look in. Red opened the door and invited us to enter before him. Inside the only good light was from the window that Brendan had just cleaned. On the floor we left footprints in the quarter inch of dust that reminded me of astronauts on the moon.
‘I see your housekeeper is on vacation,’ I said, but Red wasn’t behind me. I went outside and he wasn’t there either. I walked the entire perimeter of the clearing but there was no Red. I went back inside.
‘He’s gone.’
‘Who’s gone?’ Brendan asked.
‘Red’s gone, vanished into thin air.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Brendan said and went outside with everyone else to look for him. They all came back wearing my confused countenance. ‘He’s gone.’
‘Gosh,’ I said, ‘is he?’
It was dark by the time we got the digs habitable. I just hoped that none of us had dust allergies ’cause if he did, he was going to keep all of us up all night. The stack of wood outside was mostly rotten but there was enough to get a decent fire going. Brendan found a dusty bottle of something. He uncorked it, had a sniff, thought better of it and put it back. The Digs may have been a bit neglected and forlorn but it was good to be inside with a roaring fire for a change.
We spoke into the night mostly about the strangeness of our host, but came to no conclusion except that our host was strange. After a light meal made from our dwindling rations Brendan decided to take a walk and I went with him.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked him as my breath fogged in the starlit night.
‘You sound like I shouldn’t be.’
‘Well, you did seem pretty mad at yourself yesterday when you wrongly accused Turlow.’
‘Oh that. I flew off the handle, for that I am mad at myself. But I’m not wrong about Turlow.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It took a while but my cop radar tells me he is not to be trusted. I’m sure I was right about him, I just don’t have any proof.’
‘Your radar once thought I was a murderer.’
‘No, it told me that there was something wrong with you, Conor, and I sure wasn’t wrong there.’
‘So what should I do, tie up Turlow ’cause your bunion is throbbing?’
‘I?ll figure it out, Conor, I always do. Just… don’t turn your back on him.’
That night when I put my head on what I laughingly called my pillow I thought about my chat with the local cop. Part of me wanted to distrust Turlow. If Brendan had dissed King Banshee earlier in our trip I would have joined in but as much as I hated to admit it, I was begrudgingly starting to like the guy. I know I shouldn’t put much stock in my nocturnal soothsaying but I had a feeling that if he really was betraying us, I would have dreamt about it. I put those thoughts aside and tried for the first time ever to direct my dreams. I closed my eyes and said to myself over and over again, ‘Where are the red eels? Where are the red eels?’ I fell asleep with that mantra in my head but it didn’t work. The stupid image of Red grinning at me annoyed me not only during the day but in dreamland as well.
The next morning I awoke to see that same grinning face sitting next to a roaring fire inside The Digs. How Red could sneak in and rekindle our fire without waking us worried me. He was wearing a ridiculous outfit made from what looked like snake skin. Imagine a pair of crocodile lederhosen and you get the idea. He had fish cooking between a wire mesh. I expected him to say, ‘Guten morgen,’ but he just waved when he saw me.
‘More fish for breakfast,’ I said. ‘Yum.’
He offered me a cup of tea and I accepted.
‘When can we leave for Eel Lake?’
Apparently his hearing was fine this morning. ‘I am waiting for you. I expected everyone to be up and ready to go. It is not an easy hike you know.’
I roused everyone and after a quick brekkie of mackerel and moss tea that surprisingly wasn’t as bad as it sounds, we were out the door and heading towards the highlands in the middle of the island.
The trail to Eel Lake was worse than the one to The Digs. The gorse bushes often encroached on the path to a point where it was impossible to pass. Instead of hacking our way through, like I would have done in the Real World, we had to plead with the bushes to back off. It was slow going.
I tapped Red on the shoulder as we walked. I had made sure I was directly behind him so he couldn’t ignore me. ‘I thought you said you came up here a lot.’
‘I do.’
‘This doesn’t look like a well-used path to me.’
‘It’s not.’
I waited but Red wasn’t in an extrapolating mood. Sometimes it was easier when he ignored me. ‘So how do you get up there?’ I finally asked.
‘I go an easier way.’
‘So why aren’t we going that way?’
‘My way would not be easier for you.’
‘Why not?’ I asked a couple of times along with some shoulder taps, but Red was just as good at ignoring me when I was directly behind him as he was when I was at the end of the parade.
As the morning progressed the trail became much steeper. Whoever originally designed this route didn’t bother with any of that zigzagging to make climbing easier stuff – when the mountain got steep, so did the path. Getting down on all fours became common. Eventually I wouldn’t say we were hiking as much as rock climbing. An hour after missing my lunch, we finally took a break on a level shelf about two thirds of the way up. We were all, including Red, uncharacteristically exhausted. I wondered if our lack of stamina was due to being so far away from the immortality mojo of the mainland. It was a thought I kept to myself. We drank from a sparkling clear stream that fed into a small pond. Next to Gerard’s wine it was the nicest thing I have ever drunk.
‘So tell me, Son of Duir,’ Red said, ‘what are you going to do with these red eels when you find them?’
‘I’m going to use them to cure my father.’
‘Cure him? Of what?’
I didn’t really want to tell him, but I didn’t have the strength to lie so I explained about Dad reattaching his hand and how that same hand was killing him. Red’s reaction surprised me. For the first time since I met him he looked truly interested.
‘And what makes you think red eels will help?’
‘Have you ever heard of the Grey Ones?’
‘Oh,’ Red said, ‘I remember the Grey Ones.’
‘I found an old manuscript that told of the Grey Ones’ search for the blood of the red eels.’
Red was agitated and on his feet. ‘This manuscript said red eels?’
‘No, that’s the translation into the common tongue. The scroll said they were searching for the blood of tughe tine. We came here ’cause a Pooka once called this place Tughe Tine Isle.’
Red placed both of his hands over his mouth to cover his surprise then threw his head back and began to laugh. If anyone else had done this it would have looked like they were losing it but with Red it strangely made him, for the first time, look sane.
‘I should have known.’ He stood and began to walk down the mountain.
‘Wait a minute,’ I said, grabbing him by the arm. Still laughing, he spun around like a rag doll. ‘What should you have known?’
‘I cannot believe I walked halfway up this mountain just so I could find out what you wanted with eels. Thank you for reminding me why I live alone.’ He laughed again but then became angry. ‘For the love of the gods – has The Land gotten so stupid that the Prince of Duir cannot even translate two simple words?’ He grabbed my head with both hands and pulled my face close to his. ‘Tine, my feeble-minded gold miner, does not mean red it means fire and tughe does not mean eel. Do you not have scholars in Duir? Have you never heard of the Hall of Knowledge?’
‘The Hall of Knowledge is gone.’
‘Gone? What do you mean gone?’
‘It was destroyed.’
