I nodded, though it was not the image of young Cathal scrying that was in my mind, but that of Firinne watching her little son as he walked alone on the beach at Whiteshore. I could feel the ache in my own heart. “So he managed to evade them for quite some years, and then when Aidan went off to Inis Eala, Cathal seized the opportunity to go with him,” I said. “And then he came to Sevenwaters, and ended up sacrificing his freedom because of me.”

“You are somewhat hard on yourself,” Willow said. “Cathal might say that to have won your heart made up for everything else. He did give you the ring. A gift of selfless love.”

There was a pause; she was waiting for me to say something. “The ring kept me safe until I could get out,” I said slowly. “If I made a talisman for Cathal, something that represented selfless love, would that provide him with protection against his father?”

“Perhaps. It would not get him out of the Otherworld. But it might help. He’ll need help.”

I was still framing my next question when Willow took up her staff, rose to her feet and made to leave.

“Oh, please wait!” I begged her. “Tell me if there is some way that charm can be broken, the one about setting a foot inside the door—how can I possibly counteract something so powerful?”

“I told you, I’m a storyteller,” said the old woman, not unkindly. “You have what you need already. And now I must be on my way. I wish you well on your journey, Clodagh.” She cupped a hand to her ear. “Who’s that I hear? Unusually busy in this part of the forest, isn’t it, so early in the morning?” As she walked off down the hillside, I heard voices; someone was coming over the hill from the other side. I peered uphill under the birches and discerned two figures approaching swiftly. A slight, dark-haired girl in a blue gown: Sibeal. A tall, redheaded man in a hooded robe: Ciarán. By the time I turned back, Willow had vanished.

My sister was beaming. She ran the last few steps, fell to her knees and threw her arms around me and Finbar, causing him to complain vigorously. “Clodagh! You’ve got him!” There were tears running down her smiling face.

“Mother,” I said. “Is she all right, Sibeal?”

My sister nodded, momentarily unable to speak. Then Ciarán came up behind her, inclined his head courteously, and said, “We are camped a short distance away, over the hill. When you’re ready we’ll take you there. We have food and water and a change of clothing for you.”

I must have looked incredulous. Sibeal gave a shaky laugh and said, “We knew you were coming soon and where we’d find you. We saw it in the water, both of us. But I couldn’t tell Father or Mother. It would have been too cruel to get their hopes up and then find out the visions meant something else. Uncle Ciarán told them I had to come here for some tutoring. Oh, Clodagh, everyone’s been so worried about you! What are those scratches on your face? And Finbar—is he unharmed?”