Pete said, «Look, I’ll write you a letter or something to put you in the clear. Leave a guy run his own racket, will you? This is my spot.»
«Nothing doing,» said Shea. «Go ahead, Miach.»
The druid lifted his arms, mumbled one or two words, and lowered his arms again. «The geas is still upon you, Mac Shea,» he said. «I cannot.»
«Oh, I forgot,» said Shea, and pulled the sword from his belt. «Here, Cuchulainn, this is the sword of Nuada. I borrowed it from the Sidhe for you, and it will have to go back to them after you’re through, with the Connachta, who ought to be here any minute. But it will protect you better than Pete could. Does that leave us square?»
«It does that,» said Cuchulainn, holding the great sword up admiringly. Light rippled and flowed along the blade.
«Now, Miach,» said Shea.
Miach lifted his arms. «Hey, I don’t want.» began Pete, as the chant rose.
Whoosh!
Shea, Belphebe, and Brodsky arrived with a rush of displaced air in the living room atGaraden, Ohio, and almost in a heap. Behind them, the door of Shea’s study stood open. As the trio landed, a couple of heavy-set men with large feet turned startled faces, their hands full of Shea’s papers.
«It’s them!» said one.