in a splatter pattern on a leather shirt.’

‘That’s not Dad’s blood.’

‘The pathologist disagrees. She said the shirt and the carpet had one of the most unusual DNA patterns that she had ever seen.’

‘That’s ’cause the blood on the shirt came from one of his relatives.’

‘I thought your father was an orphan?’

‘So did I!’ I said, throwing my hands in the air. ‘Look, I’ve explained all of this. Haven’t you been listening?’

Fallon sat down and sighed, ‘To be honest with you, no I haven’t. As soon as you start going on about hobgoblins and dragons I just glaze over. I figured if I let you ramble on with this cock and bull story you would get it out of your system and we could get down to the facts.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you, Detective Fallon …’

‘Call me Brendan.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you, Detective Fallon,’ I repeated, ‘but those are the facts.’

‘OK, Conor, I’ll humour you. Tell me this thing from the top and I promise I’ll pay attention.’

So I told him the truth. What else could I do? I knew it wasn’t going to help but lying wasn’t working either. I told him the whole tale about how Dad and I were abducted and taken to The Land of Eternal Youth – Tir na Nog – where I found out that Dad was the heir to the throne. Unfortunately, because of an ancient prediction saying that ‘The son of the one-handed prince would be the ruin of all The Land,’ everybody wanted me dead, especially the unlawful king – Dad’s nasty piece of work brother, Cialtie. With the help of a mother I never knew I had, we escaped Cialtie’s dungeon and hooked up with an army that was preparing to forcefully oust my slimy uncle. They had scary information suggesting that Uncle Cialtie had hidden a magical bomb that was threatening to destroy everything. Dad and I and a couple of others snuck into the castle before the attack and disarmed the bomb. Cialtie was dethroned but he got away.

‘So,’ Fallon said with a quizzical look on his face, ‘you saved the world?’

‘I had help.’

‘And when in all of this did you cut your uncle’s hand off?’

‘Just after Dad reattached his.’

‘I take it all back, Conor, you are insane after all.’

After listening to myself I wondered if he was right. It wasn’t the first time, since my return, that I had grappled with my sanity. The only thing that had kept me from going over the edge was the stuff I had brought back with me: my clothes, Fergal’s Banshee blade and Mom’s present. Many a night I sat and just touched them, wishing they could somehow transport me to The Land. But they weren’t with me now, and at that moment I wondered if I had imagined them, too.

I think I would have lost it right then and there if Fallon hadn’t unknowingly thrown me a lifeline. He reached into an evidence folder and placed in front of me a paperback book-sized sheet of gold in a wooden frame. ‘What is this?’ he asked.

I picked it up. ‘It’s called an emain slate,’ I said, feeling my throat tighten. ‘My mother gave it to me.’

‘It’s solid gold.’

‘I know.’

‘We found faint writing on it. What’s it for?’

‘Anything written on this slate appears on its twin.’ I picked up a pen from the table and clicked the ball point back into the chamber, with the blunt end I wrote the contents of my heart. I wrote, ‘HELP!’

‘And you are saying your mother has the other one in this land of yours.’

‘Yes.’

‘So how is she?’

My anger erupted. How dare he be so flippant about this! If I had had a banta stick I would have clocked him in the head for that. But anger gave way to understanding. Firstly, he was trying to get me mad and I wasn’t going to play his game, and secondly, he didn’t take this seriously, he didn’t understand how deep his quip cut.

After spending one day back in the Real World and waking from a dreamless sleep, I realised how much of a mistake returning had been. I had found a mother – my mother – something I had wished for with all of my heart, for all of my life, and as soon as I found her – I left her. How stupid is that? I wrote her every day for a month and spent countless hours wiping the tears out of my eyes just so I could see that the emain slate gave me no reply.

I looked Fallon in the eyes and admitted, ‘It doesn’t work here.’

‘Are you sure? Maybe your mother sent you little notes on this thing and told you to kill your father?’

