Seer of Sevenwaters

by Juliet Marillier

  “They did not free Paul until we were far out to sea,” he said. “They let me untie his hands, but not his feet. We got an explanation for what they had done, though nothing could excuse such an act of callous cruelty. One party of crewmen had walked around into the next bay. There had been a cave there, some distance above the water and quite dry, and they had explored it, thinking it might provide good shelter. As they came out, the monster arose from the water, neck snaking, mouth slavering in anticipation. They ran; the thing pursued them, bellowing. To their horror, it came right out of the water, moving as a seal might, but far more quickly, so fast they could not outrun it. Of that group, only two survived. The rest the creature crushed with a single blow of its great tail. While it was devouring them, the two men fled. They found their fellow crewmen, told their tale and bolted for the ship. They made an unthinkable decision. They would seize the chance to leave the island while the creature was occupied in feeding. They would save themselves at the expense of Paul and his men, the eight who had gone to look for shelter. For they believed that if we stayed, all of us would inevitably die.”

  Johnny raised his hand, a sign that Felix should wait for Kalev to finish his translation before telling any more. When this was done, my cousin said, “Ask Knut what he thinks of this account thus far, will you?”

  Knut’s response was swift and fierce. “He lies! Sea monsters? I think not. The tale is complete fantasy, every word!” I noticed that he was not meeting Felix’s eye, or indeed Johnny’s.

  “We were desperate for them to go back,” Felix went on, “to save those whom we had abandoned to their fate, among them a boy scarce fifteen years of age. But there were only two of us, Matha being too old and too unwell to do much at all. They said they would kill me if Paul unfastened the rope around his ankles. We made the voyage back to Erin with a crew of only three-and-twenty oarsmen, far too few to manage a vessel of such size. We had left most of our supplies behind. It was . . . difficult. By the time the vessel foundered on your reef, we were down to seventeen, including my brother, myself and Matha. Paul and I were both rowing, he with his feet still tied.” Felix lifted his head and looked straight at Knut. “If you had not fettered him, my brother would be here with us today. His death is your burden and your doom. I lay this on you, Norseman.” The silence that followed this was alive with tension.

  “Nonsense,” Knut muttered when he heard the translation. “He is a madman to speak thus. The voyage was as I told you, no more, no less.”

  “What about the woman?” Gull asked. “That was Svala, I take it?”

  “She came to when we were on open seas,” said Felix. “She sat in the hold, saying nothing. She seemed in a daze, barely aware of what was around her. I found clothing for her. We tried to talk to her, but to no avail. Some of the men asked Knut where she had come from, and he said she was on the island, all alone, and that he had rescued her. Nobody bothered to ask for further explanation. We were too busy keeping the ship afloat and on what we hoped to be a true course back toward Erin.”

  “Danu have mercy,” murmured Muirrin. “All alone, you say? There was no child?”

  The silence drew out. The implications of this were appalling. It was unthinkable that Knut would have lied about the drowning of his son.

  Suddenly I remembered the vision I had experienced in Finbar’s cave, the first time I had gone there—hands seizing me, dragging me across the sand and through the water. Striking my head on something; falling. I knew without a doubt that it was Svala’s experience I had felt, Svala who had come to Inis Eala bursting with grief. Grief, not over the death of a child, but over what had been done to her. She had not been rescued. She had been abducted.

  Felix rose to his feet. “I must go there,” he said, looking straight at Johnny. “I must go straightaway. We left our comrades behind. I must find them. This is pressing; every moment matters.”

  “There’s no doubting your courage, or your sincerity,” Johnny said slowly. “You’ll understand, Felix, that after the loss of your memory and your severe illness, a man might doubt whether your recollections are completely reliable.”

  Felix’s pale cheeks flushed crimson. “It is the truth,” he said simply.

  “Say we accept that,” said Johnny. “This place is—how many days under sail, do you estimate?”

  “It is hard to tell. We reached the serpent’s isle four days after we set out from Ulfricsfjord, but we were driven off course, as I told you. The winds were extreme. Returning, we rowed much of the way.”

  “May I say something?” Gareth asked. At Johnny’s nod he went on. “Felix, you speak as if you intend to get into a boat and head off on your own, preferably first thing in the morning. All of us would feel the same compulsion to go, under these circumstances. We understand the horror of abandoning comrades. But your idea of doing so is hardly practical. The voyage is long. It’s across open seas. Your ship reached this island by accident, in a storm, with, I presume, no stars visible by which to chart a course. You’d need a sturdy oceangoing vessel of reasonable size, an expert crew, good supplies. Then there’s the small problem of the sea monster, supposing your story is accurate. It’s been some time since Freyja came to grief here. I regret the need to say this, but it seems very likely all the men you left in that place would be dead by now. I assume you will ask Johnny for help. For a ship and a crew. Under the circumstances, who in his right mind would want to go?”

  Cathal cleared his throat.

  “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 compassionate. “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—”

&nb
sp; 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 sturdiest 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 assembling 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 passengers 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 shore. 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 shells,” 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.”