Roisin’s sisters and aunt plied me with hot food, warm baths and a stream of bright magpie chatter that seemed to flow from their mouths as naturally as breath. Two days in that busy, cheerful home had done much to restore my strength, but nothing to quiet my mind. I saw now what a strange and isolated upbringing I’d had. Roisin could scarcely comprehend how alone I was in the world. Though her own mother had died in her last childbirth, Roisin had grown up within a great web of family. Her father’s widowed sister and her son had lived with them since Roisin was a nursling; her mother’s two sisters had each taken a turn at fostering her. There were uncles to share in the working of the lands and the training of unruly boys, young cousins who played and fought and slept together like puppies. It was enough to make me weep. But the faults of my childhood were beside the point. I had to decide what to do next, and soon. Yet all the paths before me, it seemed, led to a dead end. Geanann’s patient ear had helped trace the paths, but he had not found me a better one.
