Tom, however, was already down on one knee. "You honour me, master."
"True Thomas. It pleases me to see you so hale and hearty after everything." His smile was broad and warm; Church felt instantly at ease. "And these companions, are they as resilient as you, True Thomas?"
"Oh, more so by far." Tom stood up and gestured to Church and Ruth. "A Brother of Dragons, a Sister of Dragons." Tom introduced them by name, studiously avoiding bringing any attention to Max. Then he motioned to the gentle, kindly figure while keeping one eye on Ruth. "You are honoured. This is Dian Cecht, High Lord of the Court of the Final Word, seeker of mystery, master healer, supreme smith, builder of the silver hand of Nuada-"
Dian Cecht waved him silent with a pleasant laugh. "There is no need to trumpet my successes unless you also tell of my many failures, True Thomas, and those I would rather leave to the shadows. I would thank you, Brother and Sister of Dragons, for the part you played in freeing us from the privations of the Wish-Hex." Church winced at the memory of how the Tuatha De Danann had manipulated them, made them suffer in the extreme, just for such an occasion. Dian Cecht gestured magniloquently. "Now, tell me your request."
Tom laid a hand on Ruth's shoulder and pressed her forward. "The Night Walkers have inflicted their corruption on this Sister of Dragons, Good Lord. We ask your favour in helping to remove it."
Dian Cecht nodded thoughtfully. "I sensed the whiff of the Night Walkers' presence. Their vile trail is too distinctive to hide. I would not have thought a Sister of Dragons would have allowed herself to be so tainted."
Ruth felt as if she had failed in his eyes.
"There is nothing ignoble in this suffering," Tom said in her defence. "This Sister of Dragons has proved the most hardy of her companions. She succumbed only in the face of overwhelming force." He paused, then added, "Much in the way the Tuatha De Danann succumbed to the first onslaught of the Fomorii."
There was a flicker of coldness in Dian Cecht's eye as he cast it suddenly in Tom's direction. "Ah, True Thomas, one would have thought you would have learned diplomacy during your time among us. Still, I am sure there was no offence intended, and I understand your point." He turned back to Ruth, now smiling warmly. "The Filid I am sure will sing loudly of your courageous struggle. I will do for you what I can."
As he turned to go, he spied Max hovering behind the others. "I see you have left this Fragile Creature out of your accounts, True Thomas."
Tom had the expression of a schoolboy who had been caught out. "He is here to keep a record of these great things transpiring in this world of ours."
"Ah," Dian Cecht nodded thoughtfully. "Then you maintain the traditions of the Filid. Good, good. Wisdom and knowledge needs to be recorded and disseminated."
Once he had glided out of the room to make his preparations, Ruth turned to Tom. "Who is he? Can he do the job?"
"I was speaking correctly when I said you were honoured. Dian Cecht is one of the greatest of the Tuatha De Danann." Tom flopped down on to a cushion as if his conversation with the god had wearied him.
"He seemed… wise," Max ventured.
"Wisdom is the essence of him. He has a vista into the very workings of existence. He sees the building blocks that make up everything, the spirit that runs through them. That is why he is the greatest of physicians, the deepest of thinkers, the best maker of all things." Although his words seemed on the surface to be filled with awe, there was a sour note buried somewhere among them.
"All of the Tuatha De Danann seem very different from each other," Church noted.
Tom nodded. "While obviously a race, they are all set apart as individuals-"
"So he's a top doctor?" Ruth interjected.
Tom sighed at her phraseology. "He is the god of healing in the Tuatha De Danann pantheon. He was renowned for guarding the sacred spring of health, along with his daughter, Airmid. It is believed it has its source here, within this temple complex, though no one knows for sure. Its miraculous waters can cure the sick and bring the dead back to life." Church stirred at this, but he didn't dwell on the thoughts that surfaced. "It can, so they say, even restore the gods."
Ruth could barely contain her relief. "So he shouldn't have any problem with whatever those dirty bastards did to me."
"Then he's one of the good guys," Max said.
"You could say that," Tom replied contemptuously. "The truth is buried in the old stories. When Nuada lost his hand in the first battle of Magh Tuireadh, Dian Cecht made him a new one out of silver. The Tuatha lle Danann were impressed by his handiwork, but it was not enough. Because he was not truly whole, Nuada was no longer allowed to lead them into battle. He coped as best he could with the shame, but eventually he turned to Dian Cecht's son, Miach, who was believed to be an even greater physician. And it was true. Miach knew the workings of existence even better than Dian Cecht. He grew Nuada a new hand, a real one, and fixed it on to him. A remarkable feat, even for the Tuatha lle Danann. Nuada was whole again and once more took up the leadership of the race. A time of celebration, you would think? Instead, Dian Cecht promptly murdered Miach for upstaging him. So, yes, a good guy. That's a fair description, isn't it?"
They all fell silent while they considered this information. Then Church said, "If he's such a big shot, why did he come so quickly when you called instead of sending out some menial?"
"Perhaps," Tom replied, "he was stricken with guilt." But he would not elaborate on his comment any further.
The young man and woman who had greeted them at the door were sent to fetch them an hour later. With Church supporting Ruth, who had been overcome by another bout of nausea, they were led into a massive precinct with a ceiling so lofty they could barely see it through the glare that streamed in through massive glass skylights. Vines crawled around the columns which supported the roof, while some seemed to have trees growing through them as if the stone had formed around the wood.
Dian Cecht stood in a shaft of sunlight in the centre of the room, next to a spring which bubbled up out of the ground. The water was crystal clear and caught the light in a continually changing manner. Although it had no odour, the air near it seemed more fragrant, clearer. They found their gaze was continuously drawn to its sparkle and shimmer, as if it were calling them on some level they didn't understand.
Dian Cecht was wearing robes of the deepest scarlet, which made Ruth instinctively uneasy; he was like a pool of blood in the whiteness of the room. A scarf of red was tied around his head, hiding his hair. He motioned to Ruth to come forward. She glanced briefly at Church for support, then moved in front of the tall, thin god. His eyes were piercing as he silently surveyed her face; she felt he was looking deep into the heart of her, and that made it even more worrying when a troubled expression crossed his face.
"What is it?" she asked.
He shook his head, said nothing. Beside him, a strange object lay on a brass plate that rested atop a short marble column. Ruth tried to see what it was, but her eyes strangely blurred every time she came close to focusing.
He bent over the object and muttered something that sounded like the keening of the wind across a bleak moor. It seemed to respond to the sound, changing, twisting, folding inside out, until it settled on the shape of a bright, white egg with waving tendrils. Ruth instantly recalled the creature she had seen in Ogma's library immediately after the operation to remove the Fomorii equivalent from Tom's brain. "A Caraprix," she said.