Donal ducked into the surgeon’s room and found Maeve sitting at the foot of the only bed, her back to the door.

“Are you ever going to leave this room and give the rest of us a chance to hide in here?” he asked her.

“I wish she would,” said Niall.

He raised his left arm into view to point at Maeve.

“I’m worried she’d start keening over me before I’m actually dead. Have you heard this one sing?”

Donal circled to the head of the bed.

“Oul’ fella!,” he said. “You’re awake!”

“It would appear so,” Niall said. “I heard your aim is getting better.”

“Well, Maeve made a pincushion out of him. I merely drove in the final one.”

Niall chuckled.

“Is that all? Help me up, lad.”

Donal reached out a hand and pulled Niall upright by his healthy arm. He grunted like most men his age would when they sat down at a tavern table.

“Does this mean you’re ready to go?” Donal asked. “I bet we could be on the road by lunch if Finn and I start packing now.”

“Hold on, boyo,” Niall said. “Their man Cían is sound, but I’ll likely need another day and night before I can go, and even then I’ll be riding in the back of that wagon while I regain the rest of my strength.”

“Did he mention to you any long-term concerns while I was out?” Niall asked Maeve.

“Aside from the worry that you wouldn’t give it enough time to fully heal?" she asked. "No other concerns.”

“Let’s plan on leaving tomorrow morning, then,” he said. “In the meantime Siobhan will work with Finn on his filí magic. Maeve, we may need to find a MacSweeney versed in battle magic willing to train Donal. You’ll want to review the state of our weapons and armor before we leave.”

“If I’m still not ready by tomorrow morning, so be it. We’ll wait another day and hope we’re not too late to stop whatever plan Breaslin is working on. Any questions?”

“Just a request for Maeve,” Donal said. “Please don’t ask that Lorcan fella to train me.”

****

Finn stopped in his tracks and raised both hands to shield his eyes. The morning sun lingered far enough into the northern sky that its reflection off Sheephaven Bay doubled the light that shone on the castle’s rear wall. His eyes now acclimated, he moved the rest of his body through the exit onto the triangular section of land that poked out into the water.

The other side of the bay lay three hundred yards from where he stood. Unlike the Ballyness back home, this was all seawater and no shoal. There was no stagnant smell of shallow water, only salt air that filled his lungs and invigorated him.

“I can’t help but notice that there’s no stone circle here,” he said. “Are you sure I’ll be able to use magic here?”

Siobhan stepped through the entrance behind Finn and took in the view.

“You no longer wear a bib when you eat, yet you keep the food off your shirt,” she said.

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

“Most of the time, anyway.”

“Here I was afraid that I’d endure only one form of abuse,” Finn said.

Siobhan laughed.

“Coddin’ aside, we can’t assume everything we face can be pushed aside by a breeze,” she said. “I know of a few druid spells that are shared by the filí. Hand me your sword.”

Finn unsheathed Fragarach and attempted to spin the grip within his hand to present it to Siobhan. It slipped out of his hand and fell to the ground.

“Pure class,” she said with a chuckle.

“Oi,” Finn said. “I wasn’t expecting swordplay this morning.”

Siobhan rested her hand on his upper arm.

“It’s fine,” she said. “But the truth is, you weren’t given this sword to clean wild game. Most of the magic a filí uses doesn’t attack an enemy; it protects and strengthens. Watch.”

She picked up the sword and closed her eyes. She pulled her hand back and flicked it in the direction of the blade.

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“Oíbell fáebar.”

A flame appeared at the base of the blade and raced to the tip as if the sword was made of dry branches. Siobhan practiced a few forms and then held the blade still as she pushed her free hand downward.

“Sos síabraid.”

The flames faded from the blade. She reached behind her back with her free hand, pulled a glove out of her belt and threw it to him.

“You’ll want to put this on before you take the sword back.”

“Because the flames heated the handle?” Finn asked.

“The flame blade spell wouldn’t be useful if it made the weapon too hot to handle,” she said. “Here.”

She put the hilt of the sword in Finn’s gloved hand, stepped back and flicked her hand at the sword once more.

“Guirid miotail.”

The entire sword radiated an orange color and within two seconds it warmed beyond the point of his glove’s protection. He threw the sword on the ground and watched it cool.

