Auntie Freedom clutches at me desperately, pleading for a dignified end to her life. There is no question what I must do, even if I have no idea what is going to happen. I only know that my dear aunt will not die here in this place! I hug her to me, then she suddenly releases her claw like grip, falling back with a wheezing sigh. I turn to see Braca holding a hot pot of ale in one hand, a bowl of dried herbs in the other. With her is an older woman whose stony face and folded arms speak of authority.

"This is Saoirse's niece," Braca tells her. Then she speaks directly to me. "I have boiled some ale as you wanted, and here is milk thistle also."

"Thank you, Braca," I smile, busying myself with the small bundle of possessions I carried with me. Somewhere inside, I will find the lichens to mix into the ale.

Meanwhile the older woman steps forward. "Boiled ale?" she queries, peering curiously at me.

I feel the tiny parcel in my searching fingers and I open it to spill some of the precious contents into my palm. "For these." The woman stares blankly at the lichens.

She clears her throat importantly. "I am the nurse-matron and I have never heard of such a remedy."

My aunt snorts but I speak loudly over her rasping comments. "I am a healer like yourself. When she drinks these lichens boiled in ale, it will cool the fire that burns like a hot sword in my aunt's side. I am surprised you have never heard of this cure." I break off a few pinches of the ugly stuff and drop them into the hot ale. There is a faint hiss as they dissolve. I swirl the pot gently to mix the brew, then hand it carefully to Saoirse. "Not the best tasting ale you've ever had but it will ease your pain, Auntie."

Turning back to the scowling matron, I meet her suspicious gaze with firm confidence. "Saoirse will be leaving Inis án Ghaill with me today!" I announce briskly. "I have come to take her home."