‘No. I told you it doesn’t work!’

‘Look, Conor, I’m just trying to help you. The story about the Leprechauns didn’t convince me that you were insane, but getting letters from an imaginary mother just might save you from the chop.’

I thought about that. Maybe he was right, maybe he was my friend and this was good advice. I looked into his kind countenance and almost bought it, but then his eyes gave away the truth.

‘You’re not trying to help me,’ I said. ‘I know what you are doing. You are trying to get me to say I did it, so you can get a tick in your little score sheet and go home to your wife and kids and tell them that, “Daddy got a bad guy today”, but I am not going to oblige. I did not kill my father!’ I screamed. ‘I love him and I miss him and I … I hate myself …’ I broke down and wept.

‘Why do you hate yourself, Conor?’ Fallon said in a calm voice, like a psychiatrist getting to the crux of a problem. ‘You hate yourself because you loved him and you hurt him?’

I picked my head up off my damp arms and looked at him through the blur of my tears. ‘No,’ I said, ‘I hate myself for being so stupid. I hate myself – for leaving him.’

Fallon picked up his notepad and stood up. ‘Let’s take a break,’ he said. ‘Maybe you should just sit and think for a while.’ I could tell he was disappointed. I’m sure he thought I was about to confess. He unlocked the door, but before he went through he stopped and said, ‘Just one thing.’

I looked at him confused.

‘I don’t have kids. I just got one – a girl. And I promise I won’t tell her you’re a bad guy. You’re not a bad guy, Conor, you’re troubled and in trouble – but you’re not a bad guy.’

That was it. I had hit rock bottom. I dropped my head onto the emain slate and closed my eyes not caring if I slept or not. Sleeping brought me no relief; I couldn’t even escape into a dream.

I felt the message before I saw it. My cheek was resting on the emain slate and a tickling sensation stirred me enough to lift my head and take a look. There underneath my cry for help was a sentence, ‘Are you in trouble?’

‘Yes!’ I screamed. I don’t think I had ever been happier in my life. Like a bawling child lost in a shopping mall, I was found, and my mother was going to clutch me to her breast and wipe away my tears. I reached for the pen and realised that Fallon had taken it with him. I frantically searched around the room trying to find something I could etch a reply with but the only thing in the room was me, two chairs and a table. I tried to use my fingernails but I had bitten them down to nothing. I hammered on the door and shouted. After what seemed like ages it opened. Standing there was Detective Fallon and a uniformed cop holding a club.

‘Gimme your pen!’ I shouted as I jumped up and down.

‘Back off, Conor,’ he demanded.

‘OK, OK,’ I said, putting my hands up and doing as I was told, ‘just give me a pen.’

The two policemen cautiously entered the room. ‘Why do you want a pen?’ Fallon asked.

‘I just do! Give me your damn pen!’

‘I’m not going to give you my pen,’ the detective said in pacifying tones, ‘until you tell me what you want it for.’

‘OK, I did it. I want to confess. Give me your notepad and pen and I’ll write a confession.’

‘What did you do?’

‘What you said I did. Give me your pen and I’ll write it all down for you – everything.’

The two policemen looked at each other in amazement. Fallon gave me a sceptical look but he offered out his notepad and pen. I snatched the ballpoint, ran over to the table and turned the slate around to write on it. Fallon grabbed the pen back before I could etch a mark and tried to read the Gaelic sentence aloud. ‘Did you write this?’ he said.

‘Yes, yes I did. See I’m crazy. I’m writing letters to myself in made-up languages. Here I’ll show you.’ I reached for the slate but he pulled it out of my reach.

We stared at each other, his eyes narrowed with an effort to figure out what was going on. I gazed back wide-eyed and pleading. ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Trust me, this is important.’

He handed me the slate and I wrote on it, ‘YES!!!’

I dropped the slate on the table and stared at it. So did Fallon. Just when I thought my eyes were going to burn a hole in the gold surface, letters appeared one by one. ‘I WILL BE RIGHT THERE,’ it said.

