Lost in translation

A: I’ve thought of another one! Flibbertigibbet!

D: Pardon?

A: Words, D – inspiring words.

D: Oh, I thought you were describing yourself again. . .

A: Nice–

D: Speaking of words, what does “Éadaí Baintrí” mean?

A: You don’t know?

D: I’ve been in your head for over 13 years; I’m rusty. Humor me.

A: “Widow’s clothing.” You know, Widow’s Weeds?

D: . . . Seriously? . . .

A: What? Grace O’Malley buried one husband and divorced the other – and she outlived that one, too! I like to think she had a sense of humor about the whole thing. She was a pirate after all – I don’t think you succeed at that without having a little sass.

D: . . .

A: It’s funny.

D: (Shakes head) Poor taste.

A: It’s freakin’ hilarious, if you’re me.

D: Precisely.

“. . . Aye, well, the Venture has her orders to remain just a bit out of reach in open water. At midday, provided she has not been engaged, she will begin the trip to Galway.”

“And if she’s engaged?” Sean asked.

“She’ll still make her way to Galway, lad. She’s a ship worthy to be Grania’s flagship, were Herself not so fond of the Éadaí Baintrí, of course.”

“And speaking of the Éadaí Baintrí…?”

“She is in Bray, in a safe harbor,” Grania answered. “I don’t have many allegiances this side of the Pale, but there are a few, so long as I am discrete.”

“And speaking of discretion, my lady Grania.”

“No, Liam. Whatever it is, no.”

“But how—”

“Whenever you start something with such deference, I know I’m not going to like it. I’ve known you since you were in skirts, Liam O’Neil, and have had the honor of your allegiance for these last ten years. Deference does not suit you. Speak plainly. . .”

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