Sevenwaters: Seer Of Sevenwaters Part 19

"You don't believe the story?" It was Gull who spoke, rising to his feet and putting one misshapen hand on Felix's shoulder. "You think the lad's memory has been turned upside down and back to front?"

"That's possible, isn't it?" Gareth glanced at Evan.

"Entirely possible," Evan said, his tone compa.s.sionate. "On the other hand, the fact that this tale is unlikely does not make it untrue. Felix has told his story in a coherent manner, and it's a complicated tale. If his story is true, I see several reasons why Knut might want to lie."

Knut responded angrily when this was translated for him, and Johnny said, "Wait, Knut. Evan, explain to us what you mean."

"Someone's lying," Evan said. "Knut's story and Felix's cannot both be true. If Felix's story is accurate, then Svala's history is quite different from what we believed. There's a great deal missing. How did she come to be on the island? Why was she brought back here? Why did Knut tell us she was his wife? And what about the child?"

"And, of course, Svala cannot give us her own version," Johnny said. "One part of this tale, I know to be true. When my folk took the drowned men from the sea, one had a length of frayed rope linking his ankles." I saw Felix flinch at this. "It was cut free when they took him into the boat, to give him some dignity. When they laid him out, his burial garments concealed his damaged skin. I asked those who had seen this to keep it to themselves, for it troubled me. I have not spoken of it until now. Of those present here tonight, only Gareth and I knew of it. Felix, it seems your brother has borne witness for you, in this particular at least. Kalev, ask Knut how he accounts for this."

After an interchange, Kalev translated, "Knut says the man was a troublemaker, violent and unpredictable. The bonds were for his own good."

Felix started to say something, and Johnny waved him quiet. "There's a further part of this tale that can be put to the test. Another message can be dispatched to Ulfricsfjord, asking certain questions as to who boarded Freyja and requesting more details of the intended voyage." He glanced at Knut, and there was a new coolness in his gray eyes. "We can at least establish whether Svala was on the vessel at that point. We should also send a message to Muredach's court," he added, looking at Felix, who still stood before him, fists clenched, eyes a little wild. "Sad news for your prince, Eoghan. Sad news for all."

"Thank you," Felix said on a rush of outward breath. "I will write this message in the morning. But-"

Johnny raised a hand, and Felix fell silent. "But other matters are more urgent for you. Yes, I know that. I know you believe this account to be the truth. On balance, I am inclined to concur. But we cannot be sure, and unless we can be sure, you are asking a great deal of us when you ask for help. Gareth spelled it out clearly. A rescue attempt would be perilous in the extreme. Anyone undertaking such a mission would risk his own life and those of his comrades. We might lose a ship. We might never find this place or, finding it, might be unable to return safely. That must be weighed against the slim possibility that any of your party has survived so long on that inhospitable isle."

Felix bowed his head. "I know this," he said. "But I believe it must be done. Sibeal cast the runes not long after I came here, before I had recalled any of my past. The divination showed a mission; courage in the face of death; the completion of a circle, the possibility of a goal achieved. I must do it. If you cannot help me, I will do it alone."

He stood there before us, his body rail-thin from his illness, his face all hollows, his eyes blazing, and I thought every person in the chamber, bar one, must hear the courage in his statement, and the truth.

"I have to tell you," Johnny said, "that at present we have no vessel at Inis Eala suitable for such a journey. Nor is there any such craft in the settlement across the water. Our biggest and st.u.r.diest boat, Liadan, is presently in the south. She's due back soon, but I cannot say precisely when. Even if Snake's party sailed in tomorrow, there would be refurbishment required before the craft could go on such a testing voyage. As to a.s.sembling a crew, that would present its own difficulties. Felix, sit down now. I thank you for your account, which you delivered bravely. We must allow Knut his turn to speak. Kalev, ask Knut to give us his own version of Freyja's voyage. Thus far he has told us very little. If he has anything to add, especially on the matter of Svala, now is the time to do so. Remind him that I don't want his opinions, only the facts."

