Seer of Sevenwaters

by Juliet Marillier

  The vision began to fade. I stumbled, desperate to keep it, desperate to say, I love you, I wish with all my heart that you were real, don’t go! Foolish Sibeal.

  “Wait.” Cathal stopped to adjust his grip. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” I said grimly. “Prey to unhelpful thoughts, that’s all.”

  “I know how that feels.”

  We reached the water sooner than I expected. Or maybe the water came higher up the tunnel now. We splashed in, our awkward bundle between us. Here, there were fewer of the little lights. My facility for natural magic was limited; beside Ciarán’s it was nothing.

  “I told myself I wouldn’t think about Clodagh.” My companion’s voice came to me softly through the half-dark. “But I’ve thought of nothing else, all the way.”

  “Hope,” I said. “Leading you forward. The knowledge that home is waiting for you when the mission is over.” Even as I spoke, it came to me that my idea of what home meant had changed entirely over this summer. What was waiting for me?

  Silence for a while, as we moved on through the water. Now it was almost up to my knees. “I don’t suppose it matters,” I said, “if we get the skin wet.” I imagined the sea creature leaping and diving in the bay, at one with the waves.

  “I suppose not.”

  The remaining lights were winking out one by one. I will not be afraid, I told myself. It’s much worse for the men waiting than it is for us. All we need do is walk straight ahead and we’ll get there. Even if it’s dark. Even if it’s late. Even if . . .

  “Sibeal,” said Cathal.

  “Mm?”

  “Do you know that song about the lady and the toad?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “What, even the rude parts? I’m shocked.”

  I smiled, though he could not see it in the darkness. “You’d be surprised what we pick up in the nemetons, Cathal. How shall we do it, one verse each and the chorus together?”

  “Sounds fair to me. You start.”

  Step by step. Line by line. Verse by increasingly scurrilous verse. When we got to the end of that song we sang another, about the love of a hapless clurichaun for a young lady ten times his size. I’d had no idea Cathal was a singer, or that he possessed sufficient humor to enjoy tunes of this kind, the sort the rowdier inhabitants of Inis Eala liked to sing after a good supper and a few jugs of ale. Gull, now, or Snake, I could imagine participating with some enthusiasm. When the clurichaun had been sent, sobbing his woe, back to his ancestral hill, we started a ballad about a faithless lover. After two verses Cathal stopped singing, leaving me all on my own with the chorus. My voice faltered.

  “We’re almost there,” he said. “See, it’s lighter up ahead, where the roof opens to the sky.”

  It was barely lighter. There would be a full moon tonight, but it was not yet late enough, surely, for it to be high in the sky and casting its beams down into this hidden space. But I could see a little more. The water was up to my thighs. I would not think of the current that had borne Gull and Felix into the tunnel, the current Gull had said even the strongest swimmer could not combat.

  “Good,” I squeaked.

  We rounded a corner and there they were. All were up on the ledge, high above the water level. Thorgrim lay with his head in Gull’s lap. Felix had his arm around Colm; his smile of welcome lightened my heart. The others sat stoically waiting. And there was the creature, his eyes suddenly wide-open as we approached.

  “Show him, Cathal,” I said. “Hold it up and spread it out.”

  Sigurd and Oschu came down to help us. The four of us unfurled the skin, holding a corner each. The width of the tunnel was not sufficient to accommodate it held flat. I met the serpent’s eye. This is what you need. See, we have brought it. Now I ask you to help us take it safely to her. I showed him all of us wading out of the tunnel, stepping up onto the rocks, forming a procession along the shore to the place where Liadan was moored. I showed Svala waiting for us, smiling. I prayed that the creature would not seize the skin in his jaws and back out of the passage, letting the tide enter in his place. I closed my eyes.

  A feeling like a great warm smile spread through me. Good. Friend.

  The men were getting up, standing along the ledge. Two had spears in their hands; others had drawn their knives.

  “Wait,” Cathal said quietly. “Trust Sibeal—she knows what she’s doing.”

