I leave Hadaig and run to the gate, just in time to see Sean and his greenwood wife merrily riding off. They look to be in a world of their own astride a gray mare, mounted very close together, thigh against thigh. I strain for a better look at the mysterious bride but she might as well be a sack of grain in her baggy, hooded wrappings. Having no horse, I'll never catch them now. I stand and watch them go. Just before they disappear over the rise in the road, I see her shake off her hood. A cascade of tresses black as my own falls free. Sean leans forward over her shoulder and I imagine he is either whispering to her or kissing her. Then they disappear over the rise. They must be on their way to the meeting place.

And so I wander back to where my Night Raven was keeping the bull. Around the bull's pen, Niafer warriors are thick as flies on a honeyed bannock. I stroll over to a shady spot where I can be sure my face will be in shadows, far enough away where I won't be noticed but near enough to watch for trouble. I untie the small dagger strapped to my wrist and lean uneasily against the tree, poised for action, either to flee or to rush to 'Daig's defense.

Sweat rolls down my back. The Rian is enjoying a good bartering with this handsome false cattlelord, I can tell by the way she gestures, cocks her pretty head, and flashes her teeth at him. Her bard and her consort wait patiently while the rest of the warriors linger close by. No one seems to recognize Hadaig as the axe-man who slew their war chief. They treat him with the respect due any BoAire. I grind my teeth nervously and grin at them all from the shadows.

At last the deal is done! The bull is led away with much celebration among the Niafer crowd. Hadaig is quick to throw the pack, heavy-laden with the Rian's silver and gold, over his horse's back and make his getaway, hardly slowing his pace to scoop me up from where I wait.

Wisely, he avoids the road. Instead we cut our own rough and brisk path straight through the Ard Righ's fields and over the wooded hills to the appointed grove.

We burst into the grove from the wooded side, giddy with relief and triumph. We are greeted with a curse and a shout.

"Away!" roars Nion, wild-eyed and on a rearing steed. The side of his face and neck is awash in fresh, splattering blood. A jerk of the reins and a flurry of hard kicks sends rider and horse flying off towards the road. Keu frantically follows and his stallion stumbles slightly as he bolts from the grove.

He stumbled over a man lying in a red puddle.

Our horse is thrown into a frenzy by the mad rushing and the smell of death. I cling hard to Hadaig as he struggles to control the crazed and careening animal. Finally the poor creature gives in to the herd instinct and with a scream of sheer terror takes off at a wild gallop after the others.

We don't stop until we are on the road to Inver Colpa.