“But,” said Finnian in bewilderment, “there is an error here, for you have recited two different genealogies.”
“Different genealogies, indeed,” replied Tuan thoughtfully, “but they are my genealogies.”
“I do not understand this,” Finnian declared roundly.
“I am now known as Tuan mac Cairill,” the other replied, “but in the days of old I was known as Tuan mac Starn, mac Sera.”
“The brother of Partholon,” the saint gasped.
“That is my pedigree,” Tuan said.
“But,” Finnian objected in bewilderment, “Partholon came to Ireland not long after the Flood.”
“I came with him,” said Tuan mildly.
The saint pushed his chair back hastily, and sat staring at his host, and as he stared the blood grew chill in his veins, and his hair crept along his scalp and stood on end.