"A simple story," Kalev translated for Knut. "It was exactly as Knut told you before-the ship set out from Ulfricsfjord for the Orcades with its pa.s.sengers and its crew, and some wives, Svala included. Somewhere between the north coast of Erin and Dalriada, Freyja was caught by strange winds and driven west. She was wrecked on the reef here, with the loss of many lives, including that of Knut's son. Felix's story is a fabrication. Knut says he does not understand how you can give any credence to such a wild tale. He says there is no need to ask questions in Ulfricsfjord. Besides, few folk there knew Svala. She is not the sort of woman who makes friends."

"There'd be folk on the waterfront who would remember whether she got on the ship," Gull said. "Men don't easily forget a woman like that."

"There's one element in this that troubles me greatly," said Johnny. "If Felix's story is true, what was Svala doing on the serpent island all by herself? How could she have survived there? Her story could help us determine the truth, but she cannot give it to us."

"She has given it," I said into the silence that followed.

"How?" asked Gareth.

"You know I am a seer." I spoke mainly for Knut's benefit-the last thing I wanted was to be accused of making things up because of some kind of personal feelings toward Felix. "I have visions, flashes of Sight. If other people experience a powerful welling of emotion, be it sorrow or anger or frustration, sometimes that spills over and I share it. That is a phenomenon over which I have no control. It happened tonight, when I came upon Knut attacking Felix. And it has happened with Svala, more than once. I've known since the first day she came here how unhappy she was. Several times she's tried to show me what happened to her. Clodagh saw it once, too. And-"

Johnny stopped me with a gesture, waiting for the translation to catch up. As Kalev was still speaking, Knut leapt to his feet, eyes fixed on me in undisguised hostility. Every man in the chamber was suddenly on edge; I felt it.

"You cannot take her account for truth!" the Norseman shouted. "Visions, feelings-this cannot be trusted! She could be saying anything, anything at all! She and this man, they are close, too close-no doubt they have concocted this whole story together. The girl will say anything if she thinks it will make you believe him!" Perhaps seeing the look on Johnny's face, he moderated both tone and expression. "I am sorry; I should not have spoken thus. The girl has good intentions, no doubt. Perhaps she believes her own story, whatever it is. But Svala cannot tell her tale. Not only is she unable to speak, but she is . . . " He repeated the gesture I had seen once before, tapping his temple with a finger. "Whatever she has conveyed to your girl is unreliable." Kalev scrambled to keep up with the flow of words.

"Sit down," Johnny said in the tone men never failed to obey. "Sibeal, in the interests of fairness, I must ask you to respond to the accusation that you may be less than impartial where Felix's welfare is concerned. I regret the need to do so."

I felt my face flush red. As I drew breath, unsure how I might best answer, my sister's voice came, cool and precise.

"Since Knut believes Sibeal cannot give you an unbiased account," Muirrin said, "I'll do it for her. At around midday today, Sibeal came back from the seer's cave, where she had encountered Svala. She came straight from there to the dining hall, and then she joined me and Clodagh and Brenna for the afternoon. Sibeal did not return to the infirmary in between, and so she had no opportunity to speak to Felix, or indeed to Gull or Evan or Johnny. She told us about a vision she had shared with Svala in the cave, a vision she believed was a reflection of what Svala wanted to tell her."

My sister looked straight across the chamber at Knut, her neat features calm and composed as always. "The vision, as Sibeal recounted it, was completely consistent with the story Felix has just told," Muirrin said. "Freyja driven toward the lonely isle, the narrow gap through which they reached the bay, the appearance of the monster, which killed a crewman and ate him. A man-Paul, Sibeal thought-rallying the crew and bidding them row for sh.o.r.e. That was all she saw. Afterward, Sibeal told us, she and Svala enacted the scene again, using objects at hand, so that Sibeal could be sure her own vision matched with Svala's. Sibeal told us she believes Svala is desperate to return to that place. The message she was conveying was Home. Go there, go home."

