Chapter 17: The Dagger and the Compass

“Only now, someone has stolen a set,” Fis agreed, staring at her intently over his fingers. “But we do not know who. It must be one of the Higher Tuatha, but that leaves many suspects.”

“Why one of the Gods?” Bee asked.

“No other being could have broken the wards protecting the safe, which Goibniu created, magically sealed by Luchta, and hidden in my mound.”

Bee glowered at the God, wondering about the arrogance of the brothers, who believed their power surpassed that of any other God, despite the evidence of their current crisis.

And then another thought came to her. “Why is the recovery of one set so important? Ye’ve two more, if I can count.”

Fis took several moments to answer, and when he did, Bee felt stress rolling off the God in palpable waves. What he was telling her was scaring him beyond anything she would have thought possible.

“An Dagda was not being petty when he ordered the Pathmasters hunted and destroyed…” he started before hesitating.

This I have to hear, Bee thought. What excuse could there be for mass murder?

Clearing his throat, Fis continued, “When the existence of the portals was discovered, An Dagda created wards as a defense against invasion from another dimension. Only Tuatha can enter through a portal. The Pathmasters were a human sect, so in theory, they could not enter. Their… I will call him a shaman for want of a proper title… created an instrument capable of tearing a way into The Void. His discovery was accidental. This shaman was trying to create precious metals from base metals. He created a—although not exactly a dagger—it was dagger-like, and they say he was swinging it when he cut a hole. Upon discovering what lay beyond, this man, Trismegistus, created a sect, or more accurately, a group of adventurers, and sent each of them to explore The Ways, as he called them. They had no compass and so stumbled from portal to portal, discovering new worlds. However, the alchemist recorded his Pathmasters’ routes. Once they found a realm, he could find it again.”

Fis went on to explain how one of the adventurers stumbled upon the Fae Realm. At first, the Tuatha welcomed the adventurer as a curiosity. However, more and more arrived, and as the Tuatha got to know the humans, they realized their potential for violence. Bee didn’t say that the Tuatha recognizing a potential for violence in another species was like the sea recognizing that the sky was blue.

“An Dagda ordered these so-called Pathmasters watched, and so it was that Lugh discovered Trismegistus plotting to bring an army into our lands to throw us down—”

“Why didn’t the Chief just close the portals into the Fae Realm?” Bee scoffed.

Fis shook his head and frowned. “There is something about The Void that prevents magic from being performed within. It is possible to ward portals from the outside, preventing entry, but not from within, preventing exit.”

“Why not some sort of field on the outside that stops invaders from crossing the threshold?” Bee suggested.

“Although such magic is possible, it would not last indefinitely. Invaders would break through. If they had draíocht, which this Trismegistus surely did have, it would have been sooner rather than later. No. By ordering Lugh to destroy them, the Chief chose the right course.”

And then he ordered the powerful dagger recreated for his own ends, Bee hissed to herself, surprised at her lord’s lack of insight. Such a demand could only lead to trouble. But worse, Danu’s Three compounded the problem by creating more daggers and compasses than they should have.

“What happened to the dagger the alchemist created?”

“It was a poor thing, and Lugh was a little zealous in following An Dagda’s orders. He destroyed all the Pathmasters and Trismegistus’ dagger.”

“None of which explains what’s going on at this moment,” Ruirech said.

“None of which explains what is happening,” Fis agreed, but said nothing more.

Bee watched him for a moment before turning to the drinkers in the hostel. When she first came in, she thought them happy. Now, she could feel something else in the hushed voices and darting eyes. Even the noise of children at play was more subdued than she would have expected.

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The God’s fear infects these people, she realized.

“My brothers and I were playing ludus recently,” Fis suddenly continued, “when we all three felt a wrench, like something was trying to drag us down to Tech Duinn. It was simultaneous and accompanied by a pain I had not felt before. Goibniu and Luchta were in as much pain as me, which showed in their expressions. It could only have been one thing, and we went to each mound before discovering my set was missing. The thief had smashed the safe, and our suffering could only have been from when they broke the wards.

“After a short consultation, we agreed that we had to tell Danu what we had done. As is the Mother’s way, rather than lay blame, she began to devise ways to recover the lost tools. Apparently, Myrddin had been on her mind a lot of late. He was around the Point of Death doing something that did not make much sense, and Danu thought he might be in league with whomever stole the dagger and compass—”

“That’s some leap,” Bee interrupted.

