There is no need to ring the bell for the boatman. I see the dragonheaded prow of his strange craft rising from the mists that cling to the waterside. Amlaidh offers his hand in welcome, as if he was expecting me. I board the ferry and seat myself where I can gaze into the glassy ripples of Boann.

It has been an eventful visit to Inver Colpa. I was summoned to pass judgement upon a murderer, a simple matter that unfolded into a violent maze which eventually led to Crom Cruach. The gods must have their play. As I glide towards Tara, I re-live it all, committing every detail to memory with as few flaws as humanly possible. I must present an account of these happenings to the Ard-Righ. I have been away for much longer than anticipated.

As I remember, I embrace each memory and then release it with blessings of deep peace. Ceirdwyn's family. The wretched stonecutter. The children slain by Crom Cruach's followers. Unnamed and unknown others, including the druids who served him. And finally Crom Cruach himself. I bring their faces, their voices, to life once more in my mind's eye. I embrace them all, as the Great Liberator embraces us all, young and old, good and evil. Then I let them slip away into Boann's eternal depths.

When it is done, I raise my head. The sky is reddening with day's end. One ending connects to others. So be it.

Amlaidh brings the boat to a gentle landing at his crannog. He points to the little hut, then he is gone. By the time I kindle the fire and bring a pot of water to boil, he returns with fresh game.

At twilight, the simple pleasures of this crannog are richer than any Tara feast.