By the time he had fed the child and settled him to sleep, retrieved his horse and his supplies, Ailill was finding it hard to breathe past the pain in his side. He sank down beside the fire, which was dying again, and wondered whether he could force himself to gather more firewood. Surely the Danaan must now be close, even if they had not known just when the boy was lost or from where he had been taken. Would they need the light of the fire to find this camp?

Ailill really did not want to follow the track of the cattle back to the sidhe. He did not want to move at all. If Bress’ people came, he could give them the boy and the cows and lie up for a few days while his rib set. He closed his eyes.

He was to get no peace, however. His long silence had seemingly convinced the thieves that he had gone to sleep. Now he heard one of the men cursing softly and moving about, doubtless trying to free his thumbs. Ailill jerked upright and yelped as it seemed as if a knife stabbed his side. Gritting his teeth, he levered himself to his feet more carefully. No matter the pain, he had better bind his prisoners more securely.

And suddenly the small clearing was full of men, half with drawn swords and the other half with drawn bows. And every nocked arrow was aimed at him. Ailill raised his empty hands.

«I am not the man who took your child,» he said. «Those who did lie bound. The child is here, asleep.»

«I am not asleep,» Bress called, sitting up. «And what this man says is true.»

There was a high, musical cry, and a woman came running from behind the men to catch the child into her arms and kiss him. The men lowered their swords and relaxed the tension of the bowstrings somewhat. Holding his side, Ailill let himself sink to the ground. One of the men lifted the hand not holding his sword and gestured. Lights formed bright, misty balls in the air and the clearing was as bright as day.

Ailill swallowed a shriek of terror. A thin sound worked its way up his throat, but both the cattle thieves screamed their fear aloud and covered his small exclamation. A babble of sound came from those around the boy, the woman asking questions of the child to discover if he had been hurt, was hungry, was cold, was thirsty. The men were not so sympathetic and mixed scolding with many questions.

Eventually the tall man who had gestured the witch-lights into being came and crouched down beside Ailill, who swallowed the heart that seemed to be trying to climb up his throat and into his mouth. He did his best to straighten himself.

«How did you come to notice the child and the cattle?» the man asked.

«I heard the child crying. At first I did nothing, believing that a cattle drover had punished his son or his apprentice, but then I heard the little one begging Mother Dana for help.»

«So you saved him, knowing he was Danaan.»

«Yes.»

«How?»

Ailill started to laugh and then gasped, his hand against his painful ribs. «It was easy because the pair that took him were such fools.» He described how he had overcome the thieves, ending, «Perhaps they had never heard of the Tuatha Dé Dunaan. But even so, imagine stealing cattle and then lighting a campfire as if no one would pursue.»

«You know it was not the cattle we pursued,» the tall man said. «What do you want for protecting our child?»

Ailill glanced sidelong at the lights floating above the men’s heads, lighting the whole area. He took a breath, wincing and holding his side, but he described his desire for Medb.

The tall man shook his head. «I cannot interfere with a Milesian marriage or»—

«Gods, no!» Ailill exclaimed. «If Medb should learn you had anything to do with freeing her from Conchobar, she would kill me. No, that is her business and she will manage it. But I must come to her with goods exactly the equal of what she has and to do that I must gather my goods and hold them in this area until she is ready to be bound to me. Only I have no one I can trust to hold my wealth for me until Medb is ready.»

«And you would trust me, who you have never met before, whose name you do not even know, to hold your goods?»

Ailill laughed and glanced up at the magical lights. «What I will gather will be riches for me but little above dross for you. I have seen your cattle. I see the clothing you wear to chase thieves through the woods. The torc around your neck would buy a kingdom. And no, I do not want any of it. Medb could not match any gift you gave me and all such wealth would do is wake envy and desire in my equals.»

For the first time the man crouched beside Ailill smiled. «A wise man, and scarcely a man yet. Very well, I will hold your wealth for you although to do that I must give you the key to my sidhe. That I cannot give without recompense; my gratitude for your rescue of our child is not enough.»

«What recompense can such as I give a being who can light up the night?»

