It was Svala who helped me to my feet. I felt the strength in her arms, the power in her hands. And when I opened my eyes and looked into hers, I knew that what I had felt for a little, she felt every moment of every day. She wore her sorrow as she wore her own skin.

I did not tell her that I understood. I knew nobody could, save perhaps someone who had experienced what she had. I tried to show her with my eyes, and with my hand on her shoulder, that I had felt something of her grief, and that I was a friend. After that, she let Clodagh help her on with the wet gown and slung the warm cloak casually around her shoulders. But she would not come home with us. Instead, she seated herself cross-legged by the sand creature’s head, laid her hand on its neck and stared out to sea.

From the cliff top we looked back down. Svala sat motionless, as if keeping vigil. Perhaps she was waiting for the tide to come in.

“Are you all right, Sibeal?” Clodagh asked. “For a moment down there I thought you were going to faint. You’re still very pale.”

“I’m fine now.” The wave of feeling had ebbed quickly, leaving my heart numb. To hold so much within her . . . no wonder Svala seemed sometimes to exist in a different world from the rest of us.

“We should tell someone about this,” Clodagh said as we walked on. “She’s like a small child, with no sense of danger. Let alone propriety.”

“Mm.” If she wandered about without her clothes, Svala had the capacity to cause mayhem, especially with the Connacht men on the island. I tried to imagine telling Knut what we had seen and knew I could not do it, either directly or—still more embarrassing—through Jouko or Kalev. Faced with such a task, I was far more unwed young girl than wise druid. I was not even sure I could bring myself to broach the subject with Gull.

“You can leave this to me, Sibeal,” Clodagh said. “I’ll speak to Cathal, he can pass it on to Johnny, and if Johnny thinks Knut should know, he’ll tell him. This adds to the urgent need to get them off the island.”

“I have seen her behaving rather oddly before, but not like this. Last time . . . Knut came, and he dealt with it. But he seemed embarrassed by her, almost ashamed of her. It makes me wonder if even he understands.”

“Understands what?”

“I know Svala’s behavior is strange. But I don’t believe she’s out of her wits, Clodagh. When we were down there, just for a moment I felt the force of her grief, and it was overwhelming. I know she lost her son; I know how terrible that must be. But I wonder if something else lies in her past, something more than the shipwreck and her son’s death. I sense there’s a story that needs to be told, and that until it comes out, we won’t be able to help her.”