Kalev's murmured translation came to an end. There was utter silence.

"Once, earlier, Svala made a sea monster on the beach, using sand and sh.e.l.ls," I said. "A creature somewhat like the one Felix described, and very like the one in my vision, with a long tail and fearsome teeth. She tried to tell me something about it, using gestures, and grew very frustrated when I didn't understand. She kept pointing out to sea. Home. I want to go home. I sensed the longing in her, and the grief. Clodagh was there, too-she can confirm that part of my story." I would not tell of our encounter on the cliff path, and Svala naked in the place of Rodan's fall.

"A concocted story," Knut said. "Who is to say she and Felix did not invent this long ago?"

"I'd swear the lad only regained the last part of his memory tonight." Gull's voice was deep and sure. "I saw that in his eyes, when he came to after knocking his head. I heard it in his voice. We left them behind, he said. I'll never forget the sound of that." He turned toward Knut. "You'd be far better to give us the truth," he said, not unkindly. "The longer you leave it, the harder the consequences will be. I know how much you want to stay here. If you lie to Johnny, there is no way he will keep you on Inis Eala."

Nor, I thought, would he keep a man who tried to kill another to prevent him from telling the truth, a truth that would make Knut look less than admirable in this place where he had become the friend of so many men. So the Norseman wanted badly to stay on Inis Eala. Was he afraid to go back to Ulfricsfjord and account for himself?

"You speak of nightmares," said Cathal. "I must tell you that the ill dreams that have plagued me ever since the ship was wrecked on our reef were full of monstrous seas, howling gales, snapping jaws, screaming men. I have seen this island in my sleep. It is a place of towering rocks, treeless and gray amid its shawl of white water. A grim place. A place of death." He fell silent for a moment before continuing. "I know you must take time to consider this, Johnny. I know you will not make any decisions tonight. But I wish to say to you, Felix, that I believe your story. I offer you an apology. I misjudged you."

I had no idea what Cathal meant, but I saw Felix incline his head courteously, as if accepting the apology, and I saw the warmth in his eyes as he met Cathal's dark gaze. "Thank you," he said simply.

"It's late," Johnny said, rising to his feet. "We all need sleep. I will call a meeting in the morning. I will consider what's been said and come to a decision. Felix, you look like a ghost. You must rest. You, too, Sibeal." He looked at Knut, who had risen and stood flanked by the taller Kalev and Gareth. A sheen of sweat covered the Norseman's fair skin. His eyes were restless; his fingers twisted the strip of hide that held the runic talisman around his neck. "Gareth, Kalev, take Knut to the small chamber at the end of the men's quarters," Johnny said. "He'll sleep there tonight, and I want a guard on his door. Wake Niall. You two need your sleep. Knut, you'll have one of my men with you at all times during daylight hours until this is sorted out. Stay away from Felix and from Sibeal. Is that understood?"

Knut shifted his feet. He muttered something.

Kalev stifled a yawn as he translated. "He says, perhaps the story is not quite as he told it."

I was still on the mat by the fire, my hand in Felix's. I felt him start, as if a shock had gone through his body.

"Be quick." Johnny's face was like stone.

"In part, his story was true," Knut said. "There was another island, far north. The storm, the bay, the monster . . . it is accurate enough. I did not think you would believe it, so I said nothing of it. No man likes to be called a liar."

These words hung in the air, a judgment he had brought on himself.

"Anything further?" Johnny's tone was even and quiet. He gave no indication of what he was thinking.

"Svala," Knut said, looking down at his boots. "She is not my wife, not in the way folk mean the term, but . . . "

"But what?" Gareth asked, an edge in his voice. Everyone was weary, and whatever transpired, tomorrow would be full of fresh demands.

