There was no response to this, but some time later a cup of water was placed beside me, and I took it and drank it, knowing what was good for me. I managed to keep it down, and I began to feel a little better. But I was cold, and my limbs were cramped and aching. I sat up and looked around me.

The pale expanse of sand and the jagged rocks around it were bathed in cool moonlight. We were quite close to the water’s edge, for the stretch of shore that sloped up to this half shelter was narrow; and above the gentle whisper of the small waves, as they advanced and retreated, I thought I could hear the deep, hollow voices of strange creatures, far out in the darkness, calling to one another. Along where the rocks ran into the sea, John stood looking out across the water.

“Here.” The other two, Ben and Red, were sitting near me, backs against the rock wall, and they were eating. The boatman seemed to be asleep. Now Ben offered me a strip of the dried meat, and I shuddered in response.

“She eats apples,” said Red. “Here, try this.”

My stomach was starting to settle, and I realized I was very hungry. He cut the fruit neatly and passed it to me piece by piece, until it was all gone.

“Good,” he said approvingly. “Now get up and walk to ease the cramps from your legs, for we’ve another sea voyage tomorrow. But keep quiet. We may be in safe mooring here, but we can’t afford to take any chances.”

I walked along the sand and stretched my aching legs, and I looked out over the water, trying to see what lay beyond. But it was night, and I was not sure if I saw land, or if I simply wished it were there in the darkness. Later, cold as I was, I slept, and then it was dawn, and time to set out again.

I heard Red tell the boatman to make straight for the priory. I heard the men talk about horses, and how quickly they might make the ride home, and cheerfully anticipating food and wine and a warm hearth. And then I looked back the way we had come. Looked back at the place where we had sheltered, and realized what it was. The waters were calm, the dawn turning them pearly blue and gray and pink. There was a big island somewhat to the north of us; low, wooded, and dotted with signs of human habitation. But that was not the place we had landed.

“We don’t put in there,” said Red, who was watching me. “Land in one of those coves, and you’re as likely to run into an Ostman or a Dane as you are a friend. That’s why we use Little Island.”

I had missed it before, when he spoke of it. I had been too tired and sick to think. But there behind us in the shining waters, already vanishing from sight as our small craft made its way east, were three islands. They were not much more than rocks in the wide expanse of sea, places where birds might nest and weeds might take precarious hold on slippery surfaces. They were places a fisherman might pass by, without paying much attention at all, save to take care near the sharp rocks that encircled the tallest one. But even without the name, I recognized what they were. Greater Island, Little Island, and the Needle. I had slept on the mystic ground of the islands, and I had not even known it until I was gone. I looked back until the tall pillar of stone that was the Needle had disappeared from view; and then my stomach heaved and I leaned over the side and it all began again.