'We should stay near the banks,' the Bone Inspector said.
'There'll be too much chance of being seen.'
'This river has powerful currents. If we go down in the middle of it, we won't stand a chance.'
'All right. But if we get caught, I'm blaming you.'
They guided the boat into the current with a broken plank and then lay down in the bottom, watching the stars pass overhead.
Manannan recovered quickly enough to take back control of Wave Sweeper and soon they were speeding on their way. By the time dawn was breaking the sea was calm, the sky poised to turn a brilliant blue, free of even the smallest cloud. Soon the gulls were clustering around the mast and a cry was rising up from the watcher in the crow's nest. The Green Fields of Enchantment came up quickly on the horizon, a sunlit haven of rolling, emerald downs dotted with crystal streams and cool woods.
From his position at the prow, Church watched in growing wonder. There was something breathtaking about the place that went far beyond its appearance; it was in the air, in some too-subtle signs that only his oldest senses could perceive, but it left his nerves singing and his stomach filled with tremors of excitement. Some deep-seated part of his mind was registering recognition of one of the oldest archetypes: a place of miracles and peace. Heaven.
Wave Sweeper sailed into a small harbour built of gleaming white marble. There were no other ships in sight and the dockside was deserted, apart from two of the younger gods manning the jetty. They took the ropes Taranis's men threw out and fastened them to iron spurs, but Church had the feeling Wave Sweeper would have waited there like a faithful dog anyway.
The Tuatha lle Danann were allowed to disembark first, while the other strange travellers congregated below deck ready to begin their search for some meaning in their lives. Church and Ruth, however, were given pride of place at the front of the column with Manannan and Niamh.
They marched along a dusty road, baking in the heat, which wound briefly along the golden beach where the blue sea broke in white-topped waves before ending amongst the soothing shadows of the trees. Flowers bloomed in clusters of blue, red and gold. It reminded Church of Andalucia, or Umbria, an unspoiled rural climate designed for dreaming.
Manannan was borne on a gold chair carried sedan-style by four young gods. He was still weak, but he cocked his attention to Church and Ruth often enough for them to know they lay heavily on his mind. Niamh watched Church surreptitiously from beneath long lashes; it was impossible to tell what she was thinking, though her praise in the aftermath of the rescue had been fulsome, for both Church and Ruth.
The Court of High Regard lay in a shallow valley beyond the wall of soaring black pines, surrounded by pleasant grassed slopes where the breeze moved back and forth soothingly. If the first sight of the island had taken Church's breath away, the Court of High Regard was a hundred times more affecting. Tears of sheer awe stung his eyes; it was in the very fibre of the place, majesty in every atom.
Unlike the Court of the Final Word, it was more of a town-if not a citythan a court. The buildings were all white stone, so that the whole was almost impossible to view in the sun. In the architecture, Church glimpsed touches of the Middle East, of ancient Greece and Rome, Japan and the heavy Gothic stylings of mediaeval France. There were domes and towers, cupolas and obelisks, Doric columns and piazzas and sweeping boulevards where fountains tinkled pleasantly. Clusters of cultivated trees provided shade to talk and think.
'It's beautiful.' Ruth blinked away her own tears. 'Now I know why the stories said visitors never wanted to leave.'
They entered through gates of ivory and glass. Once within, the Tuatha lle Danann dispersed into small groups conversing quietly but intently.
Church and Ruth were left alone next to a statue that resembled the god Pan, but every time Church looked at it, it had a different face. 'Now what?' Ruth said.
After ten minutes Baccharus returned with a tall, thin god with flowing black hair and sculpted bone structure who resembled an aristocrat in his late twenties. 'The Master has already announced your presence to the court,' Baccharus said. 'A decision will be announced soon on when you may make your case. In the meantime, I have discussed your needs with Callaitus, Provarum of the sector of Trust and Hope, who will make the arrangements for your stay.'
Church took his hand and shook it. 'Thank you for everything you've done for us, Baccharus.'
Surprisingly, Baccharus appeared humbled by this. 'I will be along shortly. There are other matters-'
'I understand,' Church said knowingly. 'We'll talk later.'
Callaitus took them to a light and airy chamber, far removed from the cramped quarters of Wave Sweeper. At the window, the most delicate linen blew gently in the breeze. There was a large bed covered with sumptuous cushions and deep, soft blankets. A small wooden table held a bowl of fruit and a crystal decanter filled with sparkling water.
'Married quarters,' Ruth said, looking round at the furniture and space.
'What?'
'On the ship they put us in adjoining cabins. Here we've got a room together. How very presumptuous of them,' she added with mock affront.
'They're good at looking beneath the surface.'
She eyed him studiously, remembering his words on Wave Sweeper, saying nothing.
'I wonder where I'll find the Pool of Wishes.' He threw himself on the bed and slipped his hands behind his head. The soothing atmosphere made him feel instantly sleepy.
'I wonder what you'll find there.' A dark note rang clearly in her voice.
'What are you inferring?'
'You know how these things work. Everything comes with a price. You want to get rid of something big. That's got to be balanced out.'
He threw an arm across his eyes. 'I don't think I can take any more sacrifice.'
'Let's have none of that.' He felt the bed give as she climbed on. There was a rustle of clothing, more movement, and then she straddled him. He looked up to see her naked to the waist. She laughed silently at his expression. 'Remember your mantra: Life's good as long as you don't weaken. So stop thinking about all the sacrifice and suffering. Focus on the good stuff. That's a rule for living, Churchill.' She slowly ground her hips on his groin, smiling now, gently teasing.
Sleep was going to have to wait.
When he woke, dark had fallen. It was still warm, and fragrant with woodsmoke and the heady perfume of night blooms. There was a sense of magic in the air. He eased his arm out from under Ruth, who stirred and muttered, but didn't rouse, then dressed lazily before stepping out. The evening was alight with flickering torches gleaming off the white buildings. Faint, melodic music drifted across the jumbled rooftops, and somewhere he could make out the excited chattering of many voices. He leaned against the doorjamb and breathed deeply, enjoying the peace.
Across the piazza, a shadow stirred, then separated from the surrounding shadows. Baccharus made his way over from the bench where he had been sitting patiently.
'You needed to rest,' he said by way of greeting.
'Have you been waiting long?'
'It is not waiting if you are engaged in something important, and I was enjoying my time here in the Court of High Regard. I could have sat there until light.'
'You missed this place?'
'It is where I feel comfortable.' He placed a hand on Church's shoulder. 'Come, there is much we need to discuss, and this is not the best place.'
The streets wound round and back on themselves, diverged, became vast boulevards, then a network of interlocking alleys; briefly Church felt like he was back on Wave Sweeper in the endless corridors. He mentioned this to Baccharus, and for a second or two he had the odd impression he was lying on his back looking up into a brilliant, phosphorescent light. It faded into a gentler luminescence that flickered over a studded oak door. Baccharus pushed open the door and beckoned for Church to step through.
It was an inn, low ceilinged, straw on the floor, lots of tables and stools nestling in the comfortable shadows of nooks and crannies. A large fire roared in the grate despite the summery warmth, yet the temperature remained
