" Callán," Douglásc called softly, pushing open the study door. Sif followed at his heel.

" Oh, Witchraiser, how good you have come," Callán answered, not as jovial as he had been at the feast. He was young; in a certain sense, he resembled Rágn. " I've sent another servant to fetch that Brannagh, so that we may all speak freely about the upcoming expedition."

Douglásc, in a measured way, made himself look uncertain.

" It's just that that I've come to discuss, Master Callán," he said, entreating. " You know I am beyond mortal; and with all my time in the world, I don't know if we can trust this Brannagh..."

Just as it looked like Callán was about to answer, another voice rang out.

" I could say the same of you, so-called Witchraiser Douglásc," Brannagh said, followig up behind him. Douglásc whirled around, sharp.

" You're very punctual, aren't you," he snipped.

Callán's fingers thrummed across the table.

" Why accuse Douglásc, Brannagh? He has been nothing but helpful to me and Father since Dubhán was smote by the Lord," he questioned.

Brannagh folded his arms, cross.

" He himself admits to being unnatural," he said. " What intention could he have in meddling with our court?"

" Merely the intention of helping this land to prosper again, as it did in my day," Douglásc said, walking around the table to stand behind Callán. " What intention do you have, returning here after so long across the traitorous sea?"

Callán looked up at Douglásc, and then across at the priest.

" Don't waste my time with your petty grievances," he said. " I require both of you for what I have planned."

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