  The creature moved, rising to its clawed feet. A rush of water came around it, catching me at waist level. I staggered before its force. Sigurd grabbed me and held me safe against the current, and the water subsided. Still I held my corner of the skin, and Cathal and Oschu did likewise. “Roll it up,” I gasped. “We must move on.” Let us move on. Let us take it to her now.

  “Move on?” echoed Gull from the ledge. “It may not be far from here, but—”

  The creature had half turned, maneuvering his long tail with some difficulty in the confined space. He edged toward the side of the tunnel until a long-legged man could have stepped across with ease from the ledge onto his broad, scaly back. He became still. He seemed to be waiting.

  Up on the ledge nobody was saying a word, though I could hear Colm weeping. Down in the water Sigurd, Oschu and Cathal rolled up the skin. I regarded the creature. His head was turned back toward me; his fey eyes looked into mine. What I sensed in his mind was, Come. Come then. Make haste. But he did not move forward. Nobody could pass his bulk.

  “Sibeal.” The soft voice was that of Felix. “Could the creature be offering to bear us on its back?”

  “Dagda’s bollocks,” commented someone.

  Come now. Make haste. The water rises.

  It would be possible even for me to step over from the ledge to the serpent’s back, given a helping hand. That back was broad enough to accommodate all of us if we sat close together. Perhaps it was high enough to keep us safe even at peak tide. A creature that could leap right over an oceangoing boat might well be strong enough to withstand the current Gull had described.

  “That’s what we must do,” I said. “Sigurd, will you lift me up to the ledge, please?”

  He obliged, hoisting me as if I weighed no more than a child. They passed up the skin; then Cathal, Sigurd and Oschu hauled themselves up beside the rest of us.

  “Are you sure?” Cathal asked me, though I saw that he knew this was our best chance. He was asking for the men’s sake. Liadan ’s crew would face even this nightmare test with professionalism. If they were afraid, they hid it expertly. Felix and I were drawn by the mission; our convictions were stronger than our fear. But for Thorgrim, Donn and Colm, to be so close to the monster that had devoured their companions would be a test almost beyond endurance.

  “I’m sure,” I said.

  Oschu stepped over first, then gave me his hand for support as I half stepped, half jumped across. I settled myself close to what might be considered the nape of the creature’s neck. The others followed. Sigurd carried Thorgrim in his arms. Donn’s face was ghastly white in the semidark, but he stepped over with Berchan by his side, and the two sat down without a word.

  Colm screamed, fighting those who sought to aid him, and Gull and Felix, one on either side, manhandled him across to the serpent’s back. The creature was perfectly still. He did not twitch so much as the tip of his tail; he did not utter so much as a sigh of exasperation at how slow we were. I tried not to remember that he had pierced a man’s chest with his claw, or that he had almost sunk Liadan through sheer exuberance. When the last man—Cathal—had moved over from the ledge, I lay facedown against the creature’s skin and made again an image of all of us emerging safe and sound onto flat rocks at the bay’s edge. We trust you. We honor you, and we honor her. This is your place. When we have done what must be done, we will sail away from this isle. You will be at peace again. All will be to rights.

  No answering thoughts now, but the sea beast moved, completing his turn and lurching forward so suddenly he came close to dislodging us. Colm opened his mo
uth to cry out again, and Gull gave him a flat-handed smack on the cheek. “It’s time to be a man, lad,” he said.

  The creature waded forward into the dark. Now there was not a song left in me to keep away the shadows. I could not hold Felix’s hand. It was taking the combined efforts of him and Gull to keep Colm from leaping off the serpent’s back to be smashed on the rocks or stamped to death. Or drowned. Water gurgled and gushed around the creature’s legs, a rising surge.

  “The hand of Danu lie over us,” I prayed. “The courage of the ancients fill our veins. The wonder of wild things be not terror to us, but inspiration. The memory of good companions, of hearth fires shared, of brave deeds achieved, beat in our hearts and give us strength.”

