“No!” I shouted, snatching it from her hand. Whether in response to my cry or to the wound it had suffered, the changeling’s pebble eyes snapped open, its limbs twitched, and it began a harsh wailing. “You’re hurting it!” I put the slip of bark back as close as I could to the place it had come from. The cries were escalating. I rolled the blanket around the tiny creature so it was swathed tight; its whole body was vibrating, making the cradle shiver. I patted its back rhythmically, longing to pick the child up and comfort it but not prepared to take that step while my sister was watching me.

“Leave it, Clodagh!” Muirrin’s sharp order was like a blow. For her to speak to me in that tone was a first; one of many for today. I took my hand off the child and backed away from the little bed. “Come out now, and lock the door behind you,” my sister added.

As I retreated to the door the tone of the crying changed, becoming so woeful it made my heart ache. The compulsion to take the infant from its cradle and hold it was so strong I had to force myself to walk out of the chamber. How could I let something so small and helpless be abandoned to the dark and chill and loneliness of that room at night? And what about food? How long could a newborn infant survive without nourishment? Perversely, it seemed to me that those who had taken Finbar would at the very least be making sure he got milk. When the Fair Folk abducted human children it was not generally to harm them, but to raise them as their own. They would steal human women to use as wet nurses. If they had left one of their own infants in my brother’s place, wasn’t it important for us to provide for that child if we wanted Finbar to be well treated?

“You don’t believe me,” I said as I turned the key in the lock. Once the door was closed I could not hear the forlorn sobbing. But in my head it still went on. Touch me! Feed me! Love me!

“I don’t know what to believe,” said Muirrin slowly. “I know you believe in what you’re seeing, Clodagh. I know you wouldn’t make it up, not even if it was to cover something improper. Yes, I heard about Cathal. Eithne made sure of that by announcing to all and sundry that she’d seen the two of you behaving like lovers. But I can’t view that bundle of rubbish as a child. Father’s going to send for Conor. He could be here in a day or so. As a druid, surely he will be able to tell us what the sticks and stones really mean and what we should do with them.”