The fishing boat was out in the bay, trailing nets. The little cottage close to the water’s edge had its door standing open, but there was no sign of Svala. Perhaps she had been worried when her husband did not come back last night. Perhaps she had been relieved.

My gaze moved to the jetty and I narrowed my eyes. Was that Fang down there, Fang who had been behaving so oddly, and who had not come in at all last night? She was hunkered down at the very end, apparently staring out across the water. There was something very strange about that frozen position. Was the little dog hurt?

I made my way down, feeling obliged to check that all was well. I stopped a few paces away from the dog, crouched down and spoke to her quietly. “Fang?” And when there was no response, “Come here, little one.” I clicked my fingers, and her ears twitched. “Good girl. Come on. Breakfast.”

She was shivering with cold. A whimper emerged from her throat, a sound fit to melt the hardest heart. I was trying to coax her closer to me when Biddy came down the path with a basket over her arm.

“She’s been here since last night,” she said. “Don’t try to touch her unless you want her teeth in your hand.” She unpacked a water skin and a shallow bowl, then used the one to fill the other. She placed the bowl close to the dog—Fang growled without turning her head—and set beside it a handful of meat scraps from last night’s supper. “I have a theory.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Is this the first time Snake’s been away since he brought Fang to the island?”

“First time he’s left her behind. Looks as if she’s waiting. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Maybe even among dogs there are seers. Otherwise how does Fang know he’s on his way home?”

“So you think Liadan will be here soon,” I said.

Biddy looked at me sideways. “I’ve been told some of what happened last night, but not all,” she said. “Shall we walk back up together, and you can fill in the gaps? I hear a certain note in your voice when you mention the ship, and it worries me. I hope that man of mine isn’t contemplating doing anything reckless. I saw how much he enjoyed tutoring Knut in swordplay. Made him feel young again, no doubt; young and whole. Trouble is, when they start feeling like warriors, they’ve a tendency to rush off and get themselves killed.”

Where the jetty met land, I paused and glanced over my shoulder. Fang was devouring the meat.

“Since you’re such an early riser,” Biddy said, smiling, “you can feed her for me tomorrow.”

“Gladly. As for last night, Felix—Ardal—told an extraordinary story. It was like this . . . ”