  There was quiet for a while, and then a voice rose in song. Not my voice or Cathal’s, but that of Felix, singing in Irish.

  Farewell, my mother and my home

  Farewell my sisters three

  For I am bound for oceans far

  And isles of mystery.

  A talking bird I’ll bring for you

  Gold brooches and fine rings

  A chain of pearls, a silver clasp

  And other costly things.

  A refrain came next, full of oh-ree-ohs and somewhat melancholy in its style. Felix’s voice was as strong and sweet as fine mead, and commendably steady. If his chest was still tight, there was no trace of that in the lovely flow of the ballad. Gull was quick to join in the refrain, followed by Sigurd and, after a moment, several others. The sea beast moved steadily forward in the darkness.

  The brave young sailor crossed the sea

  To places near and far

  Until he found a treasure rare

  As bright as any star.

  She sat upon a rocky shore

  Combing her golden hair

  A princess from an ancient tale

  Lovely beyond compare.

  “Oh-ree-oh,” we sang, a ragged chorus indeed, but full of new heart.

  Come here, come here, you creature fine

  Oh come away with me

  And I will give you hearth and home

  And children one, two, three.

  We started the refrain once more; even Donn had joined in now. As we sang on I became aware of another sound. Beneath the tune a low, humming accompaniment had begun, a sound surely conjured from sea and shadow or arising from the very depths of stone. I felt it vibrating up through me, filling my whole body. One by one we faltered and fell silent. Gull cleared his throat.

  “She laughed to hear those words so bold,” sang Felix. I could no longer see him, for the darkness was almost complete, but I imagined him sitting bolt upright on the creature’s back, arm around Colm, eyes fixed ahead. Where others saw only shadow, he saw the shining light of a mission achieved. If ever your hope falters, I thought, I will remind you of this moment.

  She laughed to hear those words so bold

  And shook her tresses free

  She gazed upon the surging waves

  And never a word spoke she.

  Felix went on to relate how the sailor boy found a sealskin on the rocks nearby and, while the beautiful creature was distracted, hid it away under the decking of his boat. Then he took the woman home with him, not back to his mother and three sisters, who would likely have been less than impressed, but to a little hut by the sea. And there they lived for some while. He was happy enough, wed to the loveliest woman anyone in those parts had seen in a lifetime. But she pined. She wandered the shore; she tossed and turned by night; she was always searching for what had been stolen from her.

  As the story unfolded verse by verse, there was a gradual lightening of the gloom around us. The water in the tunnel was higher. The creature made a sloshing sound as it waded on. My mind was on Gull’s description of the monstrous current that had caught him and Felix, sweeping them far up the underground passage. I put my cheek down against the sea beast’s hide, closing my eyes. You are strong. You are brave. I know you will keep us safe. The deep humming continued; I took it as a good sign.

  Felix’s ballad drew toward its close. A wise woman from the local village helped the selkie to search for her skin, and they found it hidden under a pile of fishing nets. As the passage lightened around us, and the sound of lapping water could be heard ahead, Felix sang the final verse:She slipped into the silvery skin

  A seal once more was she

  She dived into the briny depths

  Joyous and strong and free.

  Before we could draw breath for one last refrain, the creature threw back its head and roared. This was no sound of challenge, no trumpeting of war. It was a shout of triumph. Before us opened the mouth of the tunnel, and beyond it was the water of the bay, and the night sky overhead, and the moon sailing high, full and cool and lustrous.

  “Hold on tight!” ordered Cathal.

  Water was surging in on either side of us now as the tunnel broadened. The tide was rising fast. An image came to me, of the creature leaping forward and diving into the depths, as the selkie in the ballad had done, and of the human passengers being thrown hither and thither to be tumbled in the wild flow or pulverized on the rocks. But no. He would not do that. We were carrying Svala’s skin.

  Before, the creature had edged sideways so we could step onto his back. Now he made a bridge of his neck and head, laying his chin on a rock shelf to one side of the passage entry. If we were bold and kept our balance, we could walk across to safety. From here, the moonlight would allow us to make a way around the bay to the place where Gareth and the others waited.

