Sevenwaters: Seer Of Sevenwaters Part 20

An odd little smile curves her lips. "I wasn't sure anyone noticed. Druid magic; elemental magic. I've never used it before outside the nemetons. Ciaran taught me. Though, of course, his skill goes far beyond mine."

"Of course." Jealousy flares up in me, deluded fool that I am. Who could compete with this beloved mentor, this much-revered teacher, this magical, brilliant kinsman of whom she speaks so frequently? I am no more than a wandering interpreter, a younger son whose inability to comply with rules led his whole family into danger and caused his brother's death. I think perhaps I hate this Ciaran.

"Felix?"

I have stood in angry silence while she watched me. I relax my grip on her hands, loosen my tight jaw, make myself breathe.

"What's wrong?" Sibeal's voice is like water fresh from the mountains, clear and sweet. Hearing it, I cannot hold on to my anger. Perhaps I should wish Ciaran was here. If he tried to stop her, as any reasonable man surely would, perhaps she would take heed.

"Felix?" she says again, lifting her brows.

"Sibeal, I wish-no, never mind. You should go to your bed. It's halfway to dawn already."

Sibeal is watching me closely. She knows I am avoiding something. My mouth stretches in a yawn. There is no artifice in this. I am bone weary.

"I'll bid you good night, then," she says.

"Good night, Sibeal." I hope she cannot see in my eyes how much I want to put my arms around her and feel the warmth of her lips against mine. To press her body close; to touch her. I release her hands and step back politely to let her go past me.

Halfway to her little chamber, she turns to look over her shoulder. "Felix is Latin, isn't it? Does it mean the happy one, or something like that?"

I feel my mouth twist, but I am not smiling. "Joyful," I say. "It means joyful. Sleep safely, Sibeal."

"You, too. Dream of home. Remember, Paul is close by, watching over you. He would be proud of what you've done tonight."

I bow my head, lest she see that my eyes have filled with tears.

*Sibeal*

Sleep was elusive. I lay with eyes closed, breathing slowly. When I judged it to be almost dawn, I got up, dressed and went outside. From the infirmary proper there was no sound of movement, and I hoped both Gull and Felix were sleeping.

I walked to the place of the boat burial, where nine drowned men lay under their earthen mound. Gra.s.s was already starting to creep up over it. The place was serene and quiet in the morning light. I sat on the ground, thinking of the nightmare voyage those men had endured, and how cruel it was that on the very point of reaching the home sh.o.r.e again, the crew had fallen victim to the wild seas and the wind. I considered the long reach of Mac Dara.

"Paul," I murmured, "your brother is going back there. He's going to save the men whom you were forced to leave behind. Be proud of Felix. Now that you are gone, he has to take the lead himself, and he's not used to that. Help me watch over him, if you can. You were the best and most loyal of brothers. He loves you and misses you."

I stayed there awhile as the sun rose slowly in the sky, and the community of Inis Eala awoke and began its daily business. Men went down toward the jetty. A girl drove a small herd of goats out of one walled field and into another. Folk moved between sleeping quarters and dining hall; between dining hall and practice yard. After some time I got up and headed back, taking a roundabout way that would give me a view of the main bay and the fisherman's cottage where Knut and Svala were housed. He would not be there, of course, but she might. Some time soon, someone must try to explain to her what was planned. That task would most likely fall to me.

The fishing boat was out in the bay, trailing nets. The little cottage close to the water's edge had its door standing open, but there was no sign of Svala. Perhaps she had been worried when her husband did not come back last night. Perhaps she had been relieved.

My gaze moved to the jetty and I narrowed my eyes. Was that Fang down there, Fang who had been behaving so oddly, and who had not come in at all last night? She was hunkered down at the very end, apparently staring out across the water. There was something very strange about that frozen position. Was the little dog hurt?

I made my way down, feeling obliged to check that all was well. I stopped a few paces away from the dog, crouched down and spoke to her quietly. "Fang?" And when there was no response, "Come here, little one." I clicked my fingers, and her ears twitched. "Good girl. Come on. Breakfast."

She was shivering with cold. A whimper emerged from her throat, a sound fit to melt the hardest heart. I was trying to coax her closer to me when Biddy came down the path with a basket over her arm.