"She was alone on the island, naked and beautiful on the sh.o.r.e. All alone, abandoned there in that grim place. A woman, on her own, without shelter, without the means to make fire, without even a shred of clothing. How can anyone believe she wants to go back there? Such a place is home to nothing but crabs and sh.e.l.lfish. I could not leave her there, at the mercy of that monster. So I saved her, rescued her. She is mine, my wife in all aspects but the law, and that can be made good. With me she has shelter, food, companionship, all a woman needs from her man. I provide for her, I keep her safe. Most men would not trouble with a woman who was . . . " He did not make his gesture again, the one that meant crazy, out of her wits, but his meaning was clear.

"So you lied," said Johnny.

"You would not have believed me. It sounds like a wild invention. There was no need for anyone to know this, no need at all. He only made trouble telling it-"

"And the child?" asked Johnny.

Knut hesitated. I wondered if he was weighing up the odds: better to tell the unpalatable truth now or somehow to perpetuate the lie? "There was no child," he muttered.

"Why would you invent such a story?" asked Muirrin, clearly shocked. "Were the losses from Freyja not enough for you, that you had to embroider them?"

"Svala," Knut said. "Crazy. Unpredictable. I thought . . . I thought, without a good reason for such wildness, you would not let her stay here. I thought you would quickly send us away."

"I have another question for you," Johnny said, and the perilous quiet of his tone frightened even me. "Did you attempt to kill Felix tonight to stop him from telling this story?"

"No! Not to kill, only to warn him. I heard Sam talking; at supper, he was saying something about an island and a monster. How could he know this, save from Felix? I did not want the story told. I confess, it shows me in a bad light, and I . . . But I would not have killed him. Why would I do that? I came to give him a fright, to make sure he held his tongue, that was all."

"Sam," I said, seeing how it had been. "Brenna must have spoken to Sam about what I told the others earlier." I turned to Knut. "Brenna didn't learn the story from Felix," I said. "She learned it from Svala, through me. What Gull said was true. Until you attacked Felix and he hit his head, he had no memory of this."

Knut opened his mouth and shut it again. n.o.body said a word. Johnny made a motion with his head, indicating that Gareth and Kalev should go, and they left with the Norseman between them. Cathal made his good nights and followed.

"Evan," said Gull, "whatever transpires from this, tell me I can give Felix something other than soup tonight, will you? It's going to be hard enough for him to sleep, after this."

"You can try him on bread and milk. Don't get up, Father. I'll fetch it." Evan looked at the exhausted, pallid Felix where he sat slumped on the bench beside Gull. I could imagine what my brother-in-law was thinking. At every turn, Felix had spoken of the rescue expedition as an enterprise in which he himself would take part. That looked nigh impossible.

"Muirrin," I said as she and Evan went out, "thank you for speaking up."

My sister smiled. "There's no need to thank me for the truth, Sibeal."

Then there were only Johnny, Gull, Felix and me left in the infirmary. I had expected Johnny to leave promptly. It was the middle of the night, and with the Connacht men on the island, he must be up early. But my cousin sat on awhile, deep in thought.

"You mean to go, whatever happens," he said eventually, his eyes on Felix, a.s.sessing. "On your own, if it comes to that. Weak, sick, not much of a sailor, not much of a fighter, you would still do it. I can't make up my mind whether you're the bravest man I've ever met, or the maddest."

Felix had begun to shake; whether it was from the relief of tension or sheer exhaustion, I did not know. To remember, to tell the story, to be half-believed-it was a great deal in one night. Not to speak of the fact that Knut had almost killed him. I knelt up beside him, holding both his hands in mine. Gull laid his cloak around Felix's shoulders. Perhaps Felix did not look like much of a hero right now, but to me he seemed a beacon of courage, a lamp of truth.

"He must go," I said to Johnny. "I know it can't happen until Liadan gets back, and perhaps not for a while even then. But when it's time, the runes have told us that Felix must be part of the rescue." I remembered my divinations, both of them pointing to a mission the two of us would undertake together. I recalled Felix's voice, soft and sure as he called me the flaming torch that led him forward. I saw in my mind Svala's vision of the two of us, she and I, rowing a little boat across a trackless ocean and into the north. "Svala must go as well," I said. "And so must I."

