“I am too quick to judge, perhaps,” Tadhg said with a sigh. “Come, I think your uncle may need my help here. It would surprise me greatly if these barbarians understand the tongue of the Folk.”

But Nessa did not follow them. She slipped away as unobtrusively as she could to join her mother and sisters inside, where rapid preparations were being made to receive guests. Who knew how long these wild-looking men might intend to stay? Blankets must be found, bracken for bedding, clean straw. They’d need eggs, cheeses, more bread. Fortunately, a sheep was already roasting on the spit, and there was a plentiful supply of ale.

Nessa combed and re-plaited her hair, and returned to the cooking hut to make herself useful, perhaps basting the meat or cutting cheese. But her mother would have none of that.

“There are plenty of folk to perform these duties, daughter. Sometimes I think you forget what you are.”

Nessa smiled. “I never forget that, Mother. But even a priestess should wash dishes or draw water once in a while, I think. There’s wisdom to be found in such tasks. Here, let me carry those. Where do you want them taken?”

“Slip quietly into the hall and put them on the shelf by the door. Don’t linger; Engus will call when he wants food. Your uncle will not wish you or your sisters to be seen, not until he knows what these men expect from us.”

The king’s hall stood proudly on its own. It was for gatherings and celebrations, for observance of ritual and the higher festivals. The people of the Whaleback lived in the other houses, which were like many-lobed leaves with a central chamber for eating and talking and indoor work, and smaller spaces opening off it for sleep and storage. The houses were cozy. The hall was grand, its central pillars tall timbers bleached by long sea journeys, travelers from a far land washed up, like Tadhg, on the sweet shores of the Light Isles. The ribs of a great whale stretched across to support the roof thatch, thick bracken held down by stone-weighted ropes. The walls of this building were of red sandstone, but the inside was softened by skins laid on the floor and across the benches, and there were fine woolen hangings on the walls, embroidered with the symbols of the family: the rod and crescent, the mirror, the eagle and sea-beast which were the signs of the royal line—her own line. The eagle had a noble look to it. The sea-beast was different. When you didn’t really know if a creature was a seal or a horse or some sort of monster, it was hard to make it seem real. The one on the hanging was copied from the only model there was, the picture on the Kin Stone, which stood at the top of the Whaleback overlooking their settlement, establishing this tidal island as the heart of the Folk’s dominion.