  The sea beast’s neck was broad enough to walk on, though doing so would require a degree of confidence—his scaly skin was wet and slippery. I judged the length to be about eight strides. The hardest part would be walking on his head; to reach the rocks we must pass between his great eyes and within easy snapping range of his formidable jaws. Cathal took charge.

  “Sigurd, you’re first. When you get to the brow, you’ll wait and help the others over the last part. Gull, you’re next—go right over, stand on the rocks and make sure everyone moves up and out of the way quickly. Oschu, you’ll take Thorgrim on your back. Berchan and Felix, you’re with Colm. Donn, you all right to go with the warriors?” Donn gave a stiff nod. I saw how much this would help him. Cathal had just recognized him publicly as fit, capable, ready to move on. “Sibeal,” Cathal said, “you and I will carry the skin over. We’re going last. All right?”

  “All right,” I said. Oh, he was wise. The precious skin had won us safe passage from underground. The creature might be well disposed toward us at present because we had retrieved it. All the same, the sea beast was a wild thing, and the workings of its mind were largely beyond our understanding. Cathal knew, as I did, that while we carried Svala’s salvation her beloved would not harm us.

  Johnny would have been proud of this team. We crossed to safe ground in orderly procession. Even sturdy Oschu, with the sick man balanced across his shoulders, was as steady as if walking on an ordinary bridge of wood or stone. When everyone else was over, Cathal and I picked up the skin. He made me go first this time. I had thought I might cross as easily as the warriors had, but balancing was hard while carrying the heavy bundle. At one point I slipped, and in regaining my footing I made the mistake of glancing down. A rushing tide under moonlight is a stunning sight: natural magic at its most powerful. I thought I would be quite content if I never saw one again.

  “Three more steps, Sibeal,” said Felix, and I looked up. He was waiting right by the creature’s mouth, holding out a hand. I walked on, and Cathal came after me, and as I stepped onto solid rock, Felix took my end of the skin so I could clamber up higher, to a flat area where the others were standing in a silent group. Cathal was on the sea beast’s muzzle; he was stepping over its mouth; he was on dry land. He gave his end of the skin to Berchan, who stood ready, and turned to face the creature. “We thank you,” he said gravely. “We honor you. We go now to take this to her, and to make good the injusti
ce that was done.” And perhaps, after he had spoken the words in Irish, words the sea beast surely could not understand, he also sent the creature another kind of message. For Cathal’s ancestry was, in part, that of the Sea People, folk not unlike Svala in their power and their wildness. In the moment when he stood facing the creature, still and silent, perhaps like spoke to like. Then Cathal turned to us. “Let’s get these fellows to shelter,” he said. “Everyone all right to walk?”

  Save for Thorgrim, everyone was, and Oschu announced himself fit to carry the sick man all the way to the camp. I hoped there was a camp. I wondered if the others had found anything to burn on a fire, and whether they had managed to catch some fish. Suddenly, it seemed a very long time since I had eaten. As we set off over the rocks, I turned my head to see the creature swim powerfully out into deeper water and disappear below the surface.

  No songs now. Even the strongest men must have been exhausted, and the way was difficult despite the moonlight. The distance was not so long, but the pace was slow. The patch of pebbly beach where we had first come ashore seemed the only such place on this side of the bay. We clambered over heaps of stones that lay holus-bolus like the remnant of a giant’s juggling game. We picked a route through narrow chinks in what at first seemed impenetrable buttresses of rock. I walked beside Felix. From time to time we brushed against each other, not quite by accident. Once or twice I looked up and found his eyes on me, and what was in them filled me with joy and sorrow both at once. Sometimes I watched him without his being aware of it. I found myself memorizing his features, the strong jaw, the straight nose, the chestnut hair, pleasing even in its current salt-crusted, unkempt state, the deep lake-blue eyes, like those of a sage in an old tale . . . And when he looked up and saw me watching, he smiled.