“I’m meant to do this?”

“The incantations and effects are the same for both druid and filí,” she said. “The only difference is the plane from where we draw our magic. Druids are naturally attuned to the Silver Plane, Mag Argetnel. Bards and Filí are drawn to the Multi-Colored Plane, Mag Ildathach. Give it a try.”

“What’s the incantation?” he asked.

“Don’t overthink it,” she said. “Say it in the older tongue. You learned it during all your studies, yeah? Clear the excess noise out of your mind and your heart and speak true.”

Finn nodded and looked at the sword.

“Oíbell fáebar.”

Fire erupted from Fragarach’s blade, albeit a weaker flame than the one Siobhan produced. Finn waved the blade slowly back and forth, marveling at his work.

“How do I make it go away?” he asked.

“You can simply wait for it to disappear on its own, you can intentionally stop the enchantment.”

“How do I—oh, right. Sos síabraid.”

“That’s grand, MacLaughlin,” Siobhan said. “Let’s move on. What spells have you come across in that bard book of yours?”

“As you said earlier, I saw no spells that would be handy in a battle,” he said. “One makes a magic shield, one turns me invisible, one makes my enemies go silent, another makes my friends grow strong.”

“G’way with that,” she said. “That’s not what I said at all! I’d rather have someone beside me making those things happen than someone doing that against me. It’s clear we have to train you up in some sword fighting, but you’ll come around.”

Finn studied Siobhan’s face. Her words were that of a mother placating a frustrated child. Her face, however, showed something different. She was either a far better liar than Finn thought or she believed what she was saying.

“Here’s something I don’t understand, though,” he said. “Lugh was a master of many talents, but he’s known primarily for his fighting and his strategy. Donal’s clearly got the fighter in him, even if it is early days. Why am I a bard?”

“Besides the natural aptitude for storytelling, history, and other scholarly pursuits, you mean?” she said. “You know the tales. Lugh was also a master of music, poetry and storytelling, too. As you get more comfortable with casting spells, someday you might tap into planes to which you’re not naturally attuned.”

“Have you tapped into other planes?” he asked.

“Haven’t had a need to.”

“Do you know how to do it?”

Siobhan narrowed her eyes.

“Some of it’s obvious. First, you’d have to know the spell effect you want, and the incantation to make it happen. You’d have to know which of the planes are more likely to produce that effect.”

“The attunement is the hard part. You’d probably need to be in a circle or a tomb. The way it’s been told to me is that you have to empty yourself and then try to search for the plane. And you’d have to have a master there to help in case you cause an imbalance.”

“That sounds both easier and harder than I thought,” Finn said.

Siobhan laughed.

“I suppose it does.”

She put her right hand on his left shoulder and moved directly into his eyeline.

“Finn, this isn’t the farm. Most things will be out of your control. You have to trust yourself and those around you. Then the hardest bit comes: you have to let things happen in their own time. You’ll drive yourself mad if you try to force everything.”

He patted her hand with his right hand and nodded.

“You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

He held his right hand on hers and took in the smile she beamed back at him. He’d never seen this expression on her—or had he? Had he been too wrapped up in his brother, the farm and his own head to notice anything else?

“I have to just let it all happen?” he said.

Her eyes drifted towards his chin and back up.

“Well, you can give some things a little push now and then,” she said.

He shifted his weight forward. She leaned to her left—and then leaned some more. She wrinkled the middle of her brow as she looked over his shoulder toward the castle.

“Gavin,” she said.

Finn broke contact with Siobhan and stepped backward. His cheeks ran hot. He placed a hand on his head to stop it from spinning.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I thought that you wanted—I didn’t know about you and Gavin. I’m an absolute tool.”

He watched waves of surprise, confusion and amusement crash against Siobhan’s face within the span of five seconds.

“Gavin and I? Why would you think—oh,” she said. “We have absolutely no intentions towards each other. I just saw him through the doorway.”

She stepped toward him and grabbed his elbows.

“Let’s go see if he brought us anything,” she said.

She pecked Finn on the cheek and headed into the castle without another word or look back.

Finn touched his cheek as he watched her dip out of his line of sight.