“Ay, yer Da was quite a man, an’ ‘ad a talent few ‘ealers coul’ match.” The lass, Seasaidh, raises an brow, p’haps she dinna know ‘bout ‘is skills. “Few could match him, but few dinna mean none. There were Amleth an’ Moss in those days. The best, and ‘is bes’ student. Flannan ‘ad no place a’ the Crannog. An’ yer mother, she jes’ stayed by ‘is side.”

We’ve stopped on the road. There’s a ‘ut jus’ beyon’ the next ‘ill, an’ the li’l village ashore o’ the Crannog will be makin’ itself plain. Complete wi’ a tribe o’ not-Nialls.

“In those days, the Crannog were alive an’ burstin’ wi’ souls. ‘course, ye lef’ afore all the wars.” I got me these young’ un’s attention I do. Bu’ I’m no’ a tale-teller—jes’ a mere messenger. “’ere were war wit’ the Morna, then war wit’ t’other Nialls, the children o’ Coirpre. Afer tha’ everyone seem’ t’go their way an’ nobody lef’ mindin’ the Crannog.”

They is lookin’ a’ me, like I got more for ‘em, but I tol’ ‘em all there is t’know. I look away, tryin’ to indicate tha’ I’m done, bu’ I kin feel they big eyes burnin’ inta me.

“’aven’t ye been listening?” I ask, somewha’ snappy. “Why else ye think there’s another tribe ‘ere? Ye think Nialls jes’ le’ the Aracos take over? The brehon gave i' t’these folk. Tho ther ain’t much o the Aracos lef’ I tell ye. Bu’ ye mind yerselves ‘ere. Oh, all right, I’ll come wi’ ye, bu’ only t’let these folk know ye ain’t ‘ere to take th’land away.

“Yer no’ th’first t’arrive today anyway. I was tol’ tha’ a druid, a daughter o’ the Bard o’ Leinster be ‘ere already. Bu’ she already knew ‘bout the Aracos, so I were sent t’explain i' all t’ye!”