There was no direction confrontation; Sif waited, expecting a sudden outburst of violence or for Douglásc to be expelled from the castle.

A few days later, at a typically grand dinner that was attended by all of Callán's court, Brannagh and Douglásc sat across from each other, Brannagh at Callán's right and Douglásc seated to his left.

Cutting through a pheasant breast, Brannagh spoke.

" You know, a few days ago, a thief attempted to enter my room," he said, not looking up from his food. " Claiming to be a new servant... The guard has searched the castle very thoroughly, and found no trace of him."

" Is that so?" Douglásc responded stonily. " It would do for Master Callán to tighten the security, then."

" I've already taken some measures myself," Brannagh said to him.

" That's good," Douglásc said, throwing a scrap down to Sif, who in turn ignored it. He had enough dignity not to eat off the floor.

Brannagh watched him with keen eyes.

" That cat is yours, shaman?" he asked.

Douglásc smiled at him.

" It comes and goes," he said. " Has too much of a temper to stay tame."

" Cats are fickle like that," Brannagh said. " I prefer dogs. Sturdier. More loyal."

" I've not seen you with one in quite some time," Callán said, drawing attention back to himself. " Douglásc's little cat is handsome enough, anyway."

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