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“What’s wrong?”

“That’s a Druid stronghold.”

“And?”

“Erm—I might have a history.”

Fairhrim’s look was full of suspicion. “A history?”

“Might’ve offed their chief Seer a while ago,” said Osric, as innocently as one could when confessing to a murder.

“Youwhat? Why?”

“Money,” said Osric.

Fairhrim pressed fingers to her temples. “Mordaunt.”

(She said his name like it was a swear word and he rather liked it.)

“Bit disappointed he didn’t See me coming, to be honest,” said Osric.

Fairhrim was as impervious to his wit as she was to his attractions,and remained flinty. “Why,” she breathed, “must you complicate everything?”

“Let’s try any of these other places,” said Osric, gesturing at the hearts on the map. “A place where I won’t be subject to the Threefold Death.”

“The what?”

“The Druids’ Threefold Death. Impalement, stoning, drowning. You haven’t heard of it? You need to get out more. Here—what about this place—?” Osric, pointing at the map, noticed that he was talking to himself and turned around. “Where are you?”

“At my wits’ end,” came Fairhrim’s response.

She returned with her satchel, from which she pulled out translations marked with her notes. “Look. Multiple, specific references to the Begbéam moon, all within a half-mile radius of this area.”

Osric flipped through the documents. When the stories were good enough to provide them, Fairhrim had identified their time markers, which, indeed, mentioned the Begbéam moon in various forms—the moon at the greening of the dún-heather, the full moon at the month of the strawberry harvest, the sixth full moon, the dogwood bloom-time…

“You’ve bollocksed my idea in a spectacular fashion,” said Fairhrim. She turned to the map. Though she stood as straight as ever, there was something disheartened in her stance—in the crossing of her arms, in the downward tilt of her chin.

“Let’s do it,” said Osric.

Fairhrim threw him a black look. “You’re wanted under Druidic law. We can’t go traipsing about the Færwundor. I had this all worked out, you know. I was going to ask Xanthe to request a visit of their enclave for a research project. You were to pose as my assistant. But now, the moment they see you—”

“I’m going to introduce you to the concept of being naughty,” said Osric.

Fairhrim made a swift gesture of repudiation. “I’m not breaking into the Færwundor. The Druids are allies to the Haelan.”

“You’re not breaking in,” said Osric.

“Good.”

“Iam.”

“I’m not trespassing into Druid territory with the man who murdered their chief Seer,” said Fairhrim. “We’ll be caught.”

“You know so very little of my capabilities,” sniffed Osric. “If we’re caught—which we won’t be—they’ll go after me. You flash your tacn and tell them I forced you to do my bidding. They won’t hurt a Haelan.”

She refused.

Osric said that she was Not Pliable.