“It’s not as much of a leap as you think. The theft of the tools indicates a coup is happening. There’s no other reason to steal them. And the only way to finish a coup is to invade our realm and murder our sovereigns. Danu believes that whoever stole the dagger and the compass intends to release the Demon Horde from Tartarus and send them here. Myrddin’s being at The Point is too coincidental for him not to be involved.” Bee nodded. She could think of a multitude of explanations that didn’t involve a treacherous mage, but saw no point in arguing. If she had learned one thing about Danu’s Three, it was the depth of their arrogance.

“So, say I believe ye. What I don’t get is what Bren is doing here?”

“Danu thought if he met Myrddin with a claim about Lia Fáil, it would flush out the thief. Myrddin would be sure to report the news. The thief would not be able to resist Lia Fáil, because it would provide the draíocht needed to open a bridge.”

“Ye’re telling me that Ye’ve staked Bren out as the goat for the wolfpack. Ye’re going to get him killed, so ye are.”

“Danu sent Goibniu to protect your brother,” Fis offered. It seemed inadequate to Bee. Fis had already explained that the power required to break the safe and its wards was immense.

“Who was protecting Bren when Goibniu was on the plains with me?”

“It was me on the plains,” Fis said. “When you said I was The Smith, I could see no reason to correct you.”

Arrogance and scheming for no reason, she amended.

“And Goibniu crushed the guards in the guardhouse when I found them.” And was probably the one healing Bren each morning, she guessed. Why didn’t they just escape? He could have brought Bren here.

Fis nodded and said, “I suppose that is true, although I cannot know.”

“Why didn’t they escape?”

“The Demon in the tower is linked to this whole affair. I suspect Goibniu was waiting for the thief to show himself.”

That makes sense, except why did he escape with me? Something happened after my arrival that convinced him to leave. But what?

“Ye’re the ring fighter?”

“Aye, for all my sins.”

“So, how did ye get to Sliabh Culinn?”

“I left you on the plains when you refused my advice about not lighting a fire. I rode through the night like The Four were chasing me. Even so, I only arrived just before you.”

It seemed to Bee that either Fis was being honest with her, or he was an expert at weaving complex tales. She did not doubt that The Silversmith was very good at clouding an issue with complexity. She also had no doubt that his story was not complete.

“Why did the Chief send me after my brother?”

“Shortly after Bren went through the portal, there was a great surge of power at Breshlech. It could only have been Partholon or one of The Four. An Dagda felt it, as did Danu, and he came to consult with the Mother. She told him not to worry, that Myrddin was up to mischief, and she’d sent Bren as an envoy. The Chief agreed to do nothing, so imagine my surprise when I saw you come and sit in front of the Cave of Cats. You who should be sleeping for a millennium.”

“Ye were telling the truth when ye said ye were there watching with yer spyglass?”

“I saw Finn first, and surmised he was a servant of the thief—”

“And ye told me ye listened in on their talk in the Boiled Cock, which ain’t true,” Bee interrupted. “Finn never met Bren in the Boiled Cock.”

“A little misdirection on my part, for which I apologise. I needed you to trust me.”

“Why didn’t ye question him, instead of knocking his brains out?” A fleeting expression of anger crossed the God’s face. Bee felt a little jolt of satisfaction that she could get a rise from him. She was sure that Fis was offering only a partial truth across the firepit.

“There were two reasons—one which I have already explained. Finn was capable of killing us in our sleep. The other was the nature of his mission. I doubt if he had any idea who had ordered him to do it. He could have told us little, and I couldn’t allow him to live. Does that satisfy you?”

Bee wanted to say that nothing Fis said satisfied her. There were incongruencies in the tale. Some things didn’t make much sense.

“How long have ye known that the ring fighter’s a God?” she asked Ruirech. His face clouded over briefly, and she could see she had touched a nerve. It was evident that Ruirech felt betrayed upon learning that his guard and friend had been using him. In truth, who wouldn’t feel betrayed?

“Shortly after my father died.”

“D’ye trust him?” she asked, nodding at Fis.

Rather than answer, Ruirech shrugged. Another fleeting expression across the God’s face showed his unhappiness at the response, or lack of it.

“What are our brothers doing now?” Bee asked.

“Pretending to search for the stone in the hope it will bring out the thief.”

“I don’t think it will, so I don’t. I’m not even sure this thief exists, so I’m going to Breshlech Mór, where the real danger is hiding.”