It warms me heart to see us all gathered here and in such good spirits too. Hadaig introduces a new member of the clan, a fellow renegade who's proved his worth by robbing the Niafer of the Rian's new bull, so recently purchased at the Tara fair. We all share a good laugh when it comes out that we were the first to steal it. Of course, all the braggin' and boastin' is spoken in the secret language of thieves, so the innkeep thinks we're a band of cattlemen on the hoof bringing a great offering for the Niafer Samhain feast.

"So ya've brought back that blasted bully bundle," I mutter to 'Daig from the corner of my mouth. "Leave him here as payment for our night's revels. We'll have to move fast after we lay the torch to this lice-ridden hut! Huath is in with a band of Laigin men who're out to avenge the death of their kinsman. Remember that young prince turned renegade, Domnall of Ailinn?"

The Night Raven shrugs. "Heard tell of him. He fell under the sword of that mead-sotted war chief Dobhar, didn't he?" Sitting up a bit taller, he grins and puffs out his chest. "So they should thank me for ridding the land of that scourge, eh?"

"Hush, you fool! The innkeep has ears as big as cart wheels. Your name has already gone 'round their camp as hero. Huath tells me Domnall's older brother Datho can't wait to shake yer bloody hand."

A raw cawing of laughter covers the rest of our talk. Someone has pushed back the toad witch's hood and laid bare her unnatural ears. If they weren't so drunk, they wouldn't find it so amusing to discover a sidhe in their midst. My simpleton son rushes to her defense and I reckon his other eye may be purpled before the evening is done.

"Who is this 'vagabond' you've brought along? Something odd about him. Or her. Or it. And sure whatever-it-is has caught Baine's fancy!"

Hadaig's face goes red with jealousy or embarrassment or both. "Labraid is the name. See? Baine's got her sword back. He said he won it in a game of dice. I think he's a liar but he'll give us one more blooded blade for our side. He has his own sword and a good horse, and says he can fight. As long as he don't get between me and her."

More drink and more yet. The senile innkeep is beside herself with joy to receive the bothersome bull as our parting gift. In the darkest hour, I kiss the sweet hag goodnight and we depart with Huath to meet the men of Leinster, soon to be our brothers in battle. The Morrigan will feast again soon!