Owen spluttered, “She gets no punishment for killing Midhir?”

“He has already paid for his role in the conspiracy, and he had nothing like the excuse Fand has for wanting me dead. As the wronged party, I can say Midhir’s death was justice on my behalf and beg clemency for Fand.”

“You would do this?” Manannan said.

“Aye. In the morning, I will go to Fand and ask for a truce. And if you wish, you and Flidais will go to Brighid and tell her everything, thus clearing yourselves of any collusion. You can blame the delay in informing her on the need to wait for Samhain so you could question Midhir more closely in congress with Flidais.”

The two gods exchanged glances and shrugs, and then Manannan said, “Very well. But you cannot go alone. Take Owen and Meara with you.”

My archdruid said, “What’s this, now?”

“If Fand truly bears a grudge against Siodhachan, we can’t let him go alone. You are a neutral party, and Meara, as a selkie, will be seen as one of mine. She lends you my aegis, in a sense.”

Perun, who had been waiting patiently after managing to wear Oberon out, broke into a wide grin and boomed, “Is settled, then! Let us go into this town at bottom of mountain and get shitbuttered.”

Our collective jaws dropped and stared at him. “Excuse me?” I said.

“Is this not word? How you say someone is drunk?”

“Oh, you mean shit-faced.”

Perun threw up his hands, thoroughly exasperated. “How is shit on face any better than my word? And why would English-speaking peoples ever think that putting shit on face is like drinking good vodka?”

“Well, I’m not here to judge—”

“Good. Then we go get shitbuttered.”

“All right, but not until you take that leaf out of your hair.”

Three gods, two Druids, and a selkie walk into a bar …

Chapter 23

It needs to be said: No one can completely c*ck up a day like Siodhachan. And I think there are few living people who can bear witness to this fact so well as I. If he’s only hurting himself, then I can hold me tongue and let him go, because he might learn a lesson from it. But when his shenanigans are going to get me in trouble, I need to say something. And I know he’s technically my elder many times over now, and if there’s anyone who knows a thing or two about surviving it’s him, but surely that doesn’t mean I have to shut up about him being stupid. It just means I have to tell him he’s stupid using me best manners. And not hit him while I’m doing it.

“Listen, Siodhachan, this isn’t going to turn out well for us if we go in there alone,” I says. “Let’s bring along an army of Scottish bagpipers to distract them while we move in silent from the flanks—you know, the lads who smell like old cheese. Or maybe some of those dwarf axemen you were tellin’ me about.”

“We can hardly signal our desire to talk if we bring an army of anything.”

“But it’s not we who wish to talk, lad. It’s only you.” Of course, Siodhachan turns to the selkie to bolster his pox-ridden argument. After we drank ourselves nearly unconscious the night before, she slept in his room, while he spread out on the living room couch with his hound curled up on the floor beside him.

“Do you want to talk rather than fight, Meara?” he says.

“My lord Manannan commands it.” Aye, he commanded it as the bar closed, then shifted away with Flidais and her mountainous hairy sex toy to sleep it off. Soon they would unburden their souls to Brighid in hopes that she wouldn’t char them to toast. Siodhachan recognizes that Meara doesn’t give a true answer, but he pretends that it’s good enough, and my good sense is somehow overruled because a selkie obeys the commands of her god.

“You’re perceived as a neutral party at the moment,” Siodhachan tells me, “so I need you along. And Meara will be Manannan’s eyes and ears and provide us safe passage.”

“I hope you’re right,” I says, “but I’m afraid you’re not. I think Fand’s lost her mind once and I think she can lose it again. And my neutrality will mean about as much as a pellet of rabbit shite when I walk up there with you.”

That hound of his speaks up: "So does that mean a lot or a little? What’s the market rate on rabbit shite now, Atticus? And why does he say shite instead of shit? Is shite fancier somehow, or is he just trying to make it sound that way?"

“We’ll go in with our eyes open, Owen.”