Fallon’s eyes shot up to look at me. They were a lot wider than before. ‘What just happened here?’

‘I got a magic email.’

‘What … what does it say?’

‘It says, “I will be right there.”’

‘And what does that mean?’

‘It means – my mom’s gonna bail me out.’

Chapter Two
Jail Break

‘Conor,’ Detective Fallon said, ‘no one is going to bail you out.’

It was just the two of us again. I had finally calmed down enough for him to dismiss the guard. ‘You saw what was written on the slate.’

‘I did. How did you do that, some sort of conjuring trick?’

That made me laugh. ‘Not a conjuring trick, it’s a magic trick – real magic.’

Fallon picked up the emain slate and turned it in his hands. ‘So what, is there some sort of electric gadget in here?’

‘Look at it. It’s just a sheet of gold. Come on, you’re a detective. What did Sherlock Holmes say? “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” I’ve been telling you the truth all along. My father is fine and my mother is coming to take me to him.’

‘So you imagine she is going to show up and you and she are just going to walk out of here.’

‘Ride out of here,’ I corrected, ‘she’ll be on a horse.’

‘OK, that’s it,’ Fallon said, slapping his palms on the table, ‘you win, I’ll get you the psychologist.’

He stood to leave but I grabbed his wrist. He instinctively balled his other hand into a fist but then relaxed when he saw I wasn’t going to attack him – I had something important to say.

‘When she comes, Brendan, don’t fight her. She is … well, she’s not a normal mom.’

Fallon threw off my grip and said, ‘Bah!’ Just then there was a knock at the door. A young officer poked his head in looking excited. ‘What?’ Fallon barked.

‘There are two women outside on horses,’ the officer stuttered. ‘You have to see them, they’re gorgeous. They want to see the prisoner.’

Fallon whipped his head around and stared at me, the colour draining from his face.

I shrugged. ‘That will be my ride.’

I paced around the room for what seemed like an eternity. I don’t think I had ever been so excited, it took all of my willpower to stop from jumping up and down shouting, ‘Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!’ I tried to relax. ‘Right, what should I do?’ I said, talking to myself. ‘Pack.’ I looked around the room and laughed, the only thing there was the emain slate. I picked it up. I paced some more. ‘Come on, come on,’ I said out loud.

The door flew open and Fallon came storming in. ‘What the hell is going on here?’

‘Where is she? What’s happening?’

‘There are two women outside on huge horses wearing trick-or-treat outfits. The one who spoke said her name was Deirdre and that the other was called Nieve.’

‘Nieve! Nieve’s here? She’s my aunt.’

Fallon was angry. He grabbed my shirt with both hands and pulled me close to his face. ‘What are you playing at?’

I tried to be as calm as I could. ‘What did you tell them?’

‘I told them they had to wait.’

‘You didn’t …?’

‘I did.’

‘That probably wasn’t a good idea.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, I don’t know my aunt all that well but waiting isn’t Mom’s strong suit.’

As if on cue a huge explosion shook the room. Fallon let go of me and said, ‘Stay here!’

As the door swung behind him I dived across the room and painfully trapped my arm in the doorjamb before it could lock.

The hallway was filled with dust and smoke. Cops were lying unconscious everywhere. In the distance I could hear screams of ‘My eyes!’ Nieve was casually riding towards me. She had blown out all of the door archways so she didn’t even have to duck. Her right hand was held out to her side and two marble-sized balls of gold were orbiting it like atoms around a nucleus. Two policemen appeared out of a room to her left. Without even looking at them, she flicked her wrist and the gold marbles hit them in the chest. They were thrown back into the room with an explosion of light.

She spotted me. ‘Conor, are you harmed?’

‘No, I’m OK,’ I shouted. ‘Where’s Mom?’

‘She is outside preparing a portal. Catch,’ she said, throwing me an oak banta stick.

