Oatey went about gathering things without another word to Lugh.  For his part, Lugh sat for a while, waiting for a thaw in the icy silence.  When it did not come, he rapidly gathered his things and was ready to go when she was.

She regarded him stoically as she began to leave and he happened to block her path in the cluttered room, “There is another giant, it is arranged.”  She said as she pushed past him and walked out into the hall.  He followed her and had to hurry not to loose her in the labyrinth of the sidhe.

Briefly he knew where he was as their path led into the large room where Lugh had attended the celebration.  Lugh waved to a few of his fellow drinkers and they returned his greeting.  That brief distraction was almost enough for him to loose his way because Oatey, after exiting the tunnel into the hall, immediately turned into another corridor.  Lugh had to scramble to catch up.

“Ayee, Oatey, I don’t know my way.” called Lugh after he almost lost her again in a tunnel with side passages stuffed with provisions.  She glanced back, but did not seem to slow as Lugh struggled to keep up.

She turned in to an arched passage that was identical to all the others up and down the hall.  Lugh hurried to follow around the corner and almost ran into Oatey from behind where she stood at a desk-like board.

“Well look there Oatey, you’ve grown a tail,” said a particularly rotund Norfolk sitting behind the desk.  Oatey looked back, regarding him with what looked like annoyance.  The man went back to putting items on the desk which Oatey gathered, organized, and stowed in her gear.

“He’ll need a load too, and a sling.”

“What? Does he know how to use it?” asked the man.

“I can show h. . .”

“I know how to use a sling,” Lugh cut them off, “I’m not a child.”

The fellow behind the desk shrugged and hopped off his stool.  Only then did Lugh see that the fellow was missing a leg.  “Here you go then,” he said, grabbing a sling off the wall and turning back.  As he jumped back onto his stool, he layed the sling out and then reached under the counter.  He scooped something into a bag and brought that out too,  “I figure basics,” he said and shoved the things toward Lugh while he looked to Oatey for confirmation.

She nodded curtly and then said, “Can you give us another couple days ration Jonesy?”

“mmm hmm, just a short trip then?”  Jonesy gathered the items and laid them on the desk.

“Yeah. I’ve marked another one.  Gonna go get it and back like the last one.”

“Be careful now.” Jonesy winked at Oatey and she smiled and waved as she turned away.  Lugh was still packing items away when the fellow grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close, “Oatey’s a good girl.  No harm better come to her from the likes of you. Got that?” Jonesy whispered threateningly and then shoved him away.

Lugh gathered the last of the things and followed Oatey.

Iamerge trudged up the hill toward the monastery.  He felt defeated.  He felt confused.  Where once there had been a feeling of elation that came with cheating death, now he was filled with the hollowness of loss.  Iamerge was starting over, well and true, and on top of it he’d  made an enemy, it seemed. 

At best, Mongfind Ui Birlinn was a non-friend, the sort that always seemed to find their way into being an implacable foe, and no end of trouble.  That was at the best, because now he had no power, no wealth, no resources at all to deal with such an antagonist. 

What if his nest egg, carefully concealed, was actually lost to him like the boat that had splintered on the rocks?  Iamerge shuddered to think of it.  The sun was high in the sky by now, but its heat felt oppressive, not comforting in his current mood, a bane.  How different the world had looked walking down the hill in the morning  light.  Now he could not grasp hope.

As he neared the cluster of small stone buildings that was the Biblious Monastry he heard the brothers chanting their offices, praises to the God of their scriptures, the same as that of the Jews he had known.  He had to admit that their chanting of the words of scripture was pleasantly musical. 

He paused under a tree that wasn’t far from the low stone walls that marked out the monk’s fields.  The shade was a relief, the sing song chanting a pleasant distraction from the defeat of his hopes.  Iamerge sat, resting against rough bark of the shady tree, his disappointment turned to weariness, and he fell asleep.

“It was no jest when I said that we had little comfort here.  There is a shift like this that I wear by your head, and too, your clothes, such as they are after the sea, are drying though not yet dry.”

“Perhaps I’ll get around to the kitchen and sit by the fire.”

White Hands frowned, “This may be difficult for you, there is no kitchen, nor fire.  Rest here.  I will bring the treasure for you to see.”  White Hands bussled out the door.

Smoke gathered himself, the room was chilly and damp.  He slipped on the rough fabric of the garment, covering his head with the hood.  He draped an animal skin around his shoulders and began to feel warm again.  No fire, truely this place seemed the poorest he had ever seen.  Even in the city streets amongst the filth there was material, at least fuel for a fire, something, here there was only stone and wind and wet.

True to his word White Hands returned.  He bore a skin wrapped package and atop it a candle.  He produced a tinderbox and with a little effort made a flame and lit the candle.  “We value words you know.” White Hands spoke as he unwrapped the package, “And so for us this written word is of utmost value.  But that isn’t why this place is so austere.  We seek places like this,  places of contemplation amid privation.  Places where one can hear a still small voice.  I don’t imagine that you understand, but this place has been used by my brethren because of its difficulty not inspite of it.  We seek to remove all distraction so that we may focus on God alone, and His Christ.”

“It would seem that the harshness would distract. . .”

Okay I’ve lost my way in this.  I’ll have to get back to this later.