“I regret what I said to you when we first met,” Cathal said, putting his arms around his knees. “As Aidan has no doubt told you, I’ve always lacked the ability to summon the kind of conversation deemed acceptable in the halls of the nobly born. I am unable to play that game without sabotaging my own efforts; I cannot take it seriously. Clodagh, it seems to me you expend all your energy trying to make those around you happy. Do you care nothing for your own welfare? It is hard for me to understand that.”

Abruptly, I was on the verge of tears. I must indeed be tired. I blinked them back, picking up the swaddled Becan and cradling him in my arms. “It’s hard not to worry about my family,” I said. “Mother especially. She’s waited all these years for a boy. She and Father had twin sons, a long time ago. The boys lived less than a day. I can remember Muirrin taking us up to the hawthorn—Deirdre, Maeve and me—when the boys were born, so we could say prayers for their good health.” Perhaps that was when I had started to lose my faith in the benign influence of the Otherworld. It had been a hard test for a little child. “Cathal, if we don’t get this right, if we don’t manage to bring Finbar back, I’m sure my mother won’t survive. She’ll just let herself . . . fade away. I wish I could know what’s happening at home.” The tears dripped down my cheeks. “A pox on it. I don’t want to cry,” I said, wiping my nose on the sleeve of the borrowed shirt. “They’ll know where I’ve gone, at least. I told Sibeal what I’m trying to do. She said she’d tell them.”

Cathal took his time about answering. It was odd; a day or two ago I would never have spoken thus in his company. If I had, I would have expected him to respond with a cutting remark about my great capacity to feel sorry for myself. I was profoundly aware that on this side of the river everything was different, even him. “I know little of such matters,” he said eventually. “It does seem to me that this might be reasonable cause for tears. Does it embarrass you to shed them before me?”

I looked at him curiously. “Wouldn’t it embarrass you to weep with me watching you?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Cathal said. “If I ever have reason to do so, I’ll be sure to tell you how it feels. Clodagh, did you say you can’t swim?”

I nodded. “Somehow I could never learn.”

“And you still got on the raft?”

“At the time there wasn’t much choice.”