They tried again to feed Brie, but she would not move her jaws. Collun made a broth of fish, water, and herbs to pour into her mouth.
As Collun lay down to sleep that night, he noticed the Ellyl sitting on the very edge of the riverbank, Fara at his side. Silien was gazing fixedly at the flowing water. Ever since they had come to the river, his face had worn a distracted, hungry look.
Collun remembered Silien telling them Ellylon loved water, and many of the ways into Tir a Ceol were by water. Collun wondered, as he drifted off into an exhausted sleep, whether the Ellyl was homesick.
When Collun woke in the morning, Silien still sat by the river. Next to him was a makeshift basket made of reeds, filled to the top with fish. Fara was leisurely cleaning herself. Collun walked over to the Ellyl. "You have been busy."
"Yes," replied Silien. "I wanted to leave you with a supply of fish. The road back to Temair is a long one."
Collun was about to thank the Ellyl when the meaning of his words sank in. He stared down at the basket of fish. "You are leaving us?"
"My home is not far. I do not know if my father will have me, but I have decided to return. I have been gone long."
Talisen overheard Silien's words. He sat upright and said angrily, "You're deserting us?"
"I can do no more for the Flame-girl."
"Silien," Collun cut in, his voice higher than usual, "is there nothing that can save Brie?"
"No." The Ellyl paused. "Nothing in your land."
"What do you mean, nothing in our land?"
"Except perhaps for your Crann, who comes and goes as he chooses, there is no one in Eirren with the power to heal the Flame-girl. If she were Ellyl..."
"Yes?"
"There might be a way, if she were Ellyl."
"Can you not use the same method on Brie?"
Silien shook his head. "I do not know the way. Only the elders of Tir a Ceol know it."
"Then take us with you to Tir a Ceol," Collun said, his voice loud.
Silien was startled, but he shook his head again. "They would never agree to heal one of your kind."
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
"Take me to them anyway. Perhaps if I could speak with them..."
"You would be destroyed if you even tried to enter Tir a Ceol. And I, too, no doubt, for bringing you."
"Take us, Silien," Collun pleaded. "I will say I forced you, that you acted against your will."
The Ellyl only smiled.
Then Collun was angry. "Brie was right all along. You are capable only of feeling for yourself. You would let her die, as you would let anything weaker than you die, if helping meant danger to yourself."
"It is foolish to act otherwise," Silien responded coolly.
"Then you are a coward." Collun turned away, tears of anger stinging his eyes.
Silien was unmoved. "Call me what you will. I wish to return home, and I can think of no reason to take you with me." He bent to place a cover on the reed basket.
Collun walked back toward Brie, his good hand clenched tightly in frustration.
"I can understand your point of view," he heard Talisen say to Silien. Collun spun around in disbelief.
"After all," Talisen continued, "you have said that no one in hundreds of years has dared to bring a human into Tir a Ceol. To be the first," Talisen paused, "why, it would be an act of infamy. Ellylon would speak of it for years hence."
Silien straightened. There was a speculative look in his eyes. He gazed across the water.
"Think of what your parents would say..."
"I have no mother," Silien said distractedly, still staring at the river.
"Your father, then. Why, he would never let you live it down. To bring a human into Tir a Ceol. Of course, it's unthinkable."
Silien shifted his gaze to Talisen. He gave his half-smile. "You are indeed the clever one, harp-player. Very well, I will take you into Tir a Ceol, if only to see the look on my father's face." He turned and walked off toward a nearby stand of trees.
Talisen let out a whoop and danced an impromptu jig around the remains of last night's fire. "Did you hear, Collun? We are going to Tir a Ceol!"
"Thank you, Talisen," Collun said to his friend.
When Silien returned, he bore an armful of branches. He sat down and patiently set to work stripping them. Collun asked what he was doing, and he replied, "On my own, I can swim to my home. But you are human and cannot. I must build a curragh to take us into Tir a Ceol."
"We will help you."
Silien nodded and put Collun to work stripping the leaves and twigs off the branches. At first it was awkward, working without his right hand, but Collun soon learned the knack of holding the branch between his knees, steadying it with his right shoulder, and using his left hand to pull off leaves.
It took them a day and a half of hard work to build the boat. Often, as they labored, Collun could hear Silien humming under his breath. Collun guessed the melody held Ellyl magic, for the work went much faster than it otherwise would have.
As he kept a watch over Brie, Collun stripped the hazel rods. Silien and Talisen went to hunt for game. They came back, exhausted but triumphant, bearing a large kine between them. They skinned the animal, saving the meat for dinner, then stretched the hide out on the ground to dry in the weak autumn sun.
When there were enough hazel rods, Silien used a piece of the translucent thread to mark out a large oval on the ground. He stuck thirty-two rods firmly into the ground at regular intervals around the oval. Next he wove more hazel branches through the stakes, making a pattern of sturdy wickerwork. With Talisen's help, the Ellyl then bent the long hazel rods over so they met and lay side by side, where they were securely bound with more of Silien's thread.
Silien carefully placed several large rocks on top of the structure to help it set, and Talisen laughingly asked if the Ellyl planned to carry them all in a giant basket. But Silien just smiled and carried the dried kine hide down to the river, where he let it soak overnight in a shallow pocket of river water.
The next morning Collun watched while Talisen and Silien stretched the now-pliable hide over the upside-down basket and, when they were done, helped them lace it all around the edge with the Ellyl thread.
Then Silien set to work carving a tiller out of a large ash branch. He sang as he worked, and his hands flew over the wood. Soon he had not only finished the tiller but had fashioned two oars and a bench for sitting.
By the next morning the boat was ready. It was a sturdy little craft, and Talisen dubbed it Wave-sweeper.
Brie's body had shrunk in the time it had taken them to build the boat. She no longer had the strength to sit up. The dark spaces under her eyes cut more deeply into her face, and her skin felt like ice to the touch. It was the gray of approaching death.
They carried the boat down to a muddy shelf by the side of the river and loaded it first with their few belongings. Then they carefully laid Brie in the bottom. She lay there without a sound, her dead eyes staring at the sky.
Collun awkwardly stepped into the boat, and Silien and Talisen cast off. The river current immediately grabbed at the little vessel.
Holding tightly to the side of the boat with his left hand, Collun watched the land on either side of him slide by. He had never been on a body of water this large before.
Wave-sweeper suddenly slipped around a bend and was caught up in a rush of foaming white rapids. Silien guided the boat skillfully. The white water did not last long, and soon afterward the river emptied into a lake. If the river had seemed large to Collun, it was nothing compared to the broad expanse of water that stretched before them now. It was green in some places, brown in others, and everywhere overlaid with silver, like the Ellyl's eyes, where the sun caught it.
"This lake is called Ullswater," said Silien.
"It is large," replied Collun. "Is your home near?"
"Very near." Silien smiled. "The porth—or entrance—to Tir a Ceol lies underneath."