people and will not hesitate to kill, but they seek no lands beyond their own and have no wish to dominate others. «
» You’d never know it from the way people talk about them, myself included. I mean, I’m not going to stop thinking they’re creepy as hell—because if your body turns to tar, you’re fucking creepy, right?—but I’m frankly shocked to hear they don’t want to destroy us all. They need to get a good PR guy. «
» What’s a PR guy? «
» They’re kind of like the old Greek sophists who played with words until you believed up was down. PR guys get paid to make people believe that a pile of shit is an investment in soil fertility. Professional liars. «
» Ah! « Manannan’s expression lit with comprehension. » They are politicians? «
» No, they’re smarter and less pretty. They advise politicians. «
» Oh. Well, I thought ye should know the dark elves are seeking ye. «
» I appreciate the thought. It is bizarre. Two years ago, you say? I wonder what set them sniffing after my trail. «
» I wondered that myself, lad. Hoped ye might have an answer. «
I had a possible answer; thanks to a certain rendezvous six years ago, three of the Norse gods knew I was alive. One of them could have let slip the truth, intentionally or not. But since I had no way of knowing, I just shook my head. » No. But it’s one more enemy to watch out for. I’d love to see that map of the nine realms. «
» I’ll get ye a copy. «
» You are kind. Might you have a place in the castle where I could perform a divination in private? «
» What sort? « Manannan asked. Some of the old Druidic divination rituals could be messy, what with sacrificing animals and all. I had never favored those methods: Truth stained with blood is not so savory as truth arrived at without the forfeit of life.
» Just wands, « I reassured him.
» Oh, sure. « He waved a hand dismissively. » Not a problem. «
» There’s one other matter we should speak of. That hairy Russian god doesn’t have a home anymore, and he’s being pursued by Loki. Do you think the Tuatha Dé Danann might grant him asylum here for a time? «
Manannan grunted and smirked. » I feel certain Flidais will grant him nearly anything right now. It’s fine with me, if ye vouch for his character. «
» I do. «
» Then I can’t see too many objections if he has our support. I’ll send a faery to Brighid right away. « He dispelled the binding of the air around us, gathered up his cloak of mists, and we shifted back to birds before flying up to the tower. In our human skin again, we got dressed, I retrieved my pack, and Manannan showed me to a room where I could perform a divination. It was a spare chamber—a guest bedroom—decorated in burgundy and gold. I withdrew my wands from my pack and selected five at random while focusing on my question: Where and when could I best bind Granuaile to the earth? I cast the wands on the floor in front of me and interpreted the pattern they made; diplomatically, in the company of others, I would call the result less than satisfactory. Since I was doing this in private, however, I winced and cursed as I might if someone were to pluck out my short ’n’ curlies with a pair of tweezers.
I performed several more castings, refining my question and eking out every wee drab of vague meaning from the wands. The depressing conclusion was that there was not going to be any better time or place than at the base of Olympus in the near future. Whatever it was that had disrupted all the tethers to Tír na nÓg in Europe would remain in effect for an unconscionably long time, and every minute wasted now was another minute Granuaile would spend unable to defend herself—at least from anyone stronger or faster than a human. The problem was that she and I were going to start running into plenty of such beings; Brighid’s gag order aside, I knew very well that word was spreading even now: That bloody Druid was still
» You’d never know it from the way people talk about them, myself included. I mean, I’m not going to stop thinking they’re creepy as hell—because if your body turns to tar, you’re fucking creepy, right?—but I’m frankly shocked to hear they don’t want to destroy us all. They need to get a good PR guy. «
» What’s a PR guy? «
» They’re kind of like the old Greek sophists who played with words until you believed up was down. PR guys get paid to make people believe that a pile of shit is an investment in soil fertility. Professional liars. «
» Ah! « Manannan’s expression lit with comprehension. » They are politicians? «
» No, they’re smarter and less pretty. They advise politicians. «
» Oh. Well, I thought ye should know the dark elves are seeking ye. «
» I appreciate the thought. It is bizarre. Two years ago, you say? I wonder what set them sniffing after my trail. «
» I wondered that myself, lad. Hoped ye might have an answer. «
I had a possible answer; thanks to a certain rendezvous six years ago, three of the Norse gods knew I was alive. One of them could have let slip the truth, intentionally or not. But since I had no way of knowing, I just shook my head. » No. But it’s one more enemy to watch out for. I’d love to see that map of the nine realms. «
» I’ll get ye a copy. «
» You are kind. Might you have a place in the castle where I could perform a divination in private? «
» What sort? « Manannan asked. Some of the old Druidic divination rituals could be messy, what with sacrificing animals and all. I had never favored those methods: Truth stained with blood is not so savory as truth arrived at without the forfeit of life.
» Just wands, « I reassured him.
» Oh, sure. « He waved a hand dismissively. » Not a problem. «
» There’s one other matter we should speak of. That hairy Russian god doesn’t have a home anymore, and he’s being pursued by Loki. Do you think the Tuatha Dé Danann might grant him asylum here for a time? «
Manannan grunted and smirked. » I feel certain Flidais will grant him nearly anything right now. It’s fine with me, if ye vouch for his character. «
» I do. «
» Then I can’t see too many objections if he has our support. I’ll send a faery to Brighid right away. « He dispelled the binding of the air around us, gathered up his cloak of mists, and we shifted back to birds before flying up to the tower. In our human skin again, we got dressed, I retrieved my pack, and Manannan showed me to a room where I could perform a divination. It was a spare chamber—a guest bedroom—decorated in burgundy and gold. I withdrew my wands from my pack and selected five at random while focusing on my question: Where and when could I best bind Granuaile to the earth? I cast the wands on the floor in front of me and interpreted the pattern they made; diplomatically, in the company of others, I would call the result less than satisfactory. Since I was doing this in private, however, I winced and cursed as I might if someone were to pluck out my short ’n’ curlies with a pair of tweezers.
I performed several more castings, refining my question and eking out every wee drab of vague meaning from the wands. The depressing conclusion was that there was not going to be any better time or place than at the base of Olympus in the near future. Whatever it was that had disrupted all the tethers to Tír na nÓg in Europe would remain in effect for an unconscionably long time, and every minute wasted now was another minute Granuaile would spend unable to defend herself—at least from anyone stronger or faster than a human. The problem was that she and I were going to start running into plenty of such beings; Brighid’s gag order aside, I knew very well that word was spreading even now: That bloody Druid was still
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