Seer of Sevenwaters

by Juliet Marillier

  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 scraps 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 assistants 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 godforsaken 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 associated exercises at the western end of the island. He would supervise, and three of the island warriors would assist 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 appetite. 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 nobody 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 hitched 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 impressi
ve 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 space 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 assumed 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 appetite 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 eyeballs.

  “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 passionate 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 illustration. “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 shore. For this man, I have other plans.”

  The dining hall was hushed; the assembled 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 nobody 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, wavin
g 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 gods 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, scraping 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.”