I waited until the last riders in the procession were disappearing down the avenue, lanterns held high, then glanced up at Fiacha. He winged ahead; I took a deep breath and followed. We walked the green way in silence, though it seemed to me my heart was beating so hard it must sound like a drum announcing my approach. At the edge of the open space bordered by white stones, Fiacha flew up into a tree and settled there. He busied himself with preening his feathers. It was quite clear that he was not planning to accompany me any further.

“Wonderful,” I murmured, looking up at him in disapproval. He ignored me. “Make sure you’re close by when I need you, then.” There was no way to tell if he heard or understood. For now, I was definitely on my own.

I stepped between the white stones in my plain, well-worn gown, and out among the assembled folk of the Tuatha De Danann. I held my head high and walked straight toward Mac Dara’s pavilion. The hanging that concealed its doorway was closed and there was no sign of light inside. The entry appeared unguarded. I maintained a steady pace forward. Nobody was quite looking at me, but the crowd parted to let me through.

Outside the pavilion I hesitated. Last time, the Lord of the Oak had come out to greet me. Now the silken curtains remained closed. Mac Dara’s hall looked deserted. But then, I had been told to be ready for tricks. I cleared my throat. I must try to sound both confident and courteous. “I am Clodagh, daughter of Sean of Sevenwaters!” I called out. “I seek an audience with the Lord of the Oak!”

There was a silence. Behind me on the open sward, the folk of the Otherworld had hushed their talk. Then the curtains parted and there was Mac Dara in the entry, looking me up and down, unsmiling. Behind him the pavilion was in darkness. “There is no audience tonight,” he said flatly.

“I will not take up much of your time, my lord,” I said, making myself dip into a curtsy. “I want to see Cathal. Tell me where to find him and I need trouble you no further.”

His gaze was so blank as he stood there staring at me that I began to wonder if he was under the influence of a potent herb or mushroom, the kind that sends folk into a trance. Or perhaps he had been scrying and I had interrupted him. Then he said, “Come in,” and ushered me into the pavilion.