“Father’s holding that was attacked and burned,” I said, seeing the baffled glances of the other men. Gods, my head felt strange. All I wanted was a bath and sleep. “Father, Mac Dara—Cathal’s father—told me the attack was all his doing. I can explain more about it later. If it’s still causing trouble between you and Illann, it shouldn’t be. Illann had nothing to do with it.”

Father and Johnny exchanged a look, then turned their gaze on Cathal, who rose to his feet.

“Clodagh and I have not had time to discuss this particular matter,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “It seems so long ago. You’ll be wanting me to account for my sudden departure from Sevenwaters and . . . and other things.”

“Certainly, you have some explaining to do,” Father said. “A situation has developed. If what Clodagh has just told us is accurate, we may now have the means to resolve it while the chieftains are still at Sevenwaters for the council. The matter is pressing.”

“Welcome home, Clodagh!” Gareth had appeared in the stillroom doorway. “And you, my friend! By all that’s holy, man, you look as if you haven’t slept in days.” He eyed Cathal with evident concern. “They’ve told you about Aidan, I take it. A grievous loss; I’m so sorry.” He glanced from Father to Johnny. “I’ll take this fellow off for a meal and a rest, shall I?”

“There is no need,” said Cathal. “If you require my account now, I will give it, Lord Sean.” It was a brave attempt to sound wide awake and capable, but I could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it seemed Johnny could, too.

“Sean, this can wait until later,” my cousin said. “It’s not every day you get your daughter home from the Otherworld. With your approval, I’ll let the guests know that the full session will be delayed. They’ll welcome the opportunity to sit a little longer over their breakfast, I expect. Cathal’s going to be of more use to us if he’s had some rest and refreshment. And you’ll be wanting to take Clodagh up to see her mother.”

“Yes, of course,” Father said. He must indeed be distracted, I thought, if he needed such a reminder. “Thank you, Johnny. Cathal, my sympathies for the loss of your friend; he was a fine warrior.” Both his tone and his expression had relaxed somewhat. “Clodagh, we’ll go up the back stairs. Your mother is in the sewing room today. Your sudden departure wrought more changes than you could imagine. Come, my dear.”

I did not want to let Cathal out of my sight. But he would do well enough among the men of Inis Eala. They were his comrades; they would look after him. “Go and rest,” I said quietly. “I won’t be far away.”