"She's been here since last night," she said. "Don't try to touch her unless you want her teeth in your hand." She unpacked a water skin and a shallow bowl, then used the one to fill the other. She placed the bowl close to the dog-Fang growled without turning her head-and set beside it a handful of meat sc.r.a.ps from last night's supper. "I have a theory."

"Me, too," I said. "Is this the first time Snake's been away since he brought Fang to the island?"

"First time he's left her behind. Looks as if she's waiting. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Maybe even among dogs there are seers. Otherwise how does Fang know he's on his way home?"

"So you think Liadan will be here soon," I said.

Biddy looked at me sideways. "I've been told some of what happened last night, but not all," she said. "Shall we walk back up together, and you can fill in the gaps? I hear a certain note in your voice when you mention the ship, and it worries me. I hope that man of mine isn't contemplating doing anything reckless. I saw how much he enjoyed tutoring Knut in swordplay. Made him feel young again, no doubt; young and whole. Trouble is, when they start feeling like warriors, they've a tendency to rush off and get themselves killed."

Where the jetty met land, I paused and glanced over my shoulder. Fang was devouring the meat.

"Since you're such an early riser," Biddy said, smiling, "you can feed her for me tomorrow."

"Gladly. As for last night, Felix-Ardal-told an extraordinary story. It was like this . . . "

Even in a much abbreviated form, the tale took us all the way back to the dining hall, where Biddy's a.s.sistants had the fire crackling and were starting to prepare the breakfast porridge. "Johnny will call his meeting this morning, I expect," I said. "I don't imagine Gull would want to go on this voyage. But Evan might. There are reasons why a healer's presence would be useful."

"Danu be merciful," Biddy muttered. "I'm not sure I want to hear this. My son go to that G.o.dforsaken place, when Muirrin's with child at last? Next thing you'll be suggesting Cathal go too."

I said nothing to this. It was unthinkable that Cathal would sail with us, with Clodagh's baby due so soon and the powerful hand of Mac Dara poised just beyond the safe margin of Inis Eala. And yet . . . and yet . . . I wished Biddy had not said this, even in jest. I wished I had not thought of the implications. "Of course," I said, "the entire venture depends on Johnny's decision. And on the return of Liadan." I did not say that Felix and I were both intending to go. I suspected today would hold a long chain of shocked responses to this news, and I would not invite them before I must.

Johnny had been faced with an extraordinary series of events. He dealt with the situation like the true leader he was. There was no urgent announcement to disrupt the routine the Connacht men were used to; there was no immediate involvement of folk who had no need to know. However, by breakfast time it was apparent to me that a great deal of planning had already gone on behind closed doors. I suspected that Johnny and Gareth had been up all night, and that certain key figures among the Inis Eala men had been woken rather earlier than was usual.

Over breakfast, Rat announced that the entire contingent of Connacht men would be undertaking rope work and other a.s.sociated exercises at the western end of the island. He would supervise, and three of the island warriors would a.s.sist him. They could expect to be gone all day, he told the men, so they'd best eat heartily now. This was an opportunity for the visitors to put together everything they had learned so far.

I ate without much real appet.i.te. I was starting to feel nervous, despite my conviction that the mission would go ahead. Clodagh had her eye on me, and the expression in it told me quite plainly that she'd heard the whole story from Cathal, knew I intended to go, and thought the idea completely outrageous. But she said nothing, and neither did Cathal or Gareth, who came to join us after Rat had finished his speech to the visitors. While I had not been sworn to silence, I realized nothing would be said about the night's drama until the Connacht men, at least, were out of the way. Knut was not in the dining hall. Neither was Svala. I hoped that she was nowhere near the place where Rat would be conducting his exercise.

We ate in awkward silence. The enormity of what lay ahead made it impossible to speak of day-to-day matters. Evan went up to the infirmary, carrying provisions for Felix, and Gull came down to join us, yawning. Eventually Johnny, who had been moving about the hall talking to one group, then another, came back to our table and sat down.

"We'll meet here later in the morning," he said in a tone calculated to carry no further than our small group. "I'm calling the whole community together, but only briefly. I'll explain what has happened and put forward a proposed course of action. We'll meet again when folk have had time to think about it. Evan tells me Felix is strong enough to be brought down here for this, Gull-will you see to that?"

Gull nodded.