I examined it. ‘I prefer hazel.’

She gave me a dirty look but then smiled. ‘Come,’ she said, holding out her hand.

I started to reach for it when I heard a voice from behind me say, ‘Freeze!’

I turned to see Detective Fallon pointing a gun at Nieve. He was obviously freaked.

‘Nobody move. Put your hands in the air and get off the horse, lady.’

‘Conor,’ Nieve said, ‘what is that in his hand?’

‘It’s a weapon, Aunt Nieve.’ She went to reach under her cloak.

‘I said freeze!’

‘Hold on, Nieve,’ I said, ‘let me talk to him.’

Fallon kept the gun pointed at Nieve but flicked a glance in my direction. He was real edgy.

‘Brendan,’ I said in my calmest voice, ‘this is my Aunt Nieve, my father’s sister. She’s from Tir na Nog, that’s why she is riding a horse. Remember, I told you about that?’

The muscle in Fallon’s jaw twitched. I wasn’t sure if I was getting through to him.

‘I’m going to go with her. Put your gun down and no one will get hurt.’

‘What, I’m just supposed to let you walk out of here?’ His gun shook as he spoke. ‘She killed all of my officers.’

‘Conor, why are we talking? What is he saying that is so important?’

‘He is upset ’cause you killed his men.’

‘They will live,’ Nieve said. I could hear the impatience in her voice. ‘Conor, we do not have time for this.’

She was right. The longer we stood here the more likely it was that more cops would show up and I was desperate to see my mother. I decided to take Fallon out of the equation.

Unfortunately I was holding my banta stick upside-down so I had to flick the gun out of his hand with the heavy end and then use the light end on his neck. Dahy wouldn’t have been very impressed with the blow but it did the job and the detective went down. I grabbed Nieve’s hand and she lifted me onto the back of the saddle as if I weighed nothing.

‘I never got your Christmas card,’ she said as she manoeuvred the horse into the opposite direction.

‘Christmas isn’t for two months.’

‘Well, that explains it.’ I wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not.

We rode back through what used to be a police station. No one stopped us. The only sounds were a few moans. Daylight poured through what used to be the front door. I shaded my eyes and was rewarded with the sight of my mother. My heart leapt and I involuntarily kicked the back of the horse, the mount lurched and I almost fell off.

‘Be careful, Conor!’ Nieve said. ‘I would prefer not to fall.’

‘Of course, sorry.’

Nieve walked her horse next to Mom’s. I hugged Mom and she returned it. ‘Conor, are you all right?’

‘I am now,’ I said.

‘Deirdre,’ Nieve said, ‘I do not like this place.’

‘How’s Dad?’ I asked, still holding my mother. I never wanted to let go.

Mom pushed me back. ‘Nieve is right. We must get out of here – we can talk when we get home.’

Mom took some sap and a gold disc out of her saddlebag and began to chant as she rubbed them both between her hands. Amber light shot from her fingertips and created a spider web that eventually filled in to produce a large glowing disc.

‘Are you ready?’ Mom asked.

‘Born ready.’

‘Everybody stay right where you are!’ It was Fallon – with one hand he held his neck, in the other he held a gun.

Nieve and Mom stepped their horses sideways for a look. ‘Who is this?’ Mom demanded.

‘Mom, this is Detective Fallon – Detective Fallon, this is my mother.’

Fallon pointed the gun menacingly. ‘Everybody get down, we’re all going back inside.’

Mom and Nieve started to reach inside their cloaks. I raised my hand and stopped them. ‘No we’re not, Brendan, we don’t belong here – I don’t belong here.’

‘I said get down!’

‘They can’t, Brendan, it would kill them. You see that glowing disc over there, that’s a door into another world – The Land. We are going to enter it and we will be gone. If we are not, then you can shoot me.’

‘I’m warning you, O’Neil.’

