Seer of Sevenwaters

by Juliet Marillier

  I rushed for the rail, scrabbling to climb up. If I jumped now I could save him, I had to, it wasn’t too late, he couldn’t die—

  A pair of hands closed around my arms, restraining me firmly but gently. “No, Sibeal,” said Cathal. As I twisted and kicked and fought, shouting my rage, he held me firm all the way to shore.

  I was on the beach. Liadan lay at anchor some little distance out in the water. Crewmen had conveyed me to shore in a small rowing boat. The pebbles were hard underneath me; the air was chill against my wet cheeks. I heard Gareth giving sharp orders, his tone forbidding comment. And someone was making a whimpering sound like the cry of a whipped dog. Maybe it was me. There was no druid here, no brave woman with the ear of the gods and a spirit honed to strength and wisdom by years of discipline. The last spark of that person had dwindled and died out there on the water. There was only a hollow where my heart had been ripped out. Cast away. Sunk deep as death.

  “Sibeal?”

  Cathal was crouching beside me, his tone unusually kindly. He put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me!” I shrank into myself, hugging my anguish close.

  “Sibeal, we need your help. Take a deep breath and look at me. Sibeal, look at me.”

  “Go away.”

  A crunch as he settled on the stones beside me. A silence. Then he said, “Being leader of a mission means certain responsibilities. That includes making decisions on the instant. Sometimes those decisions seem wrong. If you’re not a fighting man they may seem very wrong indeed. Sibeal, Gareth can’t afford to lose any more men. If our numbers drop below a certain level we won’t be able to get home. That could have been a trap, designed to draw one after another of us into the water in a vain rescue attempt. He had to do what he did.” After a moment he added, “Both of them vanished the moment they went under the water. We could go out in the small boat. We could search until nightfall, putting ourselves in the perfect position to be snapped up by that creature. Chances are we’d still find no trace of them.”

  I tried to close my ears. Gull. Felix. Gone.

  “Gareth’s sending a search party along the shore, in case they’ve come in further up.”

  “And then he’ll ask me to conduct a burial rite, I suppose.” My voice was someone else’s, someone bitter and furious.

  “Sibeal, we haven’t a lot of time. I want you to answer a question for me.” When I made no reply, Cathal went ahead and asked it. “Why did we undertake this mission?”

  Felix. My whole body ached with sorrow.

  “Answer, Sibeal. Or do you lack the courage?”

  I turned on him. “Courage? Don’t talk to me about courage! There was only one man among all of you who had the courage to jump in after Gull, and that was a man who had more cause than anyone to be afraid of the water! Every night, when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the wave coming over and taking his brother! How dare you? How dare you talk to me about—”

  The flow of words stopped. Now that I had lifted my head and opened my eyes, I saw orderly activity all around us: men bringing gear ashore in the little boat, others passing items hand to hand up the rocks to higher ground, Gareth and Sigurd scanning the hillsides and talking in low voices, a small group putting on packs and collecting spears from a stack of weaponry. And Svala, not prancing and singing and celebrating her return, but crouched up on the rocks as if waiting for something. She was looking directly at me. The waters of the bay were like fine glass under a clearing sky. The storm had passed. “All right,” I said. “We’re here because Felix believed in his cause.” I could hardly bring myself to speak his name. “Because he is—was—a good man, a brave man who knew he must do the right thing.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “I can’t believe he’s gone, Cathal. And Gull . . . So quickly, like flames blown out in a draft. So quickly, as if they didn’t even matter.”

  “I know.” He bowed his head. I realized that he, too, was grieving, mourning the loss of a beloved old friend and a fine new one. Through the fog of my own sadness I recognized what he was trying to tell me. “We must find those men,” I said. “Find them and bring them home. We owe it to Felix, and to Gull, to complete the mission.”