"It's important, or I wouldn't suggest it. I want to put an end to these ill luck rumors, and in that matter I believe he'll be his own best advocate. After last night's revelations, I've been wondering whether Knut may have been the source of those rumors. Discredit the man, and you discredit his story when it finally comes out. Gull, tell Felix he should be prepared to speak briefly. Once the community knows the situation, the visitors can be told. No doubt everyone will be conversant with it by supper time." He turned toward me. "Sibeal, I think Svala should be present. Can you persuade her to join us?"

"She wasn't in the cottage when I went down earlier," I said. "I can look for her, certainly. But even if I find her, I may not be able to explain something so complicated."

"Don't go looking on your own." There was an unusual edge in Johnny's voice. "Take Brenna or one of the other women."

I looked at him, not able to ask the question I wanted to: If Knut is locked up in the men's quarters, what are you worried about? It was not the first time I had wondered if he shared my suspicions about Rodan's death.

"I'll come," Clodagh said. "The walk will do me good. Don't look like that, Cathal. Yes, my back hurts, but I'm not going to make it any better by lying around like a seal in pup."

"I'll come as well," offered Muirrin, surprising me. "If all three of us together can't persuade Svala to be at this meeting, then I suppose n.o.body can."

We found Svala seated on the rocks in one of the small bays. It was a still morning, and the sea had the sheen of fine polished silver. Further out in open water, something moved beneath the surface, perhaps a shoal of fish, perhaps a larger creature. Svala had her clothes on this morning, but her gown was. .h.i.tched up above her knees, revealing a length of shapely leg, and her bare feet were crusted with sand. She turned her head to watch us approach, large eyes wary. Her hair was soaking wet.

At a certain distance we halted, the three of us, keeping to the plan we had made on the way.

"Good morning, Svala," I said. "These are my sisters." I made a series of gestures, trying to show that the three of us had been little together, had grown up together, were linked by love.

Svala inclined her head gravely. So far, so good.

"We brought you something," Muirrin said, moving forward with our gift wrapped in seaweed. She stopped a few paces from Svala, bent down and laid it on the rocks: a gleaming, sizeable codfish, obtained from Biddy. Jouko had been out early with a hand line; this was part of his impressive catch.

Svala's lovely eyes went from the fish to Muirrin to me and Clodagh, and back to the fish again.

"You can eat it," I said. "Eat. Good." I demonstrated, hoping we would not be offered a share this time.

She moved, keeping one eye on us as if she thought we might change our minds and seize back our gift. She was quick; in the s.p.a.ce of two breaths, she had come down, grabbed the fish and returned to her perch, holding her prize to her chest.

"Eat," I said again. "Fresh caught today."

Svala lifted the cod and sank her white teeth through scales and flesh, ripping away a mouthful and bolting it as if she had not had a good meal in days. I heard Clodagh make a little sound, quickly suppressed, and hoped she would not be sick. I had warned my sisters.

"Good?" I asked, then went on without waiting for an answer. "Svala, your man, Knut-not home last night. Hurt another man. Locked up." Muirrin and I performed a bizarre little mime, she taking the part of Knut-we tried to show who she was by suggesting the amulet around the neck-I of Felix. "Johnny locked him up for now." The heavily pregnant Clodagh a.s.sumed the role of Johnny, leading Muirrin to an imaginary chamber and shutting the door. "You are safe," I said. "We are all safe."

Svala regarded our performance with apparent interest, all the while tearing and chewing with vigor. No wonder her teeth were so good. But then, if she had been stranded on the serpent isle for years and had gone half wild, it was no surprise that she had acquired an appet.i.te for raw fish and the ability to deal with it. There would have been little else on offer.

"Svala," I said, moving on, "you know we talked about the island-out there," I pointed northward. "The serpent island." I used my arm and hand to make the creature, as she had done in the seer's cave. "A boat-rowing, sailing-you go back there. You and I." It was easy enough to indicate; we had done this part before.

She ceased feeding to stare at me, her eyes suddenly alight.

"Maybe go," I said, seeing how difficult this might be if she misunderstood. "Johnny will decide. Johnny . . . " How to show this? I moved a hand around my left eye, trying to indicate a tattoo of a raven, but so many men on Inis Eala bore similar markings, I doubted she could understand. But perhaps, by now, she recognized this name at least. "You come, listen to story. You come with us? All safe now. Maybe go, little boat, row to island."

"Would you be able to show her if you were in the seer's cave?" Muirrin asked in a murmur.

