Seer of Sevenwaters Read Free Page A

where I was. It seemed important to keep watch until the last of the little boats came home. Fang crouched by my feet, reassuring in her small warmth. I prayed. “Danu cradle you gently in her arms . . . Morrigan lead you through the gateway . . . Sleep, dear ones, sleep softly . . . ” I hoped I was wrong about the children. What had that woman seen, to turn her face to stone?
    When the last boat was tying up at the jetty, Johnny came to find me. The search was over. The stretchers had been used to bear seven dead men up the path to level ground. Two more limp forms lay in this final vessel.
    “Sibeal,” my cousin said, seating himself on the rocks beside me. “Still keeping vigil?” At his voice, Fang rolled instantly onto her back. Johnny rubbed her belly absently. His tattooed features were grim.
    “Only eleven, counting the woman,” I said. “It must have needed far more to man a ship that size. So many lost . . . Will the currents bring them back to this shore, Johnny? Or will they drift with the weed and the fish until there is nothing left of them?”
    “The waves may wash some in here. We’ll keep a watch in the likeliest places. Sibeal, we must conduct some kind of funeral rite. The two we rescued are too distressed to say much as yet, though I’m hoping the man—his name’s Knut—may be ready to talk to us later today. Some of us have enough Norse to conduct a conversation, and this fellow knows a word or two of Irish.”
    “What about the woman?”
    “Her name’s Svala. Knut’s wife, if I understood him right. She’s deeply shocked. I haven’t heard her say a word so far. It seems the gods were watching over the two of them. I’d imagine a vessel of that size needs a crew of forty or more. They were gone so quickly.”
    “Clodagh suspected Mac Dara’s hand in it.”
    “Perhaps.” Johnny was noncommittal.
    “A Norse warrior is buried in a boat. Or a grave in the shape of a boat. I can conduct a ritual for them, something simple. Knut and Svala might add prayers of their own. When do you want to do it?”
    Johnny was a leader of men. Though still young, he headed the community of Inis Eala and its school of warcraft. He was skilled at reading people. “Something’s troubling you, Sibeal,” he said now. “Something beyond being witness to what’s unfolded here today.”
    “I’m all right.” I would not confess to him that a very small part of me was still disturbed that Ciarán had insisted I come here to spend the summer with my sisters before I made my final pledge as a druid. That I could hold on to such a personal concern in the face of today’s tragedy was selfish. “I’ll be ready to help as soon as you’ve decided where and when to conduct the ritual. I did not expect to be performing a druid’s duties here so quickly. Are they all men, the drowned ones you brought in?”
    Johnny nodded. “As one would expect on such a vessel. It seems quite odd that Svala was among them. If this was a voyage of settlement there should have been more women, surely.”
    “They may have been first to drown.”
    “We’ll find out in due course. I won’t tax the survivors with questions yet. Come.” He rose and held out his hand. “You need food, warmth and company. I’m under orders to see you’re well looked after during your stay with us.”
    I took his arm and we walked toward the dining hall. “Whose orders?” I asked.
    “Ciarán’s. Didn’t you wonder what was in that message he gave you to bring me?”
    I grimaced. “I’d assumed it was something complicated and strategic, not an order to make sure I ate properly and got plenty of sleep.”
    My cousin smiled. “There was some of both in it, to tell the truth. I understand he’s coming here in person to collect you at the end of summer.”
    A whole summer. Why had Ciarán thought it necessary to send me away for so long? I was ready to make my promise now; I had been ready for some time. True, sometimes the thoughts