«We are strong, but few. If you Milesians gathered together enough force, you could drown us in numbers. My recompense is that you never seek a quarrel with the Tuatha Dé Dunaan for any reason at all. If you are attacked, you may defend yourself but you may not follow to gain a victory, even from your attacker.»

Ailill was silent, considering. If the Danaan should attack and he drove them away, he could still lose men and property and if he could not continue the fight, he would not be able to seize compensation. And then he thought that he had never heard of the Danaan attacking anyone who had not first injured them. Most of them did not live in places where they came in contact with ordinary people. A few did live in the world but. And then he bit his lip to keep from smiling. He would not need to worry about losses. Medb would retrieve whatever he lost for him.

He had forgotten his ribs, started to draw a deep breath of relief, began to cough, and groaned. Nonetheless he managed to say, «I will swear to that recompense.» And as the words left his mouth, an odd tingle took hold in his chest. «You have laid a gets on me.» he gasped.

«So I have,» the tall man said calmly. «It will do you no harm, unless you violate your oath. And even then, it will warn you first by what you now feel. Otherwise you will never know you carry the gets.» He smiled again and his eyes looked kind and the odd tingle disappeared from Ailill’s chest. «My name is Bodb,» he added, offering with his name his trust, «and if you will take no other gift, at least let us see to your injury.»

To that Ailill agreed with some relief, for the pain in his side was sapping his strength, but he did not expect to fall suddenly asleep and to wake sitting on his horse in bright daylight in a place he had never seen before. Their party seemed to be emerging from a dense wood that, to his right, opened into a wide valley of grass. In the distance, Ailill could see more cattle, like those with the boy, and a small herd of horses.

To his left was a hill broken by a shallow cave. Ailill could see the bare, unworked rock at the back of the cave because it was illuminated by sunlight.

«Dismount now,» Bodb said, coming to Ailill’s side and offering an arm to help. «How do you wish to be called while you are healing with us?»

Ailill laughed aloud and was instantly aware his rib was still painful, if not as excruciatingly painful as it had been. And when he tried to draw breath, he was also aware that his chest had been bound. He took Bodb’s arm and slid to the ground. One of the men who had been in the clearing when the Danaan found him came and took his horse, murmuring that the animal would be cared for. Ailill nodded thanks.

«My name is Ailill mac Máta,» he said, «my true name since you already have a hand on my heart. And I have also been called Ailill Dubd, Black Ailill, for obvious reasons.»

«Come with me,» Bobd said, offering his arm as an aid when Ailill swayed.

They were headed directly into the cave. Ailill hesitated, expecting Bodb to slow down lest in a step or two they walk right into the back wall of the cavern. But when they came under the cave roof, a sharp pang and a sense like a blow on the back of his neck made Ailill cry out and close his eyes in protest.

He had a moment of bitter shame and rage for allowing himself to be charmed and betrayed, but when his eyes opened an instant later he saw not bare rock nor more Tuatha Dé Danaan to make him a prisoner, but a broad corridor, lit with the same witch-lights that had lit the campsite of the cattle thieves.

Bodb tightened his grip on Ailill’s arm as he swayed again. The corridor was alive with beauty, with such pictures that the walls seemed to open into successive scenes of Eriu: in a moonlit glade couples of Danaan danced; in a sunlit valley the golden cattle of the Danaan grazed; sharp, bare cliffs rose from a landlocked harbour where fishing boats furled or raised painted sails; fields were tended by women with skirts kilted above their knees, who looked, laughing, over their shoulders.

Farther down the corridor a metalsmith worked, the flames of his forge seeming to leap out of the painted image. Danaans sat before looms on which the half-formed weavings were of superlative beauty, a minstrel, lap-harp on his knee, sang to a spellbound audience. Only one part of life did not appear; there were no images of war. No Danaan attired in precious armour swung a shining sword; no Danaan rushed upon another with upraised axe.

Ailill was surprised. It was true that most of the few Danaan he had come across had been minstrels or bards, but the others had served as men-at-arms in the households he knew and they were superb fighters. It seemed that despite their proficiency in arms they did not honour the art of war. Before he could ask about that oddity, the corridor opened out into a huge room. A fire burned in the centre on a polished marble hearth without smoke, although heat waves distorted the air above the leaping flames.