"There's no time for that this morning. Besides, it was more the other way-she didn't see my vision. I saw hers." Often when Svala had been touching me I had felt the turmoil within her, but the only time she had conveyed clear images it had been with the aid of the scrying pool. "When she's had her breakfast, I'll try something else," I said.

Watching as she devoured the fish, I wondered whether Svala had been starving for most of her sojourn on Inis Eala. She never ate much in the dining hall. My sisters and I waited quietly until the flesh was all gone, and Svala laid out the bones on the rock beside her, as if in a ritual. She had consumed all but this skeleton: scales, guts, even the eyeb.a.l.l.s.

"Svala," I said as she stood and wiped her hands on her gown, leaving greasy streaks. "Svala, come." I reached out toward her.

She stepped down from the rocks and clasped my hands. "Close your eyes," I said, closing my own. I told the story in words, for my sisters' benefit, and as I spoke I pictured each part of it: Knut's attack, the confusion in the darkness, my terror that Felix would be killed. The truth coming out at last, Knut's denials, his eventual grudging revision of his story, Johnny's calm wisdom. I conjured an image of the community gathered in the dining hall, of Knut restrained by a pair of guards, of Johnny speaking. And then I imagined a boat, Liadan, sailing away to the north, and on it Svala, Felix and me. My crew did not include Knut.

My mind was so intent on these images, I did not realize until I opened my eyes again how tightly Svala was gripping my hands. I felt a wave of excitement flood through her, a pa.s.sionate yearning, a wild elation. Some of my message, at least, she had understood. But perhaps not the elusive maybe. "Today, only talk," I said, realizing how hard it was to differentiate between a biting monster and a talking mouth when one only had a hand to use for ill.u.s.tration. "You come, yes?"

"Fresh clothes," muttered Clodagh. "If she's to appear in front of everyone, she should change that gown."

"A little fish is the least of our concerns," Muirrin said. "Svala, will you come now?" She pointed toward the path, lifting her brows in question.

But Svala released my hands, turned away and waded into the sea, up to her knees. She stood quite still for a moment, then slowly raised her arms to the sides, palms up. A powerful, keening cry burst from her, as if she would send a message to the far ends of the world. The sound rang across the sea. We waited, but she made no move to come.

"We should leave her for now," I said.

"What if Johnny decides against the rescue mission?" Clodagh asked. "Maybe it would have been better not to tell Svala until you were sure."

"She did need to know why her husband didn't come back last night," Muirrin pointed out.

"Sibeal," said Clodagh as we headed up the path, leaving Svala oblivious behind us, "do you really mean to go on this voyage yourself? Do you realize how mad that is?"

I considered this before offering an answer. "It's about as mad as your heading into the Otherworld to rescue Cathal was," I said. There was no need to point out that I had helped her slip away from home so she could do it. Such things are never forgotten between sisters.

"Are you sure you're not half in love with Ardal? I mean Felix? I can't think of any other reason you would suddenly lose all your common sense."

I glanced sideways at Clodagh. It was wrong to be less than honest with her. But I could not give her the answer that felt most true: If ever I were to give up my vocation for a man, it would be for this man. "I would never give up my vocation," I told her, and that, too, was the truth. "Besides, if I cared about him, I'd want what was best for him. It's best that both of us go. The runes showed that plainly."

"Mm-hm," said Clodagh.

"And that is the story," Johnny said. "A striking one, as strange as any old tale. I can understand that you might feel some doubt as to its truth, hearing it on its own. But there are Sibeal's visions, which illuminated certain aspects of it with perfect clarity. There's the evidence of the rope around Paul's ankles, which I saw with my own eyes. And folk have been dreaming since the shipwreck, folk who had not heard this tale until last night. Their dreams bear out what Felix has told us. Perhaps the most compelling argument of all is that, after calling that tale a web of lies, Knut has now admitted most aspects of it were true. It seems this man who has become a friend to so many of us during his time here is a bare-faced liar. More than that, he has attempted to murder one who was under our protection, and has both threatened and injured my young kinswoman. For this, any other man would be banished instantly from our sh.o.r.e. For this man, I have other plans."

The dining hall was hushed; the a.s.sembled men and women had hung on every word of Johnny's speech. He had given a calm, considered account of last night's events, including a brief version of Felix's story. The news of what Knut had done had caused an outcry. It was plain that many found it hard to believe him capable of such duplicity. But Johnny had said it, and n.o.body ever doubted Johnny. Knut had stood stone-faced between Niall and Jouko as his ill deeds were made public. Johnny had not asked him to speak.

