She stood by the Kin Stone, watching a bloodred sun sink into the dark turmoil of the western sea. The air was damp with fine salt spray. Over the final rise of the Whaleback’s tilting surface, cliffs fell sharply, and unseen waves smashed their base far below. Only a fool or a madman would walk too close. Even the sheep knew to keep away. Engus stood by her side, eyes fixed on that far horizon: the end of the world, maybe. The dog sniffed about, scenting rabbits.

The sun was almost gone, so soon, too soon. At this time of year, all longed for spring; it was hard to keep the heart light, the spirit hopeful, when night laid its blanket so heavily over the land. In the brief time of daylight, all must be done, hunting, fishing, tending stock, mending storm-damaged houses, the movement of sentries, the strengthening of what small defenses they had.

The last glow of the setting sun fell on the carven stone, illuminating the three warriors who strode with dignity and purpose across its face, guardians, keepers, defenders of the islands. The Kin Stone had stood here long; it was the marker and center of the realm of the Folk. Yet, on the islands it was young. The stone circles, the hidden chambers, the ancient mounds, the unseen folk who dwelt, mysterious and subtle, within the folds of earth, beneath the shining water, these were memory and magic, heartbeat and history. These had been a part of the Light Isles since a time so distant, a man’s mind could hardly encompass it. They would endure, whatever came. For the Folk, the future seemed much less certain.

“It is unthinkable,” Engus said to his niece, “that a man such as Somerled could rule here. Unendurable. And yet, I can see how it could come to pass. That would be the end of our people, Nessa. This is a cruel race of men, heartless and ignorant. I made a grave error in letting them stay. I judged them all by Ulf’s measure. It seems to me now that he was a rare breed among them. If this is the end, it rests on my shoulders. I had not thought to see such a dark day come to us; I had not thought to bear such a burden.”

“Uncle?”

“Yes, Nessa?”

“About Ulf: his death, the manner of it, and your investigations. It is clear none of our own men was involved. Have you a theory to explain what happened that day? Who do you think did it? It was that death which turned things around. But for that, perhaps your treaty would have held, and the two peoples lived side by side, as Ulf planned.”

“Theory?” Engus said, glancing at her. “Oh yes, I have a theory all right, not that it matters, since this fine new chieftain seems to have his people eating out of his hand. Even if there were evidence to support it, I doubt that it would make a jot of difference. This is a subtle opponent, Nessa, as clever as he is evil.”