“Speaking of going in,” Meara says, “will we be shifting directly into the castle courtyard? I know which tethers to follow.”

“No, but thank you for the offer,” Siodhachan says. “We’ll shift in using the surrounding trees, as we normally do. I want to be invited in, so that the rules of hospitality apply.”

“It’s going to be the rules of the battlefield, lad. We should be going in there with a thousand na**d warriors who fight like wet cats with dodgy bowels.”

“You can go na**d if you want,” the bastard says to me, ignoring my advice. “I’m wearing pants.”

I sigh and back off for a moment. If I’m going to get through to him, I’ll need to try a different angle. And there are things that need saying.

“Meara, would ye mind givin’ us a bit o’ time to talk amongst ourselves?” I asks her.

“Aye. I’ll walk the dog,” she says, getting to her feet.

"She means she’ll walk while I smell things, right?" Oberon says. I don’t answer him, but I assume Siodhachan does, for the hound stands and wags his tail. "There’s a fox den out there somewhere. It is my quest to find it and see if the fox has extra tails."

The two of them trot away into the trees, and Siodhachan is doing his best to look unconcerned about what I’ll say next.

“I’ll be needin’ honesty from ye now, lad. Are ye bein’ contrary with me because ye have genuine objections to being prepared, or is it merely because you’re trying to get back at me for all those knocks to the noggin I gave ye as an apprentice?”

“Can I say it’s both?” he says. “Or neither? That’s quite the false choice you’ve laid out there.”

“Nothin’ false about it. Going in with three people means we’re unprepared for a fight, and it doesn’t matter that you’re the most powerful Druid who ever lived.”

That makes him take notice. He whips his head around like I’d stuck me tongue in his ear. “Pardon me?”

“Yes, you heard me.” Eye contact might be too intense for this next bit, either for him or for me, so I turn me head and face the forest, talking in low tones but being careful not to mumble. “I know I’m a proper bastard, Siodhachan, but that’s only because I’m not afraid to speak unpleasant truths. The truth was that you used to c*ck things up on a regular basis. But it was also true that you were more gifted and brilliant than anyone I knew.”

There is silence for a time as I stare at the treetops and he stares at me. The intensity of his regard kind of burns the side of me face. “If you’re not being sarcastic,” he says, “you neglected to tell me that last part. Ever.”

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s why nobody ever liked me. I always forgot to speak the pleasant truths.”

Siodhachan doesn’t have an answer. I see peripherally that his lips tighten and his jaw clenches as he looks away and down at the ground. Silence stretches between us again, and I can see I haven’t said enough. I suppose I really must have scarred him, and if I’m going to speak an unpleasant truth, I should probably begin by telling meself to stop being such a raging arsehole all the time and remember what it is to be kind.

“Look, lad,” I says. “I have an apology to make that’s long overdue. I’m sorry for being so free with my criticism and so frugal with my praise. I should have been more balanced, and I will try to notice out loud when ye do something well instead of noticing only your mistakes. I’ll start now, if ye have no objections. I want to thank ye for pullin’ me off that island. What little I’ve seen of this world so far looks like five pigs f**king, but it’s new and different, and, damn it, I feel better than I have in so many years. There’s even a werewolf walking around in Arizona who likes me, and I like her back. And I have you and the Morrigan to thank for it, which is strange, since there was a time I was sure one or both of ye would be the death of me. Heh!”

He leans forward and covers his eyes with a hand, like I’m giving him a headache, but says nothing. I probably shouldn’t have said that bit about how I was sure he’d get me killed.

“Argh, I cocked up me apology, didn’t I?”

“Maybe a little,” he says.

“Feck it, look here: I’m sorry, Siodhachan. Truly. I’m sorry, and that’s it.”

“Well—”

“No, that’s not it! I just thought of something else. It’s me who’s been your student for a while now, and you’ve shown me it can be done with kindness.” I have to clear me throat before I can continue. It got unaccountably tight all of a sudden.