  Cathal nodded. “If we don’t do it,” he said, “then Felix’s sacrifice was all for nothing.” He rose to his feet and offered me his hand. I stood. My legs were shaking. We were soaked; our clothing hung around us, dripping. “We’ll move up this slope to the shelter of those overhanging rocks, if shelter it can be called,” he said. “Gareth’s insisting on time for food and rest; the men are on their last legs. The only exception is the search party he’s sending along the shore. When they get back, a group of us will head out to look for these survivors. Some must stay here to watch over the boat, and . . . ” He glanced up toward the rocks where Svala was perched. “And her, I suppose. She’s shown no sign of wanting to bolt off to wherever she was living before. Knut’s still disturbed; he can’t be sent out foraging. If he’s to be left here with you and Svala, we need several men on guard.”

  Knut was sitting on the beach, a short distance away. He had a rope around one ankle, tethering him to a slab of rock. He was hunched over, a picture of misery, his arms around his knees, someone’s cloak draped over his bent back. Two men stood at a little distance. One leaned casually on a spear; the other had knives at his belt.

  “I’m not staying here,” I said, trying to dry my eyes on my wet sleeve. “I’m coming with you to find those men. Since Felix can’t do it, I must take his place.” I recalled those first divinations, cast after the waves brought Felix to my doorstep. Had I put too much trust in Nyd—fortitude beyond endurance? Had I placed undue emphasis on the beneficent power of Os? In Felix’s own choice of runes, he had included Is. In tying that to his loss of memory, had I failed to consider that Is could also signify a disaster that came from nowhere? And if I had seen it coming, could I have changed the pattern of this? Could I have saved him?

  “Sibeal,” said Cathal.

  I started, blinking. He’d been saying something and I had missed it completely. “What?”

  “This could be difficult. Even Felix didn’t know where those men were. Nor did Knut. All we have to go on is my vision, and the only thing that showed was a cave. It may be a lengthy search.” He did not mention the monster, which, according to Felix’s account, could go on both land and water.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Perhaps it was something in my stance, or in my eyes. Perhaps my brother-in-law thought anything was better than the whimpering wretch I had been not so long ago. I could not be that woman, not now. There was work to be done.

  “So be it, then,” Cathal said. “See if you can find yourself some dry clothing—Garbh and Rian are sorting out the things from the hold, over there on the rocks.” He hesitated. “I think Svala wants to tell you something. Maybe she can help us. If she really does belong in this place, she should know the likeliest spot for folk to shelter in.”

  Rian and Garbh found me a shirt and a tunic that had missed the worst of the water, and I went behind a protrusion in the rocks to change. No spare skirt. I took mine off, wrung it out and put it back on again, shivering. When night came it would bring a cold to freeze the marrow. My stockings were soaking and filthy. I thrust my bare feet into my shoes. I rolled my wet things up. Coming back out, I almost crashed into Svala, who was standing with legs apart and arms folded, waiting for me. The stance was not encouraging, and nor was the tight set of her mouth. I put down the bundle and reached to take her hands, and I felt a trembling running through her. I closed my eyes, hoping that here, with open space around us, her thoughts might come to me more clearly than on the boat. Was she scared? Angry? Cold? How could such wild elation be gone so quickly?

  Don’t reproach her, I told myself. They were not lost because of her. They weren’t even lost because of the monster. For though I wanted someone to blame, I had seen that the creature’s wild antics were no attempt to
kill, only sheer exuberance. What had happened was mischance, no more. I breathed slowly; I made my mind open to Svala’s thoughts.

  A wild jumble of conflicting images poured in. She was bursting with what she felt, what she wanted, what she needed from me. Something about getting dressed, getting undressed . . . The creature, its tail splashing on the water’s surface, the wave coming over . . . Now I was the one who was shaking. Her feelings welled into me, making me dizzy and nauseated. She was angry, scared, confused. She wanted . . . oh, she wanted, she needed . . . Where is it? Where has he hidden it? For a moment there was Knut in the image, and her hands ripping his talisman from his neck. Give it! Give it back! She pulled one hand from my grasp and thrust it down the neck of her gown, bringing out the twisted, fraying piece of cord she had taken from him. Her eyes were wild as she shook it in my face. This! This! Mine! The images in my mind were changing so fast that I could not understand any of them.

