Summer Isle engages in a flirtatious exchange with the long-legged warrior poet, then whirls off with her to join the mad ring of dancers. I am left with Fenian. There is no use trying to talk. I am half deaf from the noise anyway. With a cordial smile, he refills my cup from the huge flagon on the table. I'm relieved that he doesn't ask me to dance with him. He's a handsome man but my heart belongs to another.

And so I sit and drink and watch the dancers, keeping one eye on the door just in case Conall should appear. Or Keu.

The mead is quite strong. After two cups, I feel drowsy and warm. I slouch down on the bench and let everything blur into a pleasant golden haze.

I hardly notice when a tall, redhaired woman joins Fenian. Politely, he introduces me but then forgets to say her name. From her regal bearing and her fine clothes and ornaments, she must be the Rian Flidais! And from the sharp look I get from her, I assume she and Fenian must be lovers. I lower my head meekly and stare into my cup, trying to look as innocent as I truly am.

After awhile, I begin to wonder where I will sleep tonight. The mead has made me so careless, I could go to sleep right here on the bench amidst all the raucous noise. Summer Isle, my only friend in this place, has abandoned me. Maybe I should find the innkeeper and offer some of my silver pieces for a night's lodgings here. Sadly, I think of the warm hospitality of the Love Affair and the comforts of Brigid's Bruidean. No one hears my heavy sigh.

Then, without any sign or warning, all the raucous riot falls absolutely silent. The dancers halt, the musicians stop and it seems like everyone in the inn is suddenly brandishing a weapon. Jolted by a slap of icy fear, I sit up straight, gripping my cup and staring around at all the swords, knives, and daggers, a terrifying display of metal that has bloomed out of nowhere. Most of them seem to be pointing at a strange and weatherworn harper who has come to our table. I can't help staring at the blue markings on his skin. He looks like some phantom from the Otherworld but he simply stands there with his harp in his arms, making no threatening gestures. Summer Isle's dancing partner leaps across the entire length of the room in one bound to point her sword at the harper's throat! I want to crawl under the table and hide but I cannot move.

If Fenian did not put a gentle hand on the Rian's arm, I am sure the harper's head would have been rolling on the floor in another instant. If looks could kill, he would be already reduced to a heap of smoldering ashes by her angry glare. She pauses. I hear her take a slow, deep breath. Then she announces that the traitor will be taken to the House of Red Poets. She, Fenian and the long-legged Niamh grimly escort the harper from the inn.

Shaken, I stare after them. The music begins anew but only about half the people still want to dance. The weapons are stowed away again but the Sea Hag is buzzing with gossip. I catch only a few words - ferryman, hostage, princess, traitor, thief and war chief - but its impossible to make any sense of this.

Summer Isle returns and pulls me to my feet. "I have to know what has happened with Amlaidh!" he mutters as he drags me towards the door. "Once he saved my life. I owe him the same. And it looks like the time has come when he may rightly call for the debt to be repaid."

I stumble along behind him. The mead has made me clumsy and slow. "Where is this House of Red Poets?" I ask with a heavy slur on my words. "Is it far?"

At the door, Summer Isle turns to look at me. "I'm sorry, Briar," he says, "I forgot how far we rode today. You must be so tired. First we'll find a place where you can rest..."