‘Brendan, I didn’t kill my father, he is right on the other side of that door, you have the wrong man. You said it yourself – I’m not a bad guy. Please – you have to trust me.’

I could almost hear his brain cells working; he lowered his gun and we walked towards the disc. I didn’t look back.

We arrived in the Hall of Spells. I expected the journey to be painful (most of this Shadowmagic stuff is) but other than a few spots in front of my vision and an annoying ringing in my ears, I was fine.

I jumped down and gave Mom a proper hug. She returned it quickly but then said, ‘I have to go, I will talk to you later.’ I didn’t like the way she looked; she was still undisputedly the most beautiful woman in the world, but in her eyes I saw a haggard look. She dashed out of the room.

I was a bit taken aback. I turned to Nieve and said, ‘Is she all right?’

‘She is fine, Conor.’

I let out a sigh of relief and then took in a lungful of air and it hit me, I could feel the vitality seep into every cell. A smile took over my face and I said to myself, ‘I’m back.’ Then I threw my hands out to my sides and shouted to the roof, ‘I’m back!’ I startled a stable boy who quickly led the horses away – that’s when I saw him. Detective Fallon with dishevelled clothes and hair shooting out in all directions was crouched in the corner and he had a wild glint in his eyes. He looked like one of those girls in a slasher movie that had just witnessed her entire sorority get killed.

‘Oh my gods,’ I said.

Our eyes locked, it scared me, I had seen that look before. He was wearing the same face that Fergal wore when he went mad and tried to kill Cialtie.

‘Brendan?’

At the sound of his name he pulled the gun from between his knees and levelled it at me.

I dropped my banta stick and said, ‘Hey, calm down, Brendan, no one is going to hurt you.’ I walked slowly towards him, palms up. He aimed the gun at my face, his arm shaking. I wondered if he even knew who he was. ‘It’s OK, you’re safe. Your name is Brendan Fallon, you have a wife and a daughter, it’s OK we’ll sort this out.’

At the mention of his family a spark of sanity fluttered in his eyes. He dipped the gun a bit, but then both of us were startled by a voice to the left shouting my name.

‘Conor – catch!’

A banta came sailing through the air. As I caught it, time slowed like it always does when I’m in mortal peril. I saw the lights go out in Fallon’s eyes and I could actually see the muscles in his fingers as they tightened on the trigger, I could almost hear them. I suspected that guns didn’t work in The Land but I didn’t want to take that chance. I performed the same manoeuvre as before, except this time I hit the gun with the light end of the stick and rounded on Fallon’s head with the heavy end. I hit him way harder than I wanted to – that wasn’t my fault, the stick had been thrown by Araf and his stick is filled with lead. The gun clicked at some point during the fracas but it didn’t fire. I was right, they don’t work here. Fallon went down like a ton of concrete and I instantly felt real guilty.

I rushed to him – he was out cold. Nieve strolled over and placed her hands on both sides of his head. ‘Did I kill him?’ I asked.

‘He’ll live,’ she replied and unceremoniously dropped his head back onto the floor.

Two guards arrived and I instructed them to carry him to the infirmary and keep a guard. ‘Be nice to him,’ I called after them, ‘and make sure he gets some of that willow tea when he wakes up, he’s going to need it.’

‘Can I have my stick back?’

‘Araf!’ I shouted as I turned. I had almost forgotten he was there. I ran to the Imp and wrapped my arms around him. It was like hugging a refrigerator and I could tell he didn’t like it.

‘Are you injured?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m fine.’

He nodded. ‘I have to get back to work now,’ he said and turned to leave.

‘Well, it’s great to see you again too,’ I called after him. I laughed – this was the strangest of homecomings.

Well, it was just me and Nieve. Not my favourite relative but I didn’t care. She stood in the middle of the room wringing her hands; the look on her face wiped the smile off my own.

‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked.

‘Conor,’ she said, looking down at her hands and then directly into my eyes, ‘Oisin is dying.’

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.’