  I couldn’t do this. I was too weak to withstand it, too small to hold her powerful feelings as well as my own grief. I had no idea at all what she meant.

  “I don’t think I can help you any more, Svala,” I whispered, releasing her hand. In the back of my mind were thoughts that shamed me: Why should I? You wouldn’t help me. You stood there and let them drown. And now Felix is gone, and if you think you love this place, monster and all, it is nothing to how I feel!

  As I moved away she made her chittering sound, and I turned my head to see her miming the same idea her thoughts had suggested: putting on clothing, perhaps a hooded cloak or similar all-enveloping garment. She smoothed the imaginary cloak down, swirled it around her, nodded. Now everything is all right. When the odd performance was done, she stretched out her hands toward me and made the noise again. Now it sounded as much threat as plea. She pointed to the water. Do as I ask, or I will make him come again with his sharp claws and his long teeth. Do it. Beyond her, out in the calm waters of the bay, I thought I saw something rise just above the surface, the sleek suggestion of a great body, the ripple of a long tail. I blinked and it was gone.

  I turned away again and walked back toward the men. Oh, Ciarán, I thought, I need your wisdom now. But I am glad you are not here to see me come to this. And it seemed to me his voice murmured in my ear, wise and calm as always: In all experience, there is something to be learned. In deepest sorrow, wisdom is found. In the well of despair, hope rises.

  Men slept, rolled in anything they could find that was tolerably dry. The rock shelf made a hard bed, but these warriors were used to taking their rest where and when it was offered, and they were bone weary. Those who were to form the rescue party were ordered to rest first, Cathal and me included. He lay down and closed his eyes, his dark cloak spread over him. Perhaps sleeping; more likely not. I knew I would not sleep.

  Four men stood guard around us, three of them facing the bay with spears in hand. Gareth paced. I found I could not look at him. I saw the logic in what Cathal had told me, but I could not accept it. This was Gareth, Johnny’s beloved, a man who always put others’ needs before his own. A joker; an arbiter; a peacemaker. The captain who had ordered his crew not to save a comrade’s life was worlds away from the man I knew. A familiar friend had, in an instant, become a stranger.

  “Sibeal,” Gareth said now, speaking in an undertone so as not to disturb the sleepers, “if you’re going with Cathal, you must lie down and rest.”

  I ignored him, moving to sit a short distance away from the others. Further down on the rocks, Svala still crouched. She was humming a mournful little tune, over and over. I settled cross-legged, my hands palm upwards on my knees. I closed my eyes. Gareth said nothing more.

  I needed all my strength to achieve a meditative trance. My body was tight with grief; sorrow was in every part of me. It beat in my heart and ran in my veins. In my mind, over and over, Felix dived off the boat, graceful as a swallow, and vanished under the water. I called upon my training. I called upon the discipline that had been so hard-won. I breathed. I banished my tears. I thought of Ciarán’s wise eyes, his measured voice, his reassuring presence. And of Finbar, long gone but still present in spirit, a power for good. After a long time, when at last I was ready, I prayed. Help me be strong enough. Help me survive this. And then the hard part. Lead them kindly on their journey, guardian of the great gateway. They were fine men, the two of them. Gull, warrior and healer, beloved of his family, a friend of utmost loyalty, a lamp of goodness to all who knew him. And Felix . . . Breathe, breathe . . . And Felix, so strong in heart, so gentle yet so brave . . . Morrigan, I pass him over to you. But oh, if his hand were still in mine I would fight to keep him, I would fight like a she-wolf to win him another chance. Manannán, you took him too soon. Surely it was not his time. Despite my best efforts, a tear spilled.

  It had been so long since the gods had granted me answers that I was shocked when a voice spoke in my mind, a voice as powerful as a thundering waterfall and as quiet as a sleeping child. Would you challenge the gods, Sibeal?

  Why would it be the gods’ will that Felix should die before he completed his quest? If it were possible for the mind’s speech to be brittle with fury, mine surely was. The runes said he could do it! They spoke of a mission fulfilled! If I had known, I’d never have encouraged him to undertake the voyage, never!

