In a pelting rain, a dozen warriors, alerted by the messenger, ride out to escort us to the safety of the keep. They are led by the old veteran, Enna, whose fierce scowl is a harsh welcome home. Secure with the additional guard, we pick up our pace and move even more swiftly towards the Niafer stronghold.

"Someone set an ambush," I explain tersely, sparing Enna the formalities of a greeting. "A man with a badly slashed arm was lying on the road. There were tracks of several horses leading off into the woods to the river. It looked like four or five people had lingered awhile but they rode their horses into the water and we were unable to track them from there. It seems they ran off when they saw they were outnumbered. They left their man in the road, since he would only slow them down. "

Enna nods. With a gnarled fist, he absent-mindedly shakes the rain from his hood.

"This same man," I continue, "was brought to the healer's tent at Temhair by one with crooked shoulders and a hunched back. Moss said his wound had already been cleaned and wrapped with rags. Strangely enough, two men - one an archer, the other with a battle-axe - and a woman dressed as an herbalist entered the tent later, held Moss and her helper at swordpoint, and took that man away with them."

"A battle-axe, did you say?" Enna peers out of his hood at me, scowl deepened. "And with him, a bowman?"

"That's what I was told."

The gates of the keep are flung open. Enna's raspy voice is lost in the tumult of the downpour, shouts from the warriors, thunderous bellowings of the wolfhounds, and shrill whinnies of excited horses.

"Magh Croimor!" He grabs my arm as I dismount, yelling in my ear. "Last summer, if you recall when Dobhar was lured out by that cowherd pretending to be a messenger from the Cumhaill Cean Fine, I rode with them as a scout. It was an axeman who was waiting for him, claiming a blood grudge about some lass Dobhar couldn't even remember. Mark my words. An axeman. There were others lurking about the woods the whole time, keeping watch. And wasn't it an arrow that brought Dobhar down, an arrow shot by an archer no one ever saw!"

Fenian rides up beside us just in time to hear the last few words. "It's true," he grimly agrees.

Enna roars out a rusty laugh. "So it's that renegade band, tasted a bit of Niafer blood and they've come back this summer for more, eh?"

"How many do you think there were at Magh Croimor, Enna?" I ask, "If they backed down from the ambush because they were outnumbered, there can't be enough to trouble us. The tracks on the road showed only four or five horses."

"Unless," Fenian breaks in, "that was just a few of them, sent in advance of a larger raiding party."

"Then we'd better keep a close guard on that man we found on the road!" I answer quickly. "Enna, that will be for you! You'll find him in a cart with the healer alongside. Get two others to go with you and take him to the little hut behind the warriors' hall. He's too badly wounded to be dangerous but we don't want him to know too much about this place or be given any chance to leave our hospitality just yet. Question him and find out as much as you can."

Trusty Enna shambles away, cackling and rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

I turn to watch the last of our people straggling into the keep. I see Oengus the Smith give his worried wife a hasty hug before he hurries towards the armory. Ceana stares after him for a moment before moving on with the rest of the crowd flowing like a muddy river to the great hall. Most of them still wear their festive clothes, muddied and drenched. Some carry soggy bundles of newly acquired treasures brought home from Temhair. There is a small herd of horses, the pride of the traders, being led carefully into an already crowded livestock enclosure beside the stables. Wagons and carts, small and large, clutter the open space where the warriors like to spar.

A strange feeling comes over me that there is more to this than merely a small band of renegade raiders. I twine my arms around Fenian's waist and look deeply into his eyes, seeking reassurance.

"They'll all be safe here for the short time it will take us to root out this menace," he smiles, yet the tension I feel coiled in his spine matches my own unspoken forebodings.