"I have faith in Felix, and I believe his story," Johnny said now. "I see his honesty in his eyes. He has made a request that, if granted, will have weighty consequences for our community. Felix, step up and explain what you're asking of us, and why it's so important."

Felix rose to his feet, waving away Gull's supporting arm. He came to stand beside Johnny. His mouth was set tight; his eyes were full of determination.

"Some here have called me an ill luck man," he said quietly. "There may be some truth in that, for my brother perished on this voyage, drowned on the reef out there. He died because he stood up for what was right. Because he would have hindered their flight from the serpent isle, the flight that saw seven men abandoned to their fate, our crew tied Paul's ankles. I could not unfasten the knots in time, and so he drowned. My brother was a good man. A good man never leaves his friends behind. Sometimes we are faced with terrible choices, heartbreaking choices that make a mockery of right and wrong. But the choice that faced Knut and his companions on the serpent isle was easy. All it required was courage.

"I am compelled to go back, by any means I can, to try to save those men. It is what my brother would do if he were here. I do not know if they are alive or dead. I have no skills in navigation, no experience in sailing a boat. You will think me quite mad. But I am saner than I ever was. The G.o.ds call me to do this. Sibeal cast the runes for me; their message was quite plain. I must go, and I will go. Last night I asked Johnny if he would help me. If he cannot, if you will not, then I will find another way to do this." He glanced at Johnny, who was watching with a little smile on his lips. "That is all I have to say."

"Thank you, Felix. Sit down, please." Johnny faced the crowd. "I will give you time to consider this. Before you do, I'll make my own position clear. This can't be done without a vessel strong enough to withstand the trip. It can't be done before Liadan returns. We have no reliable guide to the location of this island, since the ship on which Felix and his brother were traveling was swept off course by a freak storm. We don't know if there are any survivors. We have a sea monster to deal with, a creature that is large, fierce and not kindly disposed toward men. That is a heavy weight of risk. To balance it, we have a group of men abandoned in that place by friends they believed they could trust. A group of comrades struggling to hold on against the odds, sc.r.a.ping an existence in the harshest of conditions, hoping and praying that someone will have the courage to come back for them." He paused, looking around the hall. The silence was profound. "I don't believe we have any choice," he said. "I'll authorize the use of Liadan for this mission. If we can put a crew together, we'll go ahead."

Spider rose to his feet. "How do you intend to choose that crew?" he asked.

"I'll call for volunteers," Johnny said. "Experienced men to sail Liadan; others with specialized skills. You realize what kind of mission this is. I don't want anyone making a decision without thinking it through. Take some time, talk to your wives, and don't make light of the immense risk involved. You need a few days, at the very least, to make up your minds. I won't take volunteers from those involved in training the Connacht men. Our primary work is on Inis Eala, and we must maintain that."

"The boat may need refurbishment," someone said. "That could take time. Is the plan to sail off as soon as possible after she returns?"

"Every day counts for those men," said Johnny soberly. "Work on the boat will start the day she comes in. Provided we have a crew, she'll sail out as soon as she's ready. Supplies can be a.s.sembled now, while we wait for her return."

A babble of talk had broken out all around the hall now as the implications began to sink in. I felt the women's doubt and fear, the pull between pride in their men and terror that those men might be lost on a journey whose heroic intention was equaled by its appalling uncertainty. I felt the inspiration that filled the men's hearts, the knowledge that here was a mission no true warrior could refuse. There would be volunteers, all right; far more than Johnny needed. I saw the light in their eyes.

"Johnny," said Gareth, "what happens if you don't get enough volunteers to make up a crew?" It seemed to me he already knew the answer-there were no secrets between these two-but had seen a need for it to be stated publicly.

"Then the mission cannot go ahead." The implications were quite plain.

"I've got a question," said Sam, rising to his full, impressive height.

"Ask it, then."

"What did you mean about Knut? We all know a man who acts as he has is banished immediately from the island. On the other hand, he's a good fighter and to many of us he's become a friend. What are these other plans you spoke of?"

Jouko had been translating for Knut. Now Knut released a flow of impa.s.sioned words, gesturing toward Johnny. Jouko lifted his brows in question.