“What are we going to do now?” Bee asked as she pulled herself up into her saddle.

  She gazed over the tents pitched with no organization, each standing where the ground had been flat enough to take it. To put it in the best possible light, the folk sitting out the front of each temporary shelter were nearly comatose. They were as close to death as they could be without actually standing in Dhuonos’s shadow. Bee wondered what had kept them in such squalor long enough to reach this pass. Surely, something should have driven them to abandon the makeshift settlement and head north with those they’d encountered.

  “Why are they staying?” Dorn asked as if reading her thoughts.

  “Because they think they’ve nowhere else to go,” Finn said. “These are the people without enough silver to leave.”

  Bee nodded. There was much about this non tracker that she didn’t agree with, but not this time. “Where to now?”

  “We should head to The Gap, I reckon. They mightn’t have finished this doorless barrier yet.”

  “That’s twelve leagues or more to the start of The Gap, so it is,” Bee said, frowning. “A full day’s ride. More, even. The wall’s likely at the other end. Bit of a slog for maybe, d’ye think?”

  “Aye. You’ve any better suggestions?”

  As she considered the question, she watched Dorn. He appeared to have something on his mind—something he wasn’t ready to share. Shrugging, she said, “Come on. The longer we sit here talking it through, the longer it’ll take to get there.”

  By the time they were riding up the Eastern Road, the evening shadows were long. They could see the southernmost point of the North Forest as a darker shade on the horizon. There would be no chance of reaching the forest before night fell, so Bee suggested they camp and start fresh with the dawn. They agreed because they were tired and no less irritable than before they’d had their audience with King Ochall.

  “I’ll cook,” Finn said. “You two can tend to the horses.”

  Once Finn had the fire alight and the cauldron on to heat their oats and mutton, they sat in silence. Bee was struggling with how best she might use the situation to her advantage. Having two allies who were hiding something, probably on the orders of her master, was vexing her and not a little. Dorn’s claim that Bren was searching for a weapon was no less troubling. Dagda had not mentioned any weapon. He told her that Bren discovered the portal’s existence through another of the Gods. Although he didn’t state it outright, the implication was that Danu was the Goddess in the mix. He also told her that Bren’s interference in the Kingdoms would have disastrous consequences on the finite balance he’d created.

  “He’s going to try to contact Myrddin. Whatever happens, they must not meet,” Dagda had said as he led her to the gate.

  “Myrddin is at Sceine’s Cove, why is he starting in the Western Wastes?” Bee had wondered aloud.

  “Forgive my saying so, but your brother is not the brightest star in the night. He is doing as instructed. Whoever is playing this game wants me to know. Changing the portal glyph was a sure way of telling me without actually telling me.”

  “And ye’re sure it’s a game?”

  “Yes. I am as sure as I can be. The one I suspect is often playing games.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I will not voice my suspicions, Bechuille, in case I am wrong.”

  And so now, here she was, sitting before a fire, wondering whether her suspicions were correct. Was it Danu playing with him? She thought it probably was. The words between the roundhouses were that their split had been a rancorous experience for them. Both of them. Apparently, there was room for bitterness on both sides of the divide and neither of them had a forgiving nature. They were vindictive when they felt slighted and extremely powerful, never a good mix in Bee’s mind.

  And here I am, sitting on a plain in the middle of what caused it.

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  Bee thought the Faithe, led by the Morrigan, were being particularly ominous. An owl hooted, and she looked across the open plain. All she could see were the lights of several campfires. Whatever danger the folk of West Kingdom feared, it didn’t appear to have manifested. And yet Bheara was voicing her premonitions into the dark. When the owl called, death would be sure to follow.

  She couldn’t stop the shudder, or her feeling of despair.

  “Are you cold?” Finn asked.

  “Aye. A little.”

  “Here,” he said, handing her a bowl of oats. “That’ll warm you, or my name ain’t Finn.”

  Nodding her thanks, Bee took a break from her thoughts while she ate. The tracker was right; the food was warming and she found herself relaxing, if only a little.

