She sat between lamps in the bottom chamber, and told the tale of the dead: so many names, so many farewells. She sang the story of the Folk in the islands, generation by generation: how they had worked the land and fished the seas, how they had borne bold sons and brave daughters, how their kings had ruled justly, how their wise women had brought them the lore of earth and sky, had woven the rituals of fire and water, bone and moonlight. She told of her mother, her sisters, King Engus and his son Kinart, a fine fisherman, a valiant fighter. The darkness gathered around her in the small, round space; shadows were close. Above her on their shelf, seven small skulls watched with somber attention.