The peace between Douglásc and Brannagh was brittle-thin, constantly in danger of snapping. They jabbed at each other so much that even the servants became aware of their feud, though neither seemed favoured above the other.

And once again, in the dead of the night, Sif was summoned to help Douglásc draw the compass.

This time, as the boat rode upon its wave of blood, it came to nearly the very middle of the circle, and Sif was surprised to see Douglásc grit his teeth, and slam his hand against the wall.

" That son of a bitch!" he hissed. " He has it. It's him! It's in this very castle! He must've received instruction from Dubhán on the thresholds!"

Sif stared at him stupidly.

" You mean Iudrige's body?" he asked.

Douglásc cussed again, now pacing as he began to take apart the circle. The blood became inert on the floor.

" He's hidden it! He's taunting us!" he continued on, fury lighting his face. He turned to Sif, and pointed at him dramatically. " Find which room he's staying in, and search it! Dress as a servant; take Iudrige with you. We mustn't let him win!"

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