  “Why is it trackers are always good cooks?” Dorn asked.

  “That’s one of the eternal questions, so it is,” she said.

  “Eternal questions?”

  “Aye. Like why’s the sky blue, or the sea in constant motion.”

  “Good questions. Sure, I’m too tired to debate them now,” the ring fighter said. “I am for my bedroll.”

  “Aye, it’s gonna be a long one tomorrow, I reckon,” Finn agreed.

  Bee watched the two roll themselves in their blankets while wondering what had happened to the idea of politeness, where the lady got to sleep while the men stood watch. Sighing, she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and stared at the stars twinkling in the sky. Had she not known that Dagda hadn’t created the Kingdoms in the true sense but sought a land on a parallel plane and populated it with humans from a third plane, she would have considered the stars a wondrous creation. As such, the myriad diamonds had already been twinkling above when he sent his human vassals in to conquer the native peoples.

  What exactly did you create but a world of strife?

  Closing her eyes for a moment, Bee was startled by the hoot of an owl much closer and louder than the previous one. Looking at the bedrolls, she saw that neither of her companions had been disturbed, which she found surprising, considering how loud it had sounded.

  Scanning the darkness, she drew in a sharp breath when she saw what appeared to be a huge man standing thirty or forty paces away from their fire, which was now just glowing embers.

  I must have fallen asleep, she realised.

  What she couldn’t understand was how she could even see the man. It was as if he was faintly glowing, providing her with an outline. As she watched, he gestured with an arm, and Bee found herself unable to resist the call. Before she knew what she was doing, she was striding into the darkness toward the strange apparition.

  What did Ma tell ye about approaching strange men in the night? she asked herself, grinning.

  When she drew close, the stranger turned and walked a few paces away before vanishing. Running to see where he’d gone, Bee realised he’d jumped into a depression deep enough to hide him.

  “Come, Bechuille, we need to talk,” he said, sitting on a rock in the middle of the dingle.

  “Who are you, and how do you know my name?”

  “We are the Tri Dee Dana—”

  “We?” Bee asked.

  In answer, he nodded over her shoulder, and she turned to see two other massive Tuatha males standing behind her. She’d heard of Danu’s Three, the Gods of art: the brothers Goibniu the Smith, Credne the Silversmith, and Luchta the Carpenter. They were not Gods she knew to see, and she wondered what they were doing in the Kingdoms. Gods visiting Dagda’s creation was a rare occurrence because her Master frowned on interference of any kind. Danu’s Three here together only added to here sense of impending doom.

  Judging by his air of sophistication, she guessed the one on the rock was Credne.

  “Ye’re far from home,” she said, unable to stop herself staring at his long, spindly fingers. She supposed that as a silversmith, he must need a delicate touch, but there was something about the fingers that made her neck hairs stand up. He doesn’t look like a silversmith. He looks like Death.

  “As are you,” the God said.

  “How did ye get here?”

  “We’re not here, Bechuille. You are dreaming.”

  “So, why are you visiting my dreams?”

  “To warn you that your brother possesses information he means to give to the necromancer. Myrddin could use it to unleash the demon horde out of the cycle. Such a release would be catastrophic for the Kingdoms and possibly for the Fae Realm. You must stop him.”

  “But how? He has several days’ start, already an advantage, and now the road is closed.”

  “Not all roads are overland,” Credne said, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Listen to the ring fighter.”

  “Why do you not visit Brenos and tell him of the potential catastrophe?”

  “Because he is beguiled. He will not listen to us. No. You must catch him and stop him. Only you can do it and only with the ring fighter’s help. Listen to the ring fighter,” Credne said. Luchta and Goibniu repeated the words.

  “Aye, I can see the logic, so I can. But I’m sorry, I’m still confused. Why are Danu’s Three even involved? This is Dagda’s problem.” And more than likely Danu’s doing, Bee didn’t add.

  “When the Fae Realm is threatened, we are all involved. We must work together to survive. Remember, listen to the ring fighter.”