"I am afraid in good truth," Fiacuil whispered, "and the minute my business with you is finished I will trot back as quick as legs will carry me. May the gods protect my going as they protected my coming," said the robber piously.
"Amen," said Fionn, "and now, tell me what you have come for?"
"Have you any plan against this lord of the Shí?" Fiacuil whispered.
"I will attack him," said Fionn.
"That is not a plan," the other groaned; "we do not plan to deliver an attack but to win a victory."
"Is this a very terrible person?" Fionn asked.
"Terrible indeed. No one can get near him or away from him. He comes out of the Shí playing sweet, low music on a timpan and a pipe, and all who hear this music fall asleep."
"I will not fall asleep," said Fionn.
"You will indeed, for everybody does."
"What happens then?" Fionn asked.
"When all are asleep Aillen mac Midna blows a dart of fire out of his mouth, and everything that is touched by that fire is destroyed, and he can blow his fire to an incredible distance and to any direction."
"You are very brave to come to help me," Fionn murmured, "especially when you are not able to help me at all."
"I can help," Fiacuil replied, "but I must be paid."
"What payment?"
"A third of all you earn and a seat at your council."
"I grant that," said Fionn; "and now, tell me your plan?"
