‘What is your business here now?’ asked Gaise.
‘I was waiting for you, Stormrider. I have a gift for you.’
Gaise backed his horse away and drew a pistol from its scabbard on the pommel of his saddle. ‘How kind of you, stranger,’ he said, coldly. ‘But I have no need of gifts. How is it that you know my Rigante name?’
‘This is not a trap, Gaise Macon. The Wyrd would have been here, but I have come in her place. Be at ease, I am no danger to you.’
‘I have learned the hard way that what men say and what they do are often wildly different. Stand up and turn round. Let me see that you are carrying no weapons.’
The young man did as he was bid, opening his coat to show no knives or pistols were hidden upon his person. ‘Who are you?’ asked Gaise.
‘I am Riamfada.’
Gaise laughed. ‘You look well for your age, swordsmith.’
‘I was never a swordsmith. I made jewellery, brooches and pins, a few rings. Only after I died did I learn the skill of bladecraft. But I only made one sword, Gaise Macon. Just the one. I made it for my friend, Connavar.’
Once more Gaise scanned the trees for sign of any men concealed there. Then he looked back at the young man, and relaxed. ‘You are an amusing fellow. But if you wish to play the part of Seidh legend you should have dressed up a little more. Perhaps an old-fashioned conical hat, or a patchwork cloak. Now will you get to the point. What is it you want of me?’
‘There was only one patchwork cloak, and I did not wear it. As I said, I have a gift for you. It is within the woods. Do you have the nerve to accompany me?’
‘Nerve, fellow? Are you going to tell me it is still haunted by the Seidh?’
‘No, Gaise Macon, it is not haunted. The Seidh no longer walk here. I have not walked here in centuries. It seems to me to be a sad place now. The magic is all but gone. Will you leave your horse and walk with me?’
‘There is a price on my head, and my soldiers rely on me. I would be a fool to walk into a shadowed wood alone with a stranger. Especially a deranged stranger who pretends to be dead. Do I look foolish to you?’
‘You look like a man carrying many sorrows, Stormrider. But no, you do not look foolish. There is no-one here to harm you, but I understand your concern.’
‘What is the gift?’
‘Come and see,’ said the young man. Gaise chuckled and dismounted, tethering the gelding’s reins to a bush.
‘You don’t object if I bring my pistol?’
‘Not at all.’
The young man walked off into the trees. Gaise followed him. The ground was soft underfoot. Gaise paused suddenly. The man ahead was leaving no footprints.
‘Wait!’ called Gaise. The young man turned. ‘You make no mark upon the earth.’
‘That is because I am long dead and the form you see is merely an illusion. I can become solid, but it takes energy and effort and serves no real purpose. If it would make you happier I could conjure a conical cap.’
‘You are a ghost?’
‘I suppose that I am, in a manner of speaking. Does this disturb you?’
‘I have to admit that it does,’ said Gaise. ‘Are you truly Riamfada?’
Truly.’
‘And you knew the great king?’
‘I knew him. He taught me to swim.’
‘To swim? I had heard that you were a cripple.’
‘My legs did not function. Conn used to carry me to the Riguan Falls. I found that I could propel myself along in the water with my arms. It was the most marvellous sensation. I have never forgotten it. Conn was a good man. No-one else bothered with a sickly cripple.’
‘Is he here too, in this place?’
‘I don’t believe so. But then I do not know a great deal about the afterworld of spirit. He could be, I suppose.’
Riamfada walked on. Gaise followed him. The spirit paused and pointed to a dense section of undergrowth. ‘It was in there that Conn freed the fawn from the brambles. It was that deed which endeared him to the Morrigu. A frightened boy in a magical wood, and yet he paused to help what he believed to be a terrified fawn.’