CHAPTER 10.

*Felix*

I have so longed to eat a proper meal. Now I scarcely taste the wedge of bread, the cup of watered goat's milk. My mind is reeling. A trap; fate has laid a trap for me. Sibeal's words froze my heart. I saw on Johnny's face, and on Gull's, the same horror. I cannot argue with the runes. But Sibeal out in those seas, Sibeal in that G.o.dforsaken place, Sibeal in the claws of the monster . . . I see how it would be, and I shrink from it, body and mind. What if, in my desperate quest to save my companions, I draw my most precious friend, my light, my treasure, to a hideous, b.l.o.o.d.y death? I would die rather than see her hurt.

If I do not go, she need not go. But I must go. I must do my best to put right the evil thing that was done. If the least chance exists that any man still clings to life on that isle, I must find him. I must bring him home.

There was death in the runes. I did not think it might be hers.

"Eat up," says Gull, yawning. "We must at least attempt sleep before dawn, and you'll rest better with some good food inside you."

I cannot say what I am thinking. I cannot tell Sibeal I do not want her to come. The runes do not lie. To question them is to doubt her integrity as a seer. "Do you think he will do it?" I ask instead. "Will he help me?"

"Only Johnny can answer that," says Gull. "He believes you, all right; I could see that, though he won't say so plainly until he's decided how to proceed. As a leader of fighting men, Johnny's made his share of tough decisions. He won't put his men in peril for a hopeless cause, however desperately you need that to happen. Say he does decide to go ahead with a rescue attempt for these poor fellows. Nothing much can be done before Liadan gets back. Then there's the matter of a crew. I'd expect him to ask for volunteers, and not all men will be free to put their hands up. Johnny himself won't go, for a mult.i.tude of reasons. Cathal can't go. Not only is his wife about to give birth to their first child, but there are certain factors that bind him to Inis Eala. It's not safe for him beyond the island. Any man who's tied up in training the Connacht men must stay here while our visitors are with us. That rules out quite a few of the most capable among us. Johnny won't let such an expedition set out unless he's convinced the crew's adequate to the task. He'd be asking people to put themselves in great peril. Not that the fellows here are averse to risk, but this . . . "

He sighed and took a mouthful of his ale. "If only we could know whether anyone's survived. To be honest, Felix, I don't like the prospect of losing good men over this. Especially not if it turns out to be a fool's errand, with your comrades already fallen prey to cold or starvation or this creature. That's a little blunt, maybe, but I have to say it."

"You think we should not attempt this?" Gull's doubt unsettles me further; I feel sick.

"I didn't say that, lad. If you want my honest opinion, I think there will be enough men willing to form a crew of sorts. But if I were Johnny, I'd be wanting more certainty." He glances at Sibeal, who has moved to sit on the bench opposite the two of us, her ale cup between her palms. Her eyes are wide and watchful in the firelight.

"I could cast the runes again," she says, "but I believe they would show the same message as before. I could scry, posing a question about survivors. I might see a vision of men on the serpent isle, but I wouldn't know if I was looking at past, present or future, or whether the images meant something other than what they showed. If you want certainty, I cannot provide it. Only hope. Only my conviction that this is the right thing to do, for you, Felix, for Svala, for those men you left. Even for Knut."

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

"Because every man must at some point confront the truth about himself. I still don't understand why Knut told so many lies."

"It's a shock." Gull's tone reflects this; he is upset. He befriended Knut. He liked the man. "Maybe he started with one lie, and ended up trapped in a whole web of them."

