Araf looked at me like a boy getting permission from his mother to go swimming on a hot day.
‘I think we can spare his stick for the rest of the afternoon,’ Spideog said. ‘Prince Araf, you are relieved.’
A rare ear-to-ear smile erupted on the Imp’s face as he reached for the whistle hanging around his neck. He simultaneously kicked his mount into a gallop and blew. All of the Imps in the distance immediately stopped what they were doing and then began to cheer as they saw their prince speeding towards them. We watched as a mob of Imps practically dragged him from his horse. How anybody can get excited about spending an afternoon covered in dirt is beyond me but I knew Araf was now as happy as a pig in muck.
As we got closer to the outbuildings it became obvious how much work had been done. All of the rubble had been cleared away or stacked for later repair. Several of the smaller buildings had been rebuilt and then there was the landscaping. Those Imp guys sure can plant stuff. Hedges, young trees and flowerbeds were everywhere.
As we approached what looked like a guard house, Spideog kicked his horse and sped ahead. Just before he cleared the building, he notched an arrow in his bow and performed a magnificent full speed dismount. He hit the ground running using his horse for cover, then pulled his bow to full length and let his mount go on. He stood stock still, menacingly aiming a deadly arrow at something or someone that I couldn’t see. I drew my sword and looked to Mom but she seemed more annoyed than concerned. She kicked her horse into a canter and I followed. Mom casually went behind Spideog – I on the other hand peeked around the building. Standing there with a crossbow pointed directly at Spideog’s head was Master Dahy.
‘Boys,’ Mom said in a reproachful tone.
‘Tell this old man to drop his weapon. His clumsy reconnaissance has been exposed,’ Spideog said.
‘First of all,’ Dahy replied, ‘I am younger than you.’
‘In age maybe, but not in spirit.’
‘Boys,’ Mom said again. This time she sounded impatient.
‘Secondly,’ Dahy continued, ignoring the interruption, ‘I have a Brownie crossbow aimed at your head. I’ll drop you before you can even let go of that string.’
‘Would you like to put that to the test, Old Man?’
Mom dismounted and walked between the two Masters. No matter how much they wanted to kill each other (and it sure looked like they did) their duty kicked in as soon as the Queen of Duir stepped into the line of fire. They immediately lowered their weapons.
‘Now that is better,’ Mom said in an overly calm tone. ‘I’m going to return to my mount. I shall assume you two will not again raise your weapons to eac other after I leave.’ When she got no response, she said, ‘Master Spideog?’
‘Yes, my lady,’ Spideog said, replacing his arrow in his quiver.
‘Master Dahy?’
‘Of course, Lady Deirdre,’ Dahy replied, removing the bolt from his crossbow.
I don’t know how many years those two had between them, probably thousands, but at that moment they sounded like eight-year-olds.
‘Master Spideog, you are with me,’ Mom commanded. ‘Master Dahy, I have royal bodyguard duty for you. He is over there hiding behind that wall – I think you may have met.’
I stuck my nose around the building and waved.
‘Conor!’ Dahy said as he approached and placed his arms on my shoulders. ‘When did you get back?’
‘About a week ago; I would have thought someone would have told you.’
‘News is slow around here. I don’t have an emain slate. The Leprechaun who made them was killed when Cialtie blew out the east wing. The new ones don’t work very well. I’ve had to rely on couriers. Tell me, how is your father?’
We mounted up and I told him what Mom and Fand had done to Dad and about Mom’s magic Shadowbook paperclip. He took it all in without surprise like I was telling him the latest football scores. I guess if you’re as old as Dahy and have lived all of that time with witches and oracles, it’s easy to take news like this in your stride.
‘So you are going to be with us for a while then?’ Dahy asked.
‘As long as it takes.’
‘Good, I can use you.’
‘Use me for what?’ I asked suspiciously.
We passed one of the Hall’s outbuildings; I recognised it as the one where Lorcan clothes-lined me so long ago. Just past that we rounded a bend and I saw a large group of soldiers standing around a pair of duelling banta fighters in full protective gear.
‘You finally got your security force for the Hall of Knowledge,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ Dahy replied, ‘I imagine even your grandfather wouldn’t have minded, given the circumstances. I wanted a more ecumenical group but they are mostly Imps, Leprechauns and Faeries.’
‘Faeries?’
‘Of course. There are a few Banshees but I couldn’t get any Elves or Brownies to join and nobody has spotted a Pooka in ages. This lot are all very green. I could use your help to train them.’
I was just about to ask what a Faerie looked like when the banta stick duel captured my attention. The one guy wasn’t doing very well. Every time he mounted an attack his opponent seemed to know in advance exactly where it was going to come from. His opponent’s parries and counter-attacks were minimal and effective to the point of perfection. But what really caught my attention was the posture and footwork. There was only one person that moved like that and it made my heart race even before she took off her head protector and shook even youavy black hair over her shoulders like a model in a shampoo commercial. Essa turned and our eyes locked. She was definitely surprised to see me but, as usual with that girl, I wasn’t sure if she was happy about it or not.
All eyes turned to Dahy and me as we approached. Essa’s duelling partner took off his headpiece and for a moment I was hit with deja vu. As he revealed his black hair with a white tuft in the front, I momentarily thought it was Fergal but then the Banshee’s sharp facial lines and broad chin broke the illusion.
‘Attention, Soldiers of the Red Hand,’ Dahy shouted.
The group snapped to attention. I smiled. Dahy had held onto the same name as the army that last occupied the Hazellands.
‘I give you Conor, Prince of Duir!’
Everybody dropped to one knee and bowed their heads, except, I noticed, Essa and her Banshee-duelling partner.
I dismounted. ‘Hi, folks. Look, I’m gonna be around here for a while so you don’t have to do that – OK?’
‘As you were,’ Dahy ordered and everybody relaxed as a buzz went through the crowd.
Essa gave a loud theatrical cough and thankfully the hundreds of eyes left me and turned to her. ‘If our regal visitor doesn’t mind, shall we continue with our training?’
Her troops straightened up and quieted down. She was more beautiful than I had even remembered. What kind of idiot was I, leaving a woman like this behind? She finished by staring at me with a question on her face and I realised she actually wanted me to answer her question.
‘No, no,’ I stammered, ‘by all means continue.’
She seemed to smile at me but only from one side of her mouth. ‘We have been working all day on banta fighting. Excellent for helping improve footwork and winning competitions, but in battle you are most likely to be attacked with a sword. What happens if you only have a banta stick to defend yourself with?’
I came very close to shouting out, ‘You’re screwed,’ but two things stopped me: one was that I had seen Essa fight sword with stick and she was damn good at it; secondly, I instinctively felt that undermining Essa in front of her students would be a bad idea.
‘Our new guest, Prince Conor,’ Essa continued, ‘fancies himself as quite the swordsman. Your Highness,’ she said with just enough sarcasm that only I heard it, ‘would you like to help me with this demonstration?’
‘How about we nip off and spend a little alone time,’ is what I really wanted to say. Instead I answered, ‘Sure.’
I walked to the midst of about a hundred young eager eyes. Essa and I squared off in the centre and slowly circled each other. For the first time a proper smile crossed her face. Gods, she was stunning. I drew my sword and her smile vanished. She backed into the crowd and threw her banta stick to a soldier and took a training stick from another. She returned back to the centre.
‘Conor is wielding a very good sword indeed. Does anyone recognise it?’ A few hands went up. ‘It is the