“I can see the man you’ve become, and it’s a good man. A man who seeks peace but can win a fight once he’s in one. I’ve never found peace meself, but I’ve also never felt particularly moved to search for it, if ye know what I mean. So I’m grateful to ye too, lad, for showing me that path through the woods. I think I’d like to try walking it. There might be something like happiness at the end.”

He nods, letting me know that he heard what I said, but he doesn’t reply for a while, maybe thinking I’d start up again. But I’d said all I wanted to say, and it felt good.

He’s quiet when he speaks, and I almost don’t catch it. “Thank you for all that. It means a lot to me.”

I nod back at him and think he’s talking about more than just the words. When Siodhachan was wee, his da got his arse killed in a cattle raid, and I was the closest thing he had to a father after that. What a shite da I turned out to be. I can’t remember ever giving him a soft word until now.

“You mean a lot to me too, lad.”

Funny thing happens after that. We both sigh together, as if we had laid down a burden after a long journey, and then we smile and laugh, as if we’d just escaped death. And, I don’t know, maybe we had. Neither of us had any business seeing a sunrise in this age. The gifts that Gaia gives are boundless.

I meant to ask him again to bring some help along with us to Tír na nÓg, but I let it go. I’d try the peaceful route and see what happened—and if it was the worst idea ever, why, we had made a good run of it.

Chapter 24

I still couldn’t reach Granuaile via text or voice. I left one more message on her voice mail, saying there’d be a note for her at the cabin, and then I wrote said note and put it on the kitchen table. I didn’t want her to arrive unaware of the situation, so I summarized the issue in a few quick sentences and advised her to come in full ninja mode—and without the hounds. I rose and slung Fragarach across my back.

Oberon, I need you to stay here and wait for Granuaile and Orlaith. Tell her to come quickly. There’s a note on the table.

"Oh, no, Atticus, Granuaile already did this to me! You don’t need to leave a note and a hound to tell someone where you are. The note will work just fine."

I need you to tell her the note is here. She might not see it for a long time otherwise. Your role is crucial. It wasn’t, of course, but fortunately Oberon could be made to believe it was crucial by the simple expedient of linking it to food, so I added, Plus, I will make you a brisket.

"A brisket! Great lakes of gravy! And all I have to do is tell her to read the note as soon as she gets here?"

That’s all.

"You can count on me!"

Thanks, buddy. I turned to Meara and Owen. “Ready to go?”

“I don’t want to go at all,” Owen said, “but I’m ready.”

“Aye, I’m ready,” Meara said.

After I gave Oberon a farewell chuck under the chin, we strode to our familiar trees and shifted into the grove surrounding Manannan’s estate. It was a mixed lot but largely oak, with tame undergrowth and plenty of space to walk between the trees. We were on the west side of the estate, the entrance being to the south, and only three or four trees deep into the grove. Peering underneath the canopy, we could see the pasture stretched out before us, and the gray walls of the castle were visible in the distance.

Normally the birds would be chirping, but it was as silent as a classroom after a student tells off the teacher and everyone waits to see what will happen next.

“It’s too quiet,” Owen said, his knees bending into a half crouch. Meara unconsciously echoed his movement.

“Aye.” I drew Fragarach as a precaution, figuring that I’d have plenty of time to resheathe it before we got to the gates. Under the trees, I’d give my paranoia a nice long leash.

We crept forward with mincing steps in the grass, eyes darting to the flanks and even up into the branches, but seeing and hearing nothing. Past the first rank of trees and then another, all was well, aside from the palpable tension in the air. I didn’t sense the problem until I’d taken a few steps too many.

I’d been cut off from the earth—or at least what passes for earth in Tír na nÓg. As in all the planes, whatever I’m standing on is supposed to allow a strained flow of energy to course through me from Gaia, for all planes are connected to her. I stopped walking when I realized the comforting presence of her energy was not merely strained but entirely absent. Before I could say anything to Owen, he pointed through the canopy at the top of the castle, where a haze of flying faeries swarmed along the tops of the walls.