"His explanation for bringing Svala with him sounded reasonable-she was alone on that wild, rugged island, he thought to protect her-but . . . " Sibeal hesitates. "In the light of your story, I recalled a much earlier vision, from the first time I visited the seer's cave. I think Knut may have removed Svala from that island by force. If that's true, if he abducted her, then we've done her a terrible wrong by accepting Knut's story. She's been with him in that cottage, alone, perhaps unwilling . . . "

This shocks me. I can think of nothing to say.

"I hope you're wrong, Sibeal," Gull says. "Svala has seemed content enough in Knut's company on those few occasions when she's come out in public. She's somewhat withdrawn, certainly. But who knows what happened to her before the ship reached that island? Maybe she was the only survivor of some earlier voyage. That would be enough to drive the most reasonable woman half out of her wits."

"Content," echoes Sibeal. "No, Gull, she's far from content. But she has no words to explain, and that makes her angry. Several times she has tried to show me her story, and I've failed to understand anything save how miserable and frustrated she is. She's different when Knut is not with her. Stronger. Braver. Angrier. When he comes close she shrinks into herself, like a creature hiding in a sh.e.l.l. I think she's scared of him."

I finish my scant meal in silence, pondering this, remembering the wan, limp creature who shared the hold with us on the difficult journey back from the serpent isle. She was neither strong nor brave. She sat huddled in a corner, and any time I went down there she shrank away from me, covering her face with her hands. At night she wept, disturbing our already patchy sleep. I recalled Knut talking to her in an undertone once or twice. Sick, exhausted and disturbed as I was, with my brother beside me in fetters and Matha moaning with pain, I did not take as much notice as I should have done.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep at all," Sibeal says. "Felix, I'm happy that you were able to tell your story at last, and sad that it is such a terrible one. But now we can act. We can do what the G.o.ds bid us do." She smiles, her face pallid with weariness, and I manage a smile in return. The weight of what lies unspoken is heavy on me.

"You'd best go to bed and shut your eyes awhile, at least," Gull tells her. "I predict a long and tiring day tomorrow. As for you, Felix, if you really intend to be part of this, if it goes ahead, it'll be a race to get you strong enough in time. Hard work for the two of us."

I murmur a response. The magnitude of this mission is daunting. I try not to dwell on what might go wrong, what lives might be lost, what new burdens my quest might lay on the shoulders of these good people. That way lies madness.

"Sibeal," Gull says quietly. "You realize, I presume, that despite the authority you carry as a druid, your kinsmen will balk at the idea of your undertaking a venture such as this. In saying the G.o.ds intend you to go, you make Johnny's decision especially difficult."

"I must follow the will of the G.o.ds," Sibeal says, her voice clear and sure. "It was plain in the runes that the two of us would undertake this together. I mean Felix and me. I believe that if we do not both go, and Svala as well, the mission cannot succeed. I can't be more plain than that."

"You may have trouble convincing Johnny," muttered Gull. "I'm glad it's not my decision. Think what your father would say, if he knew. Or Ciaran."

"I'm a grown woman," says Sibeal calmly. "And since neither Father nor Ciaran can be consulted in time, there is no point in wondering what they might think."

Gull grins, but I see the concern in his eyes. "Ah, well, that's for the morning," he says. "Felix, do you need to go to the privy before bed?"

I shake my head. He goes; I stay. There is time to speak to Sibeal alone: brief, precious time. I can find no words. We stand facing each other. She reaches out her hands. When I take them, they seem swallowed by mine. She is made small and fine in every particular.

"You lived up to the name I gave you," she says, fixing her lovely eyes on mine. "You were brave, and you'll go on being brave, no matter what happens. We can do this, Felix. We will do it."

Now I have too many words, and none of them can be spoken. I don't want you to go. You might die, and I couldn't bear that. Or worse, I love you, Sibeal. I wish from the bottom of my heart that you were not a druid. Say that, and I will lose her friendship forever. Besides, it is only half true. Her faith is part of her; part of what makes her so remarkable.

"Sibeal," I ask, "what happened with the fire, when Knut was attacking me? What did you do?"