then…her father came in.
Essa sat bolt upright. I think she moved even faster than she did during her banta fight with Araf. ‘I think he is feeling better, Father.’
I sat up.
‘That, I can see. Leave us, daughter, will you.’
Essa gave me a glance. She looked worried, and to be honest I didn’t like Gerard’s tone either.
Before she left Gerard said, ‘May I borrow your pendant for a little while?’
This seemed to shock her. She removed a finger-sized crystal that was hanging from a plain gold chain around her neck and handed it to her father. She gave me one last apprehensive look and left.
Gerard took a step closer to the bed, drew a sword and pointed it an inch from my throat.
‘Honest, sir,’ I said, ‘I didn’t even kiss her.’
Chapter Ten
‘Do you recognise the sword at your throat?’ Gerard asked. With extreme effort I released my attention from the point and glanced down the mirror-like blade to the pommel.
‘It’s mine’.
Gerard held Essa’s necklace in his left hand. The crystal that hung from it was embedded with flecks of gold. ‘This is an Owith glass,’ he said, ‘it will darken if you lie. If I were you, I would tell the truth. Did you steal this sword?’
Now that was a tricky question. I sort of stole it from Cialtie, but Dad said it was his. ‘My father gave it to me.’
The crystal flickered but remained clear.
‘Is Conor your real name?’
‘No,’ I said, just to see what would happen.
Essa’s necklace instantly went dark. This truth crystal was the real thing. I felt the point of my blade at my throat.
‘I suggest you try that again. Is Conor your real name?’
‘Yes.’
‘And who is your father?’
‘I can’t tell you that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you will kill me if I do.’
‘Well then, Conor, you have a dilemma, because I’m going to kill you if you don’t.’
‘What do you have against me?’
‘This blade, that you casually checked in at my door, is the Sword of Duir. Did you know that?’
‘Yes,’ I said. The crystal remained clear.
‘The only way you could possess this blade, is if you stole it. I am a very tolerant man, but I cannot abide a thief
‘I told you, my father gave it to me.’
‘The crystal bears you out-so the thief must be your father.’
I felt my anger rise. ‘My father is no thief-the sword was his to give.’
‘Are you claming to be the son of Cialtie?’
‘Cialtie?’ I spat, and before I could stop myself, ‘I am the son of Oisin of Duir.’
Gerard looked at the crystal and stepped back. ‘Stand up,’ he ordered.
I did as I was told. I wasn’t as shaky on my feet as I should have been. That little drink had really done its stuff.
Gerard kept the sword pointed to my chest and looked at me as if anew. How could I have been so stupid? I just blurted out who I was and now he was going to do his duty and kill me.
‘My gods! You are of Duir,’ he roared. ‘I don’t know how I missed it before. Oisin’s son-you are Oisin’s son!’ He raised the sword and came at me, fast.
There was nowhere to run, I was finished. I placed my hands in front of my chest and closed my eyes.
He wrapped his huge arms around me and gave me a hug that would have put an anaconda to shame. ‘Oisin has a son!’ He laughed-a hearty laugh that shook the room. He put both hands on my shoulders and looked at me from arm’s length.
I opened one eye. ‘Don’t you want to kill me?’
‘Why in The Land would I want to do that?’
‘Everyone else around here does-the son of the one-handed prince thing.’
‘Oh my, that is an old prophecy-one of Ona’s, is it not?’
I nodded.
Gerard laughed. ‘I can’t tell you how many times some sorceress told me that my next harvest would fail or be the finest vintage-bah! I don’t have much faith in soothsayers. The good ones (like Ona, may she rest in piece) don’t lie-but that doesn’t mean that what they say is the truth. Anyway, it takes an awful lot for me to kill someone, and I’m certainly not going to kill a young man as fine as you because of something an old witch said thousands of years ago. Oisin’s son!’ He hugged me again, this time lifting me off the ground.
‘Tell me, Conor, where have you been hiding all of these years?’
I wondered for a second if I should make something up, but I just couldn’t help trusting this man. I sat down on the bed and told Gerard the whole tale-it just poured out. Gerard pulled up a chair and I went through it all: my life in the Real World, the death threats, the revelations, the emotions, the journeys, the fights, the meetings-the concussions. I wasn’t only telling Gerard, I was telling myself too. I had been living moment to moment, just trying to stay alive. Now that I had put it all together I realised it was a hell of a story. I ended by saying, ‘So I have to find my mother. I think she is in a place called the Fililands, but Fergal says they don’t exist. Can you help me?’
‘Oisin and Deirdre have a son,’ Gerard mused. ‘This,’ he said, breaking out of his reverie, ‘is the finest news I have heard in a long, long time. Are you thirsty, Conor?’
‘You wouldn’t have a beer, would you?’
Gerard roared with laughter at this. ‘In all of The Land I am the only man who could answer that question with a “yes”.’ He put his arm around me and waltzed me out of the room. We walked down a corridor that overlooked the courtyard. Through imperfect glass windows I could see another banta fight in progress. The party was still in full swing. At the top of an immense staircase Gerard bellowed, and several servants appeared.
‘Bring ale and food to the library,’ he ordered. ‘After that, we are not to be disturbed.’
We continued and then turned down a corridor with numerous small alcoves cut into the walls. In each was a carved wooden statue. Some were model castles, some were miniature thrones, most were busts of men and women. All were of different wood. Gerard stopped at a bust of a handsome man with a full beard carved in red wood.
‘This is your grandfather.’
‘Finn?’ I asked.
‘No. This is your other grandfather, on your mother’s side, Liam-the last lord of the House of Cull. He was a good man.’ Sadness invaded Gerard’s face and for a moment he looked old. ‘He was my friend.’
We arrived at the library at the same time as our food and drink. I was expecting an impressive chamber with bookshelves towering to the sky, but instead I found a smallish, comfortable room with just a few books, a wine rack, a desk, some overstuffed chairs and a deerskin sofa.
‘I’m not much of a reader,’ Gerard said, guessing my thoughts. ‘If you wanted to see a great library you should have seen your grandfather’s. It was a huge affair with a courtyard in the centre where he grew the Tree of Knowledge.’
‘The Tree of Knowledge?’ I asked.
