Bres was unimpressed by this performance.

"Nuada, your drinking has made you a madman surely," he told the old man as if addressing a troublesome child.  "I'll not be threatened by you no matter how much furniture you destroy."

"Wait, Bres.  He may be right," said a new voice from the group.

Bres looked around in surprise as a girl moved out from the others to stand beside him.

She seemed very young to Lugh, her features softer, less austere than those of the other women.  Her small nose and high cheekbones were dusted with freckles, and a wavy flow of warm, red-brown hair fell freely about her shoulders.  But her shining brown eyes swept him with a gaze as unfeeling as the rest, and her words were as scornful and cruel.

"This boy should be made to show his skills to us."

"Oh, come now, Aine," Bres replied.  "Why waste time with the whelp?  He's clearly lying in his claims."

"He has made a challenge, cousin," she reminded him firmly.  "If you send him away without making him prove it, you'll make him seem the winner.  You'll make it look as if you were afraid to try him."

"Who would believe that?" he asked derisively.  But a faint doubt tightened the lines about his eyes.

"Who in Tara wouldn't like to believe it?" she countered.  She knelt by him and spoke with intensity.  "Do you want to chance giving them another hero?  Another reason to call you scornful names?  No.  You have to try him, make him look the fool."  She laid a hand on his arm and smiled winningly, adding in a cajoling way: "Besides, cousin, no matter how badly he does, we can still have some sport with him."

Bres looked into the innocent, smiling face and laughed.

"So young you are to have such a wicked mind," he said, stroking the soft cheek.  "All right, Aine.  We'll try the lad.  And you can choose the skill he'll demonstrate for us."

"Oh, cousin! What fun!" she said gleefully.  She jumped up and turned to Lugh, eyeing him carefully as she considered.

Lugh watched her, his nervousness increasing.  What was this pretty but very nasty young woman going to do to make him prove his bragging claims?

"He said he was a harper," she announced at last.  "Let him play for us.  We've no good harpers left here anymore!"

The harp!  Relief flooded Lugh at her words.  Of all the ways he might have been tried, this was the one he felt surest about.  A sense of confidence began to return to him.

"Fetch the boy a harp.  Quickly!" Bres barked at the sharp-nosed man.

A harp was brought to Lugh.  It was a finely wrought instrument, and the boy held it for a moment, running his hands over the carved ivory and gold, lightly caressing the strings.  He recalled another instrument, not so fine as this one, but his own, left behind in the ruins of his flaming home.

"Now then, boy, try to play it!" Bres demanded impatiently.  "Let's have this over with!"

Lugh concentrated his attention on the harp.  The room, the situation, his own fears faded away.  He knew now was the time when the skills Taillta had given him would be his only aide.  He trusted to her teaching and began to play.

His music was like sunlight flooding the room.  It swept back the night's shadows and the damp, chill air.  The company so recently laughing at Lugh, suddenly found themselves enchanted.  The music cheered and saddened, soothed and aroused all at once.  Their arrogance dissolved in human warmth as they were drawn completely within the spell cast by the harp.

All except for Bres.

When he saw what the music was doing to his companions, he reacted sharply.

"Enough of this!" he cried, the cold words splashing like icy water on the slumbering group, snapping them back to life.

"He's not so bad now, is he?" Nuada challenged, grinning with enjoyment at the High-King's obvious discomfiture.