I met Brochan’s eyes. ‘That doesn’t sound so bad.’ The ‘future’ could be an eternity.
‘Just one caveat,’ Bob chirped. ‘You have to make the wish within the next six months.’
Bugger. ‘Can I think about it?’ Although it sounded like a brilliant idea, everyone knew that asking a genie for wishes would only end in disaster. I’d already made one and it had almost led to me having my head lopped off by the Bull when I’d been transported into his quarters on the back of a poorly conceived desire.
Bob shrugged. ‘Okay.’ Ten seconds later, he pulled up his cuff and gazed at his watch. ‘Time’s up!’
‘Do you have a better idea?’ Brochan asked me. ‘Because however bad you sound to yourself, Tegs, you sound a million times worse to an audience.’
I muttered a curse under my breath. ‘Fine.’
Bob beamed. ‘Say the words.’
‘I’m probably going to regret this.’ I looked at him. ‘If I win the Artistry challenge, I promise to make my second wish. Alright?’
Bob made a face. ‘No, this is not contingent on success. I’m not having my life’s goals disrupted because you’re an idiot. You either promise or you don’t. There’s nothing in between.’
I gritted my teeth in defeat. ‘I promise.’
There was a tiny clap of thunder. Bob jumped up in the air, hovering for a second with his arms stretched upwards. ‘Hurray!’ He executed a perfect somersault. ‘Best decision you’ve ever made.’
Somehow I doubted that. ‘Go on. What information do you have?’
‘Dagda.’
‘What the hell? That doesn’t mean anything!’
‘Man.’ He shook his head. ‘You really are the poster child for contraception, aren’t you? Dagda? The ancient Irish hero?’
I folded my arms. ‘Never heard of her.’
‘Him.’ Bob rolled his eyes. ‘Women aren’t heroes.’
‘That’s it! I’m going to melt down your damn letter opener at the nearest smithy.’
‘Women are heroines, Uh Integrity.’ He wagged his finger at me like a disapproving teacher. ‘Get your grammar right.’
If the genie lived to the end of the day, it would be a miracle. ‘Who was Dagda?’
‘Ugly guy. Great long beard which used to get in his way all the time. There was food stuck in there for…’
‘Bob,’ I warned.
He threw up his arms. ‘Fine, fine. Anyway, it’s not really Dagda you want ? he’s been dead for five hundred years. What you seek is his harp, Uaithne.’
‘If I can’t play the triangle, I’m hardly going to be able to play a harp.’
Bob shook his head. ‘This is a special harp. Play Dagda’s harp – even just one note – and you’re almost guaranteed to win the challenge. I can’t account for the Sidhe, mind, but I know the harp.’
‘One note?’
‘Yep.’
‘And this harp is in Ireland?’ I tried to calculate. We could take the nearest ferry and be there the next day. It was definitely doable. And surely even I would be able to play a single note.
‘Ah, well, to be sure, to be sure, it’s an Irish harp which belongs in Ireland,’ Bob said with an affected Irish lilt.
‘But?’
