“But he’s an Inis Eala warrior. He must be prepared to follow Johnny’s orders, at least.”

“That’s different,” said Aidan. “Cathal lives for combat. You’ve seen how he excels at it. He’s only here at Sevenwaters because Johnny ordered him to come. Cathal tried to get out of it. He hates the need to make conversation, to display his best manners, to comply with the codes of a great household like your father’s. He chafes at the restrictions. At Inis Eala his eccentricities don’t stand out the way they do here, or indeed the way they did at Whiteshore. As a warrior, he never sets a foot wrong.”

I was about to ask for an explanation of the taunts the two men had exchanged during that fierce encounter with knives, when there was a sound of approaching hoof beats and around a corner ahead of us came Eilis on her gray pony, looking perfectly calm. Behind her was Coll on his bay.

“We thought we shouldn’t go too far ahead,” Eilis said, “or you’d be cross, Clodagh. We turned back at the third stream.”

“Where’s Cathal?” I asked.

Eilis looked at me blankly. “Here, isn’t he?” she said, glancing at the others and back at me.

“He went after you. Didn’t you see him? Did you and Coll ride off the track?”

“Of course not.” Coll spoke up now. “Maybe Cathal’s the one who went off another way. If he came along this path he couldn’t have missed us.”

I swore under my breath. Curse Cathal! How could he have disappeared? The man had a rare talent for complications.

“We’d best ride on,” said Aidan, glancing at Doran, who had come up beside us with Sibeal close behind him.

“Agreed,” said Doran. “There’s only the one track; he can’t have gone far. I don’t suppose anything untoward has happened, but it’s wisest that the rest of us stay together. We should reach the lake soon. Perhaps he’s there waiting.”

“I’m sorry, Clodagh.” Eilis sounded unusually chastened. “We shouldn’t have ridden off; I know that.”

“All right,” I said. “We’ll say no more about it now. But don’t do it again, please. The same goes for you, Coll.”

As we rode on, something inside me was sounding a warning. The Inis Eala men were highly trained, not only in fighting, but also in such skills as tracking and path finding, not to speak of their peerless horsemanship. How could Cathal have lost his way on a perfectly simple track? What exactly was the man playing at?