  The mission can still be fulfilled.

  I was supposed to go on and rescue the survivors without Felix. Well, I was doing that. As soon as the rest period was over, we’d be setting off.

  He was never for you, said the voice. You are promised to the service of the gods, Sibeal. Your destiny is a higher one than his could ever be. You know this.

  I let the words sink inside me, reminding me of what I had long known to be true. This knowledge had guided my steps since I was a small child. Was this the gods’ answer to the question, why? Why was he taken from me? Because he did not fit into the picture. Because he was a complication.

  “Oh, no,” I breathed. “No! That’s wrong! It’s more wrong than I can say! To sacrifice him so you can secure my loyalty . . . I will not stand for that!” Ciarán would have been appalled; to address the gods thus was akin to putting one’s neck on a chopping block. I did not care. “If this is what being a druid requires, then I renounce that life! I am not yet sworn to it.” I was shivering, shocked, held halfway between the calm of the trance and furious recognition of a betrayal that set my deepest convictions on their heads.

  Did not you once promise you would do anything, anything at all, if he could survive?

  “But he didn’t survive,” I muttered aloud. “He wasn’t even allowed to live for long enough to find his friends and make good his promise to his brother. Don’t toy with me—this is cruel.”

  Wait, Sibeal. The voice was calm and grave. Beyond being offended by my disrespect; beyond caring about something as trivial as human love. Only wait.

  “Sibeal? Are you all right?”

  My eyes sprang open at the sound of a real voice. Cathal had come over to sit a short distance away. His dark eyes were full of concern.

  Still caught in the trance, I could not answer. I shook my head, then closed my eyes and fought to recapture the pattern of my breathing. I must quiet the storm of feelings that had no place in a meditative mind. I must let it go. I must let him go. I must . . .

  “I can’t,” I said, opening my eyes again. “I can’t accept this. Cathal, we should go now. Now, right away.” I tried to get to my feet, but my head reeled and I sank back down again. “Danu preserve me,” I muttered. “I’m as weak as a newborn lamb.”

  “Did you eat?”

  “I wasn’t hungry.” While the men had downed their hard bread and dried meat I had sat apart. It had occurred to me that I might never want to eat again.

  Cathal went off then, while I continued to stare out over the water. I had never challenged the gods before. I had never refused their counsel. I felt as if I were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into a vast empty space tha
t was my future.

  “Here.” Cathal was back, bearing a cup of water, a smallish lump of the rock-hard bread, a piece of cheese. “It may be a long climb. It will surely be taxing and dangerous. Even the most spiritual of folk can’t undertake such a challenge on an empty stomach. Come on, Sibeal. I’ll break it into mouthfuls for you.”

  His kindness disarmed me, and I found myself accepting each small piece as he passed it over, and managing to chew and swallow.

  “You must be missing Clodagh,” I said quietly.

  A curt nod. After a moment he said, “More than I can possibly tell you.”

  “You don’t say, ‘more than you could understand,’ as Clodagh might. She was quick to challenge me when I told her the life of the spirit was higher and better than the life of the flesh, marriage and children, family and home hearth.”

  Cathal dipped a piece of bread into the water and passed it to me. “Today, I know you can understand,” he said. “I’m sorry, Sibeal. We’re all sorry, even if we don’t speak of it. On a mission there’s no time to grieve. We lay our fallen to rest with what respect we can manage, then we put our feelings away inside and get on with what must be done. When we return home, our wives and mothers do their best to pick up the pieces.”

  “They can’t be laid to rest,” I said, my throat choked with tears. “They’re out there somewhere, floating with the weeds and the fish, eyes open on nothing, just like most of Freyja’s crew.”

  “And I wonder,” Cathal said, “whose hand is behind it?”

  I swallowed the last mouthful of bread, then took a sip of water. I did feel slightly better. “The gods told me to wait,” I said. “For what, I don’t know. But I can’t wait. It’s like that day when I was drawn to the little cove to find Felix. And the day when I was too late to save Rodan from falling to his death. I feel a pull, a